University of Kent

After the settling in period, I’ve started to get down to business. I haven’t done so much as put pencil to sketchbook, but after failing to dent some of the dryer tomes I brought with me, I’ve finished one of my key texts, Abigail Solomon-Godeau’s fantastic Male Trouble. Even better, I’ve had a nostalgic trawl around the Oistins branch library, which was the first library I joined as a child. I found a couple of rather interesting books – the first a collection of essays entitled Gender: A Caribbean Multi-Disciplinary Perspective, and the second, The Barbadian Male: Sexual Attitudes and Practice. Although I doubt that either will actually fit the bill for my precise aims – perhaps too regionally specific – they’re still pretty fantastic finds. I don’t care too much if they don’t make the bibliography.

The main library has been moved to another part of Bridgetown, and the catalogue still isn’t computerised. I’ve yet to visit but I hope to tomorrow. I’m actually quite excited at the prospect – I didn’t spend too much time at the old library in town, and I’m wondering what the new one will be like. New and shiny? Or like the Oistins branch, only big? Calling the local library ‘retro’ would be unfair; it is what it is, and since my days of visiting probably hasn’t been altered beyond the two internet-connected computers for public use. It would be like calling the entire country ‘retro’. Which wouldn’t go down well. At all. Actually it’s very charming as it is, and you really have a sense of the purpose of a library – these books have been used – studied, underlined, pored over, really and properly used. The great thing about it is all the fantastic West Indian books you can’t get anywhere else! If I come across a copy of The Suffrage of Elvira by V.S. Naipaul, I’d be sorely tempted to let them keep my BDS $20 visitor’s library card deposit in exchange for parting the island with the book… but that would be theft, and premeditated, so I can’t. Sob.

I do wonder what it would be like having to research my essay from here, without the massive resources I have at home – the college and university libraries, the Kent libraries and the British Library… and to think I hesitate to travel to Canterbury to the university campus! After having a whinge to a Bajan friend about not being able to find any Lacan in the Ashford library a few weeks ago (and having to spell both “Jacques” and “masculinity” to the librarian) I think I should count my blessings instead.

Today I visited the Gallery of Caribbean Art in Speightstown. I’m naturally reticent when it comes to promoting myself, schmoozing or networking. However, this time I’ve decided to be bolshy Lee and introduce myself to the art community here. I’d surely have done it by now if I’d have stayed, and hey, who knows, I may find myself here again some day. And quite simply, I haven’t got a clue about the art scene in Barbados, which is pretty bad. However, on entering the gallery I knew it wouldn’t be a fit for me (nor I for them), but I decided to persist, as it was only an introduction. It’ll suffice to say that my work definitely does not fit the bill of “Caribbean art” as defined by that gallery. I definitely would never want to have my work defined by such a rigid term, and definitely have no plans to alter my methodology to fit the look proscribed by a regional hegemony. Neither would I want to be defined as a “woman artist” as though accepting the status of “Other”. I do think, though, that it raises very important questions about individuality, intentions, tropes, types and perspective. And, to be blunt, about who in this country can afford to buy art, and what they want and expect. It’ll be interesting to see what the other galleries hold. I don’t think that hegemony is too strong a term either, but I’ll hold off from making any further comments until I’ve seen more, and spoken to more artists. But it’ll be interesting to see if my gut feeling is right.

Today’s blog is brought to you by: Laptop By The Pool

No, seriously, somehow I’ve managed to find myself in a luxury villa compound in St. Philip, day houseguest of an American woman I only met a few hours ago. Oh well. I could tell you how I came to be here, but your version would be more exciting.

Blogging from over 4000 miles away seems rather strange, and yet still right. I’d decided to do myself a favour and disconnect from all of the unnecessary things I have to maintain in Britain. I can’t entirely disconnect because the academic deadlines will be waiting for me when I get back, and I do have to do some work while I’m out here. So I’ve trimmed everything else right down, but this blog has become something more than an obligation; it’s become a way of sorting through all of the disparate pieces and putting them into lines, and having the record of where I’ve been helps me to figure out where I want to get to. Basically I’ll forget everything I’ve ever done if I don’t write it down. No pictures yet, as I’ve managed to forget my camera. And I’ve been sleeping for most of this time.

