High Exposure.

I'm in bed again today; other than reading a trashy novel and playing the occasional silly game on FB, I'm not doing anything, other than think.  So...what to write today...?   Well...the closest I've come to work is a bit of light editing.  I found some poems I wrote several years ago, and have been rereading and amending, somewhat.  Most of them focus on my childhood.  I make no secret that I had the childhood from hell, but I rarely share the details.  These poems, though, look at that.  I've been debating in my head whether or not to share any of them.  I have a profound dislike of work that pretends to be art, when what it really is, is therapy. That said, I think that I have enough distance now, that I can look back on my childhood and see it for what it was, and hopefully, to describe it without histrionics.  So, today's creative act is a poem.

Remembrance.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.  Omar Khayyam

The worst of it is hidden in the dark,

Where nobody at all can ever find it;

The bad things, (like the fights, the slaps, the sobbing

On the bedspread til I slept still sitting up,

Chastised for some infringement

That I cannot now remember, and would not have been

That much), all those bad things I have brought into the open, understood, accepted,

Shrunk to their proper size.    The randomness of it all

Is like my childhood, rule today,  reverse tomorrow,

Punishment inevitable as Mister Frost in winter, icing

up the windows from inside.  At the time, my sister

was so sure that he was real, wanted to make him pay

For every sharp waking, frozen, in the night...

But she grew out of it.  Eventually, I learned

That every pleasant moment had its darkness,

A word, a slap, a scratch, until I cried,

Then, 'something to be cried about'...so

I grew up convinced that all the good things

Do not last, may be stripped away by anyone

At any given moment,  while happiness,

Like Jack Frost, lived in books.

Pleasant moments rarely come to mind:

So linked to darkness, little is remembered.

Snippets of my past, all coalescing. Adam

And his pandrops, Auntie Bell, high tea (with more

than one bit of cake).  More pandrops in the kirk

From Auntie Ebbie on a Sunday, purloined

From her brother, a surreptitious sharing, with

No crunching.  I really don't remember

Any more.  There must be something.  Surely

There must be something.  Clouds have silver linings,

Sun with rain brings rainbows: surely there were more?

I think every artist aims to share something of themselves with every piece of work. This feels like the ultimate in exposure in comparison with visual art, where meanings are cloaked in metaphor and subtlety. Words are much harder to work with for just that reason; give me a paintbrush any time.

Reverting To Words...

,,,because sometimes, only words will do.  This week is ME awareness week; read more about it here.  There are a lot of events happening across the country, across the world, in fact, including Millions Missing, where shoes are set out, labelled with their owners' stories, to indicate the way in which they are missing from the event, and indeed, to some extent, from their own lives.  I can't go to the Edinburgh event (at the Mound, if you want to go along), so I thought I'd mark it with a poem.

Wasting My Energy : A Poem For ME Awareness

You. Yes, you. You who can dance

Whenever you want.  Stroll

Unconcerned wherever you

Wish, run for a mile, or a

Bus without thinking.  Work, laugh or play

Without consequence.  

You really don’t get it, now do you?

Here sit I, wheels for feet,

Buses a distant memory.  Oh yes,

My legs work, and the rest of me: I can

Stand up, point a toe, take a few

Careful steps, then sit down hard

Gasping for breath.

And that will make me

A fraud in your eyes;  that is,

If you see me at all.  Invisible,

That’s me.  (It’s got something to do

With the chair).

Humour me, just for a moment.

Imagine a world filled with pain,

Every action carefully planned, consequences

Weighed up and measured, that is

If just rising from bed can be managed..

Imagine your life without action,

Interaction, meaning: you’re imagining

Mine.  Nobody asks for ME; it just

Happens one day, irreversible,

Misunderstood.  No testing,

Diagnosis or cure.  No treatment.

No sympathy.  Just judgement,

And the shaking of heads. It’s no

Way to live. It’s all there is.

You still don’t get it, do you?

I really tried.

Writing...

is something I have felt I ought to be able to do, but somehow couldn't.  I trained as a linguist; if anyone could write, you would think that I would be able to. I thought that I was condemned to translating other peoples' work, other peoples' ideas...that I had none of my own.  Recently, though, I've been writing a lot, mainly haiku, but some poems, and the tentative beginnings of a novel.  Very tentative.

