Day six
A thinking day, I spent the morning following different leads, the Second Life attempt failed after several attempts to download the new version. One of my ‘avatars’ waits patiently in Help Island, her hair and skirt blowing in the virtual breeze.I have refined my questions to the visitors.
Do you think the people have a voice? Now that you have been elevated to the level of God what would you like to say firstly to me, secondly to me as the artist making this work.There is a pattern forming to the answers.
One of the visitors says to me “If it doesn’t feel right don’t do it”.I paint a little, it feels right. I am learning to use the medium again for the first time in many years. As I do this I can still hear the voice of Gordon Law my first painting tutor he says “plenty more gravy Mary”. I did bring the sketch book from 1979, I did it because it was the first record of me ‘living’ in a gallery as part of the Innsbruck Performance Art Festival with the group Reindeer Werk. I am surprised by the level of thinking and the same struggle is there at the beginning of the process. By the end of it, learning to be aware of living was the resolve. I heard only recently that one of the other young artists on that project committed suicide after it.
This creative life is never one of ease.
There are patterns in the letters in my writing exercises. I am following my instincts, reacting to the rules. It is probably a little too obvious a connection but at this moment it feels right. I have a jotter, I somatically remember to draw my guide lines, one for the base of the letter, one for the height of it, half way up. I didn’t know I had remembered this. Vox Populi, vox dei. It is a command. As I write the command over and over I meditate upon the words. I struggle to write well. I break the words up into letters, there are patterns in the letters, like stitches.
Day 5
Tired, worked too long yesterday. Interviewed a few more gallery visitors over cups of tea and coffee (must get some decent china and possibly a few biscuits wouldn’t go amiss) and scripted the dialogue using assigned voices. The scripts can be played, although all the voice choices have American accents, such irony. Questions from me centred on whether the people have a voice and the uniqueness of the person I am meeting. Their questions to me centred on what we are trying to achieve, who it’s funded by, why this work, cross-overs between one art form an another and interest in the way that we are interpreting the rules.
Searched for Person’s Extraordinaire, found some interesting candidates, one of whom lives in Bracknell tried to meet him in Second Life but it is so long since I have been into the ‘other’ world I have forgotten the name of my avatar. The God’s of this ‘new’ world only give you a limited selection of names and I find it hard to take such imposed limits to heart, or come to that, walk. There are wonderful possibilities for communication in this virtual land but I still prefer the sensation of touch. I talk of the importance of drawing, share a mutual love of artist extraordinaire Cy Twombly with one of our visitors. Searched for instructions on how to hold a séance. Keep coming back to ideas around a gathering, a gathering extraordinaire. I drew.
Have been asked to suggest discussion points for a meeting with arts advisor from ARC, Susan Diab. I put forward marketing and visibility because it’s the last thing on my mind when I am inside the work making it. Like now, I realise that I have only put this blog link on my Facebook comments and it was probably rendered invisible after about an hour by all the other comments.
Realised that vox populi, vox dei as an imposed rule means that whatever the people say I must obey.
Since you have now been elevated to the role of God, is there anything that you would like to say?
Any comments or instructions please to [email protected]
Day 4
Woke with an overwhelming desire to keep the visitors busy with lots of things to do. I am veering towards a voice workshop. My questions seem a little too obvious.
Long, long drive to SHP; the fifty miles of bollards on M1 with about a dozen workmen between them, made the journey an hour longer than normal. On arrival Installed old style desk and chair, a card table, a work table from SHP has arrived. I’ve started to inhabit the space. Interview one person, others reluctant to talk or have no time. Am thinking of the religious connotations of the rules, whilst feeling disciplined by them, hence the desk. Start to draw and write ‘lines’. I had no idea those writing lessons from the age of six are still with me. I still struggle to get my hand into the right position, I am left handed, I smudge the page.
I search for more images, download the virgin Mary on toast, Jesus in white robe and arms outstretched on a dog’s bum, tricks of mediums. I write yet more notes, tomorrow I will type up the dialogue from today and put on automatic script reader. Stupidly long day, but seem to be moving in a forward motion rather than doing a clumsy slalom.
Day 3
Anxious, I always forget that I get anxious at this point, the endless scanning for the right idea. My brain surfs, stopping occasionally to focus on one thought, one direction, gathering more information then moving on. Perhaps all the hours/days/weeks that I have spent on the internet in recent years has affected the way I think.
I am consumed by the desire to find a solution, everything is a possibility – a banana ooh yellow, engaging, delicious fruit, should I have a fruit bowl, sofa, table, kitchen, chef extraordinaire, learn a skill, sugar sculpting?
I am anxious about talking to the visitors in the gallery, with its own rules and regs, permission to do this and that. Can’t give the ‘public’ a cup of tea, unless a) I have warned them of the health and safety implication, rather than just saying “watch out, it’s hot” b) checked with the service manager that I am not in conflict with the official caterer c) negotiated furniture upon which to put it from another department who have their own budget and therefore there are fiscal considerations. I’m sure there is a way, there’s always a way.
I take to the large sheets of paper and move from limitations to possibilities again. I will ask our ‘guests’ if they, or if they know someone who can do anything unique. I have collected an old style school desk and chair, I remember St. Dunstans’ with its flint walls and high windows. I wish I had four of them one for each rule. Is it too obvious? In reaction to Tom’s talk of roller skates, tomorrow I will take in a scooter.
Day 2
Enjoyed a steady day exploring the rules within the space, emptying my over-packed box of tricks, delighted that I had brought a copy of 501 scientific experiments. Made several large sketch pads. I want a blackboard, something visible but transient, non permanent. Something physical that we, the visitors and myself, can work on together.
I arrive with a plan to gather visitor opinion on whether ‘we the people’ have a voice. There are expectations to engage and to be engaging but haven’t decided how to gather this information, Vox Pop, video booth, interview, written, drawn responses, voice workshop, I have until Thursday to decide. Will find out how quickly I can place an ad in the local rag.
Realised that overnight I had translated ‘Love the extraordinaire’ into ‘embrace’ it/he/her. I think of celebrity worship followed by a gratuitous leap to stalking, unrequited love, ritualised adoration, ceremony, sacrifice. A meeting with Outi Remes, fleshes out the curatorial intentions of the selection. ‘React’ was chosen in preference to ‘research’, selected to promote more spontaneity. ‘Extraordinaire’ as opposed to ‘extraordinary’ for specificity but not intended to be limiting. ‘God’ in rule number four is quite overwhelming- What God, Whose God, Is there a God? Do the people have a voice? I download images of the Stop the War March (2003)
