Keeping It Going

‘All the long gone darlings …’
Sylvia Plath

Collecting and the consequent sorting process continues to be an integral part of my creative work and the various pieces, created as part of the Nana’s Colours series were developed purely through this process.

I’m always excited when new ideas start to emerge in this way; and adding new pieces develops the creative work even further. I’m more discerning than I used to be, but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to find and introduce new items to my collection, a collection made up of so many different pieces; from swatches of fabric, debris from the streets and beaches, magazine cuttings, family photos, small mementoes of people from my past – all manner of things that for many different reasons, have caught my eye. Any collector will identify I’m sure, with the excitement associated with finding something ‘special’ – however much that might be open to personal interpretation.

Letting go plays a key part in the sorting process – it’s as important to let go of certain objects as it is to hold onto them at times, making way for fresh ideas and inspiration, not to mention creating actual physical space to house the things you really want to hold onto.

I’ve finally got round to making space in my home to accommodate the more precious objects from my collection. These are the things that I felt unable to leave in my friend’s garage or in my new studio, following the massive move I made at the start of the year. Small, precious things, snaffled up at the last minute, wrapped in newspaper and laid carefully in boxes in order to transport them home.

Organisation is key; I like to be able to put my hand to specific objects, if and when I need them – either for a particular piece of work or simply, to reacquaint myself and derive pleasure from seeing and handling them again. Sentimental objects, especially, belonging to people I have loved – ‘all the long gone darlings’ to quote Sylvia Plath from her extraordinary poem, ‘All the Dead Dears.’

I found a bag of unused soap bars in one of my recent searches, carefully preserved in tissue paper and nestled in the corner of a vanity case which had belonged to my Nana. A recent piece of work ‘Five Summers Without You’ came out of this find, made in response to the anniversary of my Nana’s death in September 2010. I selected five soaps to represent the number of summers that have passed since my Nana died – the number of summers we have been without her and the number of summers in which we have no longer bought soap for her birthday. The scent of the soaps takes me right back to being with her, close to her – especially as a child, cuddled up right next to her – sweetly fragrant. The evocative nature of floral scents and perfumes – lily of the valley, freesias, magnolia and roses all come to mind.

There is so much more to explore through delving into the past lives of such ‘long gone darlings’ and bearing in mind that death has had such a strong presence in my life this past year, to do so will require a substantial amount of time and patience. As things stand, I’m unsure about just how much background I want to continue to divulge about the work I make. It’s the subject for a whole other blog post, but it’s a thought I keep returning to. Time will tell, I suppose how this all pans out.

In the meantime, it’s all about getting on with making the work – keeping it going, crucially.

Seventeen weeks have passed since the General Election resulted in a Tory government with its austerity programme of draconian cuts. Bread and Roses has already seen some changes.

This past week has seen the most dramatic in terms of the change in appearance; both the bread and the roses are now covered in patches of mould.

The impact of neglect, even in these early stages, is already evident. We have four and three quarter more years of Conservative rule to go …

Reading articles like this in The Guardian over the Bank Holiday weekend remind me, that while people like Moira Drury continue to be treated in the way her daughter writes about here, then there will always be room for getting angry:

http://www.theguardian.com/society/2015/aug/27/my-mothers-death-was-hastened-by-long-delay-in-processing-her-benefits

RIP Moira Drury

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‘Bread and Roses’ fifteen weeks on …

Fifteen weeks on from the General Election, 2015 and the roses in particular are showing real signs of decay. Neglect has had less of an impact on the bread, however. ‘Full of preservatives, perhaps?’ is the question asked by a friend on Facebook when I posted a photo of barely changed slices of bread earlier on today. Who knows …

What I do know however, is that the impact of neglect on the roses has been significant after just 15 weeks. Imagine the impact of five years …

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The fragility of life …

Another of those moments when I feel compelled to catch up on this blog – if only to park a lot of the stuff that’s been busy scrambling my brain. I’m definitely feeling in need of a break and sitting down to write this, feels like a kind of signing off from art for a week or so – my own art, at least.

I’ve added some images recently but haven’t been able to focus or concentrate enough to write, despite feeling that I really wanted to. I’ve had the pleasure of working with some really generous artists these past few weeks who collectively, brought with them amazing warmth, sensitivity, colour, fun and humour. Simultaneously, I’ve had to deal with a lot of sadness in other areas of my life.

Detail from painting by Biscotti for Bread and Jam show, July 2015

Detail from film by Rebecca Glover for Bread and Jam, July 2015

It’s been a demanding time, both creatively and personally; taking part in two exhibitions in quick succession, amidst coming to terms with the sudden and unexpected death of a close relative at the end of May. Following on from that, just a few weeks later, came the news that someone I knew as a kind, generous and gregarious person had taken his own life. Another sharp reminder of the fragility of life. This stark contrast between the fragility of life and the permanence of objects is something I think about a lot. It’s one of the main themes of my work, and I found myself thinking about it during the installation of Don’t Ask in the Bread and Jam group show, as I created a scenario of a (mainly) fictitious, but rather sad life, using objects as my main medium.

With all of the above and more on my mind, there’s been very little space or time to think about much else over these past few weeks. I’ve continued to monitor Bread and Roses for signs of decay, but otherwise, I’m acutely aware of how little attention I’ve given to thinking about politics and in particular, what’s been going on within the Labour Party in terms of the recent campaign to vote Jeremy Corbyn in as the leader. It’s unusual for me to be out of touch in this way – my work is frequently informed by my interest in what’s going on in the world around me, socially and politically – Bread and Roses after all, is a direct response to the austerity measures imposed by the current government.

But in a conversation with an artist last week, I was struck by how vague and empty my response was when asked about my position on the Corbyn vote. It left me with an uneasy feeling that’s been niggling away at me ever since – recognition perhaps, of how disengaged and disassociated I’ve been feeling these past few weeks and months. What do I feel? Do I actually know any more?

Ever increasing signs of decay, Bread and Roses (ongoing) from May 2015

Looking back at what I wrote here just under three months ago, shortly after the election results came through, I realise how little I’ve moved on from that time. Seeing the Conservatives voted in again completely threw me; it was not what I was expecting.’Gutted’ was the word I used to describe how I felt, a word defined in the dictionary as: devastated, destroyed, demolished, wiped out, ruined, ravaged, wrecked.

I’ve continued to experience a lot of those feelings, unable to overcome an overwhelming sense of despondency, and all the other descriptions of what being gutted feels like. Once bitten, twice shy, I suppose; there’s a sense that I’ll need to dig deep to find the enthusiasm to be optimistic all over again. But hopefully, through recognising the loss, I’ll get closer to taking that first step to getting back on the proverbial horse and starting afresh – to ‘keep spirits up, to turn despair into hope and to channel anger effectively‘ as I wrote in a blog post here, two weeks after Election day, May 7th 2015.

I also included a quote in that particular blog post from Malcolm X, which said this:

‘Usually when people are sad, they don’t do anything. They just cry over their condition. But when they get angry, they bring about a change.’

Maybe it’s time to get angry?

Something to think about while I’m taking a break, maybe …

Objects from Harry Pye & Kate Murdoch’s collaborative ’42 Objects of Affection’ for ‘Life of Pye’ show, August 2015