Threads

Following on from the last post about being a quiet and slow professional, I am also rediscovering the playful.

Without the stresses inherent in the publicly funded project, I can be more random and playful. Even as part of the publicly funded project run by someone else! I think I spoke before about how great it feels to participate but not have the responsibility for it!

So the other day, after we at Radio Public had the idea to make more radios, I spent the afternoon making a fabric radio. I gathered a few scraps together, a bootlace, milliners’ wire, some old garment labels, a little box, some packaging materials and (a last minute stroke of genius if I might say so myself) a handful of little bells – because every radio has a jingle!

I had hours of fun making this:

(more…)

Having thought I’d have some quiet time, my diary yet again seems to have filled up all by itself!

I had wanted some studio days of just drawing, and twig wrapping, either in silence, or listening to gentle music. I might even come home early for an afternoon nap to make up for the early waking and an inability to get back to sleep.

But June, having just turned the page on the calendar, is packed!

In a fit of organised professional confidence, I entered work for the RBSA Members and Associates Show in June, when they reopen the gallery after a really comprehensive refurbishment programme. I have been rather brave and speculative and have entered two connected pieces: A wooden seed tray of silk-wrapped twigs, and an ink drawing of twigs, using another seed tray as a frame. This is a bit of a departure of style… a turn back to the textile and stitch, but on a much smaller scale than previous installation pieces such as Nine Women, Drawing Songs or Are You Listening? The pieces themselves are smaller, and currently just fill the seed tray. But my intention is to keep going until I have hundreds of wrapped twigs. I am trying out different ways to present these fragile pieces, to see how many different ways they can be read. I am approaching other galleries to spread myself, and this tale, out a little further. But the admin of this takes time and focus away from the making. 

I’ve also entered the Trinity Buoy Wharf Drawing Prize again. Each time I do it I say I won’t do it again. But I had the work in front of me, my camera set up and my credit card out, so why not eh? So in the one afternoon, I submitted to both. I can forget about it now. Except if I get long-listed I will have to rush them to the framers to get them done ready for delivery.

The Sitting Room have started to get bookings again, and therefore have started rehearsing in earnest. This is somewhat easier now we are currently a trio again and are all available during the day. What is wonderful about this is we have so many new songs written by email over the last couple of years, we can now get together and work them up into performable pieces. We have the time to work out some gentle three-part harmonies properly. This is what feels good when performing: well rehearsed singing and playing, and feeling part of something special. The songs are good. We do tire of playing the same things over and over, but, when there is little rehearsal time, gigs that are close together tend to be similar sets. The idea is to get together more, so that a wider range of these new songs (and old) are at our fingertips, to ring the changes.

I’ve composed a short piece for the Radio Public event on July 9th. I shall possible do another, longer piece if I get the time. But I’m quite pleased with it as it sits so far. Feedback has mentioned “hypnotic” and “like a slow work-song”… I’ll take that!

I also find myself being rather more active politically, albeit in a small way. I can’t traipse the streets to campaign, but I can make protest placards, and help others do the same… I can show youngsters how to make zines, to get a message across quickly, cheaply and in a more interesting, personal way. So a couple of days I am doing that. The gathering of materials and equipment will take a while too. But what this does is make ME feel better. I was feeling helpless and frustrated. This might not be much, but it is something, and I can do it easily. 

Maybe I’ll have a nap in July?

Or some reading time?

I’m still picking up and dipping into Tim Ingold’s Correspondences. These essays inspire me… my thoughts about my own work, but also for lyric writing… the sounds of snow; the nature of flight; the attitudes of the mountaineer towards the mountain… all have inspired small sections of responsive writing that will at some point coalesce into lyrics. For now I am mulling them over… they lie down to mulch a while.

I’ve also been listening to Andy Mort’s podcast about gentle rebellion, 

introversion and sensitivity… and Kathryn Williams’ podcast about sleep, with her gentle soft and low voice, sends me to sleep too soon and I have to listen again in the morning.

