Trailblazer

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“I hope that you will come to my retrospective at the Serpentine Gallery” Lawrence said “Oh I wouldn’t miss it for the world” I promised. “I got where I am because of my painting Michael” Lawrence said. “I don’t doubt that Lawrence” I said surprised that he was justifying his position as Head of Painting at the Slade to me. “I will be giving this flat to Jean for a while because it is being knocked down soon, and if she is living here, then I think that she will get a flat more easily.” “Really that is very kind of you” I said realising that he must be talking about Alan’s wife Jean Mathieu. Later as we walked into the University a woman approached accompanied by two little black girls.  
 
 
“Meet Julia my wife and my two daughters, Julia this is Michael” Lawrence said. I shook hands with his wife who smiled at me and his two adopted daughters and wondered why he had adopted two little black girls. I supposed that it was the thing to do and his motivations were good, but I wondered whether they would ever really accept white people as their parents and whether it was a wise thing to do. “I am pleased to meet you” one of the little girls was saying as all these things passed through my head I noticed that and her accent was affected upper class exactly the same as Lawrence’s. “I am very pleased to meet you” I said. “I will see you later Julia” Lawrence said. We entered the Slade walking down the narrow flights of stairs past the body of Jeremy Bentham and up into the Slade. “Where is Jean’s studio?” I asked.” I think that I will pop in and see how she and Alan are getting on.” Lawrence pointed to one of the studio doors. “I’ll be off because I have a lecture to do” he said and he walked away his long gangling frame stooping to avoid some imaginary obstruction then I realised that he had not stuttered today and wondered why as I knocked on the door of Jean’s studio and opened the door. “Hello Michael” Jean said looking up from a painting that she was working on. “Hello Jean, how are you?” “Oh I am fine.”
I Pornographer
 

“Where is Alan?” I asked. “Oh he is around somewhere” she said smiling, taking off a paint covered smock. She was quite beautiful with long brown hair uncut but piled up on her head in the way that reminded me of women a century ago. I thought of how lovely long hair looked and how many women today spoiled their hair by having it cut and treated with chemicals. “Why don’t you sit down Michael?” Jean said. I sat down then much to my surprised she launched herself upon me and sat down upon my lap wriggling her buttocks against my groin so that I could feel her body under the thin dress that she was wearing and then she tried to kiss me on the lips but I turned my face away. “Don’t” I said. But why not Michael?” she said laughing and wriggling about on my lap and pressing her ample breasts into me. Then just on the periphery of my vision I saw a movement up above and I realised that it was Alan spying on me through the glass studio windows of the roof. I realised immediately that Jean and Alan where conspiring together to see whether or not she could seduce me.  “Because you are Alan’s wife” I answered pretending not to notice Alan on the roof peering surreptitiously through the windows. I felt the warmth of Jean’s body and smelt her perfume and started to respond in spite of myself so I pushed her off of my lap before she could feel my penis erecting through my trousers. A minute later Alan came in “Hello Mick” he said with a smile.

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The short preview of Lady Victoria's Training can be found on Youtube to add Authenticity to The Story....

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxDqyeG2JLo

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The short preview of Lady Victoria's Training can be found on Youtube to add Authenticity to The Story....

“That’s it your learning fast Victoria, soon you will be the Mistress here at the Manor” Tuppy said. Tuppy opened a briefcase that she had brought with her. “Here are a couple of books that I have written on various techniques in how to dominate your husband” Tuppy said. I looked at the monitor and Sara had zoomed into a close-up of the two books so that their titles and the name of the author Dr Tuppy Owens were clearly visible. I remembered then what Tuppy had told me about gaining a PhD at Cambridge and that she was a doctor of biology as well as an author of several books on sexology. “First the pain then the pleasure,"

