ARTISTS TALKING

# 1 [20 November 2011]

I spent the summer taking a long hard look at the amount of stuff I have accumulated over the years. To put it into context, I have a lifetime collection of stuff – a lot of stuff! There's a lot of me in those collections; my life in boxes – books, objects, photographs, memories of places, people, good times, not so good times – my past, secreted away.

It's been dotted around various parts of SE London over the past five years or so following a house move, in the attics and garages of sympathetic family and friends. My former home had a large attic and an 'out of sight, out of mind' philosophy took over - I squirrelled it all away. I always knew I was going to do something with my collection one day and my long term aim has been (and still is!) to have it all in one space – essentially, keeping it together.

Slowly, the boxes found their way into my studio and the unravelling of a lifetime's accumulation of possessions began. My focus over this past summer was sorting through them. Deciding what to keep versus what to get rid of became the order of many long hot sunny days. I even managed to visit and donate the book 'Something I've Been Meaning To Tell You' to The Museum Of Broken Relationships – now that felt constructive!

I always knew when I moved into my latest studio that time there was limited – however as ongoing talks and negotiations with the landlords came to an abrupt end some three weeks or so ago, we were given less than 48 hours to leave the premises. A community of artists was ripped apart and has had to find ways of coping with an upsetting & unsettling time. It's been a rollercoaster ride of emotions - in one way or another, we've all been hurting.

I've taken solace in stacks of Bunty, Judy, Photo Love and other 1960-80s annuals from the book shelves at home. A therapist might say I'm subconsciously seeking out a happy ending ... perhaps I am? I have no doubt however about how the recent chaos has forced me to focus on what's important – what to keep, what not to keep in all senses of the word has raised its head once more and I'm left questioning again what it is that's important. The boxes are stacked in a self-storage unit, I'm not even sure what's in some of them or if the stuff has any relevance to my life as it is now. But I do know that it costs money to keep them there.

Keeping It Together is the start of my journey as a studioless artist. Where do I go from here? Where do I and my 'stuff', both literally and metaphorically, fit in? Where will I re-establish my practice and where will I feel more at home, both within myself and in relation to others?

The last ever exhibition, home, was held in the studio gallery to which my studio was attached. It's not without irony that in its press release, home was described as:

'fragile, transient, extraordinary, loaded … no longer a safe word but a loaded word and a delicate place, vulnerable to attack – both globally, financially and intimately.'

As a tribute to the photogaphic narratives of books such as Photo Love, the images I've chosen to share here follow the story of the past three weeks - from a safe place to an uncertain, chaotic one.

# 2 [27 November 2011]

When you're aware of things in your life potentially falling apart, you can go one way or the other – give up and go under, or go with the flow and somehow manage to keep your head above the water. It takes a conscious effort and a lot of patience and staying power to hang on in there – uncertainty is one of life's hardest emotions to tolerate.

There are simply times in life when one's faith in humanity needs restoring and these past few weeks have been such a time. Which is why I'm grateful to those who have taken the time to comment on my blog – encouraging, kind and empathetic words have instilled me with a sense of hope that everything will work itself out and be okay. I've had more contact with other artists over the past few days than I would in an average week in the studio, both through consciously making the effort to place myself 'out there' physically into the wider art community and through being active on social networks. And of course, through this blog.

I feel I've managed to keep it together – because for me, recent events have shown that my 'survival' has been as much about keeping together the community of artists to which I feel belong as it is about keeping myself and my creative practice together.

Wise words from artists like Rob Turner rob-turner.blogspot.com with a wealth of experience of working in art communities have helped enormously to keep me on track. As well as connecting me with another artist with whose work I share similarities, Rob pointed out the importance of what to him plays a fundamental part in keeping it together – to continue to create work. His words inspired me this week to carry on being an artist; creating and making in the way I know how – with or without a studio.

