Keeping It Going

First sunny day in quite a while when I can just about stand being outside for any length of time. The boxes – all 102 of them (I’ve reduced them down by one already!) are out of the shed for now, stacked up in the garden while the source of the leaks is looked into. I’m not taking any more chances of having things ruined – especially the paper work. Hopefully, the process won’t take too long …

It’s fascinating looking into the boxes’ contents once again – en masse, that is. So many numerous, diverse objects seen through the plastic – blurred and yet, recognisable.

 

Next part of this momentous journey is to get the garden studio sorted so that I can get back to some sort of normality. There’s a lot of stuff jammed in there still – hardly touched since using it as a dumping ground for the contents of my former studio in the week between Christmas and New Year. I’m remembering the sound advice given to me by family and friends – ‘there really is no rush, take your time, pace yourself’ and so on. And so, I’m doing my best to be sensible so that I don’t burn myself out by working all hours god sends, as is my tendency.

There really is no hurry and I can say that so much more comfortably now that I’m more readily accepting this whole sorting process as an integral part of my creative work. Strange that I haven’t until now, really but then I think that’s largely due to the fact that I’ve never been totally open about the amount of stuff I have.

Any reference to my collections/raw work materials in the past has mentioned a substantial amount of stuff, but I have never, until recently, been completely open about having one hundred and two 30 litre boxes full of  it! Indeed, did I even know I had this amount until this whole process started? Having different bits and pieces stashed away here and there meant hiding in some respects – not consciously, I don’t think – but perhaps, thinking about it, my subconscious knew what it was doing. There’s a lot of embarrassment associated with hoarding and the stigma associated with it can make me feel hypersensitive to any discerned judgment. I know that I can become pretty defensive whenever the subject of how much stuff I’ve collected is broached. And so, rather than running away from facing the truth, I’m starting to embrace it. It actually feels quite refreshing to be open and honest about it all – down to 101 now, even as I type this post!

I’m looking forward to getting the shed leak proofing done and the boxes back in place by the end of today. I want the door closed on them, both physically and metaphorically, so that I can turn my focus to getting the garden studio sorted and back to the work I left way back at the end of December 2024 – the work around blankets, synonymous with comfort and warmth, the very things I didn’t feel at all at that time.

Or perhaps not? Perhaps my focus will fall on something entirely different and new? Who knows what this recent upheaval might bring? Change is good, they say – as good as a rest – and rest is something I intend to take in between the ongoing sorting.

Today I focused on getting work ready for a member’s show at a local gallery, as well as working towards the deadline for an open call – the  shed roof repair will just have to wait. The weather forecast is also predicting some rain free, warmer days coming up – and dare I say it, even some sunshine – and so, waiting a few days seems like a good idea.

In the meantime, I’m gathering together the stuff I’m happy to let go of and preparing it for a stall I’m sharing with a friend at a local vintage sale on Saturday. The mantra throughout the recent sorting has been very much about, do I need it for my art, or do I want it in my house? If the answer’s no, then it goes. The vintage fair on Saturday will be fun. I’ll try not to come back laden with new stuff, though if there’s something I can’t resist, why not! – all part of the ongoing (never-ending?) sifting and sorting process. Who knows if anyone will be interested in my cast offs, but it would be nice to raise at least a little bit towards the cost of the shed roof repair. We’ll see …

Meanwhile, the sorted and catalogued boxes now reaches the sum of 103. They fit comfortably in the garden shed and once it’s all watertight, I hopefully won’t need to think about them too often – or at least, not until I want to access any of them. This will put me in a good place as far as being able to focus and concentrate on new work, I think – at least, that’s my hope. It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time – storage in one place, with a separate working space in which to focus on a specific project. Historically, my studio spaces have been full of distractions – too much stuff, cramming and dominating the area. I’m hoping that, through finally getting my raw materials stored, out of sight and yet, thoroughly recorded, I’ll be able to turn my full attention to the work at hand.

I’ve chosen a few random boxes with their contents from the list of 103 boxes as an example of just how diverse and varied the items can be. Somehow, they all feel worthy of being kept – at least for now. It will be interesting to look at the list again in a year or two, to see how I feel about them then.

For now, it’s back to sorting for another purpose – ie. the stuff that’s destined to go. This morning, while starting to think about putting prices on things, I was reminded once again about issues around value and worth. It’s an ongoing thread through my creative work and reminiscent of the questions I asked of 10×10 participants: ‘What is an object worth to you? How much do you want it and how much are you prepared to give in return?’ 

Those questions will only make sense if you’re familiar with my 10×10 project. If you’re not and you’re interested, you can read more about it here:

http://www.katemurdochartist.com/10×10.html

 

Box 5

Inside vintage chocolate box:

A woman’s worth poem – ‘but the woman worth while …’

Senior Service tin with bits & pieces inside

Coloured glass

x2 vintage glass lampshades

Floral tin with embroidery threads

Vintage tin with men’s faces (some vintage cars inside)

x2 miniature ceramic girls holding flowers

Vintage tin – ice skater with a couple of things inside

Very cute ceramic girl playing piano – musical

Vintage tin of young girl in fur mittens & hat

Ceramic QE pomander

 

Box 23

Plastic:

Trays & plastic placemats

Wedding horseshoe

Xmas tree (miniature)

Orange vintage plastic pot with lid

Orange plastic chrysantheum

Hair rollers

Blonde action man

Miniature plastic domes

White plastic jelly mould

Round pink ’60s mirror

Brown plastic mirror

x1 fabric covered coat hanger

Egg timer

Carnations in glass holder

Swan with plastic flowers

 

Box 39

White feathers in box

Small jar of plastic dogs

St Leonard’s wooden box with shells for phone money

Mills & Boon books

Bath cubes – skaters on a pond (Victorian)

