‘There is no story that is not true’
Chinua Achebe, Things Fall Apart
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Dear Jean
I always knew I had a guardian angel. I always knew I had a guardian angel Jean, I always knew I had one I did Jean, I always knew I had a guardian angel and Jean I do. It’s ok Jean because remember I told you in the letter I sent you well you’ve not to worry Jean because I was right and it’s ok don’t you worry now because I always knew I had a guardian angel and I do.
Lots of love,
Jean
Inspired by a conversation between some Twitter friends about a piece in the latest edition of anarchist letterpress journal The Cunnigingham Amendment ( https://warrendraper.wordpress.com/2012/08/22/o-fr…) I’ve decided to take my own 2 week ‘media detour’ involving a 14 day self imposed ban from the internet.
So no blogging for 2 weeks. Or Facebook or Twitter. Or WordPress. EEK. I spend a lot of time on these things. So maybe it was time to step away entirely from the endless twitchy checking of the Blackberry and actually switch the damn thing off for once, go cold turkey.
And actually it has been really good. Without the tyranny of that flashing red light, surprise surprise I’ve gotten more done. My attention span has improved, I’ve read more, my thoughts are less distracted. My brain feels clearer.
And instead of blogging here, I made a zine, collecting work, thoughts reading and findings from the summer. Looking through the pages, I realised I haven’t in fact lost my creative mojo as I had feared. Its just working under a different rhythm, which I’ve yet to discover.
My zine is called ‘We Need These Days To Be Quiet’. If you’re interested in getting hold of a copy you can buy it here for £2. http://jeanieszines.bigcartel.com/product/we-need-…
Many thanks to Twitter compadres @gridula @warrendraper and @bradleybooks for prompting my media detour adventure.
Thought for the day:
“To survive, it is necessary to stand for something within yourself and yet always doubt your deepest beliefs”
Mira Schor
I wandered aimlessly into the studio, and started applyinga sheet of half used gold letraset onto a worn piece of carbon paper.
When I hold ithe paper up to the window the imprints of past use show ithemselves.
There might be something in this.
