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)
After a long and pensive wait we Katherina Radeva, Tom Marshman and I receive our Rules and Regs. They are unveiled ceremoniously and just in case we choose to forger them, they have been imprinted upon the gallery wall:
1. Love the extraordinaire
2. React
3. Develop a dialogue
4. Voc populi, vox dei
Jaws slightly ajar, we retreat back to the discussion table, question the use of language and talk of ground rules. Divisions of space, approaches to work, where we are living, the importance of food (this time thankfully not just my preoccupation). We talk of why we are here, what we hope to gain and how good it is to be here.
Since I am not going to receive my “instructions” for the residency until it begins, packing has become a ‘what if’ experience. If I knew what I would be doing would I still be asking – but what if I need that sketch book from 1979? Those books, musn’t forget the pencil sharpener (of course they don’t have pencil sharpeners in Bracknell),two or three pairs of shoes, to iron or not to iron, hairdryer, kettle, tea pot, masking tape, moisturiser;computer woggle/toggle whatever,walking boots; stills camera, tripod don’t forget the tripod, lunch box?
My partner walks by and looks at me despairingly; I know what he’s thinking – don’t take any of it. I’m thinking – don’t take any of it, be brave.
I am not brave, I am a ‘what if?’ person.
