These posts were written during my trip to Northern Ireland so are published in retrospect.
Day 1 in Northern Ireland. Up bright and early I boarded the plane at Southampton airport to find that Belfast airport was shut due to snow. In a really ironic way, after watching Planes,Trains & Automobiles with Samuel two days ago, and actively wondering whether I would meet a John Candy character on the plane, I bizarrely did just that. After an hour waiting on the runway, by which my new pal in the next seat had familiarized me with the goings on of all his family members, friends, their successive children, his history from childhood and his entire schedule for the trip, we were sent back into the airport to wait for another hour where my friend sought me out again and joined me for coffee. I was beginning to suspect I would never get to Belfast. Ruminating on the films outcome I made an active choice to embrace this man’s chatty company only to discover when we got back on the plane he said ‘Actually there’s a free seat over there, I’d rather be on my own if you don’t mind and get some rest’. I felt cheated.
Anyway, on arrival I met my sister and we set off for the city you daren’t mention, or as the N.Irish now call it ‘Stroke City’. The awareness the N.Irish carry of the significance of language etc, may be undetectable by the rest of the UK but is very real and something I am dangerously out of practise in using. The name Londonderry/Derry has become so charged that people are careful not to be associated with one or the other – hence the ‘stroke’ city (the two names are dropped and only the stroke separating them remains). Even on the phone arranging meetings I made a conscious effort to avoid all mention of it.
Stroke city, a good distance from Belfast, feels wildly remote, and the journey there cuts through some distinctly barren and raw countryside. The city itself carries the marks of it’s history, devisions and attempts at reconciliation everywhere. Unlike Belfast where the centre reveals little of it’s troubled history, Stroke city is embellished throughout with murals, slogans, colours, monuments and artworks, simultaneously calling people to maintain their historic devisions and unite in peace. A fascinating place and one which pulled me in all directions emotionally, as I mentally left behind the quiet Wiltshire existence and reinvoked my feelings of belonging to this raw and troubled country.
The afternoon meant two meetings with gallery directors there with fairly positive results, which now require me to put together a proposal. Back later to my sisters in Belfast, on to my fathers and a treasured evening with our now small family back together again.
The day before I leave (mega early) for Ireland and things are not quite as planned. My fathers brother has died suddenly in England so I may have to do an about turn early and come back with my father for the funeral. They were identical twins so the loss is even more poignant in a way. Billy and Bobby. Although seas apart they aged identically with the same familiar tone of voice and the same little movements and turn of their head. How odd life will be for my father without him.
On a more frivolous note, after two days of half term and the inevitable squabbling I have almost lost my voice from shouting at the children (day 1 is always the worst and then they settle down). Let’s hope it holds up enough to speak in the four meetings I have lined up as that could render it a complete waste of time. I have also an extra child to look after today due to a crisis over a horrendously sad access battle between friends and will later have to offload them all to get to Laurence Rushbys PV event tonight (Laurence has stretched red ribbon around the Salisbury Arts Centre for her Lifelines show and my youngest who is going through a rebellious stage is bound to drag them down if I let her within a mile of it).
What started off this week as a carefully laid out plan for the journey has been superseeded by the much bigger and more chaotic issues of life itself. How things can change in a matter of hours.
I’m feeling a bit like a boat that’s been cut loose from the dock and just let float around at the moment. I keep reviewing my list of ideas to explore, bits of film I want to make etc and not actually getting to grips with things. I’m off to N.Ireland after tomorrow to see four galleries so perhaps my thoughts will crystalise a bit more. The show in Geneva has not been nailed down to a venue yet, I have a few galleries supposedly watching me, one supporting and helping me get some critical writing done, and many projects I could set up myself, but no actual concrete deadlines.
There are so many opportunities listed now I never have time to get past reading the third page or so on websites so I am probably missing all the best ones. Sometimes I feel the amount of info available is just as much a curse as a benefit. I guess I need to have a structured approach otherwise I could just flail around and drown in it. If some smart person out there could offer a service which would sift out opportunites/ articles etc appropriate to my practice and email me no more than say four at a time a day I could cope with that. Otherwise I just run around like the headless chicken of the web, lost in a sea of inappropriate opportunities, giving up and wandering off to make dinner.
PS Artsmatrix has been scooped up and rescued at the last minute so will live to see another day – yeh!
It really saddened me yesterday to read that Artsmatrix has had to close down. I can’t emphasise enough how pivotal the organisation has been in enabling me to return to exibiting and working on a professional level. Over two years ago I signed myself up for a creative development session and, for a very small payment, one of their officers travelled some distance to spend two hours or so at a location convenient to my situation and effectively worked with me to focus what I wanted out of a future in art.
Emerging from the oblivion of 10 years raising four young children, the support, focus and encouragment that day gave me the boost I needed and I went ahead to apply for arts council support. Arts matrix kept in touch and guided me through my form, responding to my many questions (even from her bed when the officer was off ill with flu) and connecting me with other sources of support. During my last contact with my officer, at a recent conference, I was bemoaning my rather disorganised effort at combining family with the aims of my reasearch, wondering whether I merited the support at all but she quickly reasured me that I was making more than satisfactory progress and once again gave me the boost I needed. I have been recomending Artsmatrix to all and sundery ever since and feel their closure as a huge loss (among others) to the area.
Many key people have contributed to my development in the last few years but had that initial meeting been more expensive I doubt whether I could have gone, – had I had to travel long distances I may not have fitted it in with the children, – had Artsmatrix not existed, I wonder would anyone be reading this at all.
Ever ordered a meal at a resturant to find everyones plate looks more inviting than your own? I find at times this is the curse of having other peoples work on tap on the internet. I often spend pointless time gazing at other peoples work thinking – why couldn’t I be that sort of artist, why couldn’t I do work that was as colourful/socially engaged, technically complex/ easily transportable, sellable/ permanent/ humourous etc etc. you name it – anything but what I do – and I can’t do anything but what I do. Is it just me that has these moments?
Well, I’ve booked my flight to Ireland, and booked two gallery directors so far to meet up with. They still have my work in the national permanent collection over there from my days before the children. The Arts Council very politely asked to use it a year or so ago to be photographed for some publicity and I agreed in return for some photos which, incidently, I never received.
Katie in Geneva is meant to be forwarding me some written piece about my work but perhaps needs another gentle nudge to make it happen. Finally got the piece of film I completed from the all the interviews conducted with women on the subject of night. It’s on my axis site if you want to take a look, entitled ‘Night Vision’. Leading on from that I have another two film pieces I would so like to do.
On a freezing cold,wintery walk by the lake in Tisbury today, with her rather unhappy baby playing up in the backpack, I talked to my friend Alison about pulling forces on the next film project. Alison, originally from Australia, is a composer of choral music, and to work together would take us both outside our comfort zone, – I would so love it.