The strangest thing about being back home this time is how it doesn’t feel strange at all. Two years ago, coming in to land was almost revelatory, and the hangars, garages and houses seemed so small and unreal. Two years later, the entire experience felt entirely different, just as it should be; less exciting, yes, but more comforting, as there was no shock to overcome, only a sense of familiarity.

Working on my reading list whilst communing with my roots hasn’t been entirely straightforward; the Henwood library wouldn’t be too impressed at how close their copy of Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble came to salty ruin by way of an unexpectedly high wave at Miami Beach. Fortunately there’s no more than a bit of sand under their spine sticker, so I’ve got away with it this time.

Having a few days to recuperate before my mother arrives from Boston with her inevitable flurry of activity has been a bit of a blessing. Once she’s here there will be the inevitable visits to the old neighbourhood, the friends, the relatives, and of course the stopping in the street to chat with casual acquaintances, of which she apparently has thousands in this island. My role in this will be part participant, part chauffeur.

There’s never a break from the drama though; today my laptop charger decided to bite the dust, leaving me in the half-charged lurch. So while I have a few minutes of charge left, I’m saving my notes as an email draft, and uploading this missive. If good ol’ mother has managed to come to my rescue and buy a replacement charger for my laptop, everything will go wonderfully, and the updates will continue. If not, I’m stuffed.

Out of my hands. It’s like being in a school exam, finishing early and then having to sit in silence, wondering why everyone else is writing so much more than you. Flicking through the pages, looking for that question you missed, and generally sweating until the time’s up.

I don’t think I could have done much more, to be honest. I’ve worked very hard this term, and even on things that I really had no business bothering with! I did enjoy the work as well, particularly getting myself into a fit of the giggles painting individual chest hairs. Yes, I’ll freely admit that. All I can do is hope that I did an adequate job of explaining myself and the work during the crit, and beforehand to the tutors. I do feel like I’m missing out on the chance to see everyone else’s work during their crits next week.

As for the paintings, I’m happy with my experiment. I feel as though I’ve come a long way because of it, and know which direction I need to head in as well. I’m starting to see my trip home as a real holiday, as a chance to get off the treadmill and float for a while. Over the break I hope to do some watercolour paintings and drawings, and see how they integrate with the work I’ve just completed. Although when I’m in Barbados, it’s the architecture that I find most exciting… I may end up just with drawings of beautiful buildings. I don’t mind. I’ll be working on my dissertation, so I should do myself a favour and just draw and paint for the fun of it. What a radical idea!

I had a bit of time, post-hand-in, to focus on my website at last. After going through the process of setting up a site as a writing portfolio, I figured out how to do it via my main website – so now I’ve got a duplicate site, but I guess it doesn’t matter. What I do need to do is actually get more writing finished! I’ve tarted up my website with my latest images, and I think it looks much better. Still unsure about my paintings as the main image, but it’s better than before. I’m just wondering about how much of my older work to include; I suppose I’ll have to look at it for a while and see how it feels as it is.

I’m not sure how often I’ll be posting whilst I’m away, but there’s sure to be lots to cover by the start of term!

www.leedevonish.com

The end is nigh.

The end of the first term, and a week more nigh for me than for everyone else in my group. Still, I did it to myself, and I’m not going to complain. My essay is complete and I’ve been working on my sketchbook/research file, on top of scraping together the hours of natural daylight for finishing my paintings. And what does it amount to? I can’t say I know. I’ve been able to define myself more clearly in the last few months, and feel more confident in some ways… but there’s so much ambiguity yet ahead. But ambiguity is just part of the future.

My plan to start raising funds for the end of year show worked better than I’d expected; in one week we’d made £20 thanks to my boxes and piles of remnants and an honesty jar. No extra effort. A fellow student in my group brought in some small items of surplus stock from her former business, a gift shop. Despite a rival group’s mince pies being sold on the next table (the nerve) we did rather well. Now, I don’t want to think about it again until I come back in January.

I’ve been hacking away at the limewood block to bring the form out; there was never any way I could have finished it by the end of this term, but I want to leave it in a state of visible promise, both for the hand-in and for myself when I come back to it after the vacation. It’ll be interesting to see how the presentation goes, and what feedback I’ll get. Right now I’m tired, and I just want to tie everything up with a knot.

I can’t wait to get back home.