Project Me

During the second part of a writing exercise at school this week I had a rather startling (and wholly unexpected) glimpse into aspects of my practice. Last week we had been asked to recall a childhood memory that we could develop into a short text. It always takes me a long time to come up with things like this so I was glad when the teacher prompted us with the suggestion that we could start with a particular smell. I have a strong like for smells such as fresh tarmac, warm rubber, and also musty cardboard (sometimes I blame a childhood accident that broke my nose for my ability to savour these fragrances and be completely oblivious to many floral scents). The musty cardboard that I had in mind was that of the old trunk and boxes where we stored our Christmas tree and the decorations. So on my rather minimal spider-diagram for my text I wrote that I loved Christmas in a bubble at the end of one of my spider’s legs. This week we got our diagrams back from the teacher who had marked one thing that we should start to describe in more detail. On my paper she had circled “I loved Christmas” and added a question mark.

In answer I began to write not about Christmas Day or favourite presents but about seeing the illuminated Christmas trees in the windows of houses on our way home from grandma, and the excitement of my father taking those fragrant boxes down from the loft and erecting our faithful old artificial tree. My excitement was not just about the twinkling lights, the sparkling tinsel and the assorted collection of other ornaments, I think my excitement was in part about being part of something beyond my own family, my own town, perhaps I had a sense that putting this glittering tree in our living room window we were taking part in something beyond ourselves, something which (despite the secularity of my family and the materialism of Essex in the 1980s) was actually a sign of some kind of faith.

And suddenly it came to me – I am trying to do the same thing with my art. And now when I look around the studio I see how much of my practice now is about being part of something larger than oneself, and how I am doing this with increasing amounts of glitter and sparkle …

In my search (and research) for glitter I had a meeting with a man from a specialist theatre and event lighting contractor on Wednesday afternoon. I was surprised and delighted at how professionally and seriously he took me and my request for such comparatively small amounts of material. At the end of our conversation he said that now he better understood what I want to do (cover one side of an old door with glitter) he will contact his suppliers and discuss which are the best materials and see if he can get can some samples. I warmed not only to his professionalism but also to his lack of “hard sell”. Afterwards I wondered if in Sweden with its small population genuine customer satisfaction is worth more than a few fast notes in the till. Would I have received the same level of service in London if I had gone to a similar scale company there? What I want is not even part of their regular stock or business it just happens to be produced by one of their international suppliers.

I feel as though I am, by association and necessity, becoming more “professional”. I wonder where this will lead ….



I am tired; it has been a busy week. My head is swimming with the tasks for my Swedish course (finish reading a novel that I only bought last week, learn all the tenses of 10 irregular verbs, write and rehearse a presentation about my ‘homeland’, and revise chapter six of the course book for test next Thursday). In addition to this (and possibly to keep things in ‘balance’) I found myself coming up with ideas for a (short notice) installation opportunity as well as starting to think about how my experience of London studio groups might be useful in developing a strategy for the studios here now that the site is earmarked for redevelopment in three years.

Birgitta, who I worked with on the snow carving projects, asked if I was interested in doing something for an event she is organising on All Saints Day evening (Hallowe’en). At first I was stumped and could not think of anything that would fit the bill; outdoor, in a field, little or no technical support, undefined budget(!), one night only. Two good ideas came to me while running on Monday morning (it was a beautiful morning to be out early running along the water front). Birgitta and I met yesterday and I am delighted that she likes both proposals. Next week I am going to do some trials and see what works before I make a decision as to which one to develop.

A talk at Iaspis last Friday evening started me thinking about why ‘fine art’ and ‘elitism’ are often linked together. It struck me as a peculiarly British and possibly even English phenomenon. There is nothing intrinsically elitist about art (fine, contemporary, etc.). Most museums in the UK do not have entrance charges; I accept that many charge for temporary and special exhibitions. Commercial galleries might be a bit daunting to visit but again they are free, unlike the theatre, cinema and most sporting events. Art is perhaps one of the most inclusive things I can think of (but then I am an artist): you can often see it for free, you can do it on your own or with friends, it is often (though not always) text free so you don’t need to speak the same language as the artist … So how does it come to be thought of as so elite? Perhaps one thing that is required is time, and sometimes a lot of it! And in the UK there is an almost palpable sense that time is money.
My experience so far in Stockholm is that generally people have a far healthier relationship to time than they do in London. I also have the sense that people do not immediately think that (fine) art is elitist. Things are never this simple however the relationship between time and art is interesting.

