Arrival in Liverpool, Monday 1 October, 1.45pm
A pack of schoolboys zigzagging up and down the steps of St George’s Hall blazers flapping in the wind all jonpaulgeorgeandringo, taking photos
A beach flip-flop on the pavement
Japanese students standing in the street gazing up: they are drawing
3 of the drunkest men I’ve any seen leaning against the outside of a pub
A young woman strolling down Bold Street in green rollers, chewing gum. Gallus.
The Divine Mercy Shop ‘Jesus I Trust in You’
There’s no quicker way of getting to know a city, or your fellow exhibiting artists and curators, than installing a show as soon as you get there. Luckily, I had an hour after being welcomed at Bridewell Studios and Galleries with a cup of tea and some shortbread by studio holder Ed Bruce, to place my work within the gallery before anyone else arrived. I had been nervous about how the piece would work in the space – as a small scale piece, directly pinned on to the wall, so much is dependent on where is placed, and how the light falls on it. In the end I intuitively knew where to place it – behind the door, in a kind of ‘no place’, alongside the functional parts of the room – the buzzer and the gas meter. This worked absolutely for the piece – inhospitable, opaque, reluctant to give itself up. Opposite the high windows, the light falls on it as I want, showing the material qualities of the carbon paper; the creases, the imprint of the typewritten text, the black shine.
So here come exhibition co-curator Bruce Davies of Basement Art Project in Leeds and artist Phil Hopkins with a van full of art to put up before the exhibition opening the next day. All hands on deck. Banter and joshing instant. After installing the bulk of the work, we jumped in the van, like some kind of shonky art A Team, and made our way to the unit in Albert Dock, to install more work in the second of the spaces for the SCIBase contribution to the Independents Biennial. There we met co-curator Wendy Williams, and artist Lydia Catterall. A couple of hours there, placing work and then done for day, exhausted. The following day brought slightly more panicked tempo of install at Albert Dock, and for me a sprint across the city with a box of artwork from Sweden, collected from Wendy at Tate, against the clock to Bridewell, to get there before Ed had to leave. Then a run, literally, down to the station to meet Nigel, my husband who was arriving for the day from W Yorks. A whiz round the John Moore’s, a pint before buying booze for the pv, then to the opening. Job done, happy with my piece, and how it works, happy to meet such lovely and open Liverpool artists, and delighted to catch up with Leeds Met Uni old pal Mike Lill who runs the ace Kazimier venue in Liverpool with some friends.
There was only time to see small bits of the Biennial. From the little I saw I was taken by the work of Jacob Holding and John Akomfrah at Bluecoat and Akram Zaatari at FACT. Also enjoyed the The John Moore’s more than I expected, the Biggs and Collings stunning.
My art adventure in Liverpool was exhausting, immersive, intense, and also fun. I truly felt alive. The experience took me out of my own head, away from the griefs of my losses. It has been good for me. Maria and Nana are still in my thoughts, every day, and I’m still struggling to believe they are gone. Normally I would be instant messaging Maria, asking her opinion, and writing to Nana about the exhibition, after, with photos, but instead I’m talking to you.
Doing a creative project in the midst of bereavement, hasn’t magicked the grief away, or even lessened it. But attempting to honestly document the creative process of the work has felt like honouring those two people who I have lost.
This seems a good place to end this blog.
Thank you for listening, thank you for reading.
