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Invigilation (Part 1)

Before.

I came in early and have done the rounds, turning on a huge variety of technical equipment. Some people have left brilliant instructions, some people none. Some appliances (sorry Bo) due to my incompetence probably, have been rendered ineffectual and useless and inoperable and I’m apologetic and will try harder. We might be able to put it right with a pair of bolt cutters……

I can hear a few people shuffling round the studios, I can hear my own music in between the traffic, and the screams of another artist locked in the basement. Well, her film is anyway.

I’ve got my results, subject to the usual confirmations, and I’m pretty happy really. Especially as when I started two years ago there were moments I doubted I was up to the challenge. In a little while I am to be given feedback. Even though I know I did ok, I’m still apprehensive. As much I think, because who will keep me on the straight and narrow now? I will have to rely on the other people, not the Tutors With Authority. But then on the other hand, from now on, I can pretend everything is worth a distinction, and carry on smiling regardless!

Invigilation (Part 2)

After

Need a drink now.

Well that was very jolly. I feel well equipped to go into the world and be an Artist. I shall carry on rebelliously quilting, life drawing, shed building, singing, recording, and yes, performing… despite their dead-pan expressions the examiners were apparently impressed with my performance… it hit the spot! So onwards and upwards.

P.S. I’ve just shown Jo how to tie a new knot. She is far too excited by it. Don’t you love an artist with an obsession?

How brilliant was that?

First night of the show, private view, posh frock, girl shoes, too much merlot! Lots of people to talk to about my work: friends, family, people I knew, people I didn’t. Flowers, presents, hugs, kisses and ‘thank you’s.

This morning, my feet are killing me, the girl shoes have gone back in the wardrobe – they have given my feet a hangover, but my head is fine!

I’m back in there today, on front desk duty, meeting and greeting the public. This is great, because as my work is in the foyer, I can do both things at once!

I didn’t take a single photo – I didn’t have time, so busy was I fraternising. I will take some of the work today, and tomorrow, I shall don the posh frock again, for the rest of my family who will visit then, and get someone to take one or two of me amongst it all. (oh God, that means I’ll have to wear the shoes again – how do you heel-wearing women do it? I strongly feel that shoes are a feminist issue. They are a plot to stop us running away, and to keep us in one place, preferably sitting, (or lying?) down).

Having been so fearful of the end of the course, I will of course, miss it terribly, but I can see many ways forwards. I have loads of ideas and loads of ambition. Why has it taken me till middle age to find ambition for goodness sake? I hope to live to an active, lucid, old age, to enable me to get lots done.

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Last performance today. I must say I’m relieved. It has been interesting, but not a totally joyful experience performing for assessors. Compared to the feeling I have after a recording session, where I feel I’ve achieved something, and have a product to prove it, the performance has been a bit, well, flat (as my voice is, sometimes). This is interesting because I always thought I was a process person. Seems I am greedy and want the product too. Probably so that everyone appreciates how obsessive I am. Maybe it is because usually, when I have performed (on those few occasions) and have had a “proper” audience, I have an instant reaction. Assessors stand po-faced with notebooks. I won’t get their considered reaction for days.

So… in a bid to go out today feeling jolly, ready to do it all again, I shall post the recording.

Written and produced by Elena Thomas and Dan Whitehouse; vocals and sounds by Elena; guitars and percussion by Dan; Violin by Tom Bounford, who turned up and blew me away with his ideas, which added something very special, and certainly a tinge more madness than even Dan and I had managed. Thanks to both!

Keep Calm

Do ..what I say

Not ..what I do

Make do and mend

Don’t throw it all away

Darn the holes they won’t offend

Please do just what I say

Do ..what I say

Not ..what I do

Keep calm carry on

Don’t lose your temper now

Smooth the creases, iron on

Never start a row/ its not worth it now

Do ..what I say

Not ..what I do

Least said, soonest mended

Keep the peace with all

Never give up … til the end

How the mighty fall.

Keep calm carry on

Don’t lose your temper now

Smooth the creases, iron on

Never start a row/ its not worth it now

Do ..what I say

Not ..what I do

It’ll all come out

It’ll all come out in the wash

Don’ t wash your dirty linen in public

Lyrics © Elena Thomas 2012

http://soundcloud.com/elena-thomas/keep-calm-loop-…

(The piece playing in the exhibition is on a long loop, this just has one join so you can hear how it works)

Just a while ago I was panicking about what I was going to work on when the show was over, and the fat lady had sung (yes, that’s me).

Now I’m starting to wonder how all this stuff will fit!

I have an idea that I want to work with other people’s old clothes and textiles, and other people’s stories. I want to collect some tales, sew some words, write some songs. So at the end I have some sort of oral history/sound work/exhibition of a community… anyone interested? I’ve almost finished writing the proposal.

Franny and Julie and I have a few ideas up our sleeves, (see our joint blog GOING PUBLIC) and these ideas are starting to get flesh on their bones. How we coordinate ourselves between the North, the South and me smack bang in the Middle, god only knows, but I’m sure we’ll think of something!

And I’ve started talking about some sort of joint project with Bo too, as we desperately cling on to our studenthood, trying to make it last a bit longer.

In the meantime, I’m back at work on Sept 3rd, with all the small children. Trying to step back from all of this and try to make their art experience as rich as I can make it. I am only in school for 2½ days a week, and my feet don’t touch the ground much when I’m there. But it is like being two or three different people.

I am my own Venn Diagram.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RZnSlPe5H8

Artists Talking. Yes. It really is all about the conversation for me.

I can make stuff, always have, but it’s the conversation that makes it real.

Having my work hung in the foyer is great. Better than I thought. I’ve had conversations with all sorts of people that I wouldn’t normally, about the work. Lecturers I don’t usually chat to, librarians, technicians, security people, cleaners, students I’ve never met before, visitors, nervous people waiting for interviews. Each has a different take on these gently twirling “children”. Some think they are cute, some that they are very disturbing, some interpret different “children” in different ways, some they think are being handled aggressively (by handled, I refer to the embroidered hand marks I have made on them all), violently, being abused: others are being loved and cared for.

I wonder afterwards, how much of the person has been revealed by them telling me what they think is going on.

The conversations remove layers, get down to the nitty gritty, help you articulate your thoughts. Only talking to artists is no good though, you have to talk to all sorts of people.

Making yourself talk to people can help solve problems. Sometimes you don’t know there is a problem till you start trying to explain yourself.

Arguing with Bo every week has been brilliant. He’s so good at that “throw in a hand grenade” comment that blows the doors off your idea. Then I argue back and bluster about and go “yeah, but…” but at the end of it I have clarity, and can communicate. In this very blog post I am stealing his words, but they are good words, so I don’t care, and I’m hoping he won’t. To communicate with others is what’s required. To articulate my thoughts is needed. To not be able to do these things causes some sort of emotional halt.