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I am interested in the concept of cognitive dissonance.

It is a very human condition. We don’t practice what we preach. The left hand doesn’t know what the right hand is doing. I can quite happily hold two conflicting thoughts at once. I am quite capable of feeling supremely confident, whilst simultaneously feeling I am completely insignificant and that nothing I ever do has any worth at all. I have the classic little version of me on each shoulder, one angel, one devil. One imploring me to do the right thing, the other saying “Go on…..Fuck it up…. You know you want to”. I am ashamed to say the latter wins more than it should. There have been moments of total self-sabotage. I’m preaching reasonableness whilst behaving like an unthinking idiot.
I am interested in how sometimes what comes out of our mouths is completely negated by our actions. Our behaviours betray us while we attempt to be the better person, holding the higher ground.

For example: I have no cartilage left to speak of in my left knee. If I lost a couple of stone it would make life easier. I can happily discuss this with anyone over a bacon butty, tea and a packet of hobnobs.

I am indecisive. We are indecisive. But I am disturbed by the fact that the media that surrounds us demands we pick a side. Our politics demands we pick a side.
I’ve just been listening to the brilliant Chain Reaction on BBC Radio 4, Victoria Coren-Mitchell interviewed Sandi Toksvig. Sandi put forward the idea that the architecture of our House of Commons perpetuates the two-party conflict system. She thinks it should become a museum, and a new House of Parliament be built, in the round. I do think that our surroundings affect our behaviour. Conversations should be happening, not arguments. I am definitely an old fashioned socialist…but if Cameron has done one thing for civil rights in this country- equal marriage- then he should be praised for that, and thanked. There are plenty of other things to lambast him for, but that has been a great thing, of which he, and we, should be proud. But it isn’t going to make me vote conservative!

There are so many things of which I am ignorant. There are so many things about which I hold no opinion. I think it’s ok to not know? Surely that’s ok?
I am extremely opinionated about the NHS and our education system. I don’t really know how the situation in Syria got so bad… Except that culpability lies in a tangled mess across the world.
I feel I have a voice in education, albeit a small one, and that I have also made a small difference to a small amount of people. I can vote and protest and petition to protect the NHS. I have absolutely no idea about the other stuff.

I deliberately keep my world small. I cannot cope with the bigger issues. I don’t watch much news. I don’t read a newspaper. I become uselessly over-emotional and totally demoralised by my inability to do anything. So as a self preservation measure, I limit my exposure. Other people are more able to do other things, between us all we do what we can I suppose, in the small sector we each feel able to deal with.

I like the idea of the confusion caused by cognitive dissonance. Out of chaos comes odd connections that lead to the barmy idea that might just work. Hold two opinions at once, until the very last moment when it becomes clear which is right. Until then, juggle, turn from one to the other until you are dizzy, change your mind depending on who you are with, be openly duplicitous and talk for opposing sides until you find one side sounding so ridiculous the decision is made.

One exercise I have used in various educational settings is getting my students (from primary to HE) to argue for the side they disagree with. This can be hilarious as they try to wriggle out from under it, but also very telling, informative, and it encourages empathy.

As I get older (I just had another birthday- 55) I find I am less sure, not more sure. I have no idea how the world manages to keep turning under the weight of such stupidity. And in this stupid world, I am deliberately keeping myself even more stupid.

However, I am quite happy. Most of the time.
(Not sure if this is a good or bad way to exist. I’ll let you know if I come to a decision)

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And so it becomes obvious why my blog has been a little quiet. There wasn’t much going on that didn’t have something to do with the search for a studio, or the application for the bursary. The fact that the former was tied inextricably to the latter meant that I’ve been keeping shtum… If that is how you spell it.

Part of the deal is that I blog about the search. So just as I did with my Nine Women blog when I got the ACE funding, this will be the same. I will attempt to keep the search process on the bursary blog, here:

https://www.a-n.co.uk/blogs/time-and-space-a-n-professional-development-bursary-2016

Then all the other stuff will carry on as normally as possible here on Threads. But as we have seen before, there is always overlap. When this happens I will provide links backwards and forwards and try to be as clear as I can.
I’ve already started it, so please visit, comment, whatever…

…and keep your fingers crossed for us!

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As my Mum would have said, “There’s no side to Sonia Boué”

This is very true. Sonia is easy company. Words are thoughtful, carefully used. Sometimes slow and deliberate and serious, sometimes fast and animated and hilarious!
A few weeks back, we had a flurry of emails between us, something had sparked it off, a blog, an article, an image… I can’t now honestly remember what. What we decided to do was fix a date in our diaries to get together to discuss this excitement face to face. We picked a venue about half way between us and did it…
(As an aside here, I can recommend picking out half way points… Leamington Spa was lovely, and I’ve had pretty good half way meetings in all sorts of other places with other artists too)

Our excitement at meeting was laughed at by the coffee shop staff. It had been an adventure that included an underestimation by Google of the time the journey would take; a small detour as I chose to ignore the sat-nav; road works; not having enough money for the car park, and a misunderstanding of EXACTLY which coffee shop to meet in. I actually ordered a pot of tea and sat down in one, then realised I was in the wrong one, and abandoned it! Sonia’s adventure included flooding on the line, a replacement bus service offered but not needed, and a completely oblivious selection of National Rail staff which resulted in her getting off a train, then running to get back on it!
Consequently when we did meet, it was as if we had travelled half way round the world to achieve it!