I've been quite disturbed by the way in which the recent suicide of the truly gifted Robin Williams has been reported, so I wanted to share this.  Those of you who have followed the blog for a while, know that I suffer from chronic depression, and that some of my work is around that.  This is by way of an attempt to explain to people who just don't 'get it' for one reason or another, just what depression is like.

To Those Who Don't Believe In Depression.
I know you don’t believe that we’re in pain. Mostly because you cannot see we’re broken, The things that we keep hidden because we feelAshamed, inadequate, insufficient, lostIn a darkness you don’t seem to see,Mostly because you don’t know how to look.Or perhaps, you’ve never thought that it was possibleTo seem to be one thing, yet feel another,Both at the same time. And yet, it is.We can’t explain it to you; hell, we can’t explain it to ourselves.But it is as real as you are, to us, and though our bodiesAre not broken, we are in pain.How can we explain it? Did you, when you were young,Lose a cat, a dog, or even, perhaps, a person? RememberHow it hurt? Remember being told that the cared for oneHad gone away to heaven? And thinking that you didn’tUnderstand? Such pain, such confusion…but gradually, youFelt less and less, remembered less and less, and returnedTo your usually happy state… and life went on.Imagine that pain, intensified, confusion combined with the feelingThat it is all your fault, the way you feel, that this thing should be happening.Imagine it going on and on, for years and years, without improving; ratherIt just gets worse. And it is never forgotten, not for a nanosecond. 
Perhaps, if you can imagine that, you can beginTo understand, to accept, above all, not to judge.That is all we ask for, we who suffer. It doesn't seem like much.


Personally, I thought Robin Williams was immortal, a touchstone, a miracle.  Through his work, perhaps he truly is.  His death is a reminder that all of us have demons.  Some of us deny them, some ignore them.  Some grapple with them and lose.  Some gain temporary respite... but they don't often go away entirely.  We don't know each others' demons... but we should try to remember that they are there.

Focus, Focus, Focus

a detail from a stitched photograph printed on canvas and machine stitched.

...seems to be what I've been lacking for a while.  I realised that when someone on Facebook asked the inevitable question...'and what is your keyword for the year'.  Last year, I didn't have one...too busy thinking about my health.  This year, focus is exactly what I need. 

So...what am I going to focus on, exactly?  Firstly, much more work with Bertha the large scale Epson printer.  I've got a fair amount of images printed off,. but I need to work with them now.  Secondly, I want to make a lot more felt and generally learn more about creating my own fabric, both alone and with a weaver.  Thirdly, I want to make hats and other excitements, like corsages and fascinators.  Fourthly...I want to write some more about lutradur and evolon, as well as the new non woven that has recently appeared in the Spunart stable, Zeelon.  And the book on landscapes that I'm writing with friend and fellow artist Jill Arnold.  And I think that's more than enough! 

That cuts out a lot of things, potentially, though I don't really know how the work will develop.  There's no mention of mixed media, here, but that doesn't mean  it won't appear.  No mention of teaching, though I will be teaching this year, mainly in the areas I have mentioned above.  I said focus, and I meant it...but that doesn't mean I can't be tempted into other areas if it's related to my major themes this year.  I suspect that this is, in fact, the core of my work for the next few years.  

And now that's settled, time to get on with it...  And watch this space for a few changes to the blog, by the way.  New year, new template, perhaps?  So what is your focus for the year?  Let's see what everyone is doing!

Working hard...

...at finishing off the Brusho book. It doesn't have a title yet...perhaps The Brusho Book would be good? I've got a thing about alliterative titles, as evidenced by Lovely Lutradur and Exquisite Evolon, but there's definitely something about keeping things simple... besides, if I do a follow up, I can call it The Brusho Book II... If anyone has a better idea, of course, I'd be happy to hear it!

There's several interesting projects in this one, including a couple that encourage recycling. One of my favourites, though, has to be the shaving foam printing. It's fun to do, easy and, of course, distinctly messy, though the mess can be controlled in a small area. You know me, I just love making messes! The image is of some thickened Brusho in a container with the shaving foam, stirred up and ready to print from. I think that perhaps I might use that image as the basis of a print for Bertha, too, manipulated and printed on a large piece of Evolon. I'm a great believer in recycling, and that seems just a perfect way of extending the use of a piece of transient art.