Consequently, 'Belle' was created, carefully packed and posted to Wakefield on Tuesday to help decorate a Christmas tree in a Winter Wonderland. aliceandbobcurate.wordpress.com And 'Dust Collectors' was started and completed as a symbol of what in real life my art materials are doing – collecting dust in a self-storage unit in deepest Deptford. 'Dust Collectors' is also representative of the reaction from those who have never understood the habit of collecting; those who consider anything not being used in a home as superfluous and unnecessary – 'bloomin' dust collectors – get rid of them!'

The generosity of spirit in response to my first ever post on this blog has been lovely to see and is also confirmation that the sharing and exploring of my ideas on Artists Talking can be done in a safe and supportive environment. Trust is paramount in order to feel truly at ease to tell it as it really is – the high points and the low of being an artist, warts and all. And so, thank you – to those who shared their thoughts with me – for a positive start and for your empathy and sensitivity.

# 3 [3 December 2011]

My experience of being an artist has felt very different since losing my studio. Keeping It Together this past week has been all about coming to terms with some of the uncomfortable feelings associated with not always getting what you want.

The process of looking for an alternative space is ongoing and I'm hoping it won't be too long now before I'm able to get back to what I now recognise was a pretty established studio routine. I miss having a studio and without it, I have at times felt a little bereft; because for me, having no studio space equates with not being surrounded by the familiar objects with which I normally work.

During this past month I have been quite literally stripped of all I know as a creative practitioner – deprived of the space and the vast lifelong collection of possessions I habitually surround myself with. Hardly surprising then that the recent upheaval has felt so unsettling – family holidays and other commitments aside, there haven't been many days over the past five years or so when I haven't been in at the studio. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that I've felt like I've been in a state of mourning. Now I simply can't wait to be reunited with my belongings, unpack and reacquaint myself with them – and get back to work.

Being without a studio has at the same time created space for letting in other positive experiences and alternative ways of seeing. I'm aware that I haven't produced any art this week, but in terms of thinking about my work, there has been a great deal of creative activity. Perhaps being away from the clutter of material possessions has freed me up to focus on what's important to me at this particular moment. I feel I'm about to enter into a fresh and exciting period of creative output in the foreseeable future and I need to be focused.

New beginnings can be wonderfully productive and I've had space to think about how important being with like-minded people is to me, both on a personal level and in terms of the ongoing development of my art – people I can identify with and relate to, with a view to building a community of which I feel a part. And, having once been a public sector worker myself, Wednesday's rally against pension cuts was a timely reminder of my fundamental belief in the importance of community and the need for continued social cohesion and a shared value system amongst fellow workers. I suppose you could call it Keeping It Together...

# 4 [5 December 2011]

I've been surprised by how many times my thoughts have turned to this blog over the past few days. I wonder if the absence of colleagues at the studio to mull things over with is having an effect. Dialogue has always been an essential part of my life and as it is, writing this blog feels a bit like having someone to talk to.

I hadn't imagined that I'd have that much to say to be honest but already I feel like I'm getting immersed in keeping some kind of journal, day by day accounts of what I'm up to in my newfound state, outside of a studio.

I'm enjoying the writing process and under present circumstances, it feels like a positive step, attaching myself to something that already feels like a useful and beneficial exercise. I'm grateful to those who took the time to speak at recent a-n events, to promote the advantages of writing a blog – it worked! And so, keeping it together in its many shapes and forms, continues...

I received an email this morning from an artist who is based in Deptford. She had only just heard the news about the sudden collapse of the studio complex I belonged to, was sorry to hear about it and said that it had left what she felt was 'a sad gap' in the area. I felt my studio's absence acutely this Friday evening just gone when I passed by the empty space en route to Cockpit Arts. Open Studios in other studio complexes in the area were in full swing and instead of being a part of it, I was an outsider looking in; the ideas I'd had for my own Xmas Open Studio hadn't had a chance to materialise.

But that email wasn't the only one I received this morning; one was from Amnesty International and the other from Shelter - like a lot of things in life, it's all a question of perspective – and in the grand scheme of things, not having access to a studio really isn't that bad!

