Threads

Hosted by Stuart Mayes and Glitterball Showroom.

This residency took place at Ateljeföreningen Hospitalet, Uppsala, Sweden from 12th to 16th June 2024

I took with me a bundle of the wrapped twigs from Five, Six, Pick up Sticks, and a bag of materials to give to Stuart: some ties, some detached shirt pockets and some old crisp white starched collars from formal dress shirts.

Stuart supplied all sorts of materials and a selection of fixings from his studio.

The initial plan was to keep in mind the word and concept of Correspondence… because that is what we have been doing since 2011. We have commented on each other’s blogs, emailed and sent images, we’ve critically discussed each other’s work, commented and supported over the last 13 years or so with increasing frequency.

Stuart and I met in Stockholm just once before, in 2016. The conversation has continued and we now often have Skype studio visits and work in parallel while we talk. After a few of these, we decided it would be great to meet again, and maybe do some work together.

So here I am, Corresponding!

We worked together, sometimes in companionable silence, sometimes in raucous laughter: “It’s NOT a Dick-Hat, it’s a Reading Bonnet!

Day 1 (Thursday) felt a bit like a getting-to-know-you dance: we took it in turns to place items and manipulate the space, asking, seeking agreement, “Do you think it would be good if…” “Do you mind if I try this?” We established our language and our modus operandi. We assessed the potential for correspondence. We left the space at the end of the day happy and thoughtful. That evening over dinner we discussed what had happened, what had been successful, what hadn’t, and ideas we had for tomorrow.

Day 2 (Friday) was interesting in that we slowly dismantled and replaced what we had done the day before. Even those things that had seemed precious in the moment. We stripped away all the colour, to concentrate on form. We folded the tables we had worked on, to give us back the space in the room. If day one had been about surfaces, lines, and negotiation, day two was about space and form and spontaneity. On day two, it was harder to tell who had contributed what. I think we talked less, and possibly laughed more.

Stuart has a grand collection of fabric and household textiles. These loves we have in common, and he has very generously given me some to bring home.

We lifted sheets into the air, hanging them from the ceiling to divide up the space, to conceal and reveal as we walked around the space. We let them bathe in natural light, from sunshine in a bright blue sky. We tried artificial light, we closed the blackout blinds and added spotlights. All these differences were noted and documented. But we felt the liberation of not having to make decisions, just experiencing the different opportunities offered.

We collected new, naked twigs as we strolled around the Hospitalet grounds (the old psychiatric hospital is surrounded with huge and ancient trees, appreciated and planted for their healing nature) and then we stuffed them into pillowcases, carried them around, piled them up, placed them and balanced them carefully. These materials provided from both our studios started to correspond sensitively to each other, making friends, as we did too.

As we reached the end of the afternoon, it was good to welcome Stuart’s friend Mareia into the space too, good to see her move quietly among our makings, appreciating the qualities of light and form, and of course the materials that had brought us together.

As we disassembled the installation, we took last chances to rearrange, and took things away slowly, enabling us to reassess, and take even more photos.

We put the room back together for the next users, stacked tables and chairs, and swept up the debris of threads and twigs, leaving no evidence of the activity, creativity, and the products of those things.

I expect both of us will study the photos over the next weeks, extracting meaning, and inspiration, and we will no doubt post again with those findings. But for now I just wanted to describe what happened, what we experienced, and how we worked around and with each other. It felt rare and special, and effective. We will undoubtedly be following on from this.

On our last evening together as we ate leftovers and shared the last cinnamon bun, we talked about how risky this might have been, or might seem from the outside. We’ve only really met once before, and despite all the Skyping, it might seem foolhardy for a 63 year old, not very mobile woman to fly to meet someone she doesn’t know very well, to live in his home for five days. And risky for Stuart to let this woman into his house, without even asking if she had a criminal record! (I haven’t).

The correspondence that led up to this however, brought us to the point where it didn’t seem at all risky to us, just a natural progression for our professional relationship to explore the collaborative possibilities. And of course to cement our friendship. Stuart will I’m sure appreciate the peace and quiet this evening, as we have only stopped talking to sleep since he met me at the station!

A friend who can make you well up, and then laugh with you till your ribs hurt, is a good friend.