It's Amazing...

how much time is taken up by things that have nothing much to do with art at all. And I don't mean the housework, here. I spent yesterday working out what to say on a leaflet that would promote my coaching services and tailored workshops. It wasn't easy. In a way, it's a bit like designing an abstract. What you are aiming for (or at least, what I aim for) is clarity, simplicity and an ability to draw in the viewer; pretty much what you need in a brochure, too. But you do have to think, not just about what you want to say, but also what the person reading it wants to know. This is particularly true of coaching; people use the word, but don't really know what it entails. So, in the end, I said this;

I believe we have the answers to our own problems; it's just that we can't always see the wood for the trees. It's my job as a coach to guide you through the wood, paying attention to all the things that are getting in your way. I ask lots of questions, and encourage you to come up with your own answers. Sometimes, I will show you a new way of looking at things. Other times, I may show you a useful technique for doing something, like managing your time better. I will help you to work out what you really want, and plan how to get it. We can work together for as long as you wish, in complete confidence.

Pretty much, I think that says it all. I hope it does, anyway. In the same way, I think that some of my work says everything I want it to say...and then some. Like this digital manipulation of a photograph of a cracked floor tile, which to my eye, expresses all kinds of emotions. What are you trying to say, today? And how are you going to say it?

Coaching and Writing...My Other Hats.

Ever wondered what a creative coach does? Well, I have tried to explain here, but there is nothing like hearing it from someone other than the coach! I'm featured on Anna's blog, Serendipity, here, so if you would like to see what I do, click on the link and find Anna's story.

When we get stuck, I think it is because we lose sight of what is important to us. Sometimes it takes a conversation with someone else, someone unrelated, to help us to see what is in front of our own noses. When I work with people, I remind them that they are the expert in their own process; I'm just a sounding board. Any answers you come up with during a session belong to you, not to me. I'm delighted that Anna got so much from her session with me. I'll be following up with her in a week's time, just to see how she is doing. I think it's essential, when you get an injection of enthusiasm, that you follow it through. Support is something we all need.

Of course, you don't need to be stuck to work with a coach. You might just have the feeling that there is another direction you could be taking, if only you knew what it was... Talking to a coach about your work can show you that hidden path. Or maybe you aren't sure about the direction you are going in, or just plain what direction to take. A conversation with a coach can clear that up in your own head, which, of course, is all that's needed. Or maybe you need to learn a particular skill, like managing your time, or how to motivate yourself. Working with a coach can sort that out, and help you to create a process that is tailored to your needs.

I've been asked about the book I'm writing currently, too, so I thought I'd mention it here, as it is related to the coaching. 'Extending The Zone' pretty much covers all the things I've mentioned here. I wanted to write a book that combined my art experience with my self development management experience. All the tools I've used in business, like time management, apply in the art world, too. It's just a question of tailoring them to suit each individual, and the book is written in such a way as to encourage you to work in your own way, in your own pace, and tailor the process to meet your needs. I hope it will be out in the Spring...it's nearly finished! It will appear as both an Ebook and a printed book, so you will have a choice.

So, that's what I'm up to at present. Working on the book, and working with other people, as well as making my own work. And of course, working on Exquisite Evolon, the follow up to Lovely Lutradur. I'm having a really good time, I have to say, combining all the things I love to do...just like this coach recommends!

They're Coming To Get You...

came out of nowhere, an evolon piece... it required to be quilted in this way. It's very simple, but it feels somehow panicky. Something is out there, in the big city, and it's coming your way... got to run... got to hide... And then you wake up, and it's just a dream.

I'm increasingly enjoying drawing with a sewing machine. Most of my work now is much closer to embroidery than to quilting... and I hope, closer to drawing than to embroidery. I think there's a magazine article in there, somewhere... probably not a book...sigh. The lutradur book will, of course, be out very soon (I can say that with some confidence), so perhaps it's time to think about one of the other projects in my head... the drawing one will have to take its place in the queue...