It seems, having said I’m not going to take on any more, the world is helping me… the proposal I spent weeks writing has been rejected. The studio day I had planned has been postponed until after Christmas.
I’ve had a couple of grim days, not helped by an accidental bathroom tiling incident that has held the job back a couple of days. I would quite like to have a fully functioning bathroom by the weekend, but unless the second new bath arrives today that’s looking unlikely. “What has all this got to do with my art practice?” I hear you say – this is supposed to be an artist’s blog after all!
Well. Real life gets in the way. A mood can turn on a single incident, then spiral downwards out of control. I’m kind of paralysed, held in limbo by the peripheral occurrences around the selfish, self-obsessed centrality of my art. I find myself unable to make decisions, to settle to any task. I pither around looking at the inches of plaster dust in my house, physically and mentally unable to deal with any of it until the job is done and the men have gone, and I can reclaim the place my own.
I’m sure I will then turn into some sort of housework fiend, clear the decks, wash my hair*, have a shower, bake some cakes, put the kettle on and normal service will be resumed.
Can’t wait!
*My hair is a beast all its own, on a good day, it looks like a yew hedge that has had a good deal of topiary expertise spent on it. On a bad day I look like one of those rare-breed sheep that has been lost on the moors for 3 years. I have been known to find extra pairs of spectacles in there, and quite often a selection of pencils. Some days I wish it was taller, then I could keep my cheque book in it, like Marge Simpson, and dispense with the need for a handbag all together.
I cannot take on anything else, no matter how interesting, unless it involves actually making something. I’m spending way too much time emailing, writing, organising, texting, phoning, planning. I need to make, or will go slowly, quietly, sinkingly mad.
I was so scared post MA, that nothing would happen, I dived into too many things. None of these things have really come to much as yet, but they overwhelm me and have used up all my time. So enough is enough. I’m hoping that by saying this here, I will stick to the intention. I will wait for things to come to fruition, or not. Then when all these current irons in fires fizzle out, THEN I’ll look at something else.
I think I need to make one of my lists…
THINGS TO MAKE:
Socks A and B additions
Silk dress embroidery
Silk top embroidery
Make some Christmas presents
Print some cards
Hangings for school (with y5)
Mosaic for school (with everyone)
Finish the handmark quilt
Finish the Purple and Lime quilt
Finish the disappearing nine patch quilt
Finish the Cord Allotment quilt
Hmmm…. Four unfinished quilts…. Get on with it woman!
In an effort to keep my brain fit, and keep in touch with everyone at BCU I’ve signed up for this post-MA reading group for researchers and (prospective and current) PhD students. It seemed like a good idea at the time. I’ll be in contact with everyone again, be able to give a hug to my long lost chums, and hang on to reputation as perpetual student. What’s wrong with that then?
Absolutely nothing, great idea! Except for one small, minor, but nonetheless irritating detail… I don’t want to do the reading.
Jagodzinski, “Badiou’s Challenge to Art and its Education:or ‘art cannot be taught – it can however educate!”
Catchy title huh? There is another text I’m supposed to read. I really can’t be ar…bothered.
So my decision about not doing a PhD is clearly the right one for the moment. As I ponder this little silk petticoat in front of me, circa 1940, and decide which idea to stitch onto it, and as I laminate painted leaves that year 1 did the other day, and as I write these words and record these sounds, as I plan a mural for the school library, I can’t help wondering what the hell Badiou has to do with it all. None of his business, so just let me get on with it all, I’m a busy woman!
Seeing Ruth Geldard’s leaf painting has reminded me I didn’t post these photos. I was somewhat thwarted in the accurate documentation, as my husband decided to be a bit over-enthusiastic with the rake while I was out. Such is life! In future I shall leave explicit instructions!
The whole point of doing the blog is the conversation, I’ve said it before. The driving force behind most of my art is conversation. Recently I spoke of the difficult conversation that questions and challenges and clarifies. This week I had a different sort. Chris and I gabbled at each other for a couple of hours, like we had never spoken before and would never get another opportunity, over the top of each other, off at tangents and back again, punctuated by tea, coffee and cake. We spoke of ideas and plans and projects in our heads, and those almost and actually realised.
Then suddenly, in mid air, one of her ideas crashed into one of mine, I don’t know how the other inhabitants of the coffee shop didn’t see the blinding flash of light from two spontaneous and simultaneous over-the-head lightbulbs, but they seemed curiously unaffected.
I have had this idea swimming about for ages, and I get the impression some of Chris’s ideas for a project had been mulling around too. We have come to the conclusion that they might fit together, and we can both dive into it!
We hugged, kissed and parted, we are relatively new friends, but both think it doesn’t feel that way. We strode off in different directions, invigorated, stimulated, all fired up, buzzing. And it wasn’t just the caffeine.