So I've dusted down some suitcases from the top of a wardrobe today with a view to getting on with some work around the kitchen table tomorrow; I've cleared the day especially and have stocked up with the necessary glue to get on with a sketchbook project, something I applied for way back in the Spring and needs to be completed and ready for sending by the end of January 2012.

The suitcases are crammed full of paper cuttings from various vintage magazines which I've collected over the years – images that for one reason or another had caught my eye and I knew one day would be used for something. I've had the collection some 20 to 25 years and a lot of the cuttings were collected in the States and shipped back to England in the late 1980s.

I applied to take part in a Sketchbook Project last spring – it's an American project and I've been thinking about the irony of some of the images being sent back across the Atlantic to their original home in New York. I'm pleased to have the sketchbook to focus on - it's like Rob Turner said, it's important to keep producing the work.

# 5 [14 December 2011]

I've been feeling a bit under the weather following a nasty head cold. 'It's nature's way of telling your body to slow down' is what my Nana always used to say; I think she was right. Having a cold usually coincides with a drop in my hearing and I'm inclined to become a bit more reclusive when this happens. After the high drama of the studio move it's felt like a relief to be honest; I think things needed to calm down a bit and so I'm grateful for this period of quiet time I've allowed myself.

Now that I'm getting back on course, I'm really aware of the benefits of writing this blog; thinking about it and writing it has already started to create a kind of discipline in my day to day life and I'm very glad in this respect that I started it when I did - it's keeping me stimulated creatively and mindful of the dangers of procrastination and slipping off the radar - serving the same purpose as a studio in many ways.

I've also been without the internet over the past couple of days - I just got reconnected last night. Even though it was for a short time, I was surprised at how quickly I felt out of the loop with having no access to social networks. Writing this blog over the past few weeks has helped me feel effectively connected to fellow artists, welcomed as part of a community and has compensated in many ways for not having a studio.

Other social networks like Twitter have also helped me to 'stay visible' amongst my contemporaries, something I remember once hearing Bob & Roberta Smith say was an important part of being an artist. It's not something I always find easy to do but it's something I've nevertheless been aware of ever since. I've realised the importance of keeping in touch with what's going on in the wider art community and responding to it.

I've noticed what a familiar theme community is on Artists Talking. I'm reading about so many other artists striving to feel a sense of belonging, whether it's in an actual studio space or through virtual interaction. Not surprising really because at the heart of all of us there is an innate need for compassionate understanding from others. Whether or not this need is more pronounced amongst creative people I can't be sure, but what I'm certain about is that such understanding nourishes the creative spirit and helps it to grow. We all have a fundamental desire to fit in, to feel a part of society and as the division between the haves and the have-nots grows ever wider, perhaps the need to be part of a like-minded community has become greater still.

I know for me a studio represents an emotional as well as a physical space; from past experience, having a studio has given me a clear understanding of the importance of my own personal space, one in which I'm able to completely absorb myself in my work - away from the distractions of domestic life - the clothes that need to be hung out, the carpets that need to be vacuumed and so on.

In terms of creating this past week, my output has been small. Some of my time has been spent catching up on what other artists have been up to – but for me this week Keeping It Together has been more about quiet reflection, space to think and generally slowing things down. Hopefully it's the calm before the creative storm.

# 6 [17 December 2011]

I've been thinking a lot about community and the sense of belonging that goes hand in hand with it since last writing this blog. Globally of course community is at the forefront of many people's consciousness - whether it's in Egypt, Syria, Occupy Wall Street or closer to home at the protest camp outside St Paul's - we've witnessed the strength that can be gained through people coming together in solidarity.

Life often has a habit of acting out the very issues that are on one's mind I think; in this respect, the past 24 hours have been a sharp reminder of just how important community is to me.

The school term finished yesterday and my sons invited their friends home, anxious all of them, to spend another few hours together before going their separate ways. I was struck by their closeness and the supportive community my children have grown up in; teenagers now, they've known many of their peers since nursery school days.

With the film The Iron Lady being talked about so much at the moment, my thoughts have also (unfortunately) been turning to community in relation to Thatcher and that infamous quote of hers: 'there is no such thing as society.' Her words still manage to arouse as much anger and outrage in me as they did all those years ago - a despicable and alienating comment, it came as a powerful statement and a blatant attack against community and everything it stood for.

