Tuesday. Day Off… and yes, it does warrant the capital letters.
Since my blog last Wednesday when I was bemoaning the fact that my Day Off was the day before university, not after, I have changed my mind about the fact.
Yes, Real Life has got in the way of Fantasy Artist Life, but I think that’s ok. My brain carries on sifting and sorting the input while I get on with the other stuff. By the time it gets round to the next Tuesday, things are clearer. So I will be able to spend today in organised thought and action, rather than spending the time in an over-stimulated frantic frame of mind, unable to see the wood for the trees.
Fantasy Artist Life though, is about to lose the capitals, then probably the Fantasy too. Remember the Big Idea (more capitals, sorry) I had a few posts ago? Well, now I’ve done a few research visits, and taken some photos and done some drawings and had a think and a chat, and written notes for the proposal, it has got smaller in my head, but bigger on the page. These changes that are happening in my head are the most fascinating of all. The creature who used to sit on my shoulder and giggle is now sat open-mouthed at my audacity!
A little bit of thinking, prompted by Wednesday has managed to seep through…
My research will be presented as a quilt, not an essay. An essay would be easier. I could pin down the relationships, skewer them to the page, say “There!” and move on. The quilt idea is not like this. (I know I have talked a bit about it here before – late July or early August). Talked about it on Wednesday, and I know the idea will work and grow, and continue to make associations as time goes on. It’s even open to other people making contributions and establishing different connections between the bits of writing I discover and create. My art work can slot into it, as can the occasional song. Unfortunately, for assessment purposes, I will also have to write something to explain to the marker how it should be “read”. How many words will this need to be? Why didn’t I just write the bloody essay if I have to write anyway? This is the point at which I feel like a student, not like an artist. I think I shall purloin a selection of hats, in order to indicate to myself and others which role is prominent at any particular time. Today’s hat will be changed at lunchtime, and at 4.30. Some days a spinning device might be required.
Well I’m back in school now, and have actually taught today at last. I hate it when the return to the new term starts with inset training days and admin, because I can find I start the year thinking I don’t like my job any more.
But actually, I love it! I had year 4 this afternoon and they are delightful and keen and imaginative.
So I’m settling back into the routine again. Had a very full day at the School of Art in Birmingham yesterday, taking in the MA show (my turn next year) and catching up on the gossip, and exchanging library books, meeting friends for lunch. Felt like a reunion.
The pattern of my week frustrates me sometimes though. My day off is Tuesday, but after being in Margaret St all Wednesday, my mind is abuzz with everything, so I never sleep well on Wednesday nights, then all the ideas I’ve had have to wait till the weekend to be sifted and thought about, sketched and noted.
The list of things to think about is somewhat eclectic: mp3 players, wireless headphones, spiral staircases, chests of drawers, bonnets, quilts and cotton wool, music downloads, waltzes, ticking clocks and snippy scissors.
Sometimes, it dawns on you that a change has happened. This weekend has felt like that. It feels like a sudden change, but actually it has been gradual. Is there a more positive metaphor than “the straw that broke the camel’s back”? Today I am an artist. Last week I was calling myself an artist, but I could always hear someone giggling. A few months ago I felt happy calling myself an artist/teacher, and the giggling about that was fading. A year ago the artist/teacher tag was a struggle. Three years ago I’d have heard guffaws at the prospect of calling myself an artist/teacher. I didn’t know really what I was… No… I knew I was an artist. But when people asked me, I couldn’t say the word. I used to shuffle around it a bit.
This last week, I have been talking about my work, the ideas, the process and the product of my thoughts. People have listened, nodded, written down the pearls of wisdom that have fallen from my mouth (snigger snigger). Other people have started sentences with “What Elena has done here is…” and said all sorts of wonderful things.
It has been a weird week. I know it is unusual, and that this sort of concentrated me me me art activity will not happen often. I am absolutely drained, and as you can see from the previous post, at times struggling to string together a sentence.
So if you don’t mind, I’m going to selfishly revel in the feeling for a while.
Next week I’m back in school, shuffling paper and mixing paint and trying to explain why shoving clay up your nose is a bad idea. I love it. But this last 6 weeks have been the best summer holiday yet. I start the term at school, and at university, teaching and learning, with renewed vigour and a drive that I can’t explain very clearly. I’m a woman in a hurry, but I don’t know what towards.
It’s been a really good day, and I’m exhausted!
I’ve managed to plaster fabric over all sorts of unexpected things, and the space looks most interesting! I’ll post a few photos for you to see what I’ve been up to.
I’ve met loads of interesting people and seen lots of interesting work.
But the most interesting thing has been what has happened in my head… I’ve been using the materials I usually cover sheds with, inside, rather than outside. As I’ve been working I’ve had loads of ideas what I might do next. I feel a long session with my sketch book coming on. As long as it doesn’t lie to me.
