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I’ve disconnected a little… From the world…
This is a self preservation mode I enter occasionally.
The fact that this has coincided with Christmas makes it simultaneously sharper, because of the contrast and unfairness, and yet easier to hide, pretending I’m part of the preparations.
I have found over the years that I am less able to be in the place where I can be angry, active and effective. I am not as emotionally strong as I once was. So I retreat. Images in the media render me frozen. Incapable. I assuage guilt by donating to a friend who is active, practical and useful at the sharp end.

So yet again my world becomes smaller. I gather my family around me if I can. I make my home warm and comfortable, I feed anyone who steps over the threshold. I offer small kindnesses within the small view of the world I allow myself.
As a part of this withdrawal, I look to my work, as I’m sure other artists do.
I have found that as my thinking gets deeper, and the work becomes more abstracted, it becomes more real to me, and closer to the thing. You know, The Thing. THE THING.

I’ve also found that lyrics I have written change meanings with passing months. I wrote a lyric about a small, personal and private occurrence… Upon revisiting, I discover it is also, at the very same time, about something so very much bigger. And that’s a scary thing… I start to wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me, and it was always about this other thing?

My stitching becomes relentless… Obsessive again.

And I wrote a Christmas song… It’s not really about Christmas, but that’s the motif used to express those feelings of uselessness I write about. There might be jingle bells in it. But they’ll be ironic.

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It’s been ages it seems… My feet haven’t touched the ground!

I’m sat with a piece of warm raspberry crumble-cake and a mug of Lady Grey tea, mulling over the events of my first open studio even at The Old Library Studios…
As always, I probably took on too much, and in addition to the already stressful prospect of opening my studio space, I also felt it necessary to arrange for the band to play… Originally just on the Saturday, but through a series of misprints (not Simon’s fault), shoddy proofreading, misunderstandings and what-the-hells, we ended up playing on the Sunday afternoon too. We had a good time. It was our first outing with Lloyd the percussionist, and it was great to have him there… I can really feel the difference in the dynamic opportunities these songs now have, with him sat to my right. It was an exercise in winging it too. We decided, with a percussionist, that now I would definitely need to be amplified, as my vocal is ok, but I don’t exactly belt it out! This was fine, except that ten minutes before the guys arrive, the power goes out! This has several implications in this building… Not just the fact that my voice won’t be as loud.

It’s December, it’ll be dark around 3:30, but even by 2:30, you can’t really see the art properly unless you happen to be carrying a decent torch.

We are at the top of a Victorian building, that is never really warm from about the middle of September. As soon as all forms of heating went off, the temperature plummeted within minutes and people were huddling into their coats and hats and scarves.

It’s really hard to sing when you’re shivering.

It’s really hard to play guitar when you’re cold. Lloyd kept his gloves and jumper on. Advantages of being percussionist over guitarist…

But… What it did was show us that we can adapt our line up and performance to a variety of circumstances: I pulled my chair forward about three feet, Lloyd held back on his noisier excesses, and strumming was gentler. The natural acoustics of the building helped, and we managed an unplugged set that sounded ok, even if looking at us was a little odd!

On the Sunday, power was restored, and the adaptations were different, a single mic, just for my vocals was set up and the balance seemed good… Except I had to pull back from the mic when Andy or Ian took the lead vocal on a couple of songs (Their more experienced deeper and stronger male voices coped better without a mic).
Every single performance so far has been different. Just when I think I have a handle on it, I’m thrown by something new. Every single microphone is different, every single room is different. Some of the variables I can control, or be advised by my band mates how to cope, but mostly, every gig is completely new. I am extraordinarily fortunate to have them with me. The band relationship is also new to me, but I like it. I grew up with two older brothers looking after me… In some ways this is very similar, and I love it! There are rude jokes, teasing, people have slotted into their own predictable roles comfortably. It is like having an extra family in a way.

The new year brings new challenges. We are arranging more live performances and more rehearsal nights. We are being self critical, which is excellent. Some things work, some don’t, we know what they are and can put them right with practice. The songs, bless them, are starting to gel together… The dodgy endings have become smoother, and the transitions that at first seemed clumsy are settling down and feeling right. This is a stage of the process I am so far unfamiliar with… Fine tuning… Moulding… Development… All in a completely different order to any visual work I have done. The processes and differences fascinate me…. But I am aware that I can get a bit boring on the matter, so I’ll stop now….

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I’ve been shuffling around a certain something in the work. I’ve been glancing at things in the corner of my eye. The stitches haven’t quite caught it and neither has my pencil.
This evening I look back through this sketchbook I have already titled “LOVE IN DANGEROUS PLACES” and I catch a glimpse again and follow it… I turn the pages slowly. It is caught between the pages and lies beneath the drawn lines and between the written words. It is sat there and I recognise it. It is in the liminal. It is in that infinitesimal space between the parent and child, the hand and face, the skin and clothes. It leaves its mark, the attention given by one to another. We crave it. It is what we live for in our small packs. If we are fortunate, it is love and affection and a sense of belonging. But sometimes love exists in dangerous places.