But, still closer to home, a comment I received on Artists Talking yesterday from Rita Cormo also felt timely. It came as a response to a message I'd left on Building Materials, Rita's first post on a new blog...

www.a-n.co.uk/artists_talking/projects/single/1782814

I really enjoyed reading it and there were some fantastic images of her work alongside her writing. In the spirit of sharing, I wanted to let her know that.

I loved her response - honest and real - in which Rita wrote about 'sincerely ... preparing for a long and enduring winter with no comments at all.' Not because she thought that what she had to say and show couldn't 'be interesting' but because 'I saw very interesting blogs with no comments at all'. Rita goes on to to say how glad she is that she's not posting into a void and that 'hopefully this would enhance her will to proceed!'

I've checked with her and Rita feels fine about me quoting her. I wanted to because I can relate so strongly to what she's saying; her sentiments sum up perfectly for me the basic need for supportive communities; groups of people sharing common values and goals, reaching out to each other. I'm conscious of it because for a long time during my foray into the art world, I was without it. And while I was acutely aware that something was missing, I couldn't ever seem to put my finger on what it was.

I spoke about it in my last blog but more recently I've felt it more strongly than ever: there's a vulnerability within all of us, a deep desire to be accepted - to be heard, to feel needed and to feel included. Encouragement and empathetic understanding from like-minded artists is invaluable; it's what all of us at some point or other crave and need in order to flourish as creative people.

And so, as I've gravitated towards artists who - whether through their website, their blog, their tweets or simply through their presence - have been happy to share a little of themselves, my contacts and support systems have grown. These artists have also invariably been generous, not just in sharing their own work but also in contributing their thoughts and offering support to others - a shining example of this is the ever-generous Rosalind Davis...

www.a-n.co.uk/artists_talking/projects/single/579530

It's apparent too on Artists Talking where shared values and emotional connections have been formed and are maintained through ongoing, online dialogue.

Not having a studio has enabled me to stand back a bit, to reflect and to think about what's important in terms of moving forward - Keeping It Together. Things are definitely looking up.

# 7 [1 January 2012]

I'm in Scotland and being reminded all over again about how great it is to be here for this festive time of year. The Christmas trees and lights almost invariably stay up until Twelfth night and there's not that sense of urgency to get everything back to normal that's so often around in London. There's the big build up to Hogmanay and New Years Day and a true sense that Christmas week is by no means over, that something exciting is yet to happen.

The sense of anticipation and continuing celebrations with family and friends slows the pace of life down considerably; it feels like there's time to 'just be.' Long walks in vast open landscapes, both in the country and by the sea have been good for the soul and there's nothing like seeing the wide stretches of horizon for helping to keep things in perspective. The weather here is also a constant reminder that we can't control everything - we're at its mercy and we can't take everything for granted.

Bringing in the New Year and throwing out the old throws up all sorts of questions about life style choices. In the spirit of continuing with the theme of this blog, I'm thinking a lot about what I want to keep from this past year and what I'd like to get rid of - how best to 'keep it together.' In a recent blog I wrote about my 'survival' being as much about 'keeping together the community of artists to which I feel I belong as it is about keeping myself and my creative practise together.'

I've made a decision to move to a new studio space as soon as it's ready in the New Year. People who are key to my life as an artist are going to be there, too and I'm feeling positive about thriving in what I anticipate will be a trusting and nourishing environment.

I've also made a decision to start the year of 2012 as 'free' as I possibly can; positive, hopeful and in honour of my dear Dad, seeing and expecting only the best in people. 'Free' is a word my late Father used to describe those with open, easygoing and friendly dispositions - principled, positive, non-judgmental people with an interest in others. It's a term I've always loved and being in Scotland again, amongst its lovely, warm people has reminded me exactly what it means.

