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.

thoughts from the past few weeks

A while ago I came to a realisation and have decided to do something about it before the end of uni.

It occurred to me that I’m a bit of a collector.

When I move to somewhere new, after a while, I take out my camera and explore the intricacies, and general points of interest for me in whatever place I’ve adopted as a place of meditation (aka that chill out and breath space), generally the garden.

My current place is a garden.

This kind of garden is like the forgotten fingerprint of a place. A tell tale imprint of tenants past and present: The remnants of a proverbial flat BBQ; a stone placed haphazardly on a tree by some friends, mid conversation; a sofa, threadbare, exposing its weather-worn rusty springs; a thread of strawberry plants, once cared for and cultivated, now barely distinguishable amongst the overgrown, under tended foliage.

A garden.

Not in the traditional ‘white picket fence plus one’ sense, but a place of being, attached to a building. A little bit of outdoors, a shameful attempt at nature, that does barely more than facilitate a gap between one building and another. This says something about a place. This is what I collect.

So now I’m at a point where I have four or five groups of definite documentations of my spaces I find and don’t want to let another one go by without realising. This one I want to respond to a little, like some sort of thank you to the space for letting me use it, by using it a little more.

These photos have been a big influence on the work I’m doing now, but don’t fit into the whole degree show thing so I’m going to do it as an outside thing so as to bring some sort of context to the work inside.

Saturday

So Saturday…

I had a friends wedding Friday night so didn’t get home till very late. All week I’d had one of those hovering cold things where one minute you feel fine and the next you feel dead, I thought it had gone but by the time I got home the next morning I felt like rubbish and it didn’t really go away till about today.

So Saturday, later (but still early) that morning I headed up along the coast to a farm to spend the day there in the hopes of capturing some footage of lambs being born. I didn’t get an actual birth but I did get some newly born ones with their mum, which was pretty cool. I couldn’t believe how quickly after they’re born they get up and get going, it was pretty amazing to watch. Most of the day was spent with the farmers wife, showing me round the field and barns, feeding sick lambs, eating soup, and generally getting aquainted with the whole sheep lamb thing. I had no clue how much work was involved and definitely have respect for anyone who does it.

In the afternoon we spent a good few hours watching one particular ewe that looked as though it might lamb. (I became very aware of the fact that I’ve never stared so intently at anyone’s bum before.) It was a bit chilly so we spent the second half of the watch in the farm van in the middle of the field. Some time had passed when I suddenly realised that I was asleep (more than a little embarrassing, even if I wasn’t well, given that I was trying my hardest to pretend that I wasn’t, and they were surviving quite well with lamb induced lack of sleep.)

Since last September, every four weeks I’ve been helping with a prostitute outreach thing. It’s a bus run by a rehab centre and is essentially just a place for them to go and talk to someone, get help if they need it, or just a cup of tea and biscuit. It’s been going on for years and has been pretty awesome. As much as I look forward to my shift, I was pretty whacked and didn’t want to drive the hour there and again on the way back (finishing early Sunday morning) but I’d left it too late to swap with anyone so had to go.

Quite recently some laws were changed (that make me angry so I’m not going to go into them) but I means that where there was a relatively safe tolerance zone, now there isn’t and the girls are being arrested. In theory it sounds fair enough, but it means they’re being pushed into unsafe areas, or underground which is even worse. It’s been a total out of sight out of mind move by the government in my opinion and actually a pile of rubbish [insert rant here].

So yeah, the only reason I’m mentioning it is because it was decided on Saturday night that the bus should come to an end in order to re-evaluate the situation. It was a pretty sad moment, but a necessary one, the only girls left at the old tollerence zone are the occasional really young one who hasn’t been arrested yet, or the occasional older one that has been away for a bit and come back. Sometimes I find it hard to believe how much good can be ruined by the actions of just a few.

That said, it’s had it’s season and has done so much good that it could never be seen as a waste of time. Makes me really happy to know that there are people out there who care enough about people to set up and stick with projects like that.

It also meant I got to go home to bed an hour earlier than expected which was no bad thing.

the sun is out

Today is a gorgeous day! The sun is shining, the birds are singing and I’m stuck in a basement AV lab editing audio and film from last weekend, and I’m feeling pretty disillusioned with uni at the moment, struggling to find motivation for the final hurdle.

Despite the circumstances I’m in an inexplicably optimistic mood. I’ve been a bit sick for the past week and today is the first day my lungs haven’t hurt and I got a whole lot more sleep than usual last night so I guess the good mood’s not that inexplicable.

And it is actually a really gorgeous day.

couple of days

I've been off the circuit these last couple of days but have now returned.
The last few days have been a mad flurry of scooting between various places, collecting work, materials etc and trying to organise a trip to a farm this weekend to go film lambs being born. It's amazing how much time it takes to fit in all that stuff. Im developing an appreciation for the bus service here, it might not be the best but without it I'd be completely skuppered.
This morning I was shattered so decided to take my breakfast and eat it on the way to uni (the theory being that the quicker I got some fresh air, the quicker I'd wake up.) It turned out to be a gorgeously sunny morning, one of those when the sun streaks across the ground emphasising the shadows cast by city buildings and saturating the grass so that everything is shiny, green and blue.
There's a park on the way to the bus I catch so I decided to go there to have breakfast. Best plan ever!
It was so relaxing, as soon as you got in there the city around became stiffled background noise and the park in all it's peacefulness was all there was.
What a great way to start the day.

