Victoria Williams: 0108

Got rolls of brown paper all over the desk, along with cans of spray adhesive, paintbrushes – all sizes, sheets of newspaper covering the floor in one corner of the room, an umbrella opened out next to the radiator letting off steam, and two scented candles burning a sickly crème-brulee odour into the paintwork. Did I mention the stacks of books, knee to waist high, and the dust – oh the dust. But not just dust, dust with fingerprints. Anyway, Waistcoat comes in here and looks around at me in the acrid mist, conducting Handel’s Water Music with a pencil, and he says, ‘Congratulations V, it looks like you’re actually accomplishing something in here.'