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Well life never quite goes to plan does it?

The opening is four days away and I have got the stinkiest of stinky colds and a really sore throat. Thankfully, frequent testing shows it isn’t the dreaded Covid, but it is pretty rank, and unless I make a rapid recovery, could be a nightmare for the performance on Sunday. At the moment, I think I’m getting slightly better each day, but will that be enough? Who knows?

My theory is two fold: firstly, I’ve been working really hard and trying to get things done, and scooting about all over the place, running myself ragged; secondly, we have all been isolated and masked up, and now we are out and about and mixing together, ALL the germs, not just Covid, are having a party in our nostrils and throats. So here I am. I’m doing all the remedies, drinking lots of water, taking the pills and potions, and above all, forcing myself to take a couple of days proper rest.

In another part of life, in the studio lies chaos. My tranquil studio is besieged, and not a place for working creatively at the moment. It is stacked high with the work to be hung, the work NOT to be hung, posters and flyers, The Merch (Limited edition Drawing Songs Books and CDs) and the tools of the hang – hammer, drill, assorted fixtures and fittings, tapes, wires and string… and to my shame more that one or two half drunk tea mugs and a couple of apple cores that didn’t make it to the bin yet.

But then, weirdly, and if I’m being frank I feel it could have waited a week or three, I am struck with a thought that won’t go away, with an idea for a piece of follow-on work… again this is both sound, and drawing… and again, I have a collection of lyrics already partly written, which when sparked with a bit of inspiration from outside, will work really well when connected up with the visual that came to me at 4:30 this morning while making yet another soothing honey and lemon drink, in the hopes of getting to sleep. No chance. Seeing my brain in a state of stupor, my imagination has free reign and goes on the rampage. An hour or so later, the idea is lodged in my notebook, and can wait, until the exhibition is finished, the cold has gone, and the studio is tidy.

Then back to bed, to sleep till 11:30am. Proper poorly.

Well here we are then!

This is one of those all singing all dancing business posts…

The Exhibition times are set, and the events are planned and on Eventbrite for anyone who would like to book. It does seem weird to book a place for a PV, but we are in weird times right? It’s free, but just a way to monitor the numbers in the space. All the events are free too.

So… the PV is on the evening of Saturday 23rd October here:

On the afternoon of Sunday 24th October I will be doing a live acoustic set of some of the songs with Michael Clarke, my co-writer and producer. That link is here:

On the afternoon of Saturday 30th October I will be doing a live drawing and sound performance with Bill Laybourne. That link is here:

This year long project is done now. Except of course it isn’t. The project actually started several years ago. Some of the lyrics were written in 2017. The drawings have evolved over the last five years, and all that happens is that when you set up an exhibition, you actually are taking a snapshot, a view from a point along a line of organic development. 

I think that is possibly one of the tricks when applying for funding… to align what you are funding within your continuing practice. Yes it is a project, a discrete body of work, certainly, but sitting happily among what was before and what will come after.

I think I might measure the success of a project through what it starts. Have I made work that sparks new thoughts? Have I met and worked with people I didn’t know before? Can I see new possibilities from the vantage point of the exhibition space? The answers are Yes, Yes, and Yes. 

I’m really looking forward to hanging the work next week, and playing the music into the space where it hangs. I’m really looking forward to showing it and playing it to others. 

But now, I think what I’m really looking forward to is sitting back, letting it all sink in and filter through, and let it do its thing.

I’ve just spent three days in Devon, in the recording studio with Michael Clarke, my co-writer and co-producer. I feel a bit weird about claiming a co-producer title though, as he does all the technical stuff, I am the one that has mad ideas from the sofa, and makes more tea. But there it is… they are my ideas and our ideas.

A little recap… when I started filling in the ACE application and asked Mike if he would help me, we had a heap of “stuff”. We had already written a few songs together over the previous few years, that had just been parked. Some of these have made it into this collection. I had some bits of looping; a selection of half finished lyrics; some phone recordings of ideas, and a heap of recordings of sounds and humming, just waiting for the right time.

