Threads

I signed up for a ceramics course at Mac Birmingham. Now I am not a ceramics person. Not really. I like playing with the clay, I have taught it at a very basic level to teachers, and to children. I have a go myself every ten years or so! Last year when I was in Jamestown NY for my Full Circle exhibition I spent some time at the Pearl City Clay House with Debra Eck, delivering and taking workshops, and I threw my first pot for about 45 years. Anyway… having had a bit of a refresher, I decided to sign up with a friend, just to play, learn some new techniques, and most of all to enable me to be creative without stressing about results and outcomes etc. What I have found interesting, just three weeks in, is that despite me saying to myself this was a fresh thing, my own thoughts about my existing practice sneaks in regardless!

The first coil pot we made, Moira said to me “It looks like one of your drawings, the same lines!” And she is right. I suppose my hands just naturally move in a certain way, whether I’m just moulding the clay with my fingers, or using tools, the same forms appear. Interesting. That pot has now been fired and I find myself thinking how to glaze it so that those lines are emphasised.

While listening to the lecturer, I found myself “doodling’ with a small piece of clay while she spoke, and suddenly I have a collection of small thumb pots, connected like lichen cups. I cannot escape them! Last week I rolled out a piece of clay in order to try some sgraffito this week. I had no ideas in mind particularly, but having been talking to Bill and Helen about fish, what I ended up with was a freeform flat plaque with fish on it. I let my mind wander wherever it wants, try to give it completely free reign, and dammit it barely leaves the back yard!

I had thought that the ceramics might be a bit of a creative holiday, which it is, but I find myself just using the new materials to think through the same old knotty problems from a different angle!

I’m still making the textile “pots”… but find myself working out in 3D how to arrange them using the clay… Like a drawing! It will be interesting to see how this works out when I get these pieces into the studio next to the work I’m doing there to see if they inform my ongoing thoughts…

Following on from a previous post (A Timely Reminder, March 27th) I find myself feeling grateful for those who surround me, who are generous with their time and talent. I have a couple of days ago, booked my flights to have a few days in Sweden with Stuart Mayes, in June. We have been working towards this probably for the last couple of years, in talking about our work, and how there are links between what we make, how we make it, and how we regard the work, and how we think. And then one of us said we could make an interesting joint show. So, with a view to making this happen, we will get together, in Uppsala, and do some research into venues, talk to people, look at some art, and probably talk each others ears off.

One part of my head is saying “Hurray! I’m off on holiday to Sweden to see my mate Stuart!” And then another part of my head is calling this a research trip with a potential collaborator. Of course, I am sure there will be elements of both, but the reason for the trip is mostly work related. We will do some work together while we are together, and probably give it a title. In this way, it ensures that we take this seriously, and also that other people do. Because after all, if we don’t, no one will! I certainly want to enjoy the process, but I also want to come back after 5 days, thinking we are a step further on, and that the future collaboration has some meat on the bones.

The textile work I have been doing at the moment is both playful and experimental. They might end up just as individual purposeful crafted objects, which is fine… but in addition to this, the more I make, the more I can see them becoming something else, more that one something else in fact. I might use them with Helen Garbett, and with Stuart, and on my own, in a variety of situations, each one offering different layers of meaning. This family of vessels I am making holds many possibilities… together and apart…

I do have a wide ranging practice if you just look at what I make with: Paper, pencil, paint, textile and stitch, twigs, collections, words, sounds, music and songs… I work on my own, and I work in collaboration with a small group of trusted people who know how to do it properly (in my experience, so many don’t)

I used to worry about this, and even now, occasionally, usually after an exhibition, or the end of a particular project, I do again. That is the period when I can flail about a bit, playing, experimenting, reading, talking to other artists and musicians… like I’m looking for the next loose end. What I have learned to do is trust this process. I do whatever I fancy doing, with whoever I fancy… if you know what I mean. The work done in this period is a bit scattered, and I’m a bit all over the place. And then something sticks, and I pursue it…

I have rediscovered reading though. This might seem odd, but after my MA, now 11 years ago, I just didn’t read, it was like the reading-love part of my brain was burned out. I had forgotten what it was for maybe, other than to fulfil an assignment brief. But just recently I have discovered the essay form of writing, and these works have eased me back in. Other people’s ideas on how the world works are really useful. The latest joy is a tiny thing called The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction by Ursula K Le Guin. I recommend it. You can read it twice in an afternoon, I know this, because I did. On two consecutive afternoons. There is much in this small volume that helps the way I think about my work. That all I bring with me to my work, be that art, writing, or songs, comes out of my own personal, metaphorical carrier bag. My life is carried in it, metaphorically: memories, knowledge, skills, stories… alongside physical materials in a physical bag. The history of generations of women gathering things backs me up on this. I can put what I want in my bag, and it then becomes a resource for me to pick over. Your carrier bag is not like mine, your work is not like mine. So even if someone’s work superficially looks similar to mine, it is really not. They couldn’t make what I have made, because they haven’t got in their bag what I have got in mine. But they might have in their bag the urge to copy the physical properties of other people’s work. And lying. That is really not my problem. My business lies in sifting through my own bag, and using the stories contained in it, to tell other stories.

