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http://creative-blueprint.co.uk/thinkpieces/item/r…

I’m assured the above link works… but I’m not yet convinced, will see when I publish it.

Education, it has dawned on me at a somewhat late-in-the-day way, isn’t just about what I do in school. I’ve made all the right noises up to now and nodded sagely at the right moments. I knew it, but didn’t feel it in my bones really, I hadn’t latched onto it in a way that connected me to the concept properly, and personally.

It appears I enjoy watching development, and change, and having played a part in it. It seems I do this without thinking. I had thought maybe at various points over the last few years that I shouldn’t be a teacher. But it seems I am anyway, whether I want it or not, whether I’m paid or not.

This LOAF weekend has been the catalyst for my own epiphany. We watched a 14year old singer songwriter do his thing. He performed a half hour set of his own material in my shed. Last year he did 15 minutes. This year, his voice is deeper, and so are his songs. He expresses gratitude for the chance to perform. I have a soft spot, relishing his growing strength. Curious to see what he can do next…where he might end up.

Our quilting group learn from each other. Some of us are instinctive, just shoving stuff together and stitching it up. Others have enormous skill and technical ability. We have morphed into this group of Rebellious Quilters. We gave ourself that name right at the beginning, eschewing the precision of traditional quilters, and not wanting the structure that other groups have. We are living up to our name now, 3 or 4 years down the line. What we are finding, I think, is that we are rebelling against ourselves. There isn’t a “right way” that we need to worry about. I have been very sniffy about doing things “properly”, but I now find myself wanting to know stuff! My lack of technical know-how is holding me back, so I’m ready to learn. I hope in turn that my lack of respect for measuring and precision has made others think again about what is possible, and what is beautiful, and what has meaning.

Our life drawing group exhibition gets better every year. Yes, we are one year more experienced, but it’s more than that. It is the exchange of ideas, materials, techniques. It is watching each other, getting to know each other and having a go, without fear of ridicule or embarrassment. We don’t have a teacher, we have each other.

I think the word that sticks in my throat, that has stopped me from “feeling” the concept, is Education. To me, Education is something that is done unto you. You have no choice in it. Education is a form of social control. It’s how we socialise our children, and our adults for that matter, into conformity.

So. Learning. Finding out stuff. Discovery. Experience. Doing stuff. Especially doing stuff. The body teaching the brain, not the other way around. Falling over, getting up. Fun, laughter, hate, nastiness, arguing, making up, being civil, loving, being friends with someone for 30 years. Just do stuff. Just make stuff. That’s what a real education is.


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I’ve not written on this blog for a while, what with making short but daily entries on Shedding at the moment, and having things happen with Julie and Franny on Going Public, I can see you all getting a bit fed up with me.

But tonight, I feel the need.

I’ve just sung my song, live, in front of real people. I played the scissors. Dan played his guitar for me. I have to try hard not to be too overwhelmed by this. He’s great, and generous with his talent. I feel really privileged to have him sat next to me. At the end of this month, we’ll be recording this song together, and I’ll be performing it as part of my final show. I feel like I’m hanging on his fast moving coat tails, and I’m learning so much each time we work together, I’m trying to soak it all up and remember as much as I can.

After my final show, I shall put a link here so you can listen if you want to.

I’ve had wobbles with this singing lark, crises of confidence. But you know what, they don’t get you anywhere. To make the most of the opportunities I’ve been given, I have to forget embarrassment, bite down the nerves, not worry about the occasional bum note. I have to dive in, wallow in the experiences.

It makes you feel good you know, alive, young, zippy, full of vim and vigour.

Long may it last!

Dan is to be found at www.dan-whitehouse.com Go and listen. It’s great.


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Good day today.

Lots of creative decisions made.

Booked the project space to play in the basement, complete with scaffold tower so I could climb up and dangle things from the ceiling.

I must say the combination of hard hat, glasses and various items and tools meant a good deal of juggling went on. I had to have special training to use the tower first, then adjusted the hard hat and up I went. The usual place for me to store my glasses is nestled in my hair. Not possible, so ended up shoving them down my bra. Stylish huh? Then once equipped, I climbed up the tower. The addition of an extra 4 inches of height, due solely to the hard hat meant I had no spatial awareness and kept bumping my head, necessitating the need for the hard hat.

