As promised this will be the final instalment in the Diary of a Foundling Artist. The show came down yesterday. I was working so couldn’t go down to help out so I just have to wait and see what turns up (Sandra’s mugs would be quite useful although my daughter is most looking forward to getting her hands on the tv). I’ve had the last official email from Gill (actually there were two) and now I have to look forward to the post mortem (evaluation) with Commission East’s appointed person (Erica). I like to be grudging in these situations but on the whole I think I’m quite happy with the way it’s gone. I’ve got some good contacts to follow up and I’ve extended my practice (and use of artspeak). I’ve also realised that maybe I should be pushier in certain situations (I’ll leave that one hanging). Bizarrely I’ve heard that I am on the radar of certain gallerists. This conjures disturbing images of strike submarines or air traffic controllers and near misses. Exciting things in the future: a three week screening in Sydney, a solo in Hayle, a 3 month residency in Bedford and an intriguing little one day show with Vane in Newcastle.
I wasn’t sure how to end this blog until today. At 4.00pm, after 16 rather savage years, I finally had to have my dog put down.
I missed a seminar yesterday because I had to teach. It was about pricing and selling my work which is something I have always had difficulty with. When someone asks to buy something I've made I have to fight down an urge to give it to them and then run away. If asked to come up with a price I always think I'm asking too much or too little. I'm not philosophically averse to selling, if selling meant I could escape the increasingly awful experience that teaching in an FE college has become I'd sell everything: my dogs, a kidney… Shame I missed it.
Today I was tidying up my studio. We have an open day coming up and I want to show some of my latest stuff to see if its any good. I'm just beginning a longish film which might be based around a fictive proposal not to go to the Antarctic (as I imagine its quite cold and probably full of artists). Its a bit dark at the moment and is mostly filmed in a washing up bowl. Anyway, I was mainly throwing stuff out and breaking up sculptures that don't look as interesting as they used to when I had a little moment of joy. I noticed a sheet of tracing paper pinned over the heater had risen in the convection current. I set an image of a boat on it and watched as it rose and fell in the swell.
I think I'm getting a little low