The line begins to blur… I have always considered the things I make to be “The Art”… and only when they are finished. This whole debate about open works and performance has me rattled a little. A few things have happened to make this so:
The whole singing at the station urge (see previous post)
The puzzling over how to site and (dis)play a lullaby that is heard and not seen (many posts, further back)
The other day I was scrubbing one of the collars with bleach to try to scrub out the words so they were less readable. I sensed some hidden viewer on my shoulder watching me do it. Then end result was interesting, but so was the act of scrubbing, the smell of the bleach, the rhythm and the sound. I’m going to do another one, and at least record the lovely scratchy swishy noise it makes.
I am stitching again. I have drawn a fairly large outline on the child’s coat that I am now filling with stitches. My hands hurt, I shall have to stop if I don’t want to develop tendonitis… Again. But the Barely Controlled Urge rears its ugly head again, and undoubtedly I shall carry on sewing unless someone finds me something else to do. I like how this little coat is looking, is the pain incurred implicit in the amount of stitching seen? Or should I also show the photo of my swollen tendons to beat viewers over the head?
Do other people, and by this I probably mean artists, have a little audience sat on their shoulders, or am I developing some sort of personality disorder?
I think today’s work plan will be scrubbing, filming, recording and photographs. I’ll post something here if it works out, or perhaps even if it doesn’t. That might ease the achey hands for long enough to enable me to sit sewing for a couple of hours this evening?