Today I have spent a few hours in the company of Helen Garbett (look up The Limpetarium). In talking about our work, and what we are both reading, over our last few meetings we have the beginnings of an idea for a collaborative project. I am really excited by this. It was the talking about bags and vessels that did it. We can see a way of making objects that we can then both use, in different circumstances, to evoke different meaning and elicit different responses. This combines the contents of our metaphorical carrier bags, and I am seeing it as an interesting way to explore the semiotics angle… can we make these objects mean different things by putting them in different contexts and environments?

We are busy making, and we need LOTS to play with, but watch this space…

This week I was reminded that I should never take for granted the autonomous nature of my current situation. I have a small but independent income, a studio, a house and I can do whatever I want. I surround myself with people I like and admire and respect, and hopefully I get the same back from them. Life is good.

However, a while ago I encountered a situation where I was not in control, I had in some ways allowed control to be in someone else’s hands. And it was a sharp reminder that I shouldn’t work like this. It’s not good for me. I must not allow myself to be flattered or bamboozled into things I don’t want to do, or work in ways that don’t suit me. And certainly not for nothing. Just because I have the skills to do something doesn’t mean I should say yes.

For about a day afterwards I had a knot in my stomach that was familiar. so much so I actually said to myself, out loud, under my breath and through gritted teeth “Hello old friend”. This feeling was why I stopped working for other people and vowed never to do so again. The fact that it turned up unannounced in a situation where I’m not employed or paid, shocked me. I’m not as healed or as strong as I thought I was. Turns out I can’t stand the heat, so I’m gently backing out of the kitchen before anyone notices I’m even there!

Timing and serendipity are everything in the life I lead now though, no timetables, few deadlines, no 9-5, no bells…

On Monday night we (The Sitting Room) played a gig at an event called The Crescent Unplugged, in the Crescent Theatre bar. Managed/curated by Francis Mallon, it is joyful, eclectic and superb. I have to pinch myself that we are part of it. Surrounded by good- very good- live music, and beautiful people, my heart flew! Not least because for the first time since Drawing Songs I find myself in the same room as my producer and co-writer of that project, Mike Clarke. He’s one of those people that you know you’ll have a good time with, and the music will be great, you leave the room with a big grin on your face, and feel good about the world and yourself.

The fact this event followed the other made me realise that it’s all about the people. One person can make a difference, one way or the other. The trick is to be vigilant, not take the absence/presence of either for granted. I have the power to take myself away from the negativity and make sure I spend as much of my time with the likes of Mike C, my band mates, the artists who I can work with happily, not too seriously, and those who facilitate these events. That, balanced with good solid chunks of solo studio time, means I can keep that stomach knotting at bay, as long as I remember this lesson, for the rest of my life!

I find myself ready to show this series of drawings. Happily, they will be shown as my Candidate’s submission for the RBSA exhibition to decide whether or not I can become a full member of this historic society. (I’ve been an Associate Member for the required three years)

In the past, an exhibition has often been the point at which I depart, and seek the next idea. But I do feel with this lot, that I’m not anywhere near done yet. I’ve not answered the question yet: Can the unsettling feelings of rootlessness be conveyed through the subversion of traditional observational drawings?

I think, through an exploration of scale, composition, and manipulating the relationships between these natural objects, extracted from their original environments, that I am starting to get somewhere. I’m finding that little bit of weirdness that makes my skin prickle a bit… but there’s more to be done.

A few posts ago I mentioned the Assembled Utterances idea. I think that’s what I need to remember. I am gathering objects and ideas and metaphors and meaning, straining at the semiotics of the work to find something new… in order to express it.

By continuing to observe and record these found natural objects I examine and record, I am seeking common properties, to try to link them as families. I’m looking for the inherited qualities that make them (and then as signifiers of me, the signified)… family.

It all comes back to family in the end. Or whatever word you want to use for those connections we hold with each other.