The artists talk
I returned to Scarborough a week later, full of renewed trepidation about my talk. I hadn’t had time to think about it as the last few days of the school term had taken over my brain (remembering which of my daughters needs money for trips, party food, non-uniform days, leavers assembly blah blah and simultaneously completing paperwork for two schools I have been working with in Hull by end of term). My artists talk had receded into the background for a week and now it was suddenly happening… I’ve been thinking around the issue for months, but never drawing any conclusions about how to tackle it. The night before I travelled to Scarborough, amidst organising appointments for daughters to visit old friends in Scarb I realised there was one easy way to remember what it’s all about – scour my blog for clues. That helped. A bit.
In the end I met my mum and dad in the coffee lounge at 11am, handed over the daughters to their care, resisted the temptation to internally agitate about my dad’s silent frown as he looked at the honey dripping in the wardrobe, tried and failed to concentrate on his optimistic note in the comments book (‘you’ll be famous one day Rach), and spent an hour with a pen and scrap of paper making a few notes.
Plenty of people turned up, and pleasingly there were only a couple of friends and supporters – the rest were independently interested! I decided to do what I do on the blog – illuminate the context for the work, rather than try to explain the work itself. So a few autobiographical anecdotes later, we were all involved in a fascinating discussion about the piece, and most of the comments resonated strongly with my feelings about it. I was elated. Equally importantly, I had, once again talked about my work without talking about my work, and everyone agreed it was the best plan!
Well, it’s finally all been happening, and I haven’t had a minute to blog – so now I’ve paid for an afternoon’s childcare and resisted my daughters pleas to stay with me (apparently they would rather ‘do anything, even jobs, than go to summer playschemes’ which they ‘really hate’). So I’m in my studio enjoying a few hours to myself and looking back at recent events. Here’s an update
I set up the installation, feeling really anxious about how it would all come together. It took ages to get the projected image to line up exactly with the table and chairs in the corner of the gallery. The projector is housed inside an old leather suitcase, and needed propping up at a steep angle to get the right effect. I finally got it all sorted and left, hoping that I had left enough air vents for the projector, otherwise it’ll overheat and cut out.
The next day I was working for Creative Partnerships in Hull and got a phone call from the gallery saying that all my equipment had failed. Aaagh… spent a sleepless night worrying about it, how can two new pieces of kit both break simultaneously?, is it a fuse, has the projector overheated, has the bulb blown, if so why doesn’t the DVD player work… Returned first thing the next morning armed with toolbox and production manager (aka my partner).
Turned everything on – it worked fine! Although the projected image was now pointing at the ceiling. I think the gallery had PAT tested my equipment, and moved everything around – I wonder whether the projector had been put back in such a way that it was no longer lined up with the air vents? Anyway, we rigged everything up more securely – a much easier job with two people, and to be honest and my partner is better at technical construction stuff than I am. Anyway, I was just pleased it was all up and running again in time for the preview – which was great – it was well attended and the work was well received. Phew!
I'm finding it hard to settle in to my new life in West Yorkshire. It felt like a holiday for ages, now the reality has hit and I feel a bit lonely. I think it's a delayed reaction, after keeping it together while the daughters got settled. I'm amazed how much I am defined by my friends, and their knowledge and affirmation of who I am. I know how to act with them, and they know how to respond to me, so everything is more solid with them. Now I feel like I'm losing my edges a bit, retreating inwards.
So it's all the more poignant to be spending the week making final preparations to instal 'Left Behind' at Scarborough Art Gallery on Thursday… setting up a projected image of myself doing slightly peculiar things in the corner of a gallery where I used to spend a lot of time in my old life. I started making this work before I knew we were moving – so now there is a new layer of meaning to this ghost-like mischievous character flickering in the corner of the gallery.
I'm glad she became a mischievous character, rather than a defeated one (which is how she started out). Just hope it all looks the way I imagined it when I get it all in the gallery, and I can cope with the nerves until after the preview.
ps. unison strike clashes with exhibition installation day, and partner is on an overnight work thing, so daughters have to come to Scarb too. They think the video projection is embarassing and galleries boring. Ace.
Lots and nothing happening at the moment. Went to see MA show in Leeds, and Cy Twombly and RA shows in London. These trips stimulated new thoughts, and opened my world again a bit – need to do this regularly.
Spending more time than normal staring into space or simulating busyness, or redesigning my lists of tasks, none of which makes me feel particularly satisfied, but is quite compulsive behaviour. Then – the odd breakthrough, a movement into activity…
started collecting bits of….. hmm, not sure how to describe this – things like stray eyelashes, bogeys, flap of skin from a blister… are they bits of body? traces we leave behind, evidence of experiences, stains… I got some tiny resealable clear bags and an index card system to record them. My camera is in my studio and the work is at home, so will get a photo organised soon.
Today was totally rubbish. It's true you should be careful what you wish for, because I've just had three uninterupted days to devote to my studio practise, and it culminated in a guilt ridden grump of a day, doing nothing useful and feeling bad about it. no pleasing some people…