I need to remind myself to be a whole person…it’s not all about applications and submissions, but spending time thinking while making. Relaxing into it, allowing myself time… not just a snatched hour here and there, but good solid hours of making and thinking in order to dive deep. And then of course, to keep gently moving so I don’t seize up. I have almost completely healed from the falling over at the end of April – I can’t believe it has taken so long – and so now I am starting to get back to walking more every day, and increasing the distance in the hope of getting back to where I was a six weeks ago! 

There is a thought in my head that to be a professional artist I need to run myself ragged to prove something… and yet I know that this is not the case. I can be a gentle, slow professional.

I’ve had a few days to rest and reflect on the exhibition preview and the launch gig.

The preview was the biggest I’ve ever been to. And monumentally bigger than any art event I’ve ever been part of. I was glad to be there and it was important I was there and felt part of it. Surrounded by it.

It was crowded though, and hot. Two of my least favourite conditions. It was at times claustrophobic – even in the huge gallery space. I swallowed down a couple of impulses to bolt. It was challenging. It was lovely though to see my friends there, my peers, and to feel part of this, and feel that I belonged… for fleeting moments at least. I do feel the work is right on the wall. But I still feel a little uncomfortable in this environment… a little shy… I talk to the people a know and I sip my apple juice and check out routes to the exits. This isn’t the place where I am socially comfortable… I feel a bit inept.

I had said I would stay to hear speeches and then leave for my next engagement, only to discover I had missed them completely because there was no calling together, no amplification. I was not in the right place at the right time at all. I had been excluded by circumstance. So, slightly disappointed but basically feeling that I’d been put in my place and that such speeches were not for the likes of me anyway… I left under a cloud of imposter syndrome and made my way outside into fresh air and headed over to the other side of Birmingham.

Still hobbling a bit, with the aid of a stick I have sworn to myself is temporary, I was concerned about parking close by. As we drove down the high street, I spotted the venue on the right, just as a car pulled out of a parking space on the left. My heart beat settled a little, and we arrived just in time to see the end of the first half, and to get a drink. In a much smaller group I felt comforted and loved. I had time to catch my breath, get comfortable and chat during the interval. I was physically and metaphorically hugged.

We did the best set I think we’ve done for ages. It was well received, I was relaxed, in control, and in the words of Elliot Smith

“In the place where I make no mistakes*

in the place where I have what it takes,”

* apart from forgetting the words occasionally, but I’m getting better at it, and nobody seems to mind that much

I’ve got myself going again… slowly… the bruises are fading.

I’ve managed to get back up the stairs to the studio, and had a day with a friend who showed me how to bind my old chopped up drawings into books. So since then I have just been folding and stitching. Because most of the hard work had been done, unrolling and flattening and chopping, I could sit at it and go at my own slow pace once I had been reminded what to do. There’s something quite satisfying turning a load of rolls of paper with old drawings on into a pile of books. The rolled up drawings had done their job and were taking up space, but offering nothing. By slicing them up and making them into books they take up less space, look attractive, and have something to offer; new surfaces to write on or draw into. I am making them into 8” squares, so they make a chunky stack on my shelf. The space I have now gained… and will continue to gain as I work through the pile… is enabling me to see the current work more clearly. I no longer feel like I am working in a glorified cupboard.

Making these books is also a useful cul-de-sac of activity. It needs to be done, is a worthy use of my time, and while I do it I can think about “what next?”

I think I am still consolidating and resting after Drawing Songs to be honest. I don’t think I could ever go from one funded project to the next without this period in between to gather myself, reflect, rest, play…

Much has been achieved over the last couple of years, quietly and slowly… or noisily I suppose!

(I’ve come back in to edit…
I do feel a professional responsibility, after a big project, to capitalise on all the opportunities that arise because of it. I follow up the new contacts, and say yes to things, because in about six months everyone will have forgotten and it might be too late. But if I follow up now, then I can do so again in a few months when I have more energy… and at least people won’t think I’ve been rude, ignored them or whatever…)

This week I have had the opportunity to be a guest on a local radio station, choosing my 7 favourite songs, a little bit, but not quite, like Desert Island Discs… It was really good fun to just talk about my favourite music, why I like it and how it has influenced my own work. Thanks to Mark “Busby” Burrows and James Toft for inviting me and being such kind and generous hosts.

