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Thursday I found myself in London, something that I’ve tried to avoid ever since leaving aged 18. But I had two good reasons to go;

First I was invited by International Art Consultants to present my ‘recent work’, by which I mean, my corporate/civic sculpture, to the new director and staff.

Second I had arranged lunch with my dear friend Anna who I hadn’t seen since she became director of ‘Learning’ at Tate Modern.
Anna always nourishes me, and I hoped that a chat with her would leave me feeling empowered, I wasn’t disappointed, but I was a bit surprised.

An hour and a half of verbal lunch with Anna, left me feeling that we really do have our work cut out for us. If, as artists, we want to present an alternative to the ubiquitous business culture that insists we all share uniform values, to maintain the arts as somewhere that true inclusive diversity can happen, we have got to be brave enough to question the paradigms we work within. We have to be wary of what others ask from us, especially if they are paying.
We are in real danger of being complicit in a national curriculisation of creativity – fully accredited and certified, of course (so it’s trustworthy).

My second meeting, a fairly straightforward opportunity to talk about my work, was as it should be, familiar and comfortable, It was a marketing exercise I suppose, I found myself torn between being a salesman and inviting dialogue. I was surprised just how irrelevant most of what I would consider to be part of contemporary arts practise was to this situation, I found that talking beyond the object itself required too much unfamiliar contextualisation, a bit like discussing Carl Andre’s work with old aunt Nelly, worthwhile, but perhaps too much of an investment.

It wasn’t exactly an epiphany but the days contrast confirmed something that has been sneaking up on me for years.
It is one thing to make a nifty object, but without integrity of process you will end up simply a manufacturer working in an ‘art’ commodity market that differs little from any other small business. Exciting for a while, but essentially superficial.
Where this business differs from manufacturing, or design is that it involves personal interpretation of what it is to be a quirky human being, in a manner that invites others to engage with their respective quirky human individuality. It is about multiple interpretations with multiple unknown outcomes. Any object that is involved is simply the vehicle for transmitting evidence about the process of being a human being. It mirrors life in being a stochastic process – It is the antithesis of collective corporate strategy, target oriented thinking, terms such as ‘public’, ‘consumer’ and ‘qualification’.

Time to stop working to a brief.

The reason I avoid London? It usually makes me feel competitive. This time it didn’t. It usually wears off.


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Emerging from an unhealthy bout of work, making things for 'others' (14 days continual at 12 hours a day) I feel like I've been holding my breath underwater and have no idea what has been going on . It seems that Jonathan has been housekeeping the project nicely, even getting round to adding a bit about my task to:HIS BLOG

Jonathan's kind words will of course oblige me to warm-heartedly push him off of a ladder at some later date. I say this because I am convinced that he had to search long and hard for alternative words for obscure, irrational and pedantic (stimulating, lateral and warm-hearted). But to be fair we both sometimes look at each other as though the trolley has come adrift, while secretly recognising a shared sense that we are both still getting away with it at our age, and dreading the day that we might have to decide what it is exactly that we do for a living.
All I can say is that if you ever get a chance to work with Jonathan Swain, jump at the opportunity, you'd be foolish not to.

Another bubbling undercurrent has been the technical details of how Vincent intends to construct his sculpture – I raised a few concerns about the structure a month or so ago, and since then a few e-mails have crept between us (via a translator as my French is sub-kindergarten). Vincent's absolute professionalism and sheer determination has proven these concerns to be trivial – so now I am really looking forward to the build, and overcoming any problems that may show themselves in a spirit of adventure.

The major part of my concern stemmed from how badly methods of making can translate, not just verbally but in the different available materials and tooling, for instance;
Zinc sheet in the USA is a very different substance from the galvanised steel that seems the obvious UK alternative.
It is possible that the dowel that Vincent's structure relies upon may not replace well with the ubiquitous B&Q/Homebase equivalent.
I also wondered if Vincent was familiar with PU glue and biscuit joints. But I remembered that in France you can still buy acid in supermarkets, and that it is the UK that has been modularised to a safe, creativity excluding, IKEA norm.

I am sure that I was being too cautious, but then the verbal translation of the french for dowel into 'spandrel' is enough to cause a cold shudder.

It could be worse, as a very dear friend found out, when she tried to offer some giclee print reproductions of her mono-prints for sale in a French gallery and was greeted with howls of laughter.
Giclee translates as 'spurt' and is used in normandy at least, as a euphemism for ejaculate.

Perhaps in a form of inverted snobbery we should label our inkjet prints on the continent as 'cum gravure'.


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