…and that precious, violent attention sits waiting on the threshold between sweet anticipation and bitter dread.
The marks left are both golden and bloodied.

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So, it shouldn’t surprise me every time, but it does.
You put work up in a different environment and it changes it.
I’ve just hung up seven of the nine bras from Nine Women in my studio. I would like it to stay up for the Open Studios Weekend, but I shall live with it for a while before finally deciding.
Previously, they have hung in the traditional empty white room. They have space, they communicate with each other. In the studio, they are surrounded by my work, stuff on the walls, the trappings of the artists’ space… Bookshelves, equipment, materials, furniture. Suddenly these women look busy now. Somehow they seem even more present, and part of my space. I have already started talking to them. It will be interesting to see if Sarah talks to them too. (After all, she talks to the pigeons, so she probably will.)

I attach below a few photos, which seem strange to me, it is difficult to make out what is going on, as there is no still, plain background

I also attach a poster of our event, please feel free to circulate this to anyone who might like to come. If you are a blog reader, and you turn up, please do come and introduce yourself, I’ll be there all weekend, and my band The Sitting Room are performing on the Saturday afternoon.

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This has been a long break without posting…
Much has happened!

Another two performances came and went…

The first one was on Sunday afternoon on local radio. I’ve done a couple of spots on local radio before, once just chatting about a community arts project, and once for my Nine Women project, which included performing two songs live, with Dave Sutherland on guitar and mandolin. I don’t mind it, quite like it even, as it is in a small room with a few people. I am unable to see the whites of the eyes of my audience, so can ignore them.
Ian Sutherland has done solo spots with this presenter before, so was more familiar. Andy Jenkins, although a veteran of the open mic nights of Birmingham, was perhaps less so. But anyway, we did it, and I think – we think – it went well. I think the songs came across well, there were of course the usual off notes, and missed chords, but these were few, and minor…hur hur… Musician joke…

This is a listen again link, but I don’t know how long our show will be live for….

But what I think did come across was that thing called chemistry. These guys are funny, and clever and we have a good time writing and playing together. Way way way back in the early days of my blog, I had a bit of a rant about artist collaborations, and how, frankly, other artists are a pain in the arse. I expounded the joy of working with musicians instead, and even gave reasons why I thought this to be the case. Over the intervening years however, I might qualify this a little.
Yes, musicians are generally used to playing together, artists as a general rule are more solitary and individual in how the output happens. But… I have been extremely fortunate in that the first musician I worked with was Dan Whitehouse. Those that know him will recognise that this is a special thing, that I have appreciated more and more as time goes on…. Not every musician works in the way he does.

I think I have a sort of unspoken formula. The right people to work with aren’t always the “pleasant” people. I am really grumpy in the mornings, and the last thing I want is someone trying to jolly me along. The people I have enjoyed working with are perhaps the quiet and taciturn… And also people with dry, warped and slightly surreal senses of humour. They don’t allow me to take myself too seriously. They tease, and they are affectionately sarcastic. They are confident in expressing an opinion, and happy to listen to others and consider carefully. The people I like to work with are not necessarily like me, but if we value each other’s worth, that I think is the key. I don’t want arguments, competition, sulking, or egg-shell treading. I want to get on with it. I want to establish a means of troubleshooting before it is necessary, so time isn’t wasted, and I like a set of rules of engagement in a project, or relationship. Everyone has a right to veto if they feel strongly, everyone has a right to persuade if they feel strongly.

But a mutual support, and sense of what each person brings is crucial. Andy and Ian have different musical and lyrical strengths, and different personal qualities. They have been very kind and patient and encouraging with me. Over the last year I have performed more, and more confidently, because I know they’ve got me if it all goes pear-shaped.

Tuesday night was my first ever open mic night, at the White Lion in Walsall… They told me it would be fine, and I trust them. I trusted that they would not have chosen somewhere where I’d be likely to have stuff thrown at me. I trusted that they would choose somewhere where I would be able to sing, and be heard. We sang four songs and it was really good fun, most of the audience were performers, so again, a mutually supportive environment in a not terribly salubrious part of the Black Country!

Last night, a very exciting thing happened, we got ourselves a percussionist, the wonderful Lloyd McKenzie. What this means though, is that our rehearsal nights can no longer be acoustic. There are times, when Andy and Ian get a bit excited, that I can’t be heard… With Lloyd added to the mix, I stand absolutely no chance, so I’ll be mic’ed up from here on in. This is actually a good idea, as when I do perform live, it usually takes me a while to get used to how I am going to monitor my voice, and how I’m going to sound… I think being more familiar with singing into any mic is going to help. Percussion gives us a wider dynamic field. We can play/sing really quietly, but now also, we can drive it along with Lloyd, we now have greater depth of tone, a broader spectrum. I’m very excited to hear how the songs develop with this added dimension….

(If you’re wondering about the title, Lloyd tucks a couple of egg shakers down his socks while playing the cajon with his hands…. Of course!)

Enough words for now….
Time for a cup of tea and a piece of lemon shortbread.