Being an Artist

FAB(ath) 2012

Being back in Bath after 6 months of living, seemed like a strange, surreal dream, the bustling city, the posh shops, the golden buildings. All seemed exactly as it was in the city of forgotten dreams. Everything seemed so easy, so great, so bright, in this lovely little city. A dream world, a reality that seems so far away from the reality I am living in now. Time seems to have turned on a different axis within this city. Everything outside of the valley is louder, bigger, bolder. Within the beauty and the fields of gold stone, there lies a complexity of hidden truths, embedded in every cobbled street, every shop and every church, in every face.

This isn’t real. You are not real.

Isn’t it marvelous? Isn’t it grand? Aren’t we all just so beautiful and thankful and great.

The artwork and the galleries were no different, even the people seemed of the same callibre. Milsom Place, with all its glory, glorified even more by the stench of purified prints, the grand paintings, the sculptures of fire and light, the ghosts of lost forgotten souls on the walls. Where and when have I seen all these before?

Oh, only in Bath darling.

The Officers Club, not so much a club, but more an empty shell filled with iridescent flickers of hope. Hope that in some corners spirals out of control, and in others, just flickers into oblivion. A lost phone, watch or camera tainting the loss of a mother, childhood and friendship. A dirty, muddy, planetary event, dried up and crumbling much like the rest of the building.

Signs of life and sounds of scurrying nowhere to be found anymore in the Pet Shop; instead, memories of a childhood dream packaged and sealed, spoiled by the reality of adulthood. Broken toys, Gucci tampons, heart of stone callous grinder, negative space, and Newport girl – a large concoction of mildly amusing and far-fetched kiosk of STUFF.

And now the long hilly ascent up to what seems like a death trap – beware unsafe building – a shed outside with a peephole – a piece of work? Or a Vernacular need for locality, that’s fragile and solid at the same time.

And the doors lock and I can’t walk on anymore. No more to see, Bath has closed it’s doors on me today. Perhaps, I shall return another day for some more dreaming.

-Art, me and my blog-

Away from your physical studio space, sometimes it is necessary to have thinking time, time that you can sit back and reflect on what has just occurred or the next idea that is flickering somewhere in the distance.

I feel that sometimes, this reflection needs some form of solidity and this is possible through writing. With a pen in hand and your thoughts alight a whole stream of ideas can come to life that you hadn’t even realised existed in the first place. So, what’s the next step, the future of this form of art writing thinking process? Is it best to simply have an extended dialogue with oneself, or could it be more beneficial to form dialogue with the rest of the world?

Blogging is a new wave of thought making, a simple dialogue between you and your art, but also you and other artists. It creates another dimension for people to view your work and understand your work.

So, being able to blog your ideas, your words, your thoughts, your views, becomes not just about figuring out what you want to do, but it also becomes about creating this merge between the physical and the metaphysical, the artist and the spectator, the real and the unreal. Blogging is a new art form in itself.

A blog, doesn’t have to be the crème de la crème of art writing; it is simply your words and what you wish to express.

I have felt slightly lost without my writing, feeling a sense of unease and apprehension when trying to get back into one of my favourite art practices. Blogging, for me, was a way into how I was feeling, a realization of what I am trying to say and do. Yet, even blogging has become somewhat a chore, a bane in my existence, something that I feel awkward and guilty about. It’s been so long since my last post – what on earth am I going to write about?!

But that is the beauty of the blog – you can write just about anything and who cares what anyone else thinks or says, it’s my blog. Yet, it’s interesting isn’t it to see what someone else says…