My frantic dash between art and music happens on Thursday evening: 6-7:30 at The New Art Gallery Walsall to see my work hung in the WM Open (it’s on till September)… then zoom over to Moseley (35 mins on a good day on M6/A38M) for the Sitting Room launch gig. Both events deserve an evening of their own, but due to my own stupidity I didn’t have the PV date in my diary when booking the gig.

What’s really great though is I do feel I am increasing my audience. Both for art and music, and the bit in the overlapping Venn diagram is getting bigger, and now people that know my music work also know about the art, and my art audience also know about the music. There have been little spikes in traffic to my website after each event, which is gratifying.

I can’t really think much beyond Thursday at the moment, but once we get to Friday, I feel in need of a large piece of paper, and a few coloured pens to work out the map of where I am and where I am going next.

I’ve got a list of things as long as my arm to do in the studio. But I have stopped. Until today, haven’t even been able to think much about it.

Eleven days ago I fell over. My previous post was almost finished, so I managed to complete and post that, but that’s been it really. And I have so much to do this month!

I was walking out from a gig, loaded up with gear, and I failed to notice a small step down, so the ground wasn’t where I expected it to be, and I took a dive. There has been horrendous amounts of bruising, shock, (relief it wasn’t worse) and a general shook-up-ness that just weighed me down, and left me feeling sorry for myself. My knees are in a bad enough state as they are, so landing on the worst one didn’t help. The physical was really bad, but I have found the mental aspect of it really rather heavy. I have taken a real knock to my confidence, and examine the floor in minute detail wherever I walk. I shall develop a stoop no doubt if I’m not careful.

I have got so much work to do… the main things being to prepare for a book-making day with friends, which requires me to have a clean clear studio, and a large amount of old drawings cut to size and flattened ready for Tuesday. I need to go junk shop trawling to find a sort of frame or box to assemble some of my wrapped twigs in, ready for the RBSA members and Associates exhibition. 

I have also been told I have been selected for the West Midlands Open at New Art Gallery Walsall. The work is already framed and delivered, but to my dismay I discovered the preview event is on the same night as the band’s CD launch… so, with the support of my lovely band mates, I am able to do both! They will do my sound check so that I can be in Walsall early evening, then I shall hot-foot it from there to Moseley in time to sing later in the evening (warming up as I drive) Of course, I am hoping I will be able to drive, hoping that I will HAVE the drive! If not I’ll drag my husband to Walsall so he can escort me! (Art events are not his favourite thing).

I have some writing and sound work to do, both for the Radio Public project, and for my retreat/residential songwriting week in July. 

Anyway… there are other things but they’re not really relevant, as what I wanted to write about was the complete stop. I just couldn’t think straight, and it was a bit scary. All I could think about was the pain, and how to get from one room to the other, and I started worrying about how to get up the stairs for bed from about 6pm. No room for art, and I didn’t care. It was only really over yesterday and today that I have gently started to think about it again. And now I am stressing about getting things done in time. I’ve wasted nearly two weeks and I have nothing to show for it. 

I know it is not long, but I don’t like the feeling. I know people who have had a “stop” for much longer than that, in some cases for years! Thankfully it has come back, but they too have the worry about wasted time, but until the urge returns, there’s not a lot you can do about it. And more to the point, you don’t care. When there is extreme pain, stress and worry, your creativity seems to vanish. Just at the point when one might think it was most needed. 

And then, gradually, it comes back (If you are reading this and you have stopped, I hope you start again soon). I am often aware of how my own brain works, but I haven’t felt this before. It did scare me, because this is who I am. When I am in the midst of creativity it feels invincible, strong, a force of nature. But it turns out it is as fragile as my body. 

Or maybe it just hides until it is safe to come out again?

This afternoon I have sat in the sunshine and wrapped a few twigs. A gentle, caring, repetitive activity… occupational therapy perhaps?