2025 time 👹

2020 was surreal, 2021 was the worst year of my life, 2022 was a mental hangover, 2023 was isolating but very creative, 2024 was social and vast and celebratory, and I hope 2025 is safe at the very least. But also rich. I hope 2025 is a moneybags year.

The Poor Artists book tour continues. I’m in Munich next week, then London Art Fair, and in Feb there are events in Bath and Liverpool. The book was recently longlisted for the Gordon Burn prize, and the paperback will be out at some point this year.

My new year’s resolution is to continue inhaling the Spanish language so that, health permitting, I can visit Chile in 2026 without embarrassing myself. I’m on the hunt for links with arts professionals and residencies in Chile that could get me over there

I have collected a few more freelance jobs recently. Financially, spiritually, biologically, this is not what I was aiming for – I really want one contracted job with flexible hours that I can mostly or entirely do from home. If you happen to be reading this with a Gabrielle-shaped job in mind, please get in touch. Current collected jobs include writer, critic, access support for funding applications, evaluator for NPO-funded project, and soon-to-be tutor at an undisclosed London university. I do still live in Liverpool.

My health is still dire but it’s not as dire as it was a few years ago. I continue to be riddled with POTS, meaning I’m out of action during warmer months (hence me doing all my travelling this winter and spring). Every day is a puzzle of fatigue, orthostatic headaches, cognitive bullshit, dizziness, nausea, and wanting to shoot the moon, but I am a lot better at managing it, and friends and family are experienced nowadays too. It is sad to have such a long membership to the Long Covid club but I do insist on writing books and getting on planes and you should still definitely hire me for things because, well, look, I am the picture of health:

(and really, only the middle class can afford to be sick)