What to do?

"I'm like an honourary spectator in my own life.

Photographs bring people closer to life and reveal things we would never normally see. They force us to pay more attention to the subtleties and awesomeness of the world around us; to appreciate it a little more for its beauty. They can show us suffering, passion, harmony, or something as simple as a pebble on a beach."

It's coming to the end of my time at art school and I am so desperate to leave.

It's not that I don't love it here, it's just that I'm ready for a change. Some new water to float ideas around in.

Alas, before that happens there's a lot of work to be done, one particularly looming thing being the degree show. Thursday is the day that department year have to go get photos taken for the catalogue and I've been toying over what to put in. I mean, how can you choose one piece from a group of pieces that work as a whole (and perhaps I've over thought this a little) that is going to sum up the whole intention of your work, while simultaneously becoming an image that when people look back at the catalogue after the show they say 'hey, that was part of the work by that girl...[hopefully insert something positive]... who studied PEM'

My work has been a lot to do with perception and reality over the last few years. (hence the above quote from a couple of years ago) The connectivity of life on the whole. In particularly I've been exploring the role that photography (and art) plays in that. Photography can never be more than a representation of reality; a tool to record a moment that passes quicker than we have to acknowledge it's existence. For me it is often a means of looking and collecting in order to later reflect and dissect or ponder over that moment or thing that was, in a different context.

So I came to a conclusion that I'm not going to put a whole piece into the catalogue. Apart from anything else, some of the work as a whole wouldn't really translate to a 2D space in a book. I'm going to put in a part of an image that for me, connects back to the above quote, and to a certain extent, relates to my relationship to my work. The voyeur and the subject (although obviously I'm a little more hands on than a voyeur.)

This weekend

This weekend I’ve been considering daffodils.

I hadn’t intended on starting this short documentation of life leading up to the degree show on such a theological note, but given that this is essentially a space where I can freely articulate my thoughts, and my understanding (or lack thereof) of God is generally the basis for how I perceive the world, I decided to go ahead with it anyway.

I recently moved in with a good friend of mine. I met her on the Sunday, moved in Monday morning. After unpacking my stuff I noticed a vase of daffodils on my desk that she had put there for me.

It’s coming to the end of the time of year when daffodils are a common sight along verges and in parks in the city. There to be admired by passers by. I have been one of those admirers, frequently walking past a flurry of them on the days I choose to walk to uni, but none of them have meant as much to me as the few that sit on my desk.

A week or so went past and my daffodils that gave a cheery yellow greeting to the morning sun began to wilt. I began to ignore them a little so as to avoid the fact that I would have to throw them out soon.

I eventually resigned to the idea and headed to my room to carry out the sad act only to discover that my flatmate had replaced the old dead ones with new fresh ones.

The world we live in is laking in hope. The economy, the poverty, the insanity of it all. But somehow, don't ask me how, God is bigger than that. I guess this year has been pretty hard in the lack of time and inevitability that soon uni will be over, but not yet, and I just realised how easy it is to miss the daffodils if you don't just stop and evaluate. Daffodils are like a little sign of hope that spring is here and summer is just around the corner but they don't last forever. I've been stopping to take note of some daffodils lately but then they always seem to fade after a bit, but it always seems to be, that just when I'm about to give up hope, some fresh ones appear, just when you need them. They may not be earth shattering in they're affect, but that's not to say they're not appreciated.

almost time for a holiday

okay, so the last entry was a little on the concise side of life, but my fingers were all typed out.

some thoughts from the dissertation of doom:
"Philosophers and scientists for years have been trying to figure out a 'theory of everything,' but is this even possible? It may be that someone already has, a gardener perhaps happened upon it while tending to some weeds at the bottom of a garden somewhere, however, when he passed on the epiphany to the gardens owner it was lost. They did not see the world in the same way and as such the gardeners 'theory of everything,' which took root in his knowledge and love of nature, did not make sense or have meaning to the owner, whose understanding of life was based on their love of numbers and logic."

yeah... so...

now that thats over i can get back to the world that the rest of us live in (or as much as is sensible).

this year i have been really enjoying making art. i'm completely out of my depth and not sure where it's going since it took some unexpected turns, but i'm really enjoying it for maybe the first time in the last few years. i've always loved it, but there's a difference between love and enjoyment.

so this week i spent catching up on christmas kids movies and studio work, all in preparation for a relaxing couple of christmas days off.

It's over!

The dissertation is done!

Well... part one anyway...

So tonight, in honour of this festive time of year, I'm going out for cocktails with some friends! Can't wait!

a late update

Venice was AMAZING!

I felt like a kid in a sweetshop. Days were filled with great art, (some that wasn't so great, but overall overwhelmingly good) great coffee (involuntary shiver worthy) great scenery (walked for miles round cobbled streets and bridges flanking canals and all surreal in their classic architectural beauty) and great food (it was Italy, 'nough said)!

It really helped put some of my work into perspective, so came back feeling suitably inspired to work, and to make the last few years at art school count for something other than just great life experience.

Unfortunately all that work comes with work that's not so exciting... aka the dissertation of doom...

I can't stand writing essays, and generally follow the 'procrastinate now, don't hesitate' motto for said assignments. I worked out fairly quickly that I could write around three thousand words in a night (so long as I have a sufficient supply of serious coffee) and achieve a decent grade. Unfortunately, this essay is a little longer... There is a certain feeling that comes from knowing that the essay you are writing is the last essay you will ever write (potentially