Threads

Right then.

Yesterday I watched some of my Songwriting Circle buddies perform as part of the mac birmingham (their lower case trendy insistence, not mine) open day for the new term’s courses. I could have joined in, but chose not to. My relationship with performance is a rocky one, that I haven’t quite pinned down yet. So subjecting myself to singing in a barn-like, clattery cafe didn’t seem like a good idea. I felt it would have perhaps have done more damage than good. I’m not looking to be a rock star baby. I am looking to build my confidence so that I am eventually able to sing in a gallery, in front of people I know without my lip sticking to my teeth and needing to throw up on the front row. This occasion would not have been the right one to do that, so I sat at the side like some group stalker, and cheered.

A week today we start the new term. I felt a bit guilty that I hadn’t done much to further my song writing since we broke up for the summer. So yesterday I got out my notebook. When I started out, the words were in amongst other stuff in my sketchbook, but that became impractical as I couldn’t easily find stuff, so now I have a special book. I’m nearly at the end of the second one! In this, everything I write has a title, a date, and a number. In the back there is an index. I have astonished myself with my organisation in this respect. I write in ink, not in pencil, because pencil is too tempting to rub out. Don’t rub anything out. I put one straight line through discarded phrases, so I can go back to them, either because I’ve changed my mind, or to use elsewhere. There are snippets I have used over and over, because I like them, but have yet to find the right context for them.

So, in looking at my book, I find I haven’t been lazy after all, I have 8 sets of lyrics dated since the end of term, and I have 3 GarageBand files full of sounds to work with.

Not quite sure how that happened, but I’m off to the studio now to do something with them.

 

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so… studio is besieged by power tools, diggers buses and the like, way too noisy to record anything. I look to the internet in the hope of revising my latest application, no luck there, internet down and out. The bacon butty van has run out of bacon. Sod it. I’m going home.

 

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Hour and a half later, I’ve sort of finished a song….

Strange day today at ArtSpace… not a single person walked through the door… the town was very quiet, and not many even walked past, let alone looked through the window. I usually get in about an hour before opening, to think about what to take downstairs from my studio, to work on during the day.

Bra number one needed some attention. There will be more than one, that has been decided, but more news of that at a later date. I finished the embroidery yesterday, but today needed to work on the next bit, wiring it, to see if it stood independently. Of course the sensible artist would have worked out this crucial matter first wouldn’t they? But Noooo…. not me, I spend weeks embroidering this garment, possibly to find out my whole idea doesn’t work and it falls down round my ears!

So I spent the whole day, from 10:30 – 6:00 doing just that. I stitched milliners’ wire around structural seams. Note: milliners’ wire is great, it comes covered in cotton (assorted colours), can be bent easily with hands and basic tools, and can be cut with stout scissors, but is firm, and holds shape really well.

By the end of the day, It is standing up. It’s not great, it needs additional cup seam support, and some up the rows of hooks at the front, but it will work. The garment, while not exactly comfortable, could still be worn…It is transformed now into something sculptural. It wraps around the ghost of a woman. The flaws, repairs and tears in the garment show, inside and out, and so do the backs of my stitches and the knots….. hmmm…. David Riley, on Facebook, said that the wires and knots would leave interesting marks on the skin. I think I may need to have a chat to my life model…

I like it. It is a warts and all item. It is obviously a bit old and a bit rubbish, but time has been spent on its adornment. It show signs of neglect, pragmatism, hope, and pride. It is, I think, a perfect middle aged woman. I can see this work drawing me in, enveloping me for months and months to come. I have great affection for these bras, these women… and wonder to how large an extent they are me?

