Art opens doors. Or gates.
Since the sculpture is the main priority now that the time’s running out, I decided to devote the studio time to making the last cast in soap, and take the carving home. It’s easier doing it at night, as I can’t paint without the natural light anyway. Then, without any warning, the sun suddenly reappeared. I decided that the only way to remain sane was to take my table and tools outside and get some sun at the same time as working, and so I found myself outside of my house yet again, but on purpose this time. I thought I might get a few looks, but I got more than a few appreciative comments as well. In fact, after the second day of working outside, I’d spoken to neighbours I’d only known by sight for the last four years. Mr. T and I found ourselves invited over by our pipe-smoking, tractor-driving farmer neighbour and his wife to bottle feed two sock lambs (Bernard and Meep Meep). Just as I thought the cuteness had risen dangerously close to lethal levels, we were introduced to some turkey chicks in their incubator, as well as Bear, the ex-racehorse who liked to get into one’s personal space, his three horsey mates, and two proper farmhouse dogs. Four years in this place and look at what spending two evenings outdoors with a wooden head does! Oddly, it’s not the plaster cast that gets the conversation going, despite the fact that I’ve obviously made that as well; it’s the wooden version that people relate to. It’s interesting how the change in material affects people.
But just in case you were beginning to think that the biggest development in my week revolved around farm animals, you’d be wrong. It was definitely the purchase of 12,500 grams of soap from the 99p store. Sounds better than 25 value packs. I decided to try the rebatching method for my sculpture – there’s been quite a bit of delving into the online world of soap, purely for research purposes – and that meant endless grating of bar after smelly bar, then cooking the whole lot in a cauldron, pressing the congealed gloop into the mould and hoping for the best. Thankfully, Ellie helped me to grate the last four or five bars, when I’d lost the will to grate ever again.
Between the beeswax which Kate L.’s been using for her fungus sculptures and my hot soap soup, the sculpture room has been an olfactory revelation for most passers-through. Almost everyone who has smelt my wares has said the same thing: that it reminds them of their youth. Primary school toilets and the like. For me, however, it’s been a fairly disgusting experience, as I’ve had to stand over my bubbling pot of soap gloop when I really can’t stand perfumes. It’ll be over very soon though, as the two halves have come out of their cases, and I just need to join them with hotsoapsoupgloopglue. Patent pending.
With only a few days until the studios start to be broken down and the exhibition build-up starts, it’s probably a bit crazy to still be experimenting, but I’d say there isn’t much I can do about that. I’ve never done any of these things before, but I said I’d do them. Sometimes you’ve just got to step out into the soapy unknown.
