influential life

it's down to the last few days and the stress is high but there is a definite 'light at the end of the tunnel' feel to this week. that said, given how quickly the last few years have gone by and how surreal this all feels, it's hard to imagine that it'll ever end. even thinking about a summer with no thoughts of going back to uni at the end of it, i can't get my head around it.

while writing up a 'to do' list the other day i started thinking about influences. how do you define an influence? the films you've seen, the music you've listened to, the things you've done, the art work you've seen, the books i've read, the people you've spoken to, the places you've lived, the wine you drink.

this year has been filled with such a disparate array of these that it's hard to pick out the few that have had an obvious affect on the work i've created. there are a few obvious ones, like the changing of spaces i use to reflect, meditate, study, ponder. or the trip to venice last year that opened up a whole new scope of amazing people, artwork, food, coffee and wine. but what about the random people i've met at bus stops, or on planes. or the random music that's on my ipod at the moment. do they really play that big a part? enough to be recognised and recorded?

i decided to write out a list of all the films i've seen lately (that i can remember) and realised that, apart from the few shockingly panny entries on the list, most of them have inspired me in some way. my conclusion: it all counts, but it doesn't all count. suitably vague indicator of the fact that i'm none the wiser than when the thought initially entered my head.

detached connectivity

it's the title of the first piece i finished up today and is (ironically) what i've been thinking about today.

this morning i realised i had no food in the house so before punctuating my week with a flying visit to the beginning of church, then going to uni for the rest of the afternoon, i decided to spend the morning in the park, getting breakfast when the shops opened. normally when i decide to chill out in the park for a bit, i'm the only one there but today there were loads of people. all on their own, but all aware of the other people there. some were reading, some sleeping, some just taking in the hot sun and city style peace.

a lady came along with her dog and was struggling to hold it back while she kicked broken glass out of its path so i decided to give her a hand, clearing the path near me. unexpectedly she stopped to thank me making a comment about how people don't generally think about other people (hence the broken glass.)

later on, when the shops opened, i was ordering a coffee when she turned up there too so we said hi again. this time she helped me out. the till wasn't working properly so i had to give the person serving me exact change, which i didn't have, but thankfully the lady from the park did.

it was a bit of a non-event but it the whole thing just reminded me of how important it is to help out other people, with no agenda. you never know when you might be the one who needs help from other people.

10 days to go

After a week on crutches there's a lot of catching up to do, but I've had some amazing friends stepping in to help out. Doing everything from being honourary carry monkey to priming and painting my degree show space (the person who had it last year left it a lovely shade of dark red, and I need it white.)

So today my parents came in to feed me and help with the last coat of white paint (although it looks like I got more on me than the walls) leaving me freer this afternoon to do the final touches on a couple of films.

The subject matters of the films are quite emotive, but it occured to me that my relationship with them is quite detached. While listening through the final cut of one film in which an old fisherman talks about the loss of a friend of his (along with several other men) in a lifeboat accident, I suddenly became very aware that other people are going to be watching this, some of whom may be familiar with the event, and almost all of whom wont have the same amount of detachment from it as I've had. I must admit to getting a little emotional when I watched it through today and got a little freaked out that I might make someone cry. While on the one hand, it's not nice to make people cry, the relationship of trust between artist and viewer is one that has always fascinated me, and that I've been thinking about a lot this year, so I think it might be quite interesting to see how people interpret what I'm showing in that respect. Whether some people might feel a little exploited (although I'd hope not, since that was not my intention - although it had crossed my mind) or if they'll get it and realise that it's about more than just representations of moments of 'life' (or death.)

It's all a little daunting right now with so much work to be done that part of me wishes that I didn't have to go through with the whole thing, but thankfully that part is well overshadowed by the rest of me that is just really looking forward to showing work that I actually enjoyed making (to a point) and getting a major sense of relief that (hopefully) I've achieved something.

reflections

“Robert Frank’s The Americans (1959) is not read as a “masterpiece of incisive social criticism [as] it has come to be considered,” but instead as “the somewhat narcissistic reflection of a personality caught up in the romance of the existential dilemma.”
- James R. Hugunin talking about Andy Grundberg’s ‘crisis of the real’

Talk about a harsh criticism. I quite like ‘the Americans’ and happen to disagree with Andy Grundberg on this point (although perhaps I’m slightly biased since it’s a photography literature collaboration between Robert Frank and Jack Kerouac, whom I’m totally lovin’ at the moment) but this is something that I worry about with my own work from time to time.

