Keeping It Going

My ‘Sweet Nothings’ work is to be included in a new and exciting group show, ‘No Place Like Home’ curated by artists and curators, Rosalind Davis and Laura Hudson. They have this to say in the publicity about the exhibition and its theme of home:

‘Home can be a sanctuary or a place of danger, it might be stable or temporary, intimate or shared, rooted for generations or a refuge in times of need. This basic need can be charged with political, social and economic realities; borders shift, relationships fracture, rules change, and forced migrations can impact the incredibly fragile place that we call Home.‘

Those of you who are familiar with this particular piece of work will know that my response focuses on the more sinister side of home – what goes on behind closed doors – the secrets and lies – matters that cannot, dare not, be voiced.

I’m reminded of an extract from an essay by author, activist & feminist Rebecca Solnit in her book.‘The Mother of all Questions.’

‘Being unable to tell your story is a living death, and sometimes a literal one. If … no one believes you when you say you are in pain, if no one hears you when you say help, if you don’t dare say help, if you have been trained not to bother people by saying help. If you are considered to be out of line when you speak up in a meeting, are not admitted into an institution of power, are subject to irrelevant criticism whose subtext is that women should not be here or heard.’

‘Sweet Nothings’ will be on show as part of a group show, opening at ArtHouse Jersey and in unexpected locations around the Island.

It opens on September 5th with a special celebration event at 5.30pm (all welcome). The show will then fully open from 10.30am on Wednesday September 6th and will run through to October 15th at ArtHouse Jersey and in unexpected locations around the Island.

Daily opening times, Tuesday to Sunday, are 10.30am – 6pm. (Closed on Mondays)

I was in Ayr in June, delivering my work, HOPE to narture cic (see below). The connection came about through an exchange of messages on social media. The connection grew stronger as things unfolded and my own familiarity with Ayr became apparent …

My late father, Alexander (Alec) was born and grew up in Muirkirk in Ayrshire and I spent many days as a child on the beach at Ayr with him, my Mum and siblings during our regular trips to visit family. As a result, Ayr has always remained a place close to my heart and so I’m particularly pleased to be able to take my work there.

The work HOPE is a tribute to a much loved Dad – a principled man who believed in and strived for a fairer society. He had an optimistic outlook on life and always saw the best in people.

I created the work during lock down, at a time when the theme of hope had a poignant universal meaning. It’s what got so many of us through each day over the COVID-19 pandemic and for me, personally, creating HOPE proved cathartic and a welcome distraction from news report after news report, bringing devastating statistics of daily deaths from COVID, both in the UK and the world at large.

I’m especially pleased for the work to be shown within the realms of narture cic, an artist collective, set up in 2020, by father and daughter team Robert and Saskia Singer, with the aim of supporting inclusion and community cohesion within Ayr. Narture is a welcoming organisation with hope at its core, alongside a strong commitment to nurturing the arts, respecting nature and making creativity accessible to everyone. If you’re in the Ayr area on September 2nd, there’s an open day of the narture studios – there’s a lot going on in this space (and you can even leave your own message of hope alongside my work!) Further details of this and other narture events can be found here: https://www.narture.co.uk/

I was in Colchester again for the first time in ages last weekend. I visited the First Site gallery and reminisced about how, in 2015, a lively, enthusiastic audience participated in my 10×10 project. For one reason and another, I haven’t been able to present the project since and can’t believe it’s now eight years since the last objects were exchanged, left in the 10×10 cabinet by the general public in Colchester. It was a particularly pleasant day, I recall – the local community engaging with the project in a really thoughtful and considered way.

Scroll on from that time and five years ago, 10×10 should have been part of the Deptford X festival, the Colchester objects up for exchange with an entirely new audience. But I had to cancel at the last minute due to illness. I was gutted at the time, I remember, but I had no choice in the matter and was in hospital throughout the entire run of Deptford X that year.

And so, I’m extremely excited to be able to show 10×10 at this year’s Deptford X fringe festival. This year, the Festival celebrates its 25th anniversary and organisers are particularly keen to include projects from previous festival years.

I’ve always loved this project – love the way it’s unfolded in quite unexpected ways. Many of the stories associated with the objects left behind are quite remarkable. One day I really will record them all. For now, it’s all about sprucing up the 10×10 cabinet and locating the box which holds the 100 objects exchanged at First Site in Colchester. I have very little recollection of any of these objects so it will be fascinating to see what’s there and what I have to display in 10×10′s next public outing. The theme of value and worth runs deep in this project and while on the surface, objects might look pretty worthless, the narrative behind them gives them a much greater value. As I asked in the original 10×10 literature, at a point when I had no idea how the project would evolve: ‘Would it be people’s generosity or meanness that triumphed when it came to the value of the objects that were bartered? Would the piece be ‘worth more’ at the end of the process?’