String dispenser (white ceramic rabbit’s head)

Victorian woman with string in mouth in oak 30s frame

x2 1980s Friendship books by Francis Gay

Gold framed glass box with silver small letters

2 packs of vintage playing cards – Donkey & Old Maid

Small silver spoon

Tomatoe sandwich signpost

Vintage fuzzy felt florist shop

Black purse

I black plastic rifle (small ‘toy’ size)

Typhoo tea cards – costume

x5 Radio Modeller magazines with women on covers

London graffitti book (80s – mainly politics)

Ballroom dancing tie on plastic beige & brown tie rack

Ceramic flowers

Home Sweet Home pot with purple flowers

x2 Friendship vases (one a Welsh souvenir)

My Love horse shot glass (1948)

Small yellow rose vase

Fergie & Andrew mug

Ceramic boy violonist

Small cash box with ballroom dancing medals, x35 tiny plastic wishbones

1970s green ceramic elephant (with chipped ear)

Small novelty ceramics:

Miniature chamber pot with an eye in the bottom

Small boob cup with German message – schmuser (?)

 

 

From the water damage archive: thinking about potential loss and how to best protect the raw materials for future work. With one hundred boxes now sorted and their contents catalogued, it’s time now to focus on making the garden shed as watertight as possible. The sewing needle box lids I’d collected took on a beauty of their own through becoming saturated, but I’m not going to take the risk with other objects. I lost some brilliant collage cuttings the last time there was a leak, some of which I’d held onto since bringing them back from the USA in 1989 – there’s nothing quite like the quality of those black & white images in vintage ‘Life’ magazines. I have no intention of letting anything else be ruined, and so it’s all eyes now on making the storage space as waterproof as it can possibly be. As such tasks continue to take me away from making work, I have to keep reminding myself: all this sorting, all this preparation – it’s all part of the process!

‘Objects in other boxes, however can conjure up memories of people and places I once cherished and loved and there is a deep sadness attached to some of them, with all the emotions associated with loss and grief – of love and remembrance …’

Getting close to the finishing line now with the sorting of some 100 30 litre boxes – trying to go with the flow and learning to accept that there will be interruptions and pauses, as the need to process things arises – ‘things’ being the deep rooted emotions often associated with particular objects. I’m starting to appreciate even more the importance of taking time to reflect and step back – to digest and process, taking my time to absorb the emotional impact of some of the things I find. And, of course, as well as the objects themselves, there are all the feelings associated with them – the passing of time, paths taken and the outcome of life choices, ageing, etc – all such thoughts around, while sifting through the paraphernalia of the past.

So, last week I took some time out to do other things – and though ‘recover’ sounds a bit melodramatic, it did feel like I needed to regain my strength before getting back into sorting again – I wanted to protect myself from becoming overwhelmed in the process. It’s not all difficult, of course – and depends a lot on what I find. Some of the boxes are full of things to which I have no emotional attachment whatsoever and the sorting’s consequently, straightforward and painless. Objects in other boxes, however can conjure up memories of people and places I once cherished and loved and there is a deep sadness attached to some of them, with all the emotions associated with loss and grief – of love and remembrance. Many of the objects have become potent vehicles for exploring such feelings – hardly surprising, then that I’ve found myself not able to face the sorting on some days, needing to take a break from becoming too immersed in the past.

I’ve also been reminded in conversations with friends, family and fellow artists recently that this entire process is part of the work and really, there is no rush – much better not to feel stressed by it and to enjoy the journey as much as I can. Having been involved in this scenario many times before however, it’s clear that it’s not always going to be enjoyable – in fact, the process can be quite upsetting at times – there is so much more involved in sifting & sorting through the boxes than the physical act.

Pressing on with it, though is crucial to my long term plan of working from home. It’s all about shuffling around and making space wherever I can. Once the boxes are fully sorted and their contents recorded, I can then start to focus on getting my working space sorted. It’s going to be quite a while but it all feels do-able – just so long as I manage it well and pace myself, both physically and emotionally, in the process.

Another good, constructive day in terms of sorting and cataloguing objects. Eight more sorted and repacked boxes are now ready to go back into the garden shed, the plan being that in the long run, I can put my hand to just about every single item I own. Today’s task has freed up three 35 litre boxes – mainly paperwork – notebooks & exhibition catalogues, plus newspaper cuttings. It’s a good feeling to have spare boxes – space is precious, as I’ve yet to sort out the stuff I dumped in the outside garden room when I moved out of my studio – the ongoing, juggling continues!

Up until the recent leak, I’ve never worried about leaving stuff in an outside shed in my garden and as it happened, the water damage turned out okay as far as the objects were concerned, adding another kind of dimension to the needlework basket lids, for example. But irreparable damage was done to the contents of one box – numerous pieces of paper I’d gathered and collected together over many years. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I wept when I found them, sodden & saturated and totally unusable. I’m not taking that risk again and am keeping papers, books, etc that are important to me indoors for safekeeping. The pamphlet about The Cherrypickers Football Club of Glenbuck, a small mining village just three miles from Muirkirk, my Dad’s birthplace, is an example – an irreplaceable pamphlet, outling the incredible story of the Cherrypickers who had fifty players make it to senior level in football. Many of them played for famous clubs and seven of them gained international honours. It’s a record unequalled by any other place of similar size in the whole of Scotland, a record of which Glenbuck is justifiably proud. Bill Shankly was born and raised there too, though The Cherrypickers FC apparently folded before he was old enough to play for them.

I have a couple of other things to fit into tomorrow but my plan is to be back at the sorting at some points throughout the day. I need to be disciplined if I’m going to be able to create more space for the stuff I brought back from my studio. I thought about that space today, wondering how it’s looking and what’s happening there …