Threads

Listening: Ryan Adams, Dave Matthews, Lisa Hannigan’s new cd, Sizer Barker, REEEEALLLLY old Tom Waits. Cheerful huh?

Noticing: Botanical detail in my compost, fluidity (or not) of other people’s handwriting

Reading: Eavan Boland’s Night Feed, Lots of lyrics

Writing: Bloggery, adventures of my youth and other people’s, finding rhymes, lists.

Making: cake, embroidery and recording domesticity.

Hmmmm…… So……

having played with the small cabinet and the clothes and the music and presented it in a space to other artists several thoughts have emerged that I feel I have to address. I want to get some of these thoughts down straight away, and then let them sink in a little.

The presence of the drawers changed the viewers’ interpretation of both the music and lyrics of the lullaby and the clothes too, from what I was expecting. The drawers and their state of openness became a much bigger issue than anticipated, and there was less discussion about the obsessively stitched clothes, or the obsessive layering of lyrics and sounds, and no-one noticed how much I’d polished the wood.

I’ve come to the conclusion (as others have before me) that although these pieces are part of the same body of work, they are not part of the same piece of work. (Dis)played separately they are stronger. (Dis)played together, each weakens the standing of the other.

That took me long enough to work out didn’t it?

I now feel completely different about both pieces. But I think I’ve said before I’m very suggestible and need to let these thoughts settle before working out myself where I should go next with this work.

However, I feel refreshed, freed from the threads that brought me here, and somehow “Allowed” to go forward, but not necessarily along the path I had first thought.

I also feel giddily excited about recording my next piece of music.

That was yesterday: This is today:

Curiously, I do feel a sense of freedom. I’ve picked up work I’d not touched for weeks, I’ve drawn ideas in my sketch book. All in the space of a few hours. It’s as if me, the stitches and the lullaby were tied together. Now we’re not. My brain feels it can do what it likes, and I don’t have to justify the existence of any of these pieces, they are all part of me and my work, and I can choose what I do. There are no favourites among my children.

Why is it that I feel an idea isn’t working until I can verbalise it? Is it because I’m doing this blasted MA (I love it really)?

I’m sorry to be boring, but I’m still talking about the bloody lullaby, and the question of why it is a “proper song” It seemed not good enough to say to my fellows and my tutors “because I say so” or “because it feels right”

Today I think I found an answer of sorts:

The parents and children I think about, the over-protective, obsessive type of parenting, the parenting that requires a manual of the correct way to do things… these fictional parents would not be content with a hummed lullaby, oh no, their fictional child is worth more than that! Their child should have a proper song! only the best will do! Otherwise, the ensuing guilt would be unbearable.

(however, it is me singing it, not a cathedral choir and 50-piece orchestra, but we can’t have everything can we?)

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? And when insomnia is productive?

I just couldn’t get to sleep last night, and would have been tossing and turning if it wasn’t for my bad back. So I got up, and ferretted about for an hour or so.

You will know, if you have read much of this blog, that I have been wrangling with the idea of using my lullaby with my textile pieces and it hasn’t been a happy process. Well, last night it occured to me that my ipod dock could run off batteries; My textile pieces looked good in a drawer; I could polish a small chest of drawers to within an inch of its life; all the items I had made could go in it happily nestled together. The photo attached here is a quick mock up, as I haven’t done the cleaning and polishing yet. For the first time I’m content with this body of work. When I play the lullaby it sounds woody and lovely. The clothes peek out in a tempting manner. They are treasured and protected.

I went back to bed at about 2.30 and slept like a baby.

Statement to go with quilt is finished. Books are either in the bag to be returned to the library, or tidily back on the shelves. The table is clear, scissors and tape back in the drawer.

Tomorrow I’m in Birmingham, at Margaret Street, sitting back for a while, soaking up the atmosphere, joining in group tutorials, drinking tea and discussing life, the universe and everything… until it’s my turn next week.