Night Soil

Still unable to update posts regularly enough. I have placed a few snapshots below. I am frustrated with my lack of dedication and/ability to concentrate on multiple activities.

I am waiting for a visit from Mr Bracey. He has sent a message explaining that even though he is a little worse for wear he is nevertheless keen to see what I have been doing. Last night we had a meeting with artists which proceeded in the usual fashion for such events. Mark from Bureau was much taken with Miss Dover and has invited her to his studio (I shall tag along). Tonight I have been asked to present a film to a group of fellow artists at the Mill. I have decided upon Lelouche’s “Pour Un Maillot Jaune” and a tourist video of the Blackpool Illuminations opened by Chris DeBurgh.

At the screening I chose to show. Lelouche’s “Pour un Maillot Jaune”, 1965 and a souvenir video of the Blackpool illuminations circa 1989. After my very nervous and hurried introduction all went smoothly. Although as expected the illuminations video had an interesting effect on the audience. At first there was hysterical laughter at Chris DeBurgh’s desperately fading powers. Then more laughter at the crazy lights presenting Coronation Street stars and pepsi cans. Then came exhaustion and despair as the lights went on and on unrelenting into the night. The filmmakers themselves obviously didn’t know when to stop and so, quite arbitrarily, they decided to wait til morning and film a ride on the big dipper.

Plans for today.
1. Use this blog to write more reports
2. Order helium. Following the debacle yesterday I need more gas.
3. Build a light aeroplane and attempt to fly it on some nearby wasteland.
4. Set up surveillance on front door.
5. Take my washing to mum’s

I have made thirteen films so far with just over a week to go. “Pearlville” is in full swing. But looking back in my notebook I realise I have failed to make nearly anything I planned. In something of a state Miss Dover has dragged me away from the Mill. She is hoping I will be able to relax.

A clip from my third film at Islington Mill

Fragmented reports from the field

Bags so heavy I was forced to beg for a lift to the station. The train will be one minute late. I anticipate it should take just twenty minutes to cross London with this load. I will arrive at Euston with another twenty minutes to spare.

There are moments of great luxury in the life of an artist. There are assignments on which he is required to act the part of a very rich man. The reservation tickets haven’t been put out in coach F. My space has been occupied by a tattooed family. Mum, Dad, pugilistic son and multiply pierced baby.

Arrived safe and well in Manchester. Met off the train by Mr Bracey and Juhana who bundled me into a taxi to Islington Mill where I was given keys and passwords and invited out for drinks at the Cornerhouse. I wanted to start work straight away as nothing calms the nerves more than having something “in the can”. But as Miss Goodyear (whom I met upon arrival) said: “It is Sunday”. Nevertheless I am edgy and eager to get on.

B and I made a brief visit to Miss Goodyear’s studio before heading into Manchester with Mr Moisander for a meeting. Her studio is a luxurious space with a large sofa for reclining, a cabinet filled with many curious souvenirs (including a perfectly preserved pair of feet) and an enviable view over the Salford projects. The meeting, like so many on residencies of this kind, turned into a drinking session the like of which I have not experienced for a long time. Indeed as I type this report my hands are still shaking a little. Finding time to make work is always a problem, so I take my chances where I find them. Upon returning to my room last night I made my first film. I haven’t looked at it yet for fear of what I might find.