# 8 [5 January 2012]

Days can go by sometimes without there being much of real significance in the news. This week has been different; January 3^rd 2012 was a momentous day for the British legal system and I can't not acknowledge it here; after an eighteen year struggle by his family, the summing up of the Stephen Lawrence case has finally seen two people convicted of his murder - some justice at last for the Lawrence family.

This welcome news came after a spate of bad news stories. In the car on my way home on Tuesday - a news bulletin, shocking as it came through on the radio - reported, one after the other, various fatal stabbings and shootings that had taken place over the Christmas period. The perpetrators according to reports ranged from unassuming, 'quiet' people to those who had been exposed to a lifetime of violence. One of the incidents had happened on the street - a random act of violence against an innocent student who'd simply been in the 'wrong place at the wrong time' - but the majority had happened in domestic situations.

Ironically, I'd been at the Easter Road football stadium with my family just the day before where the issue of domestic violence had been highlighted. A huge white ribbon was carried onto the pitch by one of the players before the match started and all of them wore a white ribbon during it to show their support in addressing the crime of domestic abuse. I read a report recently that revealed that figures for victims of domestic violence had soared, up by some 35% during the recession of 2011.

I can't separate any of this from my life as a practising artist - for as long as I can remember, I've felt socially engaged and what's happening in the world around me still touches me and affects my day to day existence. I've had some time to reflect on this since losing my studio and it's been invaluable in firming up my beliefs and intentions for the future. October 31^st 2011, the day I lost my studio space, was a defining day for me; it was when I realised just how integral my role as an artist had become to my daily life. And buoyed up by the support of others, I realised that I wasn't going to discard a lifelong collection and I wasn't going to abandon my vocation as an artist. I felt that I was no longer playing at being an artist - I felt like I was one.

A lot of what I've written about on this blog so far has centred around people and relationships; they have been a key part of 2011 and in 2012 I'd love to be able to strengthen the connections I've made with some of the artists I've met; not only are they people who have social consciences and share similar values to my own, but they are people who have encouraged me and complimented my work, instilling in me the confidence to keep on doing what I do.

But as well as nurturing and maintaining relationships, I also want to just get on with making some work - this blog's contained a significant lack of discussion about any actual work for some weeks now, I've noticed and I'd like to feel that I'll be able to address the balance of the two in the year ahead. I'm hoping it will all start to fall into place once I've allowed myself a bit of time to settle into the new studio space. That's something I'm really looking forward to; the holidays are over - my sons started back at school today, made all the more poignant as I think of Doreen Lawrence's loss. In terms of Keeping It Together, there can be no finer inspiration than her.

# 9 [9 January 2012]

Now that I've really got into the swing of writing this blog, it's quickly established itself as a positive, integral part of my work as an artist and I've been wondering how and why it took me so long to find the nerve to start it. Attending two recent events organised by Artists Talking undoubtedly had an impact on me; there was something about meeting experienced artist/bloggers face to face and hearing them speak so positively about the advantages of blog writing that helped make the whole process appear more tangible and appealing. And the modest and unassuming ways of the chosen speakers added to the overall feeling that blog writing was accessible to anyone willing to give it a go.

But other reasons for feeling able to take the plunge and start writing were due to what I've recognised as a shift in my own learning and personal development - an increase in confidence, essentially and a greater self-awareness. More recently, I've managed to overcome an innate shyness and to resolve within myself the unsettling feeling associated with appearing immodest and self-indulgent. Growing up in rural England in the 1960s, the daughter of working class parents, the inherent sense of knowing my place in society has to some extent stayed with me. Whilst being encouraged to celebrate the good things in life, there was a sense that any sort of blowing one's own trumpet or bragging wasn't welcomed and modesty was seen very much as a virtue. As a working class girl in those times, finding a husband and starting a family was expected to be the height of your ambition.

I made a conscious decision at the start of 2011 to gain more exposure for my art and proposed to use social networking to do so. But while understanding on an intellectual level that self-promotion was necessary in terms of getting my work seen, emotionally, I'd often find myself shying away from it. I would wholeheartedly champion my art work one day, tweet away to my heart's content about it, only to retreat back into a silenced embarrassment the next. Self doubt? Lack of confidence? Good old fashioned British reserve? Or perhaps an underlying feeling that it really wasn't my place, particularly as a woman, to promote myself?