So now it’s gone a bit quiet, I think I should don my Reading Bonnet, and perhaps my new green Ladies’ Slack.

(Is that a slack for green ladies?)

Thank you Stuart. x

On Wednesday I fly to Stockholm.

It seems weird really, that this thing is actually happening. 

I have known Stuart Mayes for about ten years, since starting my blog on a-n.co.uk. We started out by commenting on each others blog posts, and talking about each others work. There seemed to be a correlation in the way we work, and the materials we use. Then a few years ago we met in real life when I went to Sweden with the group of artists that had been involved with the Colonize group exhibition in New York. We spent a wonderful afternoon together and didn’t stop talking, we drank tea and coffee and ate cinnamon buns… as is required when in Stockholm. After that, the correspondence continued, friendship sealed by the real world contact. Then recently, probably over covid and since, the correspondence has become more specifically about how we could do a joint show, or collaborate in some way. I sent Stuart some shirt collars and cuffs and he made a beautiful piece of work from them. When it comes to garments, and using them to stand as signifiers, I think we are on the same page. It seemed to us that the way forward was to spend some real time together in the same place. 

Last year I decided I needed to release a small pension. It really isn’t much, but it adds a little to my monthly income, and I set up an Art Travel Fund with a lump sum. Once that was done, the obvious place to go was Sweden.

So here we are now, my suitcase is almost packed and I’ve even learned a little bit of Swedish. 

The plan is that we will work together in a project space that Stuart has booked for our residency, with whatever materials we can find to express this feeling of connection, this Correspondence. We don’t know what this will look like, but I am sure that we will come up with something that neither of us would make on our own. A good collaborative relationship shows you the world through someone else’s eyes, using the tools in someone else’s toolbox maybe?

We will also do an evening event of conversation with each other and to other artists. 

I have had other artists ask me how I “managed” to go to America, and over the last week or so, how did I “manage” to get myself invited to Sweden. They ask as if this is some sort of magic. It Isn’t. Neither is it some sort of Grand Networking Scheme. What it is, in both cases, is years of Correspondence. Connecting with people, not out of a desire for global travel and status, but out of interest in each others work, I talk to people, to artists, whose work I am fascinated by, we talk about what we are reading, making, seeing…

In my experience, artists can be insular, exclusive. Take a leaf out of the musicians’ handbook. Musicians are more curious about what other musicians are up to, and musical collaboration comes more naturally, it is the nature of the beast to be in a band. So this is what I am, I’m in a band. It just so happens that we aren’t all living in the same country.

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I’m reading four books at the moment:

Object Lessons by Eavan Boland

Dandelions by Thea Lenarduzzi

Introducing Semiotics by Paul Cobley and Litza Jansz

The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction by Ursula k Le Guin

And I’m also frequently dipping back in to Correspondences by Tim Ingold.

I quite often read more than one thing at a time. It’s to do with attention span, mood, and quite often tiredness and how my eyes feel.

What that does is often it causes confusion… “which book did I read this thing in?” But more often than that is it causes the firing off of connections.

Object Lessons concerns the life of the author as an Irish poet, when she finds that some of her Irishness is missing, due to being taken to London during her childhood. So in England she is always Irish, but in Ireland, she has missed crucial connections… some of the language, the culture and common memories with her peers do not exist, and what’s more, she has trouble finding her voice as a poet. (In post-ww2 years.)

The bit I am reading in Dandelions features a family divided, a father working in England, deciding whether to move his family to England, or whether to go back to Italy. (In the pre-ww2 years.)

There’s a rootlessness present in both, a longing, and practical, pragmatic, economical and political reasons for staying or going. I relate. I am the product of the exile and the emigrant, who met and fell in love in their new country, from very different backgrounds. They stayed, my brothers and I were all born in England. I feel no desire to find their beginnings. I may be a little wary of them. And this is undoubtedly where my rootlessness is rooted.

In the semiotics book I am drawn to the theory of Umwelt, the environment that is personal and particular for each organism. Each person perceives their Umwelt according to their own unique set of circumstances. They are a signifier for that Umwelt, and from that Umwelt, their nature can be surmised.

In the Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, imagine the carrier bag, which contains all that we are, our history, our experiences, everything that goes into making us who we are. What we then make, write, create in any way, comes directly from that carrier bag. It is filtered through it, even if we are writing of someone else’s experience. According to Le Guin, we use the stories we know to tell new stories.

