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I’ve been reading Stuart Mayes’ blog from 13th July 2021, https://www.a-n.co.uk/blogs/project-me/ in which he is talking about new work made with a bundle of shirt collars and cuffs I passed on to him. They are a remnant of the days when I quilted and patched and stitched. I was given a whole load of them by someone who used to strip down men’s old shirts (or old men’s shirts?) to reuse the fabric. The collars and cuffs were left overs. I must have held onto them for about 7 years, just in a box gathering dust, just waiting for me to have a good idea to use them. It never came. I used the button and buttonhole strips, and a few of the collar points to make bunting… but they didn’t do much for me really. I just kept them in the cupboard waiting for something. 

I’ve been following Stuart’s blog for years now, and we have become friends. I even met him in the real world once, in Stockholm, where we greeted each other like long lost family across an open square. (I didn’t run though, that would be unseemly.) Recently he has been using ties and shirts in his work. I won’t presume to describe the reasons, but it’s beautiful work… go look it up! In using these ties in work reminiscent of heraldic shields it occurred to me that it was so “male”… my textile work was so “female”… I’d used bras and children’s clothes and domestic textiles. I said out loud to myself in the studio “Stuart needs these shirt bits!” and I posted off four stuffed parcels to him in Sweden. His first instinct was just to simply connect them by buttoning them together into a long chain and hang them in loops. This very simple act had not occurred to me, because I don’t do that. That buttoning action is not part of my everyday experience. I had been trying to think of a way to use them that required them to be stitched together, to sort of obliterate their former use, whereas Stuart just did with them what came naturally. They look great. He has titled the work Rest. A great word. Implying the left over, and the stillness… the support of one by the rest? Perfect title Stuart! I’m glad I sent them. They have found their appropriate home.

In another part of my studio lay a box. A rough hewn box, made from some sort of packaging wood reclaimed from elsewhere, that had mysterious and unidentified calligraphic Japanese(?) markings on the side. Inside were a series of compartmentalised trays, fitted snugly with ribbon tags on the edges to lift them out. The inside wood was smooth and worn and carefully crafted. Smooth on the inside, rough on the outside. I was given it more than ten years ago, and it did contain a few sea shells, because the giver thought I might like to draw it, or give it to classes of children to draw. I think I did a couple of times, but it never really sparked anything. So it sat on my shelves gathering dust, waiting. I have come to know an artist who lives and works much closer than Sweden, just across the other side of town, who has a penchant for limpets. I say penchant, but that implies a vague, passing fondness… Helen Garbett’s relationship with limpets in much deeper than that – again look her up: https://www.facebook.com/limpetsthroughtime/ her work has museum-like qualities, collections, assemblages, constructions, drawings… supported by continued anthropological research into the human use and significance of limpets. So this box, rough on the outside, smooth on the inside, just like the limpet shells, has been donated to Helen’s Limpetarium. It will sit among her work perfectly, far better than on my shelves.

 

As an artist, I’ve been given all sorts of things that have added to my work, from bras to bits of furniture, materials, equipment. It’s good that these items find the home they belong in. 


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I have a strange relationship with my sketch book(s) I think…

I have two on the go. One is A5, a tie-up Muji thing, with things poking out of it, receipts, photos, cards and envelopes. It is written in as well as drawn in, and is carried around in my handbag. Just in case.

The other sits at the side of my armchair at home. A3, hardback. In this are page after page of drawings, tested ideas, mark making samples… colour combination trials maybe… bits of collage made from newspaper, magazines and packaging paper, the other sort of paper that gets left about within reach. But it’s not a messy sketch book. I’m actually not a messy artist, I hate working dirty, and when it comes to materials, I’m a bit of a purist and I don’t like mixing too many things together. This is a book of ideas and tests that might get used later on a larger piece, once practiced sufficiently. It is also a place for mindlessness drawing, while watching tv or listening to music and talking in the evenings (this is why I have to be in the right mood for things with subtitles, because I can’t draw at the same time!) 

Thing is though… (in this large sketchbook) I don’t like working both sides of the pages. I think this is partly to do with the messy thing… I like things to sit cleanly. But is it also to do with the fact I might be able to tear the “good” pages out and sell them? (Not happened yet)

Recently I took some photos of these works for instagram/facebook and people seemed to really like them. That’s great, but there’s a mismatch in my brain that these are effortless, thoughtless works, throw away (ish). I wish I could get my head straight about this, that sense that there has to be great effort, time, thought/theory behind what I produce for it to be of worth. These pieces are play, playful, casual. Elena’s drawings without the posh frock on. They DO have value, the act of doing them in itself has value, I know that, I would certainly tell other people that. So why can’t I tell myself? I am trying… to figure out the whole tangle of worth/effort/time and have been trying to for years. I have put time and effort into these drawings in the book, but probably not at the time of making. Maybe that’s it?

When I am looking at other people’s art, I love to see the compulsion, obsession, attention to detail, and the effort that goes into making something. And I love the pieces that I make that show that too. The pieces that really work for me on a level of sensitivity, to the marks and materials, that have a level of repetition, dedication… the ones that felt good to make, during the making, those are the ones that make me satisfied. The sketchbook work is a different thing. A counterpoint. So there is a contradiction and tension and a cognitive dissonance here: No they are not worthy, they are just casual sketchbook pieces… but yes, you can buy one, let me tear it out carefully for you… how much? God knows!!?

If anyone has any insight into what is going on in my head from the outside I’d be glad to hear it.

 


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I feel like I’m slowly nibbling my way out.

