University of Kent

Art opens doors. Or gates.

Since the sculpture is the main priority now that the time’s running out, I decided to devote the studio time to making the last cast in soap, and take the carving home. It’s easier doing it at night, as I can’t paint without the natural light anyway. Then, without any warning, the sun suddenly reappeared. I decided that the only way to remain sane was to take my table and tools outside and get some sun at the same time as working, and so I found myself outside of my house yet again, but on purpose this time. I thought I might get a few looks, but I got more than a few appreciative comments as well. In fact, after the second day of working outside, I’d spoken to neighbours I’d only known by sight for the last four years. Mr. T and I found ourselves invited over by our pipe-smoking, tractor-driving farmer neighbour and his wife to bottle feed two sock lambs (Bernard and Meep Meep). Just as I thought the cuteness had risen dangerously close to lethal levels, we were introduced to some turkey chicks in their incubator, as well as Bear, the ex-racehorse who liked to get into one’s personal space, his three horsey mates, and two proper farmhouse dogs. Four years in this place and look at what spending two evenings outdoors with a wooden head does! Oddly, it’s not the plaster cast that gets the conversation going, despite the fact that I’ve obviously made that as well; it’s the wooden version that people relate to. It’s interesting how the change in material affects people.

But just in case you were beginning to think that the biggest development in my week revolved around farm animals, you’d be wrong. It was definitely the purchase of 12,500 grams of soap from the 99p store. Sounds better than 25 value packs. I decided to try the rebatching method for my sculpture – there’s been quite a bit of delving into the online world of soap, purely for research purposes – and that meant endless grating of bar after smelly bar, then cooking the whole lot in a cauldron, pressing the congealed gloop into the mould and hoping for the best. Thankfully, Ellie helped me to grate the last four or five bars, when I’d lost the will to grate ever again.

Between the beeswax which Kate L.’s been using for her fungus sculptures and my hot soap soup, the sculpture room has been an olfactory revelation for most passers-through. Almost everyone who has smelt my wares has said the same thing: that it reminds them of their youth. Primary school toilets and the like. For me, however, it’s been a fairly disgusting experience, as I’ve had to stand over my bubbling pot of soap gloop when I really can’t stand perfumes. It’ll be over very soon though, as the two halves have come out of their cases, and I just need to join them with hotsoapsoupgloopglue. Patent pending.

With only a few days until the studios start to be broken down and the exhibition build-up starts, it’s probably a bit crazy to still be experimenting, but I’d say there isn’t much I can do about that. I’ve never done any of these things before, but I said I’d do them. Sometimes you’ve just got to step out into the soapy unknown.

Last week I had a rare opportunity to step outside of my constructed self, to escape my rigid schedule and reflect. I sat on the bonnet of my car and stared up at the sky as it passed from blue to grey and back. The wind moved the clouds from left to right and shook the vivid new leaves on the trees. The village moved around me; through the hedgerow I saw the horses gamboling around their paddock, whilst atop the hill the medieval stone church with its glistening weathervane rose into the air, and the voices from the Victorian school house echoed down the road towards me. Neighbours waved from their cars as they drove past. Passers by made polite, British small talk as they went to the village store, and an inquisitive cat came to say hello. I became aware of being at once a part of something, at the same time as being a miniscule speck on the planet’s surface; aware of the futility of our human attempts to regulate the natural order of life and time.

Fortunately, the locksmith arrived before too long to put me out of my misery and let me back into my house.

After putting the kettle on in commiseration for being a numpty and therefore neither being able to spend a few precious hours at the studio carving nor to visit Kate L. in her residency studio in Faversham, all I had time left for was packing for the weekend’s trip to Portsmouth. Rip it up and start again, I say – never mind. I did manage to knuckle down to the carving from Monday onwards, and my elbow seems to hate me a little less each day. Although there’s more to do, it’s not quite as terrifying as it was last week, and there are definitely good passages within the sculpture so far. Over the weekend, I got to spend some time in Southsea, and its library in particular, which is fast becoming one of my new favourite places. ‘Library lust’ isn’t too far-fetched a term – it’s even got a gallery upstairs, and whilst introducing Luke to this new discovery of mine on his own turf, we stumbled upon an interactive long-exposure photography exhibition. Why-oh-why don’t we have that kind of thing in Ashford?