So… this has translated to my current studio endeavours. Having finished the large drawings for the RBSA Candidates Exhibition, and fired up by my election to full membership, I am seeking the next big thing. (By this, really, I mean any thing that warrants my attention, that interests and intrigues me enough to pursue it.) Because of the reading, I am seeking amongst what I already have. I have twigs, stones, drawings, textiles… I am spending my time exploring what these objects mean to me, how I can change meaning by changing context. I assemble, disassemble, and reassemble in different patterns, and repetitions. Boland talks of CADENCE: rhythms and cycles of activity, language, and behaviour. By returning to the familiar, I can find the underlying cadence, tune in, and write a different story… perhaps.

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Too Busy To Work…

I know I am not the only one, having read the words of my fellow bloggers, to feel that sometimes life as an artist can sometimes mean one is too busy to do the work.

April and May have been madly busy, with art-related things, but not actually in the studio making. 

I had a trip up to Liverpool to see Wendy Williams and her latest exhibition; I’ve attended the presentation evening for my certificate of full membership of the Royal Birmingham Society of Artists (more about this later I’m sure); I was invited to become a director of a Community Interest Company run by Helen Garbett and Bill Laybourne, who I have written much about in previous posts… to which I said yes; and I’ve had all sorts of family and domestic events. 

For the next couple of weeks though, I have more time to be in the studio, and more time trying to figure out what to do next. I think I need to have some idea before my trip to Sweden for the residency with Stuart Mayes.

I am also learning a little bit of Swedish in preparation for this.

For someone who loves language, I’ve done surprisingly little learning of other languages, other than my native English and I have a little bit of left over school French. I have to say, I am really enjoying learning Swedish. I can still only speak in the present tense, I have trouble with pronouns and in Swedish the definite article is trickily attached to the noun in different ways, rather than being a separate word. Word order in questions gets muddled, but I am starting to be able to say a few things and understand a few things, beyond “Two beers please!” 

It has made me realise even more sharply how important words are in my practice. I think this will form part of the work I do while on the residency in Uppsala. Trying to describe my work in a different language when I have enormous limitations is a challenge!

But what it does make me do is pare down all the unnecessary frippery I hide behind in English. Not exactly arty bollocks, just all those extra words that don’t add much to the debate.

So I am pondering this while I look across the table in the studio. I’ve not really been able to get my teeth into anything since finishing and installing the work for the Candidates’ Exhibition, but what I am doing is rearranging some things in front of me. Some old stuff, some new, and a return to textiles, just to see what connections I can find… correspondences… communications… comparisons… are all these works talking to each other? Or do they speak a different language? I suppose it’s my job to act as interpreter. 

Hej, jag heter Elena, jag är en konstnar som tolkar ord och föremål.

(I hope that makes sense Stuart, I had to look up “objects” but is it the correct objects? You did say something very wise to me the other day about understanding the language rather than learning the words. Very interesting.)

I’m at the point now where everything is metaphorically on the table. Anything is possible. I’ve got to the point where I don’t want to draw any more sticks and stones. I don’t want to do any more large drawings for a while, due in no small measure to lack of storage space. (Starting to think Barbara Walker’s got it right… draw on the walls, get a really good photographer and then wash it all off and paint over it.)

I’m doing a bit of stitching again. This feels right, comfortable, efficient, fluent even.

I’m writing, ideas in essays rather than lyrics.

I’m clearing the decks, tidying the studio, moving things round.

This reshuffle is where the next ideas will spring from. I’ve put away the drawing equipment. I’ve scrubbed the table and vacuumed the floor.

I’ve ironed a large piece of black cloth to cover most of the table. But conversely I’m thinking I will take the black off the wall and paint it white! (At the moment it’s a sort of Office Magnolia)

These changes to the working environment throw up different possibilities.

On the black tablecloth I have arranged a series of the vessels I’ve been making… and then I’ve been filling the vessels with the sticks and stones and other things from around the studio. This playful shape-sorting makes connections. I will continue shifting things around until something sticks. Part of this might well include inviting other artists in to play, and to talk about how this correspondence between things works.

If you’d like to take part in this, please get in touch.

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