A cup of tea and cake in a real cafe…

Friends round for lunch…

Real shops…

Socially distanced rehearsals…

And now we have gigs booked, and an exhibition that’s taking the online into the real world.

I am still feeling cautious, and I’m glad our gigs are small, and a couple outdoors… but the thought gives me strange feelings… I am still a little fearful, but also I am so tired of not being able to be the person I am.

Everyone has a sense of missed time, and have come to realise how precious it is. Each generation/age group has the thing they have missed. Each as important as the rest. We have been fortunate in the fact we no longer have either parents or small children to cope with personally, but I see the struggles around me and my heart goes out.

I just had my 60th birthday, and like many, I wanted a party. I’m not usually a party person, but I really felt this one. I think I feel a sense of urgency about things. I want to do stuff. Time is pressing. I want to get stuff done while I can. While I am able. I know to some 60 seems young, and for them the issue is even more pressing. We need to get out there, see people, do our thing, because time is precious and we won’t get it back.

There is someone in my sphere who occasionally comments how great it is for us to be retired. Every time I remind them that I am definitely NOT retired. I have work to do! I can honestly say that I work really hard these days. At times of my own choosing, yes, but I work at it. I have ideas that need seeing to. At 60, I now have ambition and a work ethic. I could probably have done with those when I was 30, but hey ho… we play the hand we are dealt.

So now, as restrictions slowly lift, and by this I mean my own, as well as the government’s, I find myself really busy, planning exhibitions, performances, projects within the project…

I want to write more, sing more, draw faster, and bigger and more noisily.

And for all those things I want and need an audience. In the room.


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This week I seem to have been talking about myself a lot. Hopefully not in a trumpet-blowing way though.

I have been asked to record two podcasts. It’s a coincidence in terms of recording, that they both happened this week. The first one to go out, probably in the next week or so, is for Polly Orton, who is doing a series of podcasts for MA students at Birmingham City University. It’s ten years since we did our MA together, and ten years is an interesting amount of time to revisit people I think. Much has happened, things have been shaken up and settled down. Coincidentally I am also in the midst of writing a sort of Q/A (with Stuart Mayes and Kate Murdoch) about the habit of long-form blogging… also at it’s tenth anniversary. So much reviewing and reflection happening.

The second podcast is for local radio online, this time with sound artist Bill Laybourne. The focus here is definitely on my current practice and the use of sound. I haven’t known Bill for long but we always have really good conversations about the work, our studio practices, life, the universe and everything. He always has lots of gear for me to admire, be confused by, and envious of too. 

There will naturally be overlaps on all these things, but with a different focus for each it has been really interesting to revisit work, decisions made, paths taken, coincidences and the life circumstances that push you this way and that.

I have discovered that working for a particular target, whether that’s an exhibition, or a funded project, requires one to go through a cycle of mad frantic making, admin, mad frantic making, reflection, admin… and hopefully also periods of relaxed play and discovery… after which another period of reflection can lead to real strides forward with the work. What works for me is that combination of being obliged to produce something for other people to see and comment upon, alongside not having to worry so much about money, so I can sink into things.

I’ve done some mad frantic making, a lot of admin, and some reflection through the eyes and ears of other people as above. I’m heading into a period of overlapping exhibiting, which is very exciting. And then as I slide into August I’m up for some serious playing. 

I’m hoping by the end of the funded period of Drawing Songs, by Christmas, I will be able to see the next stage clearly, take my foot off the pedal for a while, and just steadily carry on working at my own pace.

Until I get the next Big Idea.


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Last night I had a couple of hours drawing with my friend, mentor and erstwhile studio-mate Sarah Goudie. We have done lots of drawing with each other over the last few years, usually in workshops and with other students. Last night she took me in hand though, and I relinquished control. I am up to my ears in the project, exhibitions, and the admin that sits alongside, and the songwriting, and the recording… and the… and the… and the……

I had no choice of paper, or what I was going to make marks with, they were given, along with a few guiding words, and the time-keeping was all Sarah’s. It felt great to just draw whatever, with whatever, for however long – usually five or ten minutes then turn the paper around, have a different colour, make a different sort of mark.

Two hours just disappeared and at the end of it I felt simultaneously exhausted and refreshed. 

The photo I post here is the only record. The paper is scrunched up in the recycling. It’s not about the product, but the joy of process. There is no “result” other than the change in my headspace and mood. A much needed retreat from the hurly-burly… thank you so much Sarah! 

 

At the moment, and at least until the second week in August, this is the busiest I have been probably for two or maybe even three years. I feel I am approaching a point of balance. I’m inching forward… my toes are reaching for the edge… 

The work I am doing for Drawing Songs is for the moment set, I have tasks on a list to finish. Things to record, and things to finish writing, and also drawings in my head – some of which have been started – some not yet. These are tasks already decided. So I just have to plough on and do them. There are a couple of deadlines looming, but that’s ok. By the time I get to August I will have a different sort of freedom and will be able to play again, start new ideas, test new combinations of materials and so on. 

In August I have booked a week in the gallery to explore. My original thoughts were that I would just draw big, on the wall (well, paper on the wall) and see where it took me. Then I thought I would probably don my bluetooth headphones and listen to the songs. And then, after listening to a musician improvising at a live (online) gig, I had the idea that that would be the next logical step, for the live drawing and live, improvised music to happen at the same time. For the one to be influenced and inspired by the other, a two way observing, and connecting, and looping back in… in real time. 

So that will happen… I am currently approaching a few musicians to have a go at this with me. We shall see if it works…

In the meantime… let’s get the deadlines met, and the admin done!


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