I did a series of photos of shops in a street as the start of some research for a potential piece about immigration in the area, but after I did them I realised that I was simultaneously far too emotionally attached and far to detached to create something of worth. I couldn’t look at the images I’d taken without thinking about memories of the area, and I didn’t have a feeling of belonging there, so was quite apathetic about it. It ran a very high risk of becoming a “somewhat narcissistic reflection of a personality caught up in the romance of the existential dilemma.” So I cut its ties then and there and moved onto a whole new project.

It was a hard thing to do, as I had planned for it to be my main piece so had put a lot of thought and research into it, but at the end of the day I stand by my decision, and think the work I went on to do as a result has been better and conceptually more happy with it.

It got me thinking about another of Grundberg’s musings “For many, history has become entertainment instead of instruction, and the future is whatever we care to make it.”

If art is a reaction, or reflection of culture and society at the time (which, to be fair, it would be impossible to divorce itself from) then taking note from other artists’ downfalls or misinterpretations by critics is an important thing to do, just as much so as taking caution from history otherwise we “return to Plato’s cave and do not pass go.”

When the real is no longer what it used to be, nostalgia assumes its full
meaning. There is a proliferation of myths of origin and signs of reality;
of secondhand truth, objectivity and authenticity.
—Jean Baudrillard

amazing

it's almost over

So stress…

This last run up to the degree show is tense to say the least. I’ve been remaining outwardly calm to get work done and periodically venting on friends’ shoulders when away from uni. They’re amazing people, consistently encouraging me to keep going.

One such friend (who happens to be a midwife) on one such occasion decided to impart some encouragement in the form of an analogy: ‘ it’s like giving birth, except you’re the baby. In the last stages you get squeezed from every side, but once it’s over there’s a tremendous sense of relief and achievement.’

That was on Sunday night.

On Monday night I spent the better part in A&E and left with crutches and a serious urge for a strong expletive. (I had a blister that covered the whole of my heel, somehow it managed to get bigger and because I’d been trying not to walk on it, the front of my foot was in agony and I’d sprained my ankle and knee a little so I couldn’t really walk. So am now under strict instructions not to put any weight on that leg or foot.)

I was more than a little angry so I texted my friend with the analogy how much more squeezing was going to occur, since I already felt like I was cracking, to which she replied ‘ this is your last lap hop along! I’ll carry you if I have to!’

I don’t think I’ve ever realised how important it is to have people like that in your life. I guess I’m probably being a little over dramatic but I really don’t think I could have got through this year without those people that bring you back down to earth and give genuine love and support when you need it.

I am stressed to the max, but I will get through this.

time management is not a strong point

Well, it’s getting in to the last leg of the journey. The final push before the degree show and finally things are starting to make a bit more sense. I have a fair amount of work to show as an installation type dealio with different pieces working off of each other, and a fair amount of stuff not being shown, as secondary work, so although there’s the inevitable, I could have done so much more or better thing going on, I’m starting to enjoy it again and feel like it hasn’t all been a massive waste of time.

There’s no way that the last four years could ever be counted as a waste of time. I’ve learned more about life, people and art than I ever could have imagined. When I was in first year I remember this guy coming up to me and asking why I was here (ie art school) to which I gave the proverbial answer including something about a passion for art. He cut me off with a ‘no you’re not!’ and proceeded to explain that I was here to learn about life and to ‘think and live outside the box’ (nb- I hate that phrase) and he was right. In the grand scheme of things, I’m still a pretty normal person, and I still have a long way to go, but I definitely see the world differently and with a far more open mind now than I did back then. I expect a lot more out of life and in turn am generally amazed at how much it has to offer.

It’s got me thinking about wastes of time. I recently was roped into acting in a film, which took up more time than I would have liked. I had been really ill and in an attempt to ignore said fact, agreed to do some production stills in the morning. By the time I got there I was wiped, so when their actor pulled out at the last minute and they asked me to do a test reading, I didn’t really have the energy to say no. (I know it sounds stupid, but had I been a little less dead I probably would have thought rationally about it and been more reluctant.) I’m not an actor by any stretch of the imagination. By the last day of filming I realised something. I had learned more about the production elements of film and how a director should work than I ever would have otherwise. As well as acting I had stepped in for the odd bit of sound recording, camera operating and a second opinion, when asked for, on lighting. I’ve vaguely worked with film periodically over the past few years but never felt all that confident with it as a medium. Now however, having seen and been around the whole process from initial idea and script to end editing, and having had the chance to experience the filming part from the other side of the camera, I’d feel far more confident, and be more than happy to give it a proper go in the future (something that I think might be of great benefit, and I’m keeping in mind for an up and coming trip to New York.)

What I had first thought might have been a rather spectacular waste of time, turned into a very beneficial experience.