So it appears that I am even shorter than I thought, as even with the tower I couldn’t reach the ceiling. I fashioned a sling-shot affair to enable me to get the string over the bar, so I could tie the knot. I did this using a pair of scissors. I can hear you saying “Thank goodness you had the hard hat Elena!” Ah yes, well. Trouble is every time I had to look up to deploy the scissor weighted slingshot, propel it over the bar, the hard hat fell off. Which actually was a good thing, because once I had caught the scissors in my unsafe, ungloved hand, I was able to retrieve my glasses from their warm nesting place and get on with the job!

Please see attached photos. No artists were harmed during the hanging of this work.


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Interesting… well, I think so. You might find it totally tedious, and you have that right!

Anyway… shoe sole rubbings…

It started out as a means to an end, a way of finding a shoe sole pattern the right size, shape, pattern and state of wear, to transfer and embroider onto a dress, disguised as embellishment/decoration. You’ve no idea the variations that present themselves! So many were rejected because they were too worn, not worn enough, not shoey enough, too booty, too big, too small, too boyish, too girlish…

What’s happened is, people are giving me baby shoes, and sending me rubbings!

So, I’ve started embroidering the dress now, I’ve worked out each sole will take 6 or 7 hours to stitch… and there are 13 of them. Bit of a task really.

What to do with the left-overs then? I do like these rubbings, more than prints I’ve taken. There’s soul in these soles I feel. There’s also a slowness and a particularness and a sensitivity of materials with the rubbings. The paper has to be thin enough, sometimes wax crayon works if the tread is deep, but a soft pencil picks up the shallowest, slightest pattern. I have a yen to upend various children and rub their shoe soles with tracing paper and lyra crayons. I have no idea why, but it seems to follow on somehow. I’m sure the purpose will eventually present itself. I have more confidence these days to follow these whims in the knowledge that a reason will turn up later. I think the upending of children might get frowned upon, but you get the gist I’m sure. I now see in my head a Quentin Blake scratchy character, tall, thin and stooped, dangling a small child by the ankle, sticky things falling out of pockets. I may have to draw this. But not like Quentin Blake… and it might be a short fat art teacher rather than the tall thin man.

I still find this thought process fascinating. I have an idea and I pursue it. In that pursuit, other opportunities present themselves. Sometimes the detours are more interesting than the original idea and take over. I do try to record this zig-zagging in my sketch/note book, and now here of course, too! But sometimes it happens fast, and I forget the origins, so they get lost. Sometimes they burble up again, months later, and I gasp in amazement that I could forget such a thing!

I’ve done the drawing (at 1.50 this morning, there must be something wrong with me). I’ll take a photo in a bit, once I’ve got myself organised.


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This blogging lark’s great innit?

A few posts ago I wrote about the lack of baby shoes in charity shops. My blogging friend Kate Murdoch has come to the rescue, basically doing my research for me and sending me photographs of shoe sole rubbings, complete with photos of the shoes, set of measurements and an offer to post them should I require them. Brilliant, Kate, thanks! And if I can return the favour at any time, let me know.

I suppose you could call it collaborative research if you were being poncy?

I call it good, supportive, friendly practice. Love it.

Arts week is going well…

Today I made a 7ft cardboard giraffe with y4, and bugs as big as your face with y1.

We had a laugh.

Tomorrow I’m painting with sticks with reception class, and printing with y2… possibly on wallpaper, or I’ve got a big roll of thin pink paper that’s not much good for anything else. I might get them to do wallpaper printing then find a wall on Friday to hang it on…wonder how that’ll go down?

Has anyone else been thrown by the fact that half term was a week late?

One of the only bits of my school job that I hate is the fact I have to get involved in data analysis of results, target setting and the submission of key stage results to the local authority. In previous years the pattern has been… order materials week, half term week, materials arrive week, planning timetable week, arts week, data week. It runs very sweetly until they switch half term and suddenly arts week is also data week. Not a problem if it’s 2 different people, but not if it’s both me!

People have asked me if I’m tired/stressed etc because it’s arts week. No. I’m not. Arts week is brilliant. What stresses me is the half hour at the end of the day when I had to send off the Foundation Stage Profile.

I feel as if my blog has been predominantly schooly lately? Has it? Or is it just me? Anyway… once I’ve finished arts week, and the data has gone, (until this time next year) I can concentrate on transferring these beautiful shoe prints onto my dress, record some songs, and get on with my own life.

Ooh!

P.S.

Had a phone call from the newspaper ad lady… she apologised for the appearance of ad, as she had been away for a few days and hadn’t realised what they’d done. All is now well, and she’s sending me new proof within 24hrs. And she’s bringing all her friends to LOAF too. Didn’t need to use the script! phew!


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