ARTISTS TALKING

# 39 [25 September 2007]

It's my birthday today, but no let-up in the preparations for my Fringe Festival installation. I think we'll treat ourselves to a meal at the local pub this evening, though!

Quite a few of the items in the catalogue of woe of my last blog entry have now been addressed, thanks in no small measure to Trevor, who has worked tirelessly helping to retrieve large unwanted TVs from lofts, making and painting plinths, offering calm reassurance and so on. I know I'm biased (well, we are getting married in a fortnight's time!) but his soundtrack, now I've actually had the chance to start working with it, is sounding FANTASTIC!

Many more hours than I care to count have been spent in cutting, dipping, rolling and varnishing little elderberry beads for the covers of the new Kalender, but now every single one is stapled on and waiting to be taken to the undercroft of Dragon Hall in Norwich, where I'll be installing on Thursday. All the past issues have been printed out at A4 and comb-bound, so that's another thing sorted.

I've decided to project a single image into one of the dark alcoves within the vaulting, as I have an overhead projector and the space just seems made for it. So there’ll be the projection in one alcove, the video in another (also naturally quite dark), and in the third, two tall plinths each supporting an image on canvas. That’s the plan, anyway, and at the moment it does seem achievable.

# 38 [18 September 2007]

This morning, I felt a flash of happiness as I sat at the kitchen table making 'free gifts' for the front covers of 180 copies of the new Kalender by dipping paper in elderberry juice and rolling it into beads. Whilst I was absorbed in this meditative process, I could hear what can only be described as 'unusual' sounds floating down the stairs as Trevor worked on his soundtrack to the forthcoming video. It all felt so right.

Wait a minute, 'forthcoming video'? Let's get this straight. Installation for Norwich Fringe Festival starts on Monday, six days away. The event opens on Friday. I am expecting to show my video in the undercroft of Dragon Hall, a fabulous medieval merchant's house in Norwich. To accompany it in a 'less-is-more' kind of a way, I am printing out the first five editions of Kalender enlarged to A4 and having them bound into a hardbacked book. The new Kalender will be stacked alongside as an exclusive Fringe giveaway.

So, what stage am I at?

- Soundtrack at a delicate stage, with Trevor alternately despondent and 'a bit happier'.
- Video editing not started yet.
- Kalender omnibus not printed or bound.
- No lectern or plinth organised for display of book.
- No DVD player or TV monitor organised for showing of video.
- New Kalender not yet with the printers, let alone rubber-stamped or with the free gift stapled to the front.
- A pitifully small proportion of the required number of free gifts completed, though the production line is rolling.

Right. So what happened to that flash of happiness?!

# 37 [12 September 2007]

It was my turn for a crit at our artists' group meeting yesterday afternoon, and I decided to pass around past issues of Kalender for comment. Some interesting feedback, and all in all quite encouraging. So, I'm feeling a bit more positive about the fifth issue of Kalender that's in production right now. I was worried that it may be in danger of becoming pedestrian and predictable, but I've had a break from it as our lovely friends Hilde and Alex from Harrow came to stay over the weekend, and maybe the gap has been beneficial.

On Monday, we took Hilde up to St Andrew’s so that she could see the location – she’s been following this blog and reading Kalender on the Festial website – only to find a notice on the door stating that the church has had to be closed for internal repairs. Oh no! But I went across to the keyholders’ bungalow and although they were not at home, the enormous key was hanging in a special box beside the door. Swiftly borrowing it (and, of course, leaving a note to say that I’d done so!) we were able to gain access. Inside, it’s quite a sorry sight, as wood and masonry have been falling. Sadly, the faded charm of the place is verging on disintegration. I’ve since been in touch with the keyholder and he has kindly given me permission to get the key and visit anytime, on the understanding that 'on my own head be it'.

Anyway, I've had a couple of new ideas this morning that I'm about to go and try out, and hopefully the injection of new images will liven things up a bit. One thing that came out of the crit was that people could see the structure underlying each issue, and also the regular 'features' that are beginning to emerge, but they don't feel that it's a problem, i.e. that boring predictability is setting in!

Although at the moment it often feels frustratingly like skimming over the surface, I need to keep reminding myself that Kalender is actually building into a sizeable sketchbook of potential starting points for exploration. In fact, I can imagine it leading to at least a couple of years' work once the Festial year ends, and that's a reassuring thought.

