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.
