Christmas is approaching fast and any good intentions regarding work are beginning to unravel. With a run of sick children and a new puppy, broken nights spent nursing and cleaning up for others are becoming a regular part of life again.
My own research continues to move forward with visits to galleries, interest from curators and interviews with participants building momentum.
Opening up this subject of our night time experience has produced fascinating insights into the lives of the women I have spoken to. Experiences gained at night time often seem to remain there – either they seem insignificant or irrelevant in the harsh light of day.
The women I have interviewed have often spoken of habits, memories, rituals, thoughts that they have never shared with anyone before. In a way my difficulty lies in translating something so intimately personal into work for public display.
I often feel I have been trusted with something quite precious.
Looking back at these past posts I find I am in a different place with each one. Working alone, totally self motivated and directed, seems to leave me wide open to being pulled this way and that depending on the circumstances that day. Trying to force some sort of structure upon my time with four children to care for requires a mammoth dose of self will.
But I believe I'm moving forward.
Three women winners in twenty four years of the Turner prize.
Can there be such a discrepancy? What then?
Judges are hopelessly biased?
Women's work is not as good?
My, – what a quandary we have.
I'm learning to live with a constantly shifting structure. There are other ways to do things. And I've got to accept that for now – this is mine.
November's arrived and the studio's plodding on. After returning to my practice following a ten year gap it's taking time to get to grips with the system and where and how my work can fit in.
Artsway gallery offers a portfolio crit, with a somewhat tougher reputation than other similar organisations offer. Having just attended the Visual South West opening in Bristol and been encouraged by some very positive comments, I felt bouyed up enough to face the Artsway team. So off I went, prepared for a roasting.
I dont think anyone gets off lightly from their consultations but what I did get was some spot on, critical advise on how to take my work forward. What became glaringly obvious was the inevitable uphill struggle working without this critical input could be and how addressing this imbalance is something I very much need to work on.
I got some really useful advise which I will definitely follow up so, for the thick skinned only, I would recommend the sessions.
Today I spent a morning as mornings should be . The last week has seen me scraping the barrel of my positivity as the work in Bristol chose to come down prematurely, (under it's own steam I might add), and with a certain amount of damage in the process. Lessons learnt, the day after brought much more positive news with an invitation to be included in the list of artists chosen by Visual – A & B to represent the South West. A better day indeed.
This morning however was a sheer delight. Initially my thoughts around this project centred on women with young children and their experience of night. By chance however, when I discussed the research with an recently retired friend, she told me how night had taken on a completely new form for her. Now that she no longer had a set time to get up for, or a work filled day ahead, she could chose to enjoy the night, to get up as and when she wanted, to walk outside and absorb the night sky for a moment. And if need be, she could fill her days with sleep.
This led me to want to explore further how our experience of night could shift and change as the years past. And today I sat down with a good friend in her nineties, a video camera and a few basic questions. I set the camera, sat back and I gave her space. And she filled it. She filled my silence with vague and fleeting memories, sharp hurts, sweet thoughts. With hardly any intervention from me, her expression changed from laughter to far away thoughts, to deep troubles and back again. Some things no one in her ninety years had heard before. It truly was a privilege.
My next session will be with a much younger woman, a woman with many sleepless nights ahead.
September seemed to fragment into a myriad of shattered and interrupted pieces of time. Family life, broken down cars and washing machines pushed in on all sides. Somehow I managed to wade through and complete the pieces of work I felt I needed for the coming BCO show at Paintworks in Bristol. Working in the traditional sense with children around in the summer proved impossible and I began to explore this frustration by blending the relentless, repetitive actions of domestic life with the work itself, gathering the discarded baking parchment from endless cake making sessions and sewing them together in snatches of time over the summer into a bed sized quilt. The very making of this brought up many memories of my mother's battle with depression and the solace she found in baking, the passing of time involved in the action and the subsequent need for approval from those who consumed it.
September saw the studio development plodding on and most of my time spent sourcing, purchasing and devouring the instruction manuals of the technical equipment the ACE grant has provided.
I managed to squeeze in a visit to the MA show in Winchester and a meeting with artist Laurence Rushby as a result of this blog, to discuss the project, galleries and networks etc. With the car fixed, the washing machine repaired and the exhibition up, October is looking distinctly clearer on the work front.
