Threads

The line begins to blur… I have always considered the things I make to be “The Art”… and only when they are finished. This whole debate about open works and performance has me rattled a little. A few things have happened to make this so:

The whole singing at the station urge (see previous post)

The puzzling over how to site and (dis)play a lullaby that is heard and not seen (many posts, further back)

The other day I was scrubbing one of the collars with bleach to try to scrub out the words so they were less readable. I sensed some hidden viewer on my shoulder watching me do it. Then end result was interesting, but so was the act of scrubbing, the smell of the bleach, the rhythm and the sound. I’m going to do another one, and at least record the lovely scratchy swishy noise it makes.

I am stitching again. I have drawn a fairly large outline on the child’s coat that I am now filling with stitches. My hands hurt, I shall have to stop if I don’t want to develop tendonitis… Again. But the Barely Controlled Urge rears its ugly head again, and undoubtedly I shall carry on sewing unless someone finds me something else to do. I like how this little coat is looking, is the pain incurred implicit in the amount of stitching seen? Or should I also show the photo of my swollen tendons to beat viewers over the head?

Do other people, and by this I probably mean artists, have a little audience sat on their shoulders, or am I developing some sort of personality disorder?

I think today’s work plan will be scrubbing, filming, recording and photographs. I’ll post something here if it works out, or perhaps even if it doesn’t. That might ease the achey hands for long enough to enable me to sit sewing for a couple of hours this evening?

Its nice to hear the things you think said by someone else, particularly from someone you regard as being in a rather more exalted position than yourself…

“Oh I do things instinctively, there isn’t a direct relationship with any theory I might be reading or other work I am interested in. I don’t know what it means when I make it. I go with what I think is aesthetically right. Any real meaning happens later”

(I’m paraphrasing one of my lecturers)

So it’s OK then. Keep it simple, do what you feel. Have confidence in the voice your work has. Don’t worry, be happy. Easy peasy.

Also had a bit of a mad moment this morning that has prompted much thought since.

I am having one of those obsessive listening spells I often have, and have described here somewhere before… The object of my obsession is a Doves song “The Man Who Told Everything” (my iPod tells me I have listened to it 36 times in the last few days). I was listening to it whilst waiting on the platform for my train into Birmingham. I had a barely controlled urge to dance to it and sing along. I didn’t know the words very well (I do now, I looked them up). I wondered while stood there tapping my feet and humming inside my head, would I sing if I knew the words. What would I change that would make it possible for me to give in to the urge?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ubJx_5x3yOE&ob=av2e

With this whole songwriting, singing, recording thing going on, people (fellow students, tutors and so on) have been going on at me about performance. To be honest, apart from the occasional urge as above, this fills me with horror… actually, the above urge fills me with horror too, as it would be unplanned and the men in white coats would be out before I got to the bridge (pun intended). At the moment, any performance on my part is contained within the recording: controlled, manipulated. I think the sight of me sat there doing any live performance would detract from any message I was trying to say. I would be like that bloody chest of drawers that I used as a display device. Everybody talked about the furniture and not the work.

So lets keep me out of it eh?

I’ve been making, as I promised myself, and here are some photos of the first stitched shadow. Rubbish photos as always, much too yellow… apologies!

Hands, around the sleeve of a child’s dress, grasping perhaps… or guiding?

I think the stitches may be too dark. I think I’ll leave them, not unpick them, but may do the next a bit lighter. It is impossible to tell when you hold a single strand against a piece of cloth, the effect of a cluster of stitches once worked.

Still reading fiction. Bliss!

Still listening to Tom Waits. Ditto.

There’s been far too much reading and thinking, thinking and reading going on in this house for my liking. Interesting, but I’ve discovered it is rubbish for my sense of direction in terms of my own work, and gives me a feeling that everything I’m doing is unworthy. So I have decided to stop reading and thinking for at least a month.

