ARTISTS TALKING

# 50 [25 June 2008]

I really enjoyed my few days in Berlin.  It’s only in the last few years that I’ve started visiting places more than once.  Being back in Berlin was much more relaxing than my first time, I knew my way around and that made a huge difference.  Now that I’ve been twice it feels as though I’ll go again.  Could I ever re-locate, not necessarily there, anywhere?

It was great being invited to speak about my work to students.  It made me realise how much I miss being in an academic situation.  The question is how do I get back into it?  I looked at the person specification for a part-time visiting lecturer early this week – a PhD or equivalent profile was the first of the ‘essential’ criteria.  What’s stopping me from really investigating a PhD (I mean actually talking with someone about it rather just downloading stuff from various college websites)?

The thing is, I’m really enjoying my life at the moment.  But I’m getting anxious about the future.  It’s okay (not ideal but okay) being 40 and having a couple of part-time ‘cash in hand’ jobs with no prospects, but I don’t want to do it forever, and if I don’t do something about it no-one else is going to!

I’m quite clear about what I don’t want to do – I don’t want to run workshops in schools anymore and I don’t want to get a PGCE.  For the moment I don’t want to leave London.  Actually working out what I don’t want does help.  What else don’t I want?  I don’t want to live hand to mouth forever and I don’t want to become a ‘manager’.  I don’t want to give up my practice and I don’t want to ‘re-train’.

I wrote those few paragraphs a week ago but didn’t post them.  I imagined that I’d do it the next day – I didn’t.  Since taking the second part-time job I haven’t got in to any sort of routine and weeks pass before I feel as though I’ve even started them.  Yesterday (Tuesday) I found myself already putting an imaginary line through this week – every day accounted for.  Of course it’s not quite like that but with four regular days work and an extra one on Sunday coming, it feels as though I have no time for myself.  I want to find a way to earn more and work less.

Art opportunities are coming up and they’re starting to get more interesting – these are the things I really want to pursue, these are things that are important to me.  I’ve got to find a way to make it all sustainable ...

# 49 [5 June 2008]

What happened to May?

Achieved three things on my do to list:
•    I have a lovely flat fresh white studio wall – it’s the only wall in the studio that I can actually pin things to.
•    Yesterday morning I installed slide scanner software on my computer and used it to scan some slides of work from 2001.  It’s great to have these older pieces in digital form.  Though I must get the slides cleaned before I scan the next batch.
•    Ordered and collected a length of foam ‘bolster’ for my patchwork punch bag.  Combined the collection with the Tom Friedman opening at Gagosian.  I felt rather under-dressed and over-burdened – one of the almost identically glamorous assistants smiled very sweetly as I laid my oversized package at the side that frighteningly extensive reception desk.

Spent a great playing with urine bottles last week – results pictured.  Was most surprised by the ‘cairn’ form that evolved.  I left in the studio for a few days and was genuinely delighted with the feedback I got from everyone.  Encouraged my to think I should play more and plan less.  Am I starting to uncover/recover the sculptor in me?  It’s ages since I played with materials – I know urine bottles are far from ‘neutral’ materials but I really enjoyed playing with their form and not thinking too much about they actually are.  I want to order some more and see how high I can go.

My new bike has had a big impact on my life.  I’m more inclined to attend openings now it doesn’t cost me six pounds for a travel card (somehow the few hundred the bike cost doesn’t seem to worry me).  The other noticeable difference is that I don’t take my laptop with me when I work in the shop.  I could usually get at least the equivalent of an hour when I could go online.  Now I don’t do it.  In some ways it’s great and appeals to my technology resistance, in others I realise that I’m not as hooked in as I was.  Would it be possible not to use a computer these days?  What would that life be like?   I manage quite well without a mobile phone, though email and the internet is another question.  Last week I amended my email signature to include a line that says I don’t check my inbox everyday.  I read recently of a business where they never open email in the morning, and heard of another where they have email free days – it’s good to know I’m not the only one who feels overwhelmed by communication.  I can honestly say that I’d rather be on my bike than online ….