Suhail Malik (from Goldsmiths) was one of the three speakers and presented an argument for an as yet unknown alternative to contemporary art that is “more real, more political and more social”. Given the chance I would argue for the exact opposite! After many years of projects that were too real, too political and too social I realised that the best thing I could do was to stop, go back to the studio and produce the best art that I could. The work that I started to make was so much more than the real, political, social stuff I had been producing (myself and on participatory projects) and in my mind it started to function as art rather than illustration. Not only that but also far more people became interested in what I was doing, and not just in the art world. The conversations I had with friends and neighbours (who are not involved in the arts) became much more exciting, dynamic and rewarding when we talked about forms, materials and colours. And seeing what my friends’ children and I could make out of scraps of old fabric was so much more creative than any project “about” recycling ever was …

It has been a busy week; productive, exciting, challenging, thought provoking – I am “good” tired!

It is also exactly one year ago today that I moved to Sweden!



Last night there was an opening in the gallery here at the studios – a painting show. It was very nice to find myself speaking with one of artists (a Finn living in Berlin) and realising that we know some of the same people in London. Later on and talking to another ‘wip’ artist he told me about his show in Norway which it turns out is curated by people that I know there. Perhaps it is time to re-consider my current feelings of being invisible and adrift …

Writing is on my mind. Partly due to my reading of Enrique Martinez Celaya*’s writings and partly due to the number of writing exercises that we do on my new Swedish course. These two parts are however miles apart: one being the thoughtfully constructed words of an intelligent (and humble) artist, the other being an assortment of poorly thrown together Swedish substantives, verbs and adjectives with the hope that they come close to being a clear and simple sentence. Moving between these two word worlds is dizzying. Despite my attempts to resist I find it very hard not to try and write in Swedish in the same way that I write (and read) in English – and at this stage it is just not possible. The sense of frustration at not yet being able to write (or say) what I think is new to me.

It would be interesting to know how my fellow students experience the same sense of having a divided self – part capable and eloquent, part incapable and dumb. It is not that I want these two parts to level out, I want the less able part to reach at least the level of the more able if not to succeed it. The irony is that in our primary school Swedish we are unable to discuss anything approaching this!

With the new course I am back to having just afternoons in the studio. In December I will sit for a National Test along with all the other course students. Already I find myself looking forward to January and starting again with part-time studying.

A parcel of ties arrived this week. They are from a good friend’s partner whose father recently died. Although we had discussed her sending them to me on the phone and I was expecting them it is an entirely different thing to unwrapping them and sitting with them in my lap. I do not know what to do with them. The previous pieces I have made with second-hand ties play on a rather crude double-entendre that seems wholly inappropriate for these ties. The anonymity of things from charity shops affords fantasies that familiarity does not. I have a feeling it will be some time before I am able to work with these ties.

www.gsa.se/gallery/index.php?option=com_con…

* His show at Andersson / Sandström is wonderful. There are two paintings in particular that appeal to me, The Confession and The Early Hunger.



A discussion between Sophie Cullinan and Elena Thomas, on Sophies’ a-n blog – which is a great read, about what constitutes “best” in terms of materials lead me to thinking about the phrase ‘survival of the fittest’ and how I had misunderstood this for many years. (Misunderstanding seems to be prevalent at the moment!) In addition to thinking about materials I have begun thinking about what is ‘best’ and ‘fittest’ in terms of where I want to show my work. Perhaps it is not so much a question of what kind of gallery but what kind of context. The distinction may initially seem trivial however the more I think about it the more appropriate it seems as a starting point for investigating options.

The context in which an artwork is encountered lends, gives, infers some kind of meaning in some way. Or if not meaning, then at least it provides a framework within which you begin understanding the piece before you. Writing this now I wonder if this has not always been something that I have struggles* with.