I was asked on Facebook to list the ten books that had had the biggest effect on me… As I read other people’s lists I became more and more intimidated, weighty tomes were peppered among worthy novels. There were the classics, and some contemporary fiction, and philosophical heavy weights. There was no way I could stand up to this. All the really “important” stuff I have read has always been for the purposes of writing assignments, and while thinking at the time “yes this is interesting” nothing stays with me… it just falls out through my ears when I lie down. So, having decided just not to compete, I started to think about the books that really have stayed with me. And, to be honest, the list now seems obvious, but was a bit of a revelation… my past caught up with me…

Winnie the Pooh… I think Pooh and Christopher Robin pretty much taught me to read – precociously- before getting to school, on my mother’s knee….”Christopher Robin had measles and sneezles, they bundled him into his bed…” The rhythm of it tripped over my tongue as a child, and as I read it to my own children. As I got older, if the weather was bad and I couldn’t get out to make my own adventures, I read and re-read Enid Blyton’s Famous Five series. Also in the list were The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, P G Wodehouse’s Jeeves and Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes stories… read over and over again…. I had a book of Irish Folk tales (Mum was Irish) that were full of magic and words of power. At primary school I remember learning “The Owl and the Pussycat”, and since then have loved the nonsensical words, and later on some great poems by Spike Milligan. I read Roald Dahl to my children, and my mum used to read the BFG to my eldest son – we would giggle at the silly words – Mum loved them too. She even sent a postcard from her holiday in Ireland once, telling us all about the awful amount of whizzpopping that was going on! My eldest son, as a teenager, introduced me to Terry Pratchett, his book “Night Watch” is on my list. I love how he wrangles the words and plays with them, the look of them on the page, the typography, and also the way they sound different out loud, to when you read them silently.

So having written this list of mine, I realised it could only be mine.

 

My work is always about mums and children and words and rhymes and silliness and childhood, and that little bit of the sinister and macabre you get in a really good folk tale or fairy story.

 

The last book on my list is a proper adult book “Reclaiming Childhood” by Dr Helene Guldberg. This is the one book I read from cover to cover, twice, whilst doing my MA. This was the one that made me say “Yes! I think that too!”

 

So I make no apologies for my list of silly books…*blows raspberry*

One thing I used to do on a fairly regular basis on this blog was tell you what I was listening to.

I notice I have been so busy showing off what I’ve been recording and writing that I haven’t posted a list for a while. This is a little remiss of me really because I am possibly as much influenced in my work – audio as well as visual – by songs as anything else.

 

(A note about inspiration: much as I love going round the Big Galleries, I don’t often come away inspired, more informed and instructed perhaps, occasionally admiring, but not often inspired. Is this a dangerous confession for an artist to make? Especially one looking to make a living, gain funding, and exposure in those same galleries…? Shot myself in the foot maybe? But I’ll bet I’m not the only one. I hasten to add, that the artists I have actually met, I find tremendously inspiring, but it is more about who they are and how they think about life, than how their work eventually looks in isolation on the gallery wall. As I type this I am wincing…. have I gone too far? The Open Studio is more exciting to me than the PV.

I find inspiration in the more mundane places. I find inspiration in the junk shops…. overheard conversations… the way other people go about their lives. I think it is because I like art about life rather than art about art. For me, my response to the world around me, and other artists’ responses to their world is what holds me. If I see the hand of the maker, and a strand of thought, I’m hooked. If I see a different approach to ties in my own little bubble, that is what is inspiring.

I have made links through the conversations I hold here and elsewhere to other artists that will keep me going for years I am sure. That’s the real stuff. 

However  (trying to dig myself out of the hole) I retain the right to change my mind about those Big Galleries should one of them ever invite me to hang work in their hallowed spaces.)

 

The songs then…

The songwriters that I know – and I know a few – don’t write songs directly in order to get a song sung by One Direction, get to number 1 and be rich. It would be good if they made some money, but that isn’t what it is about. They write songs because they have to. A response to the world. Not much different to us visual artists… making a living would be the icing on the cake. Dan Whitehouse was heard saying recently “What’s the difference between a musician and a large pizza? A large pizza can feed a family!”

 

I can tell I’m rambling now… I hope this makes sense when I read it back…

 

So I think I need two lists here, a list of songs by songwriters I know, and a list of stuff I’m listening to by people that I don’t. If you are not familiar with these people, especially the first list, please click on the links and go to listen to them. They are talented people who deserve a wider audience.

