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Blimey what a week! No, actually that should read… “Blimey, what a Wednesday!”

I have been messing about with my recording again. The latest song, Keep Calm, I think it is called. Although in its short life it has had 3 titles… at some point I’ll decide…. Anyway… less blathering….

I recorded a harmonising vocal with contrasting lyric over the chorus. Don’t know why, this phrase “In a minute” came to me, and I wanted to record it. So I stuck it over the latest song. I was fairly content. I wondered what it would sound like as a man’s voice. My work, as you’ll know if you’ve followed any of this bloggery, is very rooted in the feminine and the domestic. I zapped a bit of GarageBand magic at it and there I was, singing in a very deep voice… too deep actually, but it gave me the impression, enough to do some sort of evaluation of its masculinity. Of course, it changes the song totally. The phrase itself changes the song too, but the “male” voice makes a hell of a difference as you would expect. The fact that it is not a male voice, but my “masculinised” (is that even a word?) voice also begs a few questions. So by playing about, I’ve given myself a great big headache. The gender of my work has always been important, but I’ve managed to avoid the discussion quite successfully so far. The time has come I feel, when I can avoid it no more. So, those of you that are familiar with the issues, I could do with some guidance through this ignored, uncharted territory.

My fellow students have been enormously helpful in getting me to this point, prodding and questioning.

I had also started thinking and talking about pronouns, but for some reason had not done the joined up thinking between the “male” voice and this… Most of the writing I have done has been in the first person, and because of that, some of it has been pretty uncomfortable. Last night, on my latest piece of text, I changed all the “I”s to “she”s. Suddenly it all made loads of sense. By merely changing the pronoun, I have removed myself. Or I have created a persona I can blame for everything. Then taking another leap, I removed the pronouns altogether. I now have an un-gendered piece of writing, that merely by its context, suggests femininity, probably, but not in the words themselves. Interesting.

I’m also now thinking that I have overloaded “Keep Calm” with too much stuff. A common mistake when you start working in a new way or try new media. I think I’m going to remove the new vocal, and the possibility of a masculine, or masculinised voice and save them for another, simpler piece.

I’m going to work on the piece of writing a bit more. Examine its remaining femininity. Get it to scan more happily, it’s a little clumsy here and there. Then I might post it if I feel brave enough. I shall think about whether to post all 3 versions… That might kill off the remaining readers that haven’t got fed up of me up to this point.

I know I’m doing a lot of blogging lately… hope I’m not getting boring, but my brain is whizzing and this outlet seems to help!

I do find it odd that I agree with almost everything Sophie Cullinan says in her blog…

www.a-n.co.uk/p/1147789

I often wonder if the way that I work has stemmed from my need to do it at all times? The need to stitch while watching tv, cooking, even during conversations with my family, often results in furious/confused silence when I have clearly not heard, misunderstood what was said, or have stopped dead mid-sentence, distracted by my own hands.

Sophie talks about the incessant moan of not getting things done. I used to be like that, but I find that by doing the sort of work that can be done anywhere, this problem can be avoided (although, as I’ve said, others occur). In this way though, my work doesn’t just reflect the life I lead, it is part of that life and the way I lead it. That’s why I could never have a studio away from home: the home is inextricably linked to the work.

I’m all for the “epic time served” too… my “keepsafe” baby dress embroidery took me about 8 weeks to complete, stitching approximately an inch and a half each evening in front of the tv. If it has no other worth, it has that. It has the “Dear God, woman are you mad?” response.

As for the pursuance of a successful career, that depends on your measurement device. Me, I’m happy if can afford to keep doing it, without having to get a full time job that prevents me from doing it. There aren’t many shops that’d let you carry on sewing while you served the customers. Haven’t seen anyone doing that at the checkouts in Sainsbury’s. I’d also quite like the occasional opportunity to show my work to other people, and I’d quite like them to say nice things about it. How about that for driving ambition?

This afternoon’s pithering about.

In response to my last post, David Minton’s comment about not getting “in the way of delight” has really stuck with me. I think, if it’s ok with David, I might use this phrase somehow. It has melded in my brain with the ethos “if you can’t do good, at least do no harm”.

As a motto for teachers, it initially feels a bit negative, a bit lowest-common-denominator. But actually, as a teacher of art in a primary school, after some thought, it starts to sound pretty damn good. I have, on average, the responsibility of teaching art to 120 children between the ages of 7 and 11, every school year. I’ve been there 7 years now… actually, nearly 8. That’s…. Hang on….. That’s 330 children! (that bit of maths hurt my head, and I had to get help, because I originally thought it was 960 – shocking!) If I have sent most of them out feeling good about my subject, or at least, better than they did when I started, that’s got to be a good thing right? If I add in all the after school clubs and workshops, and subtract my own 2 children who seem to have learned nothing from me, that’s about 500 children.

If I also take into consideration that I have taught 5 groups of training teachers – 25-30 in each group – who will eventually have charge of teaching art to their own classes, it starts to get into silly numbers… even if you factor in the high percentage that may not have been hanging on my every utterance!

I think I may have my angle.

I might even write a song.

I might get the children to write a song!

(I’m still not convinced about the maths actually, but there you go!)

It’s MA Art Practice and Education. That’s the tricky bit. For the end of the course I am supposed to link my art practice to education in some way. Using 2500 words. Not too many. I’m sure I’ll cope. The problem is that because most of the education I do is in a primary school, it is mostly inappropriate to link my work to what the children are doing. As the course has progressed I have found it harder and harder to link the two. And I have become more reluctant to find a link. This art practice is MINE. It has only just occurred to me (and my tutor) that I could think of a way of ditching the primary and look at education in a more holistic, universal (that word again) kind of way. I’m looking at my work and what it might say to its audience. I suppose the fact that it has lots to do with children and parents and how society views parenting might be an angle to pursue. Also the fact I have a chance to effect the opinions of training teachers might be too (although what I say when perched on my soapbox may not have any effect at all). But can I just look at my work, in solitude, and presume it has the capacity to educate, just by being regarded at all? Can I use the participatory/ performance angle of what goes on in my shed? Or when I make recordings? Does Art as a whole, with a capital A, have the capacity to educate? If we say yes, then do we run the risk of limiting other capacities? If we say no, then are we doing it a disservice?

Shall we just leave the answer a grey but knowledgeable “It depends” then?