Sorcha Dallas

What was your cultural passion when you were 14?

Aubrey Beardsley, Emma Peel and folk music. Grwoing up as a teenager in Wigan, there was a very distinct gender divide. Boys only seemed to listen to Prog rock and the girls to Tamla Motown. Being incredibly curious about it all, I listened to both. I also bought my first guitar at that age, a pair of black vinyl boots and stole a Rotring pen.

Which piece of music do you most associate with your youth?

That is such a “boy” question! My turntable said “Fidelity” but I was musically promiscuous.

What are you listening to at the moment?

I am revisiting music now that I was listening to exactly 20 years ago. This is due in part to accepting Morrissey’s invitation to play at Meltdown, which in turn has renewed my collaboration with the guitarist Ian Devine. When we last worked together, we were listening to Serge Gainsbourg, Brigitte Bardot, Urszula Dudziak and Sergio Mendes. And here we all are again.

Which artwork most reflects your vision of yourself?

Leonora Carrington’s 1947 painting ‘Night Nursery Everything’ – me being the small figure you can see hiding in the hammock on the left. She was a Lancashire daughter (and one of the few female Surrealists) who escaped to Mexico – sensibly.

Which books do you consider your guide for life?

The Jungian women writers have an answer for every occasion. The analyst Marion Woodman has been my guide for the last 15 years. At the moment, Morrissey and I both retire to bed with the poet Marianne Moore. We may be on different sides of the Atlantic but we know what makes for a good read. With Ludus I sang, “I steal your books and you steal mine”. It was, of course, about him.

What in contemporary culture makes you despair?

How long have you got? while making a body of work called ‘The Return of Linderland’ in 2000, the phrase that got me out of bed in the morning was, “and the ironic shall lead to the mythic”. It came from a 1966 essay by the film critic Larry McMurtry. The Nineties were a time of either voluntary or enforced cultural exile for many of my generation. The prevailing culture was weak and derivative – fake outsiderdom. Its legacy is with us still.

Your house is on fire – who do you save first?

My work. I have no pension, no savings and my work has hardly been seen. A big monograph about my art is finally on the way, and I would weep bitterly if I lost all before the tale ws told.

Which buildings mean most to you? And which would you most like to see destroyed?

My nearest town is Morecambe and I recently visited the Winter Gardens there. As soon as you walk through the door, you’re in another time and place – the smell of the crowd and the roar of the grease paint, as Anthony Newley might have said. Much of ‘The Entertainer’ was filmed here in 1961. I would most like to see the Pleasureland amusement arcade adjoining the Winter Gardens swiftly demolished. The past can never be brought back, but then the present does not have to be quite so insensitive.

What is the strangest item of clothing you have ever worn?

In 1982 I wore a dress of raw meat. I was a vegetarian. My group Ludus was playing at the Hacienda and various points needed to be made.

Who would play you in the film of your life? And who would be your nemesis in the last reel?

Someone almost did play me in a film – 24-Hour Party People. A researcher telephoned one day to ask how I used to do my make-up. Eyebrows were raised. Then I saw a shooting copy of the script and I had no choice but to call in the lawyers and earse myself from the film. However, Jim Carrey often seems to waste his brilliance on the most undemanding roles, and if he’s handy with eyeliner and can hold a tune, I think he’d be just right to play yours truly. I would choose Clint Eastwood as my nemesis, if only to meet him formally.

You die and go to heaven – who would you most like to meet? What question would you ask first?

I like the idea of floating about in some amniotic limbo state with lots of other people for whom the jury is still out. Zelda Fitzgerald, Pauline Boty. Liberace, me…And we’d all be asking each other: “Was it worth it?”