ARTISTS TALKING

# 51 [25 March 2009]

The bloody mice are back! mouse poo in a spoon on the draining board. nice.

I've blocked all the holes I can find with wire wool and put two snap traps down. Relieved/disappointed to see they were empty this morning.

# 52 [31 March 2009]

The snap traps are rubbish. We've gone high tech with some kind of electronic electrocutor mouse zappy thing. Youngest daughter cried so we said it would just stun them then we can set them free (not true).

Had nightmares all night - think it's guilt related due to knowingly lying to child and attempting to murder mice.

Huge relief to discover empty zapper-trapper this morning. Canny mice got the peanut butter from the back, thus evading the zap.

Mice 2, Masseys 0.

# 53 [3 April 2009]

The good news!

Wednesday night. We caught a mouse, by hand, in a tupperware pot. It was hiding behind the bread bin so we chased it into a tupperware pot by waving a wooden spoon at it. Then we threw a tea towel over the top and admired how cute it was, and how pretty it's little hands are (see fuzzy picture taken on mobile phone). Then we set it free outside. A great moment. Hopefully that's the end of the mouse saga.

The bad news!

Friday morning. There was a little very still tail poking out of the zapper this morning. I had to have sit down before I opened the lid to examine the dead mouse. I had convinced myself that there was only one mouse and we had caught it. I am sure anyone with mouse experience is chuckling at my naivety. I don't want to have mice any more.

# 54 [3 April 2009]

Some other unrelated and non-mousey things that have happened lately;

I talked about my work at AIR Open Dialogue in Sheffield. I spent two days in advance of this worrying about how to say things that are both true and interesting, and clear without being limiting. I made myself a little collection of prompt notes on polaroids (it works like a list with no order of priority, as the polaroids open like a fan). The polaroids were a hit.

All that thinking about my work has made me feel like I'm missing something significant in the way I'm thinking about it. Not sure why I feel like this, but it makes it hard to relax.

I'm still trying to document new work for Axis and youtube. When I opened the bag of stuff from 'What the Chamber Maid Saw' the bedspread gave off a strong smell of the Grand Hotel. I've sealed it back in it's bag to keep the smell in.

I've filled in a long questionnaire from 'Creative and cultural Skills' about the needs of the visual arts sector. I tried to describe how it's sometimes hard to feel like I'm part of a sector. Then I answered an email from Andrew Bryant about the value of 'artists talking'. By the time I'd done that I had convinced myself that I feel part of an artist network. What's the relationship/gap between the sector and the network I wonder. Briefly. No time to dwell on it too long.

Andrew's asking me to write a post about being an artist and a parent. Where do I start? It's the subject of a thesis, it's at the root of everything I do... I'll give it some thought.

# 55 [4 April 2009]

OK - so - artist and parent.. 

I became a parent in 1997, and immediately  came face-to-face with some hard realities. I had been living a very easy going hand to mouth existence up to this point, working into the night on art projects, living on pasta when the money stopped flowing, able to do things on a whim.

The baby cried a lot and slept very little - not usually for more than an hour, followed by a long period of crying.

I had always coped with difficult things in life through making art, and it just became impossible to do this. The baby needed me constantly, my partner worked long erratic hours in a theatre, and the only time I could afford childcare was when I was earning money. I carved out a living through developing and running various community based projects, flirted with health and arts work, managed an arts centre, and generally felt more and more despondent as I compromised my creative ideas to meet other people's agendas.

In 2003, after 6 years caring for preschool children I decided something needed to change. The options were;

1. run away and reinvent a new life

2. get my art practice back on the road, instead of a furtive, squeezed between other jobs, and hidden from prying eyes and sticky children's fingers type of activity.

The other persistent issue during this 10 year period was  a growing resentment that I seemed to be making all the compromises while my partner ran all manner of exciting events, worked all night, did things on a whim etc. It wasn't because he was callous, simply that his work earned money we needed, and my art practice didn't directly earn enough.

# 56 [4 April 2009]

continued from previous post (told you this was a subject liable to get me going)

So -  based on my track record up until 1997, and the small projects I'd done in the intervening 10 years, ACE were prepared to fund me for a research trip to Kyrgyzstan to learn yurt making techniques.  This trip changed my life. Two weeks without  mobile phone or email contact. I had no duty to anyone but myself. This was the start of things, and I've really got my practice at the core of my life again now.