# 48 [12 May 2008]

Why do I find so hard to concentrate on one thing, or even a few things, without succumbing to distractions?

I've set myself a few small projects and deadlines, and yet before I've even started these I find myself hunting through the opportunities listings of half a dozen art websites.  The really dumb thing is that the tasks I've set are mainly focussed on getting existing work documented and available in a range of media formats so that I can make better applications.

So, what's so hard about sticking to my strategy?  I wish I knew, that way I could do something about it.

Projects & tasks:
•    plasterboard one wall of the studio
•    order materials to complete unfinished work
•    photograph pieces I’ve made in the last two years
•    learn to use the slide scanner I’ve been given
•    make a model gallery for photographing macquettes
•    make macquettes of large sculptures
•    settle outstanding Crystal Palace Artists business
•    write ‘Bed for …’ proposal

One new and important task is to get in touch with the curators Michael introduced me to in Norway.  I've been thinking a lot about the exhibition space they programme - it's very interesting.  It’s in a former railway station and has some curious restrictions imposed by the owners (the Norwegian rail company), such as not damaging or covering the 1970s wallpaper.  The trains still stop at the station but now tickets are bought on-board and the station building was redundant.  It would be hard to think of a gallery with better transport connections.

And now I’ve seen another exhibition opportunity listed here.  Right I really need get on with getting some good images …

# 47 [6 May 2008]

Norway was fantastic – in so many ways.  It was exactly what I needed (without even knowing that I needed it).  Michael Petry’s project is quite something – a beautiful site-specific installation that includes contributions from 100 international artists and writers.  The project’s sophistication is manifest through characteristically honed research and attention to detail.  It is a wonderful piece and I am delighted to be involved.  The accompanying catalogue will be online shortly.

I thought I was simply going to an opening, and to be honest after a somewhat stressful week of trying to deal with Lambeth Housing, I was looking forward to spending time away and alone.  What I found however was a truly welcoming group of artists and a really packed 48 hours.  And not only artists, Michael’s mother Alicia and uncle Juan Roberto had travelled from El Paso and Dallas respectively to be there.  From the moment Michael asked me to help prepare limejuice in his hotel bathroom I knew the weekend was going to be considerably more involved than I’d imagined.  (Michael was making Margaritas for everyone in the suite that two other artists – Julia and Ken – had been upgraded to.)

Golden Rain is in one of the six decommissioned lighthouses being used for the On the Edge, Stavanger 2008 cultural programme that runs until the end of the year.  On Sunday five of us artists got the train to Egersund where Michael and Morton (the man who maintains the lighthouse and it’s surrounding landscape) took us out to the bay where we got the boat across to the lighthouse.
This southern region is quite flat for Norway and we were lucky that the weather was clear and sunny.  We were invited to see the installation before the official opening.  In my mind I’d imagined that lighthouses are simply a very tall tower with a narrow staircase going round and round a central empty space.  Of course they’re not like that, they have floors and some of those even have small rooms, there are the engines that drove the lamp lenses around and there are the gauges and checks for ensuring absolute regularity.  The hundred golden raindrops appeared to be 'paused' as they descended the tower - showers of them are caught between the floors, caught in the lamp-keepers room, caught bouncing off the furnaces.
The official opening included speeches, welcomes, readings, thank yous, flowers, gifts and a solo trumpeter playing something I assume to be either locally or nationally recognised.  On that day alone it was estimated that over 400 people came to the show.  Everyone who comes is invited to make their own message in a bottle, and these will be later released in to the Gulf Stream with an invitation for the person who finds one to send an email with details of where and when it was found ...