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The Feminists

Chapter 41

“Why don’t you edit your film here at the Slade?” Alan suggested. “Could I?” I asked thinking of the cost of the drive on editing suite that I was now using. “Of course there are people here working in film and video so we have a suite. I just have to book it, that’s all” Alan said smiling. “Really that’s great” I said. How long do you want it for?” he asked “How long can I have it for?” “A week if you want” Alan informed me. “Three days would suit me fine Alan” I said. The editing day arrived and Sara and I put all the tapes in the back of the car and drove over to Gower Street and parked up. Sure enough when we arrived at the suite it was booked out for three days to Alan and had a notice on the door to that effect. The first thing that I noticed was a line out of the back of the suite leading to a connection on the wall and I knew that someone in the adjoining room was watching what I did. I decided to start on the credits but when I tried the first edit there was a slight sync break that showed up on the monitor and I realised that the 
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machine had head wear and was useless to all intents and purposes. “The machine is useless, but let’s have a little game before we go. You go over to the plug on the wall and disconnect it when I nod” I whispered to Sara. I was whispering because I knew how easy it was to wire the room for sound. “Okay Mike” Sara whispered back. I started to play the garden scene which I thought was aesthetically beautiful where Lorraine is dressed in the 17th century wedding dress and is walking along the end of the garden with the breeze blowing her veil with the River Thames at Iffley in the background. Suddenly a voice came over my headphones at exactly the same time as Lorraine was pictured against a branch of a tree. “You are the bough and I tree that supports you.” I tore the headphones from my head because the sound was almost like experiencing an auditory hallucination. “Fucking hell I thought that I was fucking tripping for a moment, a voice came over the cans” I said in surprise. “Yes I heard it” Sara agreed. I wondered if it could have been Lawrence playing a trick on me, but I knew now that someone was definitely watching a monitor in another room probably next door. I smiled at Sara and picked up a tape where Bill is whipping Lorraine with his tie and put that on the 
I Pornographer

player. Then I kept nodding to Sara and she kept on unplugging and plugging in the line out. Suddenly there was a banging on the door and several women wearing camouflage dungarees entered the room. “We are feminists against porn, pornography is the propaganda, rape is the theory” the leader of this little group said with an angry look on her face. “But that is nonsense because forensic research done in Denmark by Doctor Berl Kutchinsky has proven the exact opposite” I replied. “I don’t want to hear your misogynistic theories, and who are you and what are you doing here at the University” the woman demanded angrily. “I am collaborating with an artist at the Slade on a secret project and anyway this suite is useless because it does not make a good edit” I answered smiling. “Well you can get out of here now” the angry feminist said her eyes glittering with hatred. “Call yourself socialists, the only type of socialists you are is National Socialists, you are extreme right wingers all of you” I accused. “Get out of here you scum” the woman said. “I am going don’t worry, don’t get your knickers in a twist” I said laughing. “Come on Sara let’s get away from these fascist pigs” I said. “Sister you ought to be ashamed of yourself” one of the women shot at Sara as she accompanied me out of the door. Sara did not reply but she blushed. 
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I picked up my gear and left with feminist propaganda ringing in my ears. “The woman’s group at the University had a meeting and tried to get me expelled for inviting a pornographer into the University” Alan said. “Yes, so what happened?” I said. “The proposal was rejected” Alan informed me. “Oh great” I exclaimed. “Why don’t you show one of your films at the University?” “Could I” I asked. “Yes as a visiting artist” Alan informed me. “Yes I will show Lady Victoria’s Training” I said. “No show one of your gay films because then the feminist can’t attack you because the feminist movement is politically sympathetic to gay and lesbian films” Alan advised. “Well they would be wouldn’t they because from my observations the sisters all seem to be all lesbians” I retorted with a laugh. Alan looked embarrassed. “Mike you may be right but don’t talk like that in the University” he said. “Why” I said knowing what the answer was going to be. “Because it is politically incorrect” Alan answered. “Does that mean that one has to be seen to conform to their fascist propaganda and not voice any dissenting opinions” I said. “Mike everyone knows that I am associated with you and these people are very powerful, they can stop galleries showing one’s work” Alan said. 
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“Oh I see, but from what I see they are just middle-class women with the same views as their father’s dressed up in different clothes and that is why their views on the censorship of pornography are exactly the same as Mary Whitehouse” I exclaimed. “Mickey just go along with it for my sake until I pass out with my degree. Show the gay film and the augments that they have prepared to bring you down with in the debate after the film is shown will be useless, because they will think that you are gong to show the film that you were editing” Alan said a serious expression on his face. “Alan you are a wily old bastard and I will do exactly what you say” I replied I said thinking that I would like to show at the Slade as a visiting artist and in any case and Alan’s idea was a good one.