# 36 [1 September 2007]

Returning late on Tuesday evening from a music festival on Dartmoor, I wasn't sure how ready I felt for the next day's festival of a rather different kind.

I had the bare bones of an idea of what to do for Festial's fifth festival, Assumption. This was an important medieval festival, one of four special Mary feast days that fell (not co-incidentally, I feel) during each of the seasons. This one was popularly known as 'Our Lady in Harvest' and I had this in mind, as well as the physicality emphasised in the belief that Mary had been bodily (as opposed to spiritually) lifted up to heaven after her death.

Unusually, probably uniquely, for me, the work was also to have a gender element. This is surprising as I have a particularly vocal dislike of work centring around so-called 'women's issues'. But I'm interested in the fact that women had a very raw deal in earlier medieval times despite their skill and knowledge in healing, but after the cult of Mary took hold they were given far greater respect.

So, on Wednesday morning I went up to Wood Dalling church for a reccy to see if my vague plans were viable. Deciding that they probably were, I returned that afternoon and spent several hours photographing, filming, making an elderberry 'rosary' and generally hanging around to see what else would happen. As usual, it ended up as a race against time and failing light.

I hadn't nearly finished when the keyholder appeared with a wheelie bin and the enormous church key. Responding to my shocked negative reply when asked if I was ready for her to lock up, she kindly said I could stay as long as I liked and pop the key back through her letterbox. Emboldened, I asked whether it would be OK to come back later, after dark, to do some sound recording. 'Oh yes', she said, 'as long as you return the key by 7am tomorrow as there'll be a service in the church then.' (!)

What an opportunity! Later that evening we loaded up a collection of seemingly bizarre objects (luckily under cover of darkness) including laptop, mic, cello, singing bowl, jar of water, drum and reindeer-hoof rattle. The full moon meant that visibility in the church shouldn't be too much of a problem even if there was no electric light.

In the event, we discovered that there is electric light in the church, which made operations more practical if less romantic. I had hoped to see a bat or two, and despite the light a few of them did break cover to flutter around atmospherically.

Trevor asked me to walk around the church playing the various instruments to see where they resonated best while he sorted out the technicalities of sound recording. This was a memorable experience. But the session can't be called a resounding success as we were unable to resolve the technical difficulties and eventually had to call it a day.

That's not the end though, as Trevor has ideas for alternative recording methods so the envisaged video soundtrack is still a distinct possibility.

# 35 [22 August 2007]

Yesterday evening we went to the private view of 'Ammunition', a group show of anti-war art at St Margaret's Church in Norwich. Some very powerful, memorable, uncompromising work; but leaving aside the debate as to what would actually happen in Iraq if the troops suddenly pulled out, it was just so great to see challenging art in Norwich. It was the same venue as our slash exhibion back in June, which has had an unfortunate reputation in the past. On the other hand, it's practically the only place in Norwich that's big, painted white, and available to be hired out for group shows. If there are more shows like 'Ammunition' planned, things may well be looking up...

Earlier, I had collected the 'Giant St Christopher issue' of Kalender from the printers and I really am pretty pleased with it, all things considered. The print quality is great considering it's a cheap and cheerful option, and despite my anxiety there was so much material that it filled 16 pages again (the first Kalender was a 12-pager).

I do worry sometimes that the 'enigmatic imagery' (in the words of my original proposal to the Arts Council) might be mistaken for weird Christian evangelicism, but that was neatly balanced when I collected the previous Kalender and the print shop's managing director assumed it was a witchcraft publication.

So, it's back to rubber-stamping and stapling and writing comp slips and stuffing envelopes - the old routine.

While researching St Christopher for the last festival, I was disconcerted to come across an American Catholic shopping website where a lot of the beliefs I think of as 'medieval' still appear to be alive and kicking. Just try googling for 'St Christopher medals' and see what comes up!!! Pages and pages and pages of them.

I started to feel a bit insecure about some of the ground I was standing on in this project, but Trevor pointed out that these American Catholic buyers of lifesize crucifixes and figurines of Jesus playing baseball (yes, really) are also living in a world of expensive cars and comfortable houses quite unlike the medieval landscape. And medieval people had quite a different sense of time. They had no idea that the world had existed for millions of years. It had been created by God at a time not far back in history and would be ending - with Judgement Day for all - in the very near future. This must surely have affected their perception of life: perhaps everything was bigger, in sharper focus and more vivid to them.

Anyway, the new Kalender is up on the Festial website now!