# 46 [28 April 2008]

Had a couple of great days in the studio last week.  I spent about 13 hours there on Thursday – I haven’t spent so long in a studio since I was on my MA.  I didn’t plan to be there that long it just happened.  The studios are quite busy at the moment and I enjoy knowing other people are around.
I’m trying to focus on resolving/finishing pieces that I’ve started over the last year or so.  Though this, of course, leads to new thoughts and ideas.  There’s no point in having all these ideas and no finished work.  There are things I want to achieve that depend on having something to show other people – at the most basic level I’d like feedback on my work, beyond that I want to be in position to apply for shows, residencies and competitions.

I’ve decided to invest in myself.  This is a new notion for me and I’m working it out in practice.  For whatever reasons I’ve often felt a bit awkward about demonstrably believing that what I do has a place in the world – what I mean is that I believe in what I do, but I don’t always believe that anyone else is, or would be, interested.  When I think back I realise that this is nonsense and that people have usually taken an interest in what I do and say.  So I’m actively countering my reticent tendencies and getting on with it!
This weekend I’m going to Norway for the opening of Michael Petry’s Golden Rain project.  Deciding to go to the opening has taken me through some interesting thought processes.  Initially I was really excited, then I started to wonder if I was being a bit pretentious – after all I’m only one of 100 artists involved in his project, then Michael emailed us all saying that the organisers were really keen that as many artists as possible should attend.  So I booked my flight …  I guess my current anxiety is actually to do with taking myself seriously and feeling comfortable in the world that’s been a fantasy for so long.

Other investments include asking Hugh, who has the carpentry shop on the ground floor of the studio, to get some plasterboard for me.  At the moment the studio doesn’t have a single wall with a good surface.  There’s also not a single surface that I can pin things to – and I’m working on finishing embroidery pieces that are pinned directly to the wall.  Those three sheets of plasterboard are going to make a big difference!

These modest acts of investment are important to me.  It occurred to me that I need to take myself seriously if I want other people to do the same.  There’s a need (and a desire) to make this attitude real – to give it material form.

# 45 [18 April 2008]

The studio was broken in to a second time (while I was away). They took my radio and went through everything.  Jodi had sorted out things but when I went on Wednesday I noticed that there were things resting on the plastic sheeting I'd put up to keep the heat in.  On further inspection, ie. going up to the area above the staircase and kitchen, the burglar had emptied all the boxes I had stored up there.  While putting things back I came across journals and sketch books from my degree (1987-90), from when I was in Australia (1993) and from a couple of performance projects (1995-7).  It was amazing how many of the things that concerned me then still concern me now.

Reading those journals, realising that 15 years on I was still skirting round the same issues, was simultaneously re-assuring and alarming.

STOP SKIRTING START DOING

I'm going to look into a short course of web-design.  The more I thought about the website I want the more I realised that a website is an ideal media for showcasing my work. The website would be a project in itself.  Mapping out the content reminded me of the contextual projects I produced for eyestorm ...

# 44 [15 April 2008]

Berlin (i)

This time last week I was on day five of a six-day trip to Berlin.  About now I was making my way from Zimmer Straße to Linden Straße before heading back to August Straße and on to Rosa Luxembourg Straße.  It was my first time in Berlin – what an amazing interesting place.
It was my second Biennale experience (the first being Venice last year) and it could hardly have been more different.  I wasn’t expecting a repeat of Venice in fact I don’t know what I was expecting.  What I found was a vibrant young art scene in which the biennale seemed just one aspect. 

The first few days of my time in Berlin were spent with Francois (an art-lover I met in Venice and have met with a few times at shows and fairs in London).  It was great to have him meet me at the airport and whisk me off to the biennale as soon as I’d dropped my bag off at the hotel – though I have to say I’ll never attempt to ‘do’ the biennale in eight hours again.  He was quite pleased that we’d seen it all (save for a video in the KunstWerk basement), I felt that I hadn’t had sufficient time in each location let alone with individual artworks.  It was an interesting insight into how he sees art.  Francois has a job that involves a lot of international client liaison and he’s able to schedule meetings on Fridays and Mondays which gives him the weekend to visit shows, fairs and biennales that ‘conveniently’ fall when he makes these business trips.

