compress of ideas
attempts to speak my mind
posed questions and tweets sent
unconvientional blog post comprising of disjointed one line statements
crtitically attempting to be critical
ideas out waying ability to produce
awareness of a world and paralising blinding sight of what.
oh dear.
a wet Wednesday in October and the answers will not be coming anytime soon. recent memories of another risky project : taking an interactive installation to a theatrical scratch night. what part of me didn’t scream at the idea? i took part because i was invited to. i agreed on the basis of a model of the evening that didn’t repeat itself. i’m left asking myself “what do i need right now?”
personally i need to be gentle on myself.
professionally i need to make peace with all my ideas and ideals and be happy that this might leave me in a metaphorical village with one bus a day continuously on a figure of 8 journey.
i have to admit i’ve corted the thoughts of giving it all up. stopping. admitting that no one wants to see my work.
i make a cup of tea and sit in my new found world of not making, not expressing, not exploring, not playing. not allowing my mind to be curious. denying myself the doing of things that i enjoy to do.
and i remember the one person that really got and really enjoyed the work at the scratch night. 1 person in 40.
and i think why did i even think that 40 people would get what i do? i do some quick maths. 2.5% of the audience got my work. that’s under half of the percentage of the population of the uk that go to the tate ( 7% ) .
i sip tea.
i consider my preciousness.
i consider my sanity.
i consider my food bill.
i consider my self worth.
i slow down.
i sip my tea.
i write a long list.
i sip my tea.
(what personal complex do i harbour that needs what i do to make me whole? )
(what part of my making is therapeutic?)
(what part of my making is about me creating a world around me void of things i don’t like?)