The day of the showing arrived and the viewing room was full of students as well as a contingent of angry looking feminists dressed in army fatigues who were glaring in my direction while a video projector was set up to project onto a large screen. Then Lawrence Gowing arrived with several of his disciples and they all sat at the back. “I would like to present the work of a fellow artist who works in diverse media this work being on video” Alan said addressing the audience. The lights were extinguished and as the credits began to roll. 

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Sara grasped my hand and held it. “Dial a Guy” the opening credits came up “Directed by Mike Freeman” then the film started with a guy reading Gay News the camera zooming into the section that he was reading so that one could read the words. “Dial a Guy for an Exclusive Visiting Massage Service” the ad said then the scene dissolved into the door of a Mayfair suite opening. It was the same luxurious apartment where I had shot the Glass table Orgy. Dave Puttock walked in and soon the guy that had called him started a massage then soon began to play with his cock then his flatmate Tony entered. “Oh dear do you mind if I join your dial a guy service” Tony said in a camp manner. “No not at all” Dave said smiling and soon they were all vigorously sucking each other’s cocks. Suddenly I heard the sound of a woman crying. I was a bit shocked then Lawrence got up. “This is not my cup of tea Michael” Lawrence said and he walked out followed by the several women disciples that always seemed to accompany him. I did not like it when Lawrence walked out and wondered if I had done the right thing in showing the gay film when obviously Lawrence was expecting to see Lady Victoria’s Training, which no doubt he had seen on the monitor. It was his voice I was sure that had heard over the headphones. In any case I would not have wanted him to see it... 
 

Slade Exhibition 

Chapter 42 
Lawrence was surrounded by a crowd of people as I made my way through the throng towards him. The tall professor was gesticulating with his long arms in a crane like manner and stuttering badly. “Hello Lawrence how are you?” I said putting my arm around his shoulders while the people around looked at me wondering who I was to be on such friendly terms with the eccentric Professor of Painting. “I am all right, and how are you” Lawrence managed to say to me without stuttering at all. “Oh fine I have come to see my protégé’s show, Alan Stocker.” “Oh yes we did some work together recently” Lawrence said looking at all the people around him who wanted his attention but who were now listening avidly to our conversation. “Okay Lawrence I can see that you are busy now I might see you later” I said shaking his hand then drifting away through the crowd and glancing back at him I noticed that he had begun to stutter badly again while the attentive crowd waited politely for him to finish his sentence. I wandered through the spaces where students work was being exhibited but there was not much 
that I found exceptional, but I did stop in front of an artist’s who had painted quite small pictures of butterflies done in an hallucinogenic manner. I was examining one of these works when Alan approached me. “Hello Mickey I am glad that you could come” he said smiling. He looked every inch the artist and was wearing his latest affectation, a pair of John Lennon style spectacles that gave his Paul Newman-like features a bookish intellectual air. “Hi Alan where are you?” I asked. “Over there are you coming over Jean is there talking to Sara” he said. “Hold on I’m just looking at these butterfly paintings” I said. “You don’t like then surely?” Alan retorted a superior, disdainful look on his face. “Yes I do and I think that they are absolutely fascinating, very trippy and I would not mind one on my wall” I retorted. “Yes they are decorative there is no doubt about that and their source is obviously photographic” Alan said putting down the work, standing there his hand on his hip, a snooty look on his face. “Alan it is irrelevant how the work was made, it is the finished painting that one looks at and engages with” I said laughing at Alan and thinking that one could justify anything with words and that I was rather good at doing that, but it did not mean anything, and did not alter the painting on the wall. “Come on Mick, come over to my space” Alan said knowing that I was playing a semantic game with him. “Alan I really fancy a puff, where are the nearest toilets?” I asked him. “This way” Alan said striding off. I followed him into a cubicle at the end of a row and I pulled out my pipe and stash tin and burnt off a piece of hash and put it into the pipe. No words had been spoken between us but we knew implicitly that we were going to have a smoke together. “You have first pipe Alan” I said handing it to him and holding a lighter over the bowl. Alan took a long deep hit and exhaled the smoke through his flared nostrils like I had seen him do a thousand times before. “Just like old times” I said taking the pipe from him and filling it again and smoking a big pipe and filling up my lungs then blowing the smoke out of the small window. We had several pipes until we were really high then walked back to the exhibition space I followed Alan as he led me towards his work then I noticed a huge painting that must have had a thousand tubes of paint squirted upon it with pieces of a clock set into it. “What a monstrosity one would have to be rich to use materials on that scale” I thought. “Look here is a girl who does porn” Alan said stopping in front of some very dark paintings. I looked at them for a moment before the subject matter started to come through then I realised that they were large copies of old black and white porn photographs. “Hmm very daring I must say. Who is this girl?” I asked wondering if she liked porn. “Oh some poor little rich girl” Alan said dismissively, walking off. I followed Alan to his exhibition space where his wife Jean stood talking to Sara in front of several paintings of life size figures in sepia acrylic. Several other people were in the room as well looking at his work. As I examined them I knew immediately how they were arrived at because I had talked about doing it myself. Alan had covered a canvas in acrylic and lain on it leaving and imprint of his body then let it dry out before visualising other images in the ground. The paintings were certainly striking and as I looked at them they began to vibrate with some magical energy and had a powerful effect on me. “Well what do you think of them?” Alan asked looking at me expectantly. I stood back to take in the several large canvasses he had on show my hands upon my hips. “Alan Stocker these paintings are works of pure genius” I said in a loud voice. Other people in the room began to listen to what I was saying and to examine his work more closely. Jean was smiling realising the attention that I was creating around Alan’s work. “I do believe that Sir Lawrence Gowing was working with you when you did these incredible paintings?” I said in a loud voice.