So having got the right time, and the money, I sent ALL of this heap to Mike and we started to listen to things and sift through them. What we have ended up with is the sound element for Drawing Songs. They have developed at first slowly, (Covid-19 restrictions prevented us spending studio time together at the start) then quickly, into 12 songs, joined into a vague but satisfying narrative that sits alongside, and is interwoven through the drawings. The sounds from the drawings sit in the recordings and have formed obscure and peculiar rhythms. The lyrics have set the moods and the culture for the drawings… there’s a back-and-forth, a cause and effect. There are occasional bits of text sat among the lines of ink too… these might make it into future songs.

We worked pretty constantly over the three days, straight into the studio after breakfast, a break for a quick lunch, then back until dinner. Then a chat over dinner about the next day’s priorities. We finished the last song on the last day, then after lunch we listened through them as a whole. To be honest there was a lump in my throat. I’ve left them all with Mike now, for him to trim and tidy, mix and master.

It’s only now that they all exist, as a whole piece, that I can begin to think about what I will do with them.

For the first exhibition (October 23rd to November 7th, General Office, Stourbridge) they will play into the gallery space with the drawings. I am thinking it would be nice to make a limited edition run of 50 CDs… and possibly a lyric book to go with them.

So this week I need to do this planning… images and words…

There is always the question of the digital launch of music these days too. But I think that can wait a little time. I’m thinking if I have another exhibition in a different venue in 2022 I will use that as the digital launch event.

We had such a wonderful time creating this together, I think we will be making a date to write some more… maybe next year…

I’m feeling a little tired now. I have a great big push to get to the exhibition, then I can rest for a while.

Until I get bored and want to start again!

There is a sweet spot I think, in the middle of a project, or perhaps closer to the end, when activity is high, one becomes a little more visible for a little while. During this period, I find it’s really good to get the word out, spread the goodness, and actually capitalise on that fleeting higher profile to make connections and inroads into places you don’t dare to do on an ordinary day. When confidence is high, strike while the iron is hot! Mix your metaphors or get out of the kitchen!

This is the time when you feel able to send speculative emails, because, when the project is finished… (in terms of funding, and the evaluation has been done and submitted etc) you need something to look forward to. Not immediately, because, you know “The Slump” will undoubtedly hit once the adrenalin has subsided and you’ve stopped grinning. But something a few months ahead. Perhaps a small collaboration, a conversation, a little self-indulgent self-review when the dust has settled.

So this is what I am doing at the moment. I call it The Business of Art… I’m not that good at it, and I’d rather be drawing and singing, but if I am to get anywhere (whatever the hell THAT means) then it has to be done. I have to neaten the edges, make a plan. I’m quite good at getting an idea for, and planning the project and delivering it, but I can only do one thing at a time. I can’t look at the next thing until I’m nearly at the end of this thing… I shall hopefully find a small island of something to aim at, while I rest, before thinking of the next BIG thing, or series of little things.

The initial plan will be to allow The Slump, enjoy Christmas, allow for a bit of shitty weather and then, come Mid February, I will be wanting something else…

Yesterday evening I was presented with my certificate for being elected an Associate of the Royal Birmingham Society of Artists.

During the speeches by the president of the society Steve Evans, and Brendan Flynn, RBSA Professor of Art History, they spoke about the society and its archive. It was listening to this and seeing examples of object files of other artists that it really hit home I’d become a part of this fairly small group of artists, selected and elected for “Professional standing and distinction of work”… and that from now on an official record would be kept of my work and achievements, alongside all the other members since  the early 19th century.

I was also called a “groundbreaker”… I am the first artist in those 200 years to have submitted a sound piece in my candidates’ exhibition.

It does feel a little unreal.

I was brought up in a time when one didn’t “boast” about ones achievements… whilst also being told not to hide ones light under a bushel.

So I wanted to write this post, not as a boast, but as a statement of fact. I belong to this group, I feel part of it, have been welcomed with open arms as the artist that I am right now, doing the work I’m doing right now. Acceptance, acknowledgement and validation for what I do.

I do feel emotional. It feels great. I’m sure there will come along inevitable feelings of self-doubt any time soon, but for now… I’m sat on the top of a big hill looking around me. For a while I wonder how I got here, and then I remember how hard I’ve worked.

Huge thanks to Steve and Ed Isaacs for their nomination and continued support.

(Pictured with RBSA President Steve Evans)