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Yesterday evening Klas and I made our ’Meet the artist …’ presentation to the arts association (and their guests) that runs the gallery where Rest is showing. The evening did not go as planned, and it was very successful! Klas and I had sketched out a (very) rough plan: short general introduction, ten to fifteen minutes each talking about our practices, references, education, and then some questions to each other about the social role of art. The whole whole thing lasting no more than forty minutes – tops.


We never got to discussing our practices*, the entire hour (and even the following hour of informal discussion over cheese and wine!) was very much focussed on the exhibition. We made what I now think was a very wise decision to sit for our presentation. This immediately made everything more informal and (evidently) discursive – which had always been out intention even if we were not sure that we would achieve it. Having been at a good number of Meet the artist evenings I am aware that some times there is an awkwardness in the air that somehow stifles attempts att dialogue. We did not have to worry about that last night! As we round off talking through how we arrived at, and think about, the title the member who has bought ’Kiss’ asked a question … and we were off! What followed was a very enjoyable and enlightening discussion with questions, reflections, and observations from several of the audience, Klas spoke elegantly and concisely, and I apparently spoke engagingly and emotionally. One of the most active members – she and her husband attend nearly all of these evenings as well as the openings, and they even hop in and invigilate when no-one from the committee can – came up to thank me and expressed a wish that every artist could speak to clearly and intelligently about their work. Needless to say I got a bit teary, which I had also done during the evening when speak about grief and grieving.


During the presentation/discussion I realised that I had unconsciously done something that now seems very significant. I had placed two flag works at the furthest possible distance from each other: the black flag leaning into the south-west corner of the first room is the piece furthest from the two silver flags fluttering and flying from the flag poles up the hill fifty metres north east of the gallery. I am so pleased to have had this realisation, insight, in to my own work/curation. Taking just my pieces into consideration the first in the exhibition is ’Kiss’ – two small wine glasses locked in an embrace, the second is the black flag – an undeniably heavy and intense piece, the final piece is two glittery sparkly silver flags fluttering high in the sky. It would be almost perfect if the silver flags blew away on the breeze … upward and onward to new adventures … no longer bound to the earth … released … free



*of course our practices were implicitly spoken of through paying attention to the works on show.