# 34 [16 August 2007]

I'm finding myself in a period of uncertainty about the project. The past two days have been totally given over to working on Kalender. Selecting and preparing images and finding text are part of the work, I know, and it's absolutely true that by doing this I'm generating ideas for further exploration.

The problem, I think, lies in the fact that I'm questioning the validity of the St Christopher journey as 'art'. Does that matter? Is it what I do with the material collected along the way that counts? Does it matter if some of the festivals end up feeling less significant than others? Will I ever have time to make more ambitious work that side-steps away from literal responses?

At the same time as I'm musing on this, I'm aware of a box containing 150 copies of the last 'Bonfires and Relics' Kalender with its stapled-on free gift, to be left in various places for people to find and (hopefully) take away. So I need to see to that too. Thanks to Trevor, it's also up on the website: www.world-tree.co.uk/festial.

I've been sending out around 30 copies of each issue to press contacts, curators and arts officers. There have been three Kalenders now and they've been met with a resounding silence. This, I'm sure, is adding to the feeling of stasis.

Having said that, hammering the layout together with my computer guru is always so exciting that hopefully these worries will recede.

# 33 [8 August 2007]

Seeing St Christopher was the title of the press release I sent out locally in advance of yesterday's Festial performance. August 7 was St Christopher's Day; if you follow the Julian calendar, that is.

Medieval people believed that whoever saw an image of St Christopher would not 'die an evil death' that day. So the giant was often painted on the wall of a church opposite the main doorway so that travellers could grab a glimpse of the saint before embarking on dangerous journeys. The idea of Seeing St Christopher was to see how many St Christophers I could see in the course of the day - a kind of inverted 'pilgrimage' as the whole point of the journey was to see the protective images.

Somewhere between each of the churches I planned to stop and collect something to make into a badge. Again, a sort of inversion of medieval practice as people who went on pilgrimages would often buy a souvenir badge featuring the saint whose shrine they were visiting. My badges would form a memento of the journey itself rather than the destination; the number I was wearing would increase as the day went on.

And, not to add any further pressure to this unrehearsed event, BBC Radio Norfolk had responded to my press release by suggesting that they phone me at 2.10pm for a live interview.

Well, this all sounds OK, but things didn't go totally to plan. After frantically getting stuff ready to take, mostly in connection with the badges, we left home later than intended (Trevor had kindly agreed to come with me as my glamorous assistant and to take documentary photos). And, more to the point, I had no idea how complicated a children's badge-making machine is (or perhaps it's just me?!)

I spent ages trying to make the first badge, before Trevor pointed out that the badge-making machine itself was faulty and there was no way that it could make a badge properly. So that was one thing I ended up having to compromise on, although we did stop between each church for me to jump out and collect something just in case I can work out another way of working with them that seems conceptually sound.

When Radio Norfolk phoned, I was 'seeing' only my second St Christopher, but the interview went OK and I think I got away with it ... I felt really sad afterwards that I hadn't mentioned Trevor and he had been so brilliant and helpful and supportive, not to mention taking fantastic photos. So, Trevor - THANK YOU.

# 32 [3 August 2007]

I've just joined OUTPOST, an artist committee run gallery in Norwich. Instead of paying an annual subscription, you get the option of doing a day's invigilation at the gallery, and that was what I chose to do. I'd heard nothing following my application, then on Wednesday I received a phonecall asking if I could invigilate for a private view that evening.

Anglia Square is a slightly seedy shopping precinct in one of the poorer parts of Norwich. OUTPOST has managed to borrow five empty shops there, and have transformed them into fantastic-looking galleries. Especially fantastic as Norwich just doesn't have contemporary galleries like that in the normal run of things. For the month of July, five British artist-run galleries were invited to nominate an artist to take on each of the spaces. Then, for August, the galleries were handed over to five European galleries/artist organisations.

'My' gallery was that of Les Complices* from Zurich. Their artist, Edit Oderbolz, had taken up the carpet in the ex-charity shop, turned it over, divided it into segments and glued it to the walls and ceiling leaving the floor pitted and bare. Spending time in the room I increasingly appreciated the way the space had been used, and even got used to the smell! It was interesting to talk to the artist and the gallerist, and I bumped into various people I knew from art school too, so all in all it felt good to be part of something that seemed so dynamic and exciting. A far cry, frankly, from my perception of the majority of the Norfolk art scene.

