I wrote Nine Wobbly Yellow Grave Attendants to explore a strange train of thought I had one night in the studio. It began by imagining the Nine poised on their stands alongside the human witnesses to various possible scenarios of my own burial.

The text was included in From the light, to the night, a book of artists’ writings published by Aber Press in 2021.

A few nights ago I was feeling very happy. I was in my studio, sticking scraps of torn newsprint to the lumpen sculpture in front of me. I smeared each piece in cheap white woodglue, then squashed it down over the morning’s scraps, which were already dry and crisp. Glue dries fast in 40 degree heat. That is why I came to Egypt in the first place, more than two years ago. Now I live in a flat in the Cairo neighbourhood of Faggala. Before I moved in, my studio was a child’s bedroom. The violet walls are pretty in the afternoon but look TV-set-tacky under the glare of a bare bulb I’ve been meaning to swap for months. The balcony doors were open wide to the noise and light and life of the night. Faggala’s energy dims, a little, between the hours of perhaps 3 and 5 am.