I don’t have room for uncertainty. I’ve been through enough of it in my life and nothing rankles with me more. That’s why I need a plan, or a list, or some kind of diagram. And that’s why the last seven days have been such a – dare I employ such a cliché – rollercoaster ride.
Seven days ago I received an offer of a place at Goldsmiths.
Six days ago I drove to Portsmouth to spend some time with my boyfriend, went to Art Space Portsmouth’s open studios event, did some carving and got some difficult news from an old friend.
Five days ago I asked my boyfriend a question and got an answer I didn’t like, fell out with the old friend, bought some sandpaper for my sculpture, did some more carving, got into the car, sobbed briefly and drove back to Kent.
Four days ago I went to an interview at UCA for an MA course, patched things up with my old friend, patched up my soap sculpture, cleared up my space in the sculpture room and had an awkward phone call with my boyfriend.
Three days ago I poured some plaster around a ceramic face, talked about shelves and plinths, got an amazing mark for my dissertation, grinned for the whole day, decided that my boyfriend was right, tried to work on my sketchbook but ended up listening to rocksteady and reggae on YouTube and skanking around the living room.
Two days ago I went into college with a head full of Toots and the Maytals, sang in the sculpture room and got caught by a fashion tutor, worked on my sketchbook and curation essay, took some of my equipment home, worked on a bursary application, planned with my boyfriend for his visit over the weekend, played a lot of dancehall and dub and danced around some more.
Yesterday I went into college, worried about how I would manage to go to Goldsmiths, worked on my sketchbook and curation essay, volunteered at my son’s school, barely maintained my sanity in the midst of the baying herd of children, stayed up far too late re-writing the essay and evaluation, and thought about how well things were going with my life.
Today I went into college to print my paperwork and hand it in with the sketchbook, rushed to Stour Valley Arts gallery with my son tagging along as it was a teacher training day, set up the gallery and spoke to a visitor about the show, received an unexpected email from my boyfriend, read the email, tried to understand it, replied, read the reply, replied, read the reply, asked for a decision, broke up with my boyfriend, smiled at the gallery administrator and drove home.
During the course of writing this blog I’ve been worrying out loud about all sorts of things. From the very start I was sweating about doing an MA, and now I’ve got a plan for that. Now I need to come up with a plan for working it around a small child, but I’ll do my best. I’ll sweat about it a bit as well, but that’s what I do. I worried about the process of recording relationships in my artwork, and now I’ve done just that with my last, as well as recording its beginning and end in public prose. I managed to experience the very transition to ex-dom I described… and dreaded. Never mind; it’s a risky and usually painful thing, having relationships as a fundamental part of my practice. But I’m a big girl. There’s a kind of poetry in having painted parentheses around this part of my life, in which Luke featured. As for the future? Right now I can only think fourteen days ahead, when all of this work will reach its peak and the show will open.
In the meantime, I have Toots.
