I want to say more...

Tracey Emin.
You may know of her, and if you do, you probably have some strong feelings regarding her art. What I am trying to say is that you may love her or hate her (and her work), but it is unlikely that she ever stirs up indifference. I personally have oscillated between feeling like she is pure genius vs. a total hack that has duped us all. Actually, I only very briefly disliked her when I discovered that her father was a Turkish diplomat and that she got to go to posh art schools in London. Those facts tarnished my romantic ideals of authenticity at the time, but I am over it now, and have settled on believing that she is raw and full of gutsy talent.

I first came across her in the tail end of the 1990s, when news of her sensational piece "My Bed" had shaken up the art world. Forgive me because I am not so good at remembering the details (and not in the mood to fact check), but it sold for some ridiculous amount. It was a bed she had slept, cried, bled, eaten and had sex in. The sheets were stained with despair. This bed was put on display and someone bought it for alot of money. I had such a bed at the time, if only I had thought to sell it...

Much of her work deals with rape and abortion and matters of love, sex and the heart. It is uncensored and candid in a way that is rarely matched. I was lucky enough to look at some of her work in person when I was lost and broke and living in London. Amazing how a few words scribbled on a page (or a wall) can electrify.