I've been amazed by how in a very short space of time, writing the blog has helped sharpen my focus - how much it invites in, both from others in terms of their readership and comments, and in relation to myself, in terms of reflective thinking. I'm already beginning to feel accountable to others; and through 'speaking' out loud about my work and committing myself to certain things, I now feel like I want to come up with the goods; it's a useful discipline and in the absence of a studio, I've welcomed having it.

My reticence about self-promotion has meant that stepping into the art world has unfolded at a measured pace; frustrating on one level but this slow-but-sure approach has produced something strong and my sense of who I am as an artist (both in a local and global sense) feels solid and sustainable. Meeting like-minded people through my move to Core Gallery last summer, holding on to some of the relationships formed there and then starting this blog has propelled me forward on all sorts of levels and I'm heading into 2012 feeling adventurous and optimistic.

Right now however, there's a lot of displacement activity going on. I'm thinking about the mechanics of the blog a lot - too much I fear - how and why I'm writing it, why it took so long to get around to doing and so on, is all taking precedence over the actual process of getting down to any art work.

The sketch book I've been working on has, as of today, gone from being mislaid to seriously lost and I'm wondering if on some subconscious level, I've helped it happen. There are a lot of pages to fill and if I'm going to get it posted back to the States by the required date of January 30^th I've got a lot of work to do...

# 10 [18 January 2012]

I started this blog when I lost my studio but this week I have been feeling the loss of something else. The book I applied for from New York City as part of the Sketchbook Project is nowhere to be be seen and I've had to accept that it's not going to turn up.

At the start of last year during a quiet period I felt I needed something tangible to work on and weighed up the pros and cons of shelling out money to take part in the Sketchbook Project. I decided to go for it, spurred on by the fact that two beloved friends in Chicago could share in it by visiting and viewing my book as it toured the States.

After an initial burst of activity, the sketch book got put to one side. But when I was suddenly studio-less, I found it became a source of comfort to me. It was something I could work on around the kitchen table after all, and having it helped me focus my thoughts away from the studio situation and towards continuing to produce art.

I rarely work on paper so this was an experiment for me in many ways but once I started, I soon got into making my own mark on it through text, drawing and collage. The work felt different and challenging and (technical and drawing abilities aside!) I was looking forward to it growing into something quite personal and special.

I still had a long way to go with it, but the loss has upset me - partly because it means I won't get the chance to complete it and partly because some precious vintage magazine cuttings were lost inside it. These had been collected and stored for many years waiting for just the right moment to use them - all gone! Will I ever see them again, I wonder?

I'm just not in the habit of losing things - not on a long term basis, anyway - and the more I've thought about it, the more I've realised that the loss of the sketch book is a casualty of not having a studio. My working materials and personal collections are generally very well looked after, ordered and controlled. However chaotic things might appear on the surface in my studio, I always have a keen sense of where things are. The sketch book would ordinarily have stayed in the studio, its precise location known.

I now realise that the act of Keeping It Together applies as much to the materials I use for my work as it does to my state of mind. The loss of the sketch book has ultimately been about not keeping it together and so, just as I've felt 'all over the place' in my head at times, so too have my working materials been, quite literally, all over the place.

It's becoming clear to me that having a studio means much more to me than just the physical space. As well as being a place to house my vast collection of stuff, there's something that happens for me in the studio that goes far beyond this. A studio anchors me, effectively containing the feelings and emotions associated with digging up the past and unravelling a lifetime of memories and all the associated paraphernalia that goes with them. My collections are not so much about what I collect as they are about how they define me - the sifting, the sorting, the placing is an integral part of the whole process and my relationship with the things I've collected over so many years is an intimate one.

Small wonder then that I haven't created anything of significance in the past two weeks or so, because if truth be told, however positive a spin I try to put on it, without my things around me, I too have been feeling quite lost.