Actually we do have a gallery in Ashford, and I’m going to start my invigilating there tomorrow. It’ll be interesting, no doubt, but beyond that, I’m not sure what to expect. It’ll be a great way to get some insight into the public interest in the arts in the area. My not-so-secret ambition is to set up artists’ studios in the town, so getting more involved in the current local arts activities is the first step. That’s better than comparing it to the Portsmouth scene, which is many times stronger and more vibrant… and seeing as I don’t live there, it does make sense to do what I can in the area I actually do live in.

As for the village I live in, I’ve survived my first day volunteering at Mr. T’s primary school. Coming straight from spending the entire morning carving in the studio, I was happy just to be following instructions; having little energy reserved for actually planning activities. I had no idea what materials they had at hand or what these kids could actually accomplish. One such accomplishment was a roly-poly into a pile of grass clippings when we were supposed to be making tree bark rubbings, but it was impressive nevertheless. Now that I’ve experienced a bit of it, and the entire class has stared at me and my hair and gotten that out of their systems, I’ve got a few ideas to bring to the next few weeks. Really, I’m so busy trying to get everything ready for the show that I don’t know if it’ll amount to much, but I’ve got to get the kids’ work together into some sort of final outcome or other. At any rate it’s a way of doing something good for the village, which I’ve gone back to observing from my preferred vantage point, behind double glazing.

Reasons to be cheerful: More than three.

The latest thing to be grateful for is that although the next door neighbour’s music is loud enough to blare through the walls, at least it’s Stevie Nicks tonight. The downside of which is having Edge Of Seventeen stuck in my head, when I only know the chorus and the whoo whoo whoos. I can’t belt it out any more either, as it’s past Mr. T’s bedtime, and if the neighbour hears me he might think I’m being facetious. Anyway, I’m trying to listen to the rest of the album (must be a greatest hits) through the wall.

I’m pretty pleased to have despatched that nasty cold in a relatively short time, and swapped the pong of garlic for the pong of pain relief gel smeared all over my elbow. Gotta smell bad to feel good, I guess. Armed with a medium sized tubigrip for my medium sized elbow and my whiffy gel I tackled the dreaded carving after weeks of avoidance. After a day and a half in the sculpture room, I think all may not be as disastrous as I’d feared, if I can work steadily and carefully to avoid doing real, lasting damage to my elbow.

One bonus was getting my bisque face out of the kiln – I’d saved part of the original clay Phil, shaved it down and set it aside for firing, and almost forgotten about it. Now I think it could well be useful as a sculptural/painting bridge, as well as just a downright creepy, and therefore compelling, thing. I’ve decided to paint this version instead, so even if it serves solely as an experiment, it’s worth having around.

Another reason for cheer was getting another week before hand-in! The relief that announcement gave me was indescribable, especially now that I seem to have divided up and parceled out even more of my scant spare time. The CRB check has come back, so I should be going into Mr. T’s school very soon to do something or other – deliver workshops or provide riot control, I’m not sure which. They’re sure to want an afternoon a week at least.

During Tuesday’s tutorial period I found out about Stour Valley Arts holding a training session for volunteers that evening. It was such an inconvenient time, but I thought it’d be a way of getting valuable experience, and close to home at that. After a farcical interlude which involved arriving early but having to leave to bribe the child with fast food in exchange for sitting still(ish), then trying to move the car to the gallery car park and getting stuck in Ashford’s ring road at rush hour, I eventually ended up at the last half of the session at the gallery. At least I tried, eh? We’d actually been there only a few days before, at the opening of Jon Adams’s exhibition “Look About” and Animate Arts’s “Salue”. It’s exactly the kind of place that Ashford needs, and while I don’t have much time at all now, I still want to get involved if I can.

It was a major relief to find that everyone liked our ad in the Degree Shows Guide, especially seeing as I designed it, and only Kate saw it before it went to print. I’m also happy that I’ve got our website all set up, and that we finally wrangled a confirmation of the Saturday opening, even if just ‘til 12:30. I wrangled it by putting it in print in a national publication – kinda crafty, but I realised that I’d either have to be crafty or continue to be ignored. My editor’s hat is still jauntily perched atop my ‘fro, with only the back page of the catalogue to format, after which I can print the cards and chase the others to get theirs done as well. I’ve only got one person to chase for text, but the process is so straightforward that we still have a wee bit of time to spare. It’s funny how this student rep job has turned into editor, graphic designer and marketing person. Yesterday a host of querulous eyes instantly turned to me when someone asked about invitations… so I made the invitations today. I’ve learned my lesson though; when discussing collecting the info for our labels, I made sure to nominate ‘anyone as long as it’s not me’.

Here’s the plan.