I shall make things, sew, look at pictures and read things like Terry Pratchett instead. I shall listen to music while I cook. This morning (sorry if this starts to sound like Housewife Country Living Blog) I am making cassoulet and chocolate orange cookies, reading Pratchett in between the timer buzzing, and listening to a variety of stuff meandering around my iTunes library. One thing leads to another and back again. I started with Aqualung “Memory Man” wandered down to Bombay Bicycle Club, made a short stop at Clem Snide before heading for Radiohead “In Rainbows” wanting something more strident while the meat and onions sizzled, but then getting annoyed with Thom Yorke when the sizzling stopped, heading back to Aqualung’s “Still life” instead. Tom Waits beckons, but my 16yr old son makes disapproving noises when I start that up, so he might have to wait till I can sit with the headphones on.

Might have to invest in some EXPENSIVE cordless headphones, not the cheap ones I bought a while back and moaned about (I only have myself to blame, No-postage-£5-from-Hong-Kong is never going to provide a quality product is it?)

I haven’t posted photo of what I’m sewing because it has the construction marks and guidelines all over it, and you won’t see what’s going on, so I’ll save it till I can wash out the marks and show you properly.

I have eschewed the Arty Bollocks for a while. The blog will be descriptive, pictorial and “Oooh what a lovely shade of yellow” until I get my head back where it should be.

The photos are of the clothes I bought a couple of weeks back. They have brown paper shadows attached to them on my board for me to regard while going about my business. They move about, and sometimes get discarded. When I’m sure what they are doing, I’ll make them more permanent in some way.

So I feel as if I’m in a holding pattern. I’m relying on the making to sort me out and point me the right way. Usually works.

Blimey what a week! No, actually that should read… “Blimey, what a Wednesday!”

I have been messing about with my recording again. The latest song, Keep Calm, I think it is called. Although in its short life it has had 3 titles… at some point I’ll decide…. Anyway… less blathering….

I recorded a harmonising vocal with contrasting lyric over the chorus. Don’t know why, this phrase “In a minute” came to me, and I wanted to record it. So I stuck it over the latest song. I was fairly content. I wondered what it would sound like as a man’s voice. My work, as you’ll know if you’ve followed any of this bloggery, is very rooted in the feminine and the domestic. I zapped a bit of GarageBand magic at it and there I was, singing in a very deep voice… too deep actually, but it gave me the impression, enough to do some sort of evaluation of its masculinity. Of course, it changes the song totally. The phrase itself changes the song too, but the “male” voice makes a hell of a difference as you would expect. The fact that it is not a male voice, but my “masculinised” (is that even a word?) voice also begs a few questions. So by playing about, I’ve given myself a great big headache. The gender of my work has always been important, but I’ve managed to avoid the discussion quite successfully so far. The time has come I feel, when I can avoid it no more. So, those of you that are familiar with the issues, I could do with some guidance through this ignored, uncharted territory.

My fellow students have been enormously helpful in getting me to this point, prodding and questioning.

I had also started thinking and talking about pronouns, but for some reason had not done the joined up thinking between the “male” voice and this… Most of the writing I have done has been in the first person, and because of that, some of it has been pretty uncomfortable. Last night, on my latest piece of text, I changed all the “I”s to “she”s. Suddenly it all made loads of sense. By merely changing the pronoun, I have removed myself. Or I have created a persona I can blame for everything. Then taking another leap, I removed the pronouns altogether. I now have an un-gendered piece of writing, that merely by its context, suggests femininity, probably, but not in the words themselves. Interesting.

I’m also now thinking that I have overloaded “Keep Calm” with too much stuff. A common mistake when you start working in a new way or try new media. I think I’m going to remove the new vocal, and the possibility of a masculine, or masculinised voice and save them for another, simpler piece.

I’m going to work on the piece of writing a bit more. Examine its remaining femininity. Get it to scan more happily, it’s a little clumsy here and there. Then I might post it if I feel brave enough. I shall think about whether to post all 3 versions… That might kill off the remaining readers that haven’t got fed up of me up to this point.

I know I’m doing a lot of blogging lately… hope I’m not getting boring, but my brain is whizzing and this outlet seems to help!