Getting Somewhere

moving house is bad. never mind losing the thread, I've lost the whole reel. It'll be in one of these b***** boxes…

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We are relocating from Scarborough to Holmfirth. Moving next week. It's a nightmare. Enough of that though, I think it's time to focus on the art… if I don't do that here, it won't happen at all at the moment.

I've actually made a lot of progress with the piece I am making for Scarborough Art Gallery, but somehow I never get round to talking about it in my blog. In fact it's quite fascinating to observe how my default position is to avoid talking about my work in any circumstance. Particularly when I talk to curators, exhibition officers, anyone who would really like to hear a bit more about why I do it. I have an impressive range of techniques for giving the whole subject the bodyswerve. Like now for example, rambling on like this.

OK, I'll do the easy bit first – a list of the various elements of the piece; There are the 'preserving jars' of dust and dirt, on the shelves of an old oak(?) wardrobe. I've made a felt 'pinny' which is hanging in the wardrobe, and I've done a film test of myself 'doing things' in a corner of the gallery. I'm going to project the film back onto the same gallery space. I need to think a bit more precisely about what I will do and wear in the film.

I think I'll avoid talking about what it's about for a bit longer and bite the bullet next post. Let's not over do it after all – otherwise I'll need a lie-down and there's no time for that!

I chatted to one of the Other Mothers in the playground this morning. She asked what I’ve been up to and I told her I’m making a film for a show at Scarborough Art Gallery Coffee Lounge. She said;

‘but why would you spend all that time doing that? If it doesn’t earn you money and it doesn’t get the house tidy, I just don’t get why you do it…’

I couldn't really answer her in a way that she would understand, and got a bit embarassed. I laughed and muttered something about how I know it's quite ridiculous.

When I get home I feel angry that I undervalued my work, that I didn't defend my right to be different.

I cleared some boxes of junk from my in-laws garage yesterday.. old school books mainly. At the bottom of one box I found the first knitted sculpture I ever made, during my degree. I had an appalling relationship with my tutor at the time. I vividly remember how he picked it up as though it was disgusting, and tossed in the bin, saying 'what are we playing at now then Rachel?' 15 years later I plucked up the courage to start knitting again. Here's one of my recent knitted pieces.

I’ve been collecting the sweepings off the kitchen floor, the dust off all the surfaces, the stuff out of the hoover, and gak out of the plug hole. It’s all in preserving jars on the kitchen window sill.

The landlady looked but didn’t mention it. I think she just blanked it out. Lots of people seem to do that.

I overheard Older Daughter say to her friend ‘I dunno – it’s probably just mum’s art.’ She watched me make it but knows better than to ask why. It could unleash a tirade about Housework, and she likes to avoid those conversations.

It’s really interesting to see who notices, who dares to ask about it, how people respond…