I had every intention of going back to at least two of the biennale venues; after all I had two and a half days to myself after Francois left on Sunday afternoon.  In the event there was so much else to see that I didn’t make it back to any of them.

On Saturday Francois had arranged for us to visit Sammlung Hoffmann – a private collection of contemporary art in a specifically designed private apartment.  It was the first time I’ve visited a real private collection and seen museum quality work on the walls of a private residence.  Most of the rooms have no evidence of being at all domestic, perhaps this is what made the dinning room with it’s table, chairs, furnishings and Polke one of the most fascinating.  Beyond that was a less formal room with a couple of high chairs and some dried orange peel twisted around the architectural banister – this our guide informed us was a piece by Mrs Hoffman and her grandchildren.  As if on cue a door opened and Mrs Hoffmann stepped though.  She was, of course, the perfect host and hoped that we’d enjoyed visiting her collection; she spoke at some length about the biennale and the Berlin scene before thanking us and wishing us a pleasant afternoon.

# 43 [3 April 2008]

Off to Berlin tomorrow!  It's an awful admission but I haven't been before.

Going to the studio this afternoon.  We were broken into last week and it's the first time I'll have been since then.  Rupert has been and fitted new locks.  Nothing was taken or damaged - I'm relieved but also a little hurt, is there really nothing of value there? 

# 42 [31 March 2008]

Today I replied to an email asking if I'd like to be involved in a schools project later this year.  It's a project that I did a couple of years ago for an art centre in north London.  It felt good to reply positively while also highlighting how I want to work.

The email, like others I've received, gave a certain amount of information about what the organisation wanted from me but it wasn't very discursive, and it certainly doesn't feel as though I'd be entering a 'partnership' with the gallery and the school.  This is something that I'm very aware of now (since Eastbourne).  It would be interesting to  ask the gallery and school if they consider the artist to be project partner or a hired specialist.  The email detailed the number of schools involved, the number of hours at each school, the age range of pupils, the artist's fee and the materials budget. Am I being unrealistic to expect a gallery to decide these things in discussion with the artist and the school?

In my reply I expressed my interest in the project, I explained that I have a set day rate and that I don't work for less than a day.  I divided the artist's fee by my day rate and told the how many days I could offer.

It took me a long time to write what amounted to about six lines and another while to decide if I should hit the reply button or not. I hit it with some trepidation.

Although it's an entirely different situation the experience resonated with my feelings on reading the letter from a group of sculptors in April's a-n magazine. That is that artists are often the poor relations even in dealing with the organisations and institutions that should be supporting them.  How have we gotten in to this situation?

# 41 [24 March 2008]

What next?

I'm getting impatient  to get on with things, the trouble is I don't know what things to get on with, what to do next ..

It feels likes there's so much to do, too much to do and I can't seem to make sense of it all.  This is unlike me - usually I'm pretty well organised.  Perhaps I should set myself an arbitrary starting point and ... start.

For the last few years I've 'maintained' my practice however my concentration has been very much focussed elsewhere.  To be honest I think I'm daunted by the new 'freedom' I have.  When I couldn't really do anything it was easy to fantasize about everything I'd do when I was able to.  Now that that time has come I've about three years worth of ideas, schemes and plans to sort out.  I'm feeling rather out of touch with the art world.

I'm in danger of acting like that tired child who refuses to go to bed.  If only I could admit I'm exhausted and allow myself a bit of time out then perhaps I could start to make good sense of things ...


In no particular order;

•    get some good documentation of recent (and not so recent) work

•    finish some/one of the things that's lying around the studio

•    go to openings and galleries

•    REALLY look at up coming opportunities

•    get a website/online presence

•    find some better paid work

•    go back to college

•    get some good advice

•    move to the coast