If you’re familiar with this project, all of the above will make sense. If not, and you’d like to know more about it, this link leads you to a short synopsis of what 10×10 is all about: http://www.katemurdochartist.com/10×10.html

Details to follow re further dates and times but Deptford X has its opening night on Friday, September 22nd from 5-9pm. The 10×10 cabinet will be on display, upstairs in the ArtHub gallery at 5-9 Creekside, Deptford on this date and then open for exchanges to be made on Saturday 23rd & Sunday 24th from 12-6pm.

Everyone is welcome.

Recently, I’ve started working on a couple of vintage woollen blankets – raw material for opening up opportunities for making new work, perhaps – you never quite know. The blankets are both a very distinct pink in colour, dating from the 50/60s. I’m enjoying being reacquainted with them – such evocative items – the blankets’ colours, their feel and the biscuity kind of scent attached to them conjure up all sorts of memories. I’ve always been drawn to the colour of the wool, but the satin trim also appeals.

The last time I used one in my work was a while back – it’d been stored away in a suitcase, protected from moths. I’d been looking for fabric to wrap around a dressing table which needed transporting – the mirror in particular needed protection. I remember hesitating before cutting the blanket – that first cut! – but on the basis that there were plenty more where they came from, I went ahead. The blanket was cut into several pieces, wrapped around the dressing table’s main frame, the drawers and mirror and then tied securely with string. I spent some time doing it, enjoying the process of swaddling the various bits of the dressing table. I wish now that I’d taken photos of the assembled pieces before I loaded them into my car to transport them – it was a startling transformation.

Cut to, seeing a very similar blanket in a local Oxfam shop recently for the grand sum of £50 – one almost identical to the one I’d cut in pieces; they’ve clearly become fashionable and sought after. I find it fascinating how fashion dictates what’s ‘in’ (or out) at any given time. For me, their appeal has been never ending – more than anything, I think, because they evoke such strong childhood memories – the good parts, particularly – those moments of feeling warm and safe and secure and loved.

The blankets take me back to overnight stays in my Nana’s house, from the age of around eight onwards – pre duvet days, when you were tucked up in bed so tightly sometimes that you could barely move, the soft satin trim around the neck, a welcome relief from the itchiness of the all wool blanket. The colour pink has been traditionally associated with love – with kindness and femininity, too.

My hope is that new work might evolve from being reacquainted with them, but it’s fine if it doesn’t – having the blankets around me in the studio again is a joy in itself, calling to mind those overnight stays with my Nana – the one on one attention, the feeling special – the ‘girls’ united in love – a hot water bottle slipped under the blankets for extra warmth and comfort.

I’m amazed that this is my first blog post of 2023, but then I suppose it reflects pretty accurately how much has been going on since the start of this year – life events, mainly – not art-related stuff. It feels like there’s been a shift in focus this past week and so, here I am – back in blog writing mode and also starting to feel back on the proverbial saddle with regards to thinking about and making work …

Perpetuity: the state or quality of lasting forever versus Precariousness: the state of being dangerously likely to fall or collapse

I’ve been looking through recent photographs of objects, taken in a corner of my existing studio. There’s something about the overall sense of shabbiness of this corner that frequently suits the objects I place there for photographing – the light is good, too.

Nobody’s sure of the time scale yet, but the studio building’s about to be redeveloped – knocked down, essentially – my studio with it, alongside those of yet another community of artists, being moved on. The gentrification of Deptford has been evident for quite some time now but it doesn’t seem that long ago that a community of artists was moved on from Cor studios in Creekside. I was a part of that group, too.

Cor studios, when they were there, and currently ArtHub studios, neighbour the APT gallery and studio complex. The ‘P’ in APT stands for perpetuity – the state of lasting forever. What a brilliant investment the APT artists made when they bought the building. How lovely it must be to have the comfort and sense of security of knowing that you’re able to hold onto your studio – forever. In contrast, for many artists, the P so often stands for precariousness.

It looks likely that once planning permission is 100% granted, the entire ArtHub studio building will be knocked down. I’ve been wondering if the new developers would allow me to keep a part of my existing studio – just this small, corner part of it, so that I continue with my ‘From the studio …’ photographs of objects. It’ll probably be far too impractical & complicated to manage – too heavy, probably to take away, but on the basis of nothing ventured, nothing gained, I think I might give it a shot. Or perhaps in time, I’ll look at losing the studio as just another challenge – another step on my journey of letting go, in all senses of the word. Let’s see …