 

First up then…my friends list:

Has to start with Dan Whitehouse. He is the one that got me started, built my confidence, showed me a few tricks, developed a few of my skills, expanded my knowledge. For this I am forever grateful. He is an extraordinary and talented man, and seems to be surrounded by wonderful generous people.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=COTfVv7aym4

He’s got a new album out… trailer here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FWxwiPownk

 

Paul Liddell: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uFFl0H4I4ME I love this song so much… but he has loads of them! He is brilliant live, he’s based in the North East of the country, but has been known to venture south, if you can get to see him, please do, he’s funny, very entertaining, and very clever.

 

(I make no apologies that both of the above songs use loops, as I am working on a song myself at the moment that might do the same… if I can figure out how to do it!)

 

Anja McCloskey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG3KBtI8XVk Anja writes songs that defy being put into boxes. I am a convert to the sound of the accordion, just because of Anja.

 

 

Chris Cleverley:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sbb1H6YBQH0 Chris helped me finish off my song “Numb” and played on the live recording that lurks around on sound cloud somewhere. He has a unique guitar playing style that I just love.

 

I will post more links at some point, but that’s enough for now.

 

As for the other stuff I’m listening to:

Jesca Hoop

Feist

Husky Rescue

The Whitest Boy Alive

David Lynch

…you can find those yourself very easily if you feel so inclined!

 

I don’t listen to much classical, jazz, RnB… none of the hippety hoppety stuff if I can help it. So in the wider sense I’m not very knowledgeable. But I know what I like! Hahaha!

 

 

 

 

I’m going to talk about my hair. It might not seem like it at first glance, but I believe the state of my hair is all tied up with the state of my work.

A while back, I talked about my haircut.

I used to have lots of hair, really, lots, in a big curly mass. People described me by describing my hair. All my life, my hair had been part of who I was.

I was hiding behind all my hair.

During the last year, as I rebelled against my job, I have had increasingly severe haircuts, and up till very recently, it’s been really short. It is also most of the time, grey.

I’m not earning much at the moment, so my hair has had to wait. If my hair is shoulder length and curly and grey that’s ok. If it is really short and spikier and grey, that’s ok…. but grown-out short hair that’s grey, somehow, makes me look like a much older woman, from a different time… think about your mum or your grandma with a shampoo and set. Not right at all. So I dyed it whilst waiting for the money to get it cut. Mistake. Having dyed my hair for years when younger, recently I had got used to the grey, or the grey with bits of colour put in professionally. I hate the brown dye now. I feel like a traitor.

I am making work about middle aged women (I’m 53).

I am making work about the strength of them, and the way their lives are sandwiched between generations that they care for over themselves. I am making a stand in my work about these women. Dyeing my hair myself this horrible cheap flat brown I think makes me more invisible. I feel like I am hiding under it again. I am washing it furiously every day to get rid of it as quickly as possible. I am waiting for my next lump of pay to land on the doormat so I can make an appointment to get it cut (I love my hairdresser Tina she’s full of art, and really gets what I’m about, and never once asks me what I’m doing at the weekend or where I’m going on my holidays http://www.birminghampost.co.uk/lifestyle/birmingham-hair-salon-coustis-turned-7099188 ). Then I will feel like myself again. I will feel like I am presenting myself properly, not hiding behind my hair and the dye. I feel it closely allied to my work that the hair feels like it’s mine. I want short grey hair, possibly with some blonde bits in if I’m feeling adventurous… embellishing it, not hiding it. I feel I am worth it… no… really…. I am worth it. I am worth the cost of new underwear. I am worth the cost of a bloody good haircut and some highlights. I am unashamedly middle aged.

 

The women I represent in my work… the embroidered bras, the songs…. they are worth the effort too.

 

Edited to add: Cheque landed, appointment made, haircut Tuesday.