Anyway, we caught up on personal gossip, ordered more tea, both Earl Grey. We decided it was a little cold here, and that our work required hot, substantial sustenance not provided by a cheese n ham toastie, so went in search of something better and ended up in Cafe Rouge ordering the same things off the menu (this has almost become a tradition for us now) fish cakes, fries not salad, elderflower cordial to drink…

Our friendship, we decided, is slow. Trust between us has come about over the past few years reading each other’s blogs, commenting upon each other’s work and the work of other artists, sharing articles and research. And slow is how it still is. We had tentatively agreed in the email exchange that there might be some work in this, there are crossing points and points that briefly touch then move away. This is why we decided to get together. So when we moved to Cafe Rouge we asked for a large table for two, so we could work, and somewhere warm please! So we had a squashy leather bench under the heater, and a table for four between us and spread out the paper, pens, laptop, iPad, sketchbooks…. And we talked and looked at the sketchbooks and the photos and so on. We scribbled words of note onto big bits of paper.
We still don’t know if there is any work to come of this, for a collaboration, but the discussion was very meaningful, helped us both identify areas that are important to us, and possibly put words into each other’s mouths, for ease of understanding. I found it a hugely useful exercise, and has had the effect of “sharpening my pencil” of ideas….

I’m not going to reveal all about our conversation, as it is, I think, the way in which it happened that is interesting, and transferable, not necessarily the content.

But having said that, I think there are many readers who may be able to add to the discussion that could move it on even further…

These words were hastily scribbled all over the paper, not in a list as I do here. I had wondered about photographing the paper, but then also wondered whether a rewriting might give me more insight into the connections we made:

Translation
If you present something differently then you feel it is
Fraudulent
Performance
Association of the garment with the persona
Dignifying justifying being serious <~~~~~>humour playing being silly
Garments are people
Why now?
Constellations
Inhabiting
We don’t have time
Kicking off, not
Game over
“Are you looking at me?”
Is performance disguise?
Do we have to go in disguise to find ourselves?
Belief in self
Can’t believe I’m performing
Performing makes me believe in myself
Who is performing?
Is someone else performing me?
Where is the fraud?
Fraudulent bit?
A presumed authority
Transformation/being transformed
Truth hiding in plain sight
Becoming visible – invisible
Are we invisible because we are in role?
Are we visible because we are in role?
Doing something that is not “normal”
finding context in which it is “normal”
dx
“Passing” – appropriating the vocabulary of other groups to aid understanding of a social process?
Formal is normal
Social context of performance practice
Art and non-art
Age
Waiting
Obstacles
Barriers
Opinions
Judgements
Protocols
Norms

Who is Norma Normal
Where has she been hiding?
Norma Normal is not normal

Yes… An interesting exercise… More thoughts occur…
Sonia, I’m wondering which one of my aprons would suit Norma best?

And do you sing?

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I read Stuart Mayes’ blog with interest as he also searches for studio space…

This week I stepped my own search up a bit, in that I became rather more proactive, and instead of whinging online and looking at websites, I actually made a phone call and made an actual appointment to meet an actual person from Birmingham Council Property Services to actually look at actual spaces!
I felt like the spectres of Kirstie and Phil were exasperatingly berating me and spouting “You can’t expect to find a property just by looking online!”

The focus of my search this week was Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter. From where I live, about seven miles out, this is my side of the city. I don’t have to weave my way through too much traffic to get there. On a good day it takes twenty minutes (Dudley on a bad day took more than that, so that’s how I justify the extra time)

It was a good day to look at these places, the sun was shining, the sky was blue!

The search has very specific criteria, some of which are more flexible than others, but include the following:

24 hour access
A decent toilet
Good natural light
Not damp
Around 200 sq ft for less than £200 per month. (This is possible around here, you southerners may gasp in envy if you like!)
Quiet enough to record, but no neighbours likely to be too disturbed if I make noise

It is because of the final item on the list I have crossed off some of the places with artist communities in Digbeth. The JQ seems more conducive to this sort of creative activity. I already know of other musicians working in this area. Also the buildings are very much older than some I have looked at in Digbeth. All of the buildings I saw were Victorian, and with strong solid walls….ish… (See below)

So…
Property number 1:

Ground floor. Much less than the required 200sq ft, but I was told there may be access to a basement space in addition, so I said I’d give it some consideration. It was a square room, about 165 sq ft, with a sink in the corner (extra £25 per annum). Slippery brick stairs to cellar, which was more wet than damp, so totally unusable. The window was into a courtyard, so light restricted for most of the day. Toilet access across the courtyard. Crossed this one off the list.