Finish the four paintings I’m still working on, frame them, call that side of it finished.

Figure out how to make a bucketload of soap from scratch, buy the materials, make a soap Philip. Sounds easy enough.

Finish carving wooden Philip. This is starting to look tricky, since my dodgy elbow is still, well, dodgy.

Paint plaster Philip. When I started this list I thought it would be shorter; perhaps painting plaster Phil will have to wait until the more important things are finished.

I’d planned to have so much more done, but catching a cold from Mr. T (my kid), as well as the aforementioned elbow, has slowed me down somewhat. The tea and chocolate biscuits have given way to herbal teas, pills and my own noxious concoction of garlic and honey – worse for others than for me.

Never mind – I did manage to buy some lengths of moulding to make some frames up for my latest pictures. I wanted to get a jump on the week’s work by going into the studio and cutting the mitre joints with their equipment, but somehow I must have missed the update that instead of closing in the afternoon on Wednesdays, it was going to be just plain closed.

When I started in 2010 I thought it was strange that the studios weren’t open on Saturdays, at least to HE students. At the beginning of this year when we were told that we’d lose half a day mid week, I thought that was bad enough. Now, it’s so close to the end that I refuse to be surprised by anything else that comes my way, as long as it doesn’t interfere with me getting my work done. The lack of equipment and materials does get in the way, but we’ve all worked around that.

Since having a bit of a downer last week I’ve been buoyed by lots of encouraging comments, and having an interview for an MA course lined up does help to keep me chirpy. So far, everyone seems quite happy with what I’ve written about them for our website. It’s been interesting doing the profiles, with some being far easier than others, for some unknown reason. We’ve also had an essay written by Jane Millar for our catalogue, which is fantastic! So far that side of it’s going well, with only a few people left to chase for statements and info. I’ve also got to create invitations and make Jane’s writing into an A2 poster, which we’ll hopefully have printed as vinyl lettering for the exhibition.

The only bit of written work outstanding for the course is that essay on curation, which I just can’t seem to get started on. I’ve got notes, but getting to the outline stage is tricky, especially with so much else to distract me. Now that I’ve admitted it, while I’m held up on the practical work, I don’t have much excuse but to lock myself away with laptop, paracetamol, garlic and honey until something that looks like an essay comes out at the end.

What a difference 48 hours made – I started off the week on my feet, and now I’m on my head, folded like a paperclip, butt-end up.

After that undignified start, I might as well carry on. The new oil paintings I’ve been working on met with unanimous approval when I took them to the studio on Monday, but the mental mayhem began when I returned the next day with the full amount of paintings and drawings I’ve accumulated, ready to lay them out all together. After a long session of arranging and rearranging, our tutor suggested that the drawings and watercolours jarred with the oil paintings, and that we should try taking them out. Taking them out entirely. Cutting away 40% of the body of work I’ve been amassing since September, despite quantity being one of the piece’s major factors. Looking at the remains, I started to question the entire point of the brief I’d given myself. At this point I became desperate for a cup of tea and a darkened room in which to lie down.

To make things worse, I can see exactly what she means. The others who were present all agreed as well. The oil paintings are just so much beefier that they bully the other pieces, and seen on their own, it’s obvious that they’ve taken on their own unifying language. I can’t fight any of the logic in this pruning; I wholeheartedly embrace the value of editing in writing, so why shouldn’t I apply the same metaphor to visual communication? I guess the editor in me doesn’t want to be the edited, but tough. It would definitely be better to have fewer pieces, of higher quality. But dammit, that means a shedload of new work to get through, and probably taking time away from the sculpture. Speaking of which, I haven’t been able to get back to the carving yet because of the sudden development in my right arm of something like tennis elbow (that’s what people keep calling it, but I’d have preferred something more mysterious, although less painful). No swinging a mallet for me for a bit. I must have been visibly wilting under the weight of the work ahead, as the tutor suggested leaving the sculptures to two versions – the candle and the wooden carving. I haven’t come around to that yet – it feels too much like admitting defeat.

All of this is becoming very worrying, when I think about the amount of extra work I’ve given myself, writing for the Henwood 8 website. I do enjoy it, but now that I’ve got three blogs to maintain I think I might be a bit battier than I previously thought. Battiness is something I could use a little less of right now, after realising today that my MA plans have gone down the pan. My current coping strategy for dealing with the onslaught of post-graduation uncertainty that this brings, combined with the unforeseen redirection of my degree show, is to increase tea intake and consume large amounts of chocolate. Large amounts.