 

I knew that I was throwing in the great man’s name to add importance to Alan’s work and people’s ears began to prick up and listen to what I was saying. “Perhaps there is an art dealer here listening” I thought. Just at that moment a guy entered the room with a press photographer in tow and I knew that it was the reporter sent by the newspaper whose entertainment and arts editor I had spoken to. The reporter came towards me smiling sticking out his hand and smiling. “I have not seen Bruce Reynolds yet, is he here?” the reporter asked. “Yes I believe that he is around somewhere” I said shaking his hand. “Take some photos of these paintings while we are here the reporter” said to the photographer. “Are you the bank robber?” he asked Alan “The ex bank robber, now newly discovered genius who is taking the art world by storm. He has already been signed up for a famous gallery” I said making it up as I went along as the reporter held a pocket tape recorder up to record the conversation. “Yes Alan worked with Sir Lawrence Gowing in his studio to produce these works of genius” I said in a loud authoritative voice. As I spoke I noticed that more people were crowding into the room now attracted by the 
photographer using a flash gun and the reporter recording what I was saying. The reporter turned to examine Alan’s paintings then suddenly a look of absolute horror appeared on his face and he began to scream. “Flying monsters, arhgg the paintings are evil” and he began backing away in terror. “What’s the matter?” I asked him noticing that his behaviour had created a situation where everyone in the room was looking at Alan’s paintings and at the screaming, terrified reporter. “Can’t you see them?” the reporter said. “No I can’t but they are very powerful works one can see that” I replied. “I’m getting out of here” the reporter shouted his eyes bulging with fear and with that he ran out of the room followed by his photographer. “What’s the matter with him?” I said to Alan. “Someone put acid in the punch” he replied smiling at me in a conspiratorial manner. “So everyone is tripping” I said and looking around me I started to notice that quite a few people were acting in extraordinary ways and I began to laugh. “Come on Sara let’s go and have some of the punch” I said taking her hand and smiling at Jean and Alan we walked into the main exhibition hall where food and drinks were laid out on trestle tables. I saw a punch bowl in the middle and walking hand in hand with Sara we made our way towards it. 

 

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