Threads

I don’t really have anything meaningful to write this morning. But, I am going into hospital for a little minor knee surgery this afternoon and felt the need… I am an optimistic sort of person, and have no fear of surgery, but a fatalistic view of general anaesthetics!

I have, optimistically, gathered materials and equipment from the studio to have at hand at home until I am sufficiently recovered to drive/climb extra stairs etc.

This gathering was done with absolutely no sense of order or thought. I seemed unable to make decisions, so grabbed a couple of the bras, a sketchbook, some basic sewing equipment, some pens and pencils. An Elena Thomas Basic Survival Kit if you like… I will have my laptop on my lap probably at all times other than while on the table… Can’t have the surgeon interfering with my social media can I?

So… leaving you with a thought while I’m away, which I’m assured will be less than 24 hours…

Music… have a listen to:

Clem Snide “Bread”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YSV0dUUEd4

Stick it on repeat and I’ll be back soon.

PS. Home now, survived!

The project with the bras and the songs is growing.

Its form is becoming clearer as I work at it. It has a purpose and a focus.

I have written lots of words, some will be discarded along the way, I will make choices. But I think these will stay, these are the lyrics to the song I wrote so quickly with Simon last week. The words came fast too. (They may change a little.) I think because they express my motivation. Middle aged women have power that some of them don’t recognise. Middle age doesn’t stop women being women. It isn’t all about sexuality, but that, self-esteem, self-image, all play their part in making us who we are… determine how we present ourselves to the world and how we perceive it in return.

When I started writing songs, they were a background to the visual… then became a separate strand of the same work… now they are becoming intricately woven with the visual pieces. The women who wear the bras and sing the songs are the same.

I will post a link to a recording when I have one I am happy to share, at the moment it is still a sketch…

Invisibility is not a Super Power

Invisibility is not a super power
It’s the curse of the middle aged woman
I could dye my hair orange and wear silver shoes 
And no one would bat an eye

I’ve never been the sort to turn heads
But at least I was seen when they looked
I might have got a man to gaze in my eyes
At least if he wanted a fuck

I’m not 24 – not any more
I don’t have skin like a peach
I’ve laughed all my wrinkles in place
Touch me – I’m not out of reach

Invisibility is not a super power
But sometimes it helps
I walked this life all on my own
I get a good view from this shelf

You’ve no idea of the power that you have
When you look at me with those blue eyes
The fact that you see me at all makes me shiver
And any resistance just dies

I wrote this a couple of days ago, and have been wondering and pondering whether to post it.

It seems a bit prophetic, rather than my usual “reaction+thoughts” type posts. In the end, it is exactly for that reason I am posting, then if and when it happens, I can be really smug and say, told you so. Or, perhaps, it might prevent it happening in such an uncontrolled way, and allow me to change the pattern….. yeah right…..

It has happened before.

A sort of moment of clarity that shifts everything that’s gone before.

I spent years doing elaborate embroidery. There isn’t anything I haven’t done I don’t think… blackwork, whitework, goldwork, drawn thread, trapunto, stump work, canvas, cross stitch (even made a bit of a living doing cross stitch designs for magazines in the early 90s, and even wrote a book, now available on Amazon, costs 1p, postage £2.80). I couldn’t be doing with quilting, poo-pooed the whole thing – far too much maths going on! But then, suddenly, discovered I could piece the fabric without the involvement of geometry, and went mad. The large piece of canvas embroidery/collage I was in the middle of was unceremoniously abandoned. (And since, was the target for the disembroidery, I unceremoniously cut up the 2ft x 3ft piece into 3in squares!) I made quilts. Loads of them, all sorts of ways. Right up until starting my MA in 2010. Then I stopped. The quilt I was making was also, unceremoniously abandoned. I sit on it in my studio, some of the safety pins still in it. I like it, but can’t really be bothered to finish it. I might one day.

I’ve gone back to all those embroidery skills and I’m full on thinking about these bras, I can see how they will be, and this project will be really satisfying. All the stuff I’ve done up to now seems to be coming out in this project… it’s a bit of a monster really. I’m loving it.

But…

In the back of my head is the thought that a new direction might be looming. I hope to god it isn’t going to happen in the middle of these bras. This one I need to finish properly! But I’ve never predicted the sea-change before, it has always just blown me out of the water.

I suspect it might be musical next time. I suspect I will get to the point where I can’t help myself. I will abandon whatever I am in the middle of and veer off down the chasm of songwriting. It is because it has grabbed me round the throat really…

On Monday this week, at Songwriters’ Circle it was collaboration week (always my favourite). Simon and I sat in a room, me with my notebooks full of songs-in-waiting… just words. Simon had his guitar. I flicked through, and none of the lyrics I had been looking at seemed to fit with him, but I had one lot, that I had just written, the ink was barely dry. I mumbled them to him. I didn’t really know how they felt this time. Usually I do, I have a tempo, an emotion, a feeling, a sound in mind. Not this one.

When I read them, Simon said he thought they might be a bit jazzy, and that he’d been mucking around with a few strummy chords. They weren’t his usual thing, but they were there. He played them. They fitted. It seemed to me we had an instant song, that this piece came together in about 30 seconds flat. In the space of half an hour I had written two more verses, and we had recorded the basic sketch.

I tell you, that is such a buzz – there is nothing like it.

oh dear.

oh deary deary me……

I’m living a double life. With a double brain. One half of me is organised, list-writing and keen to Get Things Done. This person has an operation soon, and needs to be sorted. The freezer needs to be full of easy tasty food, the fridge needs fresh veg, the house needs to be clean and tidy before IT happens, so that recuperation is stress free.

The other half of me is a slob. My knee hurts, I’m sulking. I can’t be bothered. More than that, I can’t be arsed. (I have already confessed in a previous post to being sweary, so if you are still here, you can cope.) This half of me is slumped again, waiting to hear from four lots of people who I have applied to to give me money, exhibition space, work. The organised half is telling me I should keep applying for other things, because the chances are, these four things will be rejected, and if I don’t have something else on the back-burner, I will slump further. The organised half thinks a slump whilst on crutches swathed in firm bandaging would be a Bad Thing. The slob half shrugs and pulls the duvet over her head and turns up the music.

Organised Elena is cooking double portions and freezing. Slob Elena is thawing it out two days later because she has spent too long at the studio. Organised Elena does vacuuming. Slob Elena cuts up fabric spread out on the carpet so it needs doing all over again. I am in constant battle with my own contrary nature. Oh My God! My Mum used to tell me when I was 5 that I was a “contrary madam” has NOTHING changed?

I wake up feeling motivated and positive, and yet, sometimes by lunchtime it has often evaporated.  When I had a proper job and had to be nice to people, this was a real strain. These days I go with the flow, and isolate myself till it passes, which, if I’m allowed to spend all afternoon drawing and sewing, often does!

I am both extrovert and introvert. I am confident, and terrified. I am professional, capable, and also useless and blundering. I am sensitive, diplomatic and tactful, and also crash about stomping all over everyone else’s feelings and don’t even notice.

I have a lovely family and many friends, I love them, but I often wonder why they put up with me. I’m getting on my own nerves now.

But you know what? These bras are looking great, and I’ve just recorded a load of percussion using kitchen utensils. Onwards and upwards eh?