When I have written about approaching ‘a gallery’ I have specific galleries in mind. This week I went to a talk organised (in part) by my favourite commercial gallery here – Galleri Andersson / Sandström. It was a fantastic interesting stimulating conversation between the artist Enrique Martinez Celaya and writer Theodore Kallifatides in response to questions of Exile, Reconciliation and Creativity posed by Kerstin Brunnberg from the city’s culture department. Beyond being great in itself the evening made me realise why I like this gallery – their artists tend to be academic and intellectual in a very personable and approachable way. It was an absolute pleasure to hear both artists criticise the rise of cynicism in the arts and education. Yesterday I started reading Enrique Martinez Celaya’s collected writings (1990 -2010), I have the feeling that this is a book that will certainly inform my practice, perhaps not in terms of content or appearance but certainly in terms of conviction and perhaps if I have sufficient courage in terms of context.

The attraction of a commercial gallery is not the possibility of making money in itself, rather it is the possibility to ‘earn’ time and means to produce more, to go further, to develop. Therefore it is essential that it be the ‘right’ commercial gallery, one with interests beyond the art market: a gallery that sees their artists and the art that they produce as more than just a commodity. I am sure that most commercial galleries do this however I am certainly drawn to galleries where this feeling is (to me) palpable.

Enrique Martinez Celaya’s show opens at the new Andersson / Sandström gallery (they are re-locating to a far bigger space) on Saturday – I am really excited to see his work!

Sophie Cullinan – the abject object

* a typo – meant to be struggled but struggles is better – more present!



Approaching the first anniversary of my move to Stockholm it is not surprising that I am looking back as well as forwards. It is hard for me to believe that this time last year I was packing up my house and dealing with solicitors … so much has happened since then! The question of how to proceed, and what with, has been on my mind this week.

More than being challenging the new Swedish course that I started is (I think) too advanced for me. After much thought I will see if I can change to course that my test results allowed me to ‘jump over’. I have learned that having good results is not the same as having a good grounding in a subject.

The most important thing is that I continue with my practice and get more involved in the art scene here. Last night many of the commercial galleries in the north part of the city opened their first show of the new season. I went on my own and met no one, there was one person that I was introduced to several years ago but he was engaged in an intense looking conversation, other than that I did not recognise anyone. Part of me likes this anonymity and the time it gives me to look at the art and to watch how other people look at it. However my invisibility also reminds me that I am on nobody’s radar and that I have yet to establish friendships that include going to openings. For some reason the people who I know best at the studio are more involved in design and the alternative art scenes than the commercial galleries, though there are several artists at wip with very high profiles in the Scandinavian gallery world.

I keep coming back to the same question: how is it possible to shift from being an artist who showed in alternative non-selling shows to one who shows in a commercial gallery. Sometimes it feels as though I should be drawing up some kind of plan or strategy, other times it feels as though I should just walk into a gallery and introduce myself. I am certain both these approaches have worked for different people.

I remember an illustration in an early a-n publication it showed an artist sitting in a hole in the ground, even their head was below the ground level, the speech bubble above the artist read ‘I am waiting to be discovered’ (or something close to that)*. So what can I do now to be discovered?

· Acknowledge that I want to be discovered!

· Visit galleries outside of opening nights and introduce myself.

· Have an ‘open studio’ event

· Invite people to the studio

· Apply for open shows

· Attend artist’s talks and events

· Organise my own show

· Join an artists’ group

The additional benefit of going to talks and joining a group is that my language skills would have to get better! And I would be learning an artist’s Swedish!

On a more practical note I have started to read about doors. Two interesting things:

1. The Ancient Egyptians painted false doors in tombs as they ‘believed’(?) that these were thresholds between the worlds of the living and the dead.

2. Janus was the Roman god of doors. Janus is the god with two faces looking in opposite directions, thus he sees both past and future. I called an installation of mine Janus – it involved spying into rooms above and below the gallery space.

The quest for a few kilos of silver glitter continues!

* I have just found my battered old copy of Making Ways (1989) and I completely misremembered the illustration! The artist sitting in the hole is waiting for their “next stimulus” and not to be discovered. Never mind, my mistake started me thinking!