Threads

Did I tell you I’ve been to America?

After the last time I went in 2014 there were ripples… extra exhibitions, extra connections, for years after. And then remarkably the invitation from Debra and the pull back…

I’m starting to feel that happening again, and I’m so glad of it. An existing connection strengthened. I am a firm believer that these connections make the world a better place. It might just be little old me, doing a bit of art, but it is important. You’ll not convince me otherwise. 

While Deb and I talked and worked together, and for the ten days lived together, a bond was strengthened.

While Colin and I rehearsed my Drawing Songs, and figured out new and exciting arrangements for guitar player with blisters, we swapped stories of bands and songs: those we had played and those we knew… some in common, and some new, a friendship formed. Hilarity ensued.

I casually dropped into the conversation that I might write some lyrics about my trip… and if I did, and if he was interested I would send them to Colin if he’d like to write the music.

Well I did. He did. And yesterday he sent me the first draft recording.

I love it… it actually sounds American. Whatever that means. I don’t just mean his accent. I don’t know what we will do with it, but we will probably record it properly, with some harmonies and maybe a violin. 

What better way to document my stay?

TEN DAYS IN JAMESTOWN

I had ten days in Jamestown
To get to know myself
I saw my lives hung on the walls
My loves placed out on shelves

You built for me a small house
So I would feel at home
Flowers grew up all the walls
But I sat inside on my own

Every line I’d ever drawn
And every stitch I’d sewn
Laid out bare before me
My tears, my blood and bones

I sang songs that felt like family
You played songs I’d never heard
They sounded pretty and sweet to me
But I don’t remember the words

I owe so much to so many
I couldn’t pay it back in full
I could count out all my pennies
And I’d still owe you some more

 Every line I’d ever drawn
And every stitch I’d sewn
Laid out bare before me
My tears, my blood and bones

If I had ten more days in Jamestown
I might stay till I die
Because every day I spend there
Is like I’ve only just arrived

Because every song I write there
I take liberties with rhyme
Because every friend I make there
Is like I’ve known them all the time

Of course I wasn’t ever going to post during my stay in the US, because I was too busy doing it!

But now I am back, aspects of it come to me through the fog of tiredness, that prompt the writing.

I have just read my friend Stuart Mayes’ Blog with great interest. I have also come to realise that confidence is a learned state of being… and that it is indeed a complex state. I was also talking to another friend and fellow a-n blogger Kate Murdoch about the part that upbringing has to play in women of our age, from a working class background, and in my case also from a catholic background: Humility, Modesty, don’t show off… the blowing of one’s own trumpet is frowned upon. The result of this is that no matter what successes we have, we talk them down, for fear of being thought of as arrogant and proud.

This needs to stop. Because if I can’t get a sense of personal pride from having a 6 week long, 15 year retrospective in the US, and a solo show at the RBSA next month, where the hell else will it come from? (I refer you to the parable of the man in the flood, in Stuart’s post).

I recorded an interview with Debra Eck, the curator of the show in Jamestown, and practically the first words out of my mouth were about Imposter Syndrome… FFS Elena! Get a grip! We really don’t need to draw attention to these things. We can just say “Thanks! It’s a great opportunity!” But maybe talking about it, and the evolution of my practice over the last 15 years, will show me that I am not an imposter. I have worked hard to get there, and the work is worthy of note.

While I was there I did have several conversations with people who had been moved by the work:

A woman who used to work in child protection was visibly moved, hid behind a screen to blow her nose and compose herself… then after a while she spoke to me about the children she had seen, who still held the marks of their abusers.

Another who was the daughter of a British soldier who had fought alongside Americans in ww2

I had a very brief conversation with a student who just wanted to hide quietly in the shed for a while.

I was told the nine women were recognisable and relatable.

Another student told Deb that the wrapped twigs were just like sugar coating poverty…

I overheard a woman say to her friend that the day her divorce came through was like her own personal Fourth of July (referring to the text on one of my drawings.)

It is an honour to have made work that moves people. Not all artists can do that or say that. So I should be proud to be able to make those connections. I should be confident to move forward into my next solo show in May, with these thoughts to boost me, to tell me that I am in the right place, doing the right thing. No Imposter here.

A Conversation between Deb Eck and Elena Thomas about Full Circle at the Weeks Gallery Jamestown NY

Please click here

I had intended to write while I was away, but it has been a bit of a whirlwind of a trip, and the time difference and the jet lag has meant that everything was happening at the wrong time of day, and at the end of the day when I wanted to write, I was too tired… anyway… I didn’t.

So I will attempt to catch up on what’s been happening.

Throughout the time I have been in Jamestown I have had the pleasure to talk to loads of students and members of the public visiting the gallery. I have thrown pots, sewn shoes, made a book… a very creative eleven days!

I have been on sightseeing trips, in bright sunshine and in a blizzard! I’ve eaten delicious food, and been to some amazing places. The Corning Glass Museum was astonishing!

Debra was terrific, putting me up in her beautiful home, full of art and old oak floors and stairs and cats, her husband Glenn drove me around with good grace and humour, showing me the sights and making sure I got to the airport in time to come home. They welcomed me into their family get together, I felt at home, comfortable and warm. It’s been great.

And at last I met the wonderful Gallery Director Colin Shaffer. (He and Deb, and intern Cat put up the show, beautifully curated I must say.) He was great. The sort of person I felt I have known for much longer than a few weeks. He suggested that for the Reception evening and Artists talk, that I perform, and he would play guitar to accompany me. We had just a few hours to rehearse, and we managed to present a set of four songs (one was a capella). He got blisters on his fingers as he had not played much recently, but bravely persevered. It felt good to be singing these songs again, in a very different way, with a different person and a different arrangement. It was really good fun, and to be honest I would have loved to have spent more time with Colin, musically noodling, recommending music to each other, hanging out and telling band stories. Of all the spectacular and big and wonderful things I did while I was there, the simple pleasure of sitting down with someone, playing and singing, that was a joy, so thanks for that Colin. I really hope we do get to meet again… although I suspect we may continue the email conversations about music and art.

My first visit to the gallery was a bit overwhelming really. I did, as predicted, have a small cry. But only a little one, when I was on my own. The gallery is a beautiful bright airy space. The lighting is great and the hang is cohesive, it makes sense. The work is displayed mostly chronologically when it comes to the walls, but three dimensional pieces punctuate the space and provide places for the gaze to stop which act as visual jumping off points. I’m able to sit in the middle and see the links between works that I wasn’t so aware of previously. I suppose I’d started to think of my work as a series of projects… which it is… but it is more than that. As I look around I see links materially… textiles, stitches, paper, wood, ink, watercolour, graphite (and of course the songs) I’m also mentally linking with work that isn’t in the exhibition.

There are conceptual links across the work too. I see in my own work a focus on love and loss, but dealt with using a caring, tender, light touch. I also see where my focus is up close and personal, and where I’ve pulled further out to attempt to deal with a bigger picture (pun intended). But then, inevitably, having looked at that, I find a different spot to home in on. My eyes drift and bounce around the room, picking on favourite and familiar elements. It’s like having all your relatives round for Christmas dinner… before the fight starts… but holding an old grudge here and there.

I think it would be good to get someone else to review this exhibition. Someone less familiar with it all. The family therapist that can see things more clearly?