Meanwhile I've been slaving over a hot computer and, with Trevor's help, the pdf of Kalender 3 ('Big Bonfires and Relics Issue') is cooking as I write this. Then I'll email it to the printer and hopefully be able to pick up the 180 copies later this afternoon. And then I can start rubber-stamping each one, filling cellophane bags with this issue's free gift and stapling them to the covers. Absolutely no let-up!

And ... the next festival - St Christopher's Day - is next Tuesday.

www.re-title.com/artists/imogen-bardwell.asp

www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/yourgallery/artist_profile/Imogen+Bardwell/41443.html

www.world-tree.co.uk/festial 

# 31 [29 July 2007]

It's a strange thing for an artist who feels drawn to performance and intervention to admit, but I do prefer to work in solitude. So imagine my discomfiture when I arrived at St Andrew's last Thursday armed with a carrier bag full of odd plastic bits and pieces and a camera, to find FIVE vehicles in the driveway of this sleepy church in its small scattered village. There seemed to be people everywhere, taking lawnmowers in or out of boots, slamming doors, feeding ducks and goodness knows what else.

I'm afraid I just panicked and drove away!

In all, I made THREE abortive attempts to perform my 'Display of Relics'. As I approached for the third time clutching my tripod, I could see through the open doorway of the church that one of the churchwardens was busily wielding a hoover. I know one should applaud this valiant effort to keep the copious quantities of bat droppings under control but I must admit my heart sank.

Still, patience was rewarded in the end and my Relics have now been duly Displayed.

I haven't found much out about how this would have been achieved in pre-Reformation days, but that's sometimes a good thing I think, as there's less risk of being tempted down a reconstructionist route. All I knew beforehand was that on the Sunday after St Thomas' Day (and observant readers will recall that the last Midsummer Bonfire was on St Thomas Eve ...) the relics - usually organic material reputed to be fragments of the physical remains of saints or their garments, but sometimes fantastical artefacts such as a Griffin's Egg - would be displayed or paraded in some way at each parish church. And every church  - however small and remote - would expect to have something to display, which makes you wonder whether medieval people ever questioned the authenticity of these treasures.

The idea for my Display came to me when we were visiting the Scottish island of Eigg in the spring. The two beaches close to the cottage where we were staying were both strewn with strangely sea-worn plastic artefacts, some of which seemed to me to resemble otherworldly body parts or broken bits of torture equipment. This worked for me conceptually on several levels and I became quite excited about the possibilities. In fact, I'd been looking forward to this festival since before Festial officially started.

Right now, all I have is a large number of photographs and one painting which I made yesterday at an inspiring workshop led by Nigel Skinner. But when time allows, what a lot of possibilities they seem to hold for future work. I know - it's just a case of being patient again.

www.world-tree.co.uk/festial 

http://www.re-title.com/artists/imogen-bardwell.asp 

http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/yourgallery/artist_profile/Imogen+Bardwell/41443.html

# 30 [20 July 2007]

Last night was St Thomas' Eve: time for the last of the midsummer bonfires. Luckily, like St John's and SS Peter and Paul's Eves, the weather was uncharacteristically summery and I was able to go barefoot which always seems to help for some reason! I hadn't got around to making wet-weather contingency plans, other than going on the next fine evening, but in the event it feels great to have managed to have all three fires on exactly the 'right' dates.

Having said that, I know that I've been so intent on planning the performance/intervention each time - and then carrying it out - that I haven't fully reflected on the fact that it really IS the anniversary of the hundreds and hundreds of times that these fires would have been kindled. Am I feeling anything approaching the same as my medieval ancestors would have? Or their pre-Christian ancestors? Well, maybe a little. But as I suspected at the outset, there are going to be limits. My life is so much more comfortable; I'm not escaping for one evening from hunger - or from the ever-present fear of witnessing or experiencing excruciatingly painful death.

Something else I'm reflecting on now is the context of my work. How does it relate to current practice and debate? I realise there's a need to look critically at my "intentions, processes and outcomes", in the words of an application brief I'm currently addressing. At the same time, the next festival and the next issue of Kalender are always looming.

Perhaps I should be secure enough in the overall concept of Festial to accept what happens as it happens, and the relentless turning of the year is a part of that. I'm trying to put myself in the place of people whose lives and beliefs shaped the world we live in today; the world that all contemporary practice takes place in. I just hope that this means that my investigation is as contemporarily engaged as any other exploration of the links and chasms between different cultures.

www.world-tree.co.uk/festial