Property number 2:

Ground floor again. Long thin space, interesting, carpeted, heated, kitchen area, but stinks of damp. I am assured it has been treated and with use the smell would dissipate. I cannot risk it. Fabric and paper do not do well in damp conditions. Another no.

Property number 3:

First floor. Smaller again than required, but the light was good, little separate kitchen area, and a good toilet along the corridor. Needed a coat of paint, all utilities in good working order. Would be perfect for just me, but not for sharing. I can’t afford to go it alone. Not totally dismissed, but a maybe.

Property number 4:

Now here’s where it gets tricky… You know that thing estate agents do, when they show you something you can’t afford, but they know it would be perfect for you? That.
First floor of lovely Victorian corner building, so windows on two sides, the light from these high windows, even though very dirty, was fantastic! It was three adjoining rooms, but 375 sq ft… So too expensive, even with a discount…. The discount was because the electrics and plumbing were well dodgy. There was even a one month rent free incentive to enable the work to be done before moving in. Under the sink that had obvious issues, the flooring had been pulled back to reveal rotting floorboards, the extent of this damage as yet unknown… It was presumed an isolated problem due to the water damage. At this point it didn’t seem necessary to investigate further.
The three rooms had tatty work surface around much of the walls, some is useful, some would need to be removed. A lot of white paint would be needed!
Anyway… It was, despite the damage, pretty much perfect. If I had a couple of thousand to attend to the damage, and a slightly larger income, I’d move in now. I think Dan and I could make this a really amazing place. That’s the danger isn’t it? I could ACTUALLY see us working in it!

*Sigh*

But Kirstie and Phil know their stuff. I have learned more in a couple of hours than in a couple of months fannying about on the Internet.
I have discovered that square footage is not as important as I thought, that I would consider a smaller space if all the other criteria were in place. State of the walls is not important, and I am willing to consider work if there is a rent discount involved. I have discovered that I prefer the vibe of the JQ over Digbeth. And the bacon butties are cheaper.

Discussion is required. I need to get out the calculator again. A little bit more well paid work could clinch it. A handyman on tap perhaps….

And if Kirstie and Phil want to bring their mighty property search muscles and negotiating skills into this hunt they’d be very welcome!

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A couple of years ago I nearly killed myself having allergic reaction to the wool fibres of the ww2 army greatcoat I was cleaning up ready to work on for “Colonize”. I dived in, brushing up the dust and loose fibres, inhaling….. Then wondered why within fifteen minutes I was coughing, couldn’t see through swollen eyelids and my face itched so badly I wanted to peel it off…

I am an artist who works with textiles, how can I possibly forget that I have a wool allergy? Bloody stupid!

So… Wind on a couple of years….
In my previous post I described and photographed the little hand knitted doll’s vest. I have decided to work out the pattern and make some more.  I headed off to the haberdashers of the Black Country in search of a matching ball of wool. Yes. You heard me. Wool.
In the evening, I knitted one and a half vests, I adjusted the pattern as I went along. Then I had to stop, because I stopped being able to focus because my eyes were watering… Ffs! How stupid can I be? I am an artist who works with textiles. How difficult can it be to remember that one single fact? I stood in the shop telling the assistant that it had to be wool or a wool blend, and definitely not acrylic! Thing is if I just take the simple precaution of tying a cotton scarf around my face like a cowboy, and take an antihistamine BEFORE I start, I’m fine!

But I was right, it did have to be wool.

Now, the morning after as I finish this post with still puffy eyes I’m wondering why it couldn’t be acrylic? There was one ball there that was a good colour match… And no one would know unless I let them touch them (and they knew about these things)…

There it is… That’s the thing: touch.
Wool feels like wool as I knit it. Some of you out there will know what a hand knitted wool vest feels like next to your skin. To me as a child it was a torture… The itching that occurred especially if I got hot. As I got older it got worse and my mother realised that it wasn’t just me moaning, you can’t fake the rash! So of course it has to be wool. It is about the touch and the relationship. So today as I begin to knit with my scarf round my face and after setting the alarm on my phone, those will be where my thoughts stray.

Oh yes… The alarm… I didn’t tell you about that did I?

I love knitting and go at it like a mad woman in an attic as if there was  some sort of bearded fellow turning it to gold or something….. Anyway…. After the episode when I stitched myself into needing medical intervention and six weeks off work for tenosinivitis, I have to limit my time at knitting….

(I’ve decided I need a lot of these little vests… Let me know if you’re up for a bit of voluntary participation and I’ll send you the wool and a pattern!)

I just hope it’s worth it. Because at the moment I don’t really know why I’m doing it.