I've had a couple of great mentors, Jane Sellars from the Mercer Gallery and artist Rebecca Chesney, who really gave me the confidence to make work from the starting point of my experiences as an artist and mother. This is what underpins all my work now.

My practice involves an investigation into how we become who we are. I had to undo the version of myself that I had constructed as a mother, and reinvent my artist self. Now I have to be vigilant, to nourish and feed life into both roles. We all 'get into character' for our different roles in life, but I observe, document and analyse these roles, looking for a revelation in the details  of domestic life.

I am interested in the way that subtle injustice becomes invisible, and therefore more insidious and undermining. In households with two heterosexual  parents working full time, the woman is statistically likely to be doing 80% of the domestic work in the home.

My work, my art, my life are all intertwined and overlapping, each one influences the other. My life is rich, my children are at the heart of every thought I have, my art tries to express something about the subtle hidden elements of family life. The process reflects the content, to the extent that I don't know which element influences the other more.

There are side effects to talking on this theme - it doesn't represent everything about my work, and some people enjoy looking at my work without ever knowing about this starting point, or identifying any feminist angle. This subject matter is an anathema to some people. I hope that the process of making the work is an evolutionary one, starting from the point of view of a parent, and resulting in something relevant to anyone. Some of the content of the work is entirely imaginary, mixed in with biographical information, which confuses and upsets people who think they know how I should be.

So - parent as artist - artist as parent is a big theme for me. And I haven't even mentioned the discriminatory aspect of many artist opportunities - particularly residencies, which offer accomodation for one person and require you to commit intensively for several weeks. It precludes parents from a significant income stream.

Ooh I'll be chuntering away all day now. Better go and see what the kids are up to - they've been worryingly quiet for ages.  

# 57 [9 April 2009]

I am struggling to work out how to do something... how do I give myself a breather, feel happy with the progress I am making as an artist, and stop feeling intimidated by my lists (short/medium /long term ambitions v day-to-day life lists). It's making me grumpy.

ps. no mouse activity to report.

# 58 [12 April 2009]

Her: Great – now you're feeling better, you can wash up your own frying pan

Him: I'll have you know I've done trainer loads of washing up lately

Her: Trainer loads?

Him: (chuckling) Yes, I'm so good at it I train people to wash up. And I didn't use a frying pan but I'll wash up and tidy the kitchen.

Her: Great

Him: Who left this plate covered in poster paint in the sink. That's got to be the kids. They should deal with this.

Her: I put it to soak last night. It's left over from when I started to decorate an egg with youngest daughter for her school competition. We never finished it because I worked loads of evenings that week. She cried at school when they awarded the prizes.

Him: Oh. I'll wash it.

He washes it and puts a greasy tray in the sink and fills a pan with soapy water. Then he goes to the toilet with the newspaper. She puts away yesterdays pots from the draining board. He returns. He sits at the table with a coffee.

Her: (concentrating on keeping the accusatory tone out of her voice). Can I just ask something? I just wondered – are you going to do any more or have you finished? What? I'm just asking a question? It's just weird to me that you have stopped to drink coffee. I genuinely don't know if you've finished or not? It's sometimes hard to tell.. (she glances at the crumbs on the surfaces)

Him: I haven't finished. I'm having a cup of coffee now. Then I will wash up, and wipe the surfaces like a normal person.

# 59 [16 April 2009]

I've got an idea niggling away at me about setting up a collective / network for artists who are parents, with a view to organising a gathering of some sort (with childcare obviously) - some combination of a seminar / residency / peer network /meeting / exhibition /guest speakers/debate/ gallery visits / space for thought type of thing... might be something to talk to NAN about...

# 60 [1 May 2009]

I've got plenty to say, but now I've actually sat down at the computer I really can't be bothered. It's been a long week, and I've worked on the computer all day.  

Here's a rubbish joke instead.

How many artists does it take to change a light bulb?    10. 1 to change it and 9 other to reassure her that it looks good.

Here's another if you think you can take it.

 How many gallery visitors does it take to change a light bulb?   2. one to do it, and one to say, 'huh my four year old could have done that'.

ps. Partner wants me to make it clear that if the 'him/her' blog happened to based on our conversation, that he didn't say that stuff about trainer loads, if he did it was slip of the tongue, and can I please change it because it makes him look like he's not very funny, when in reality he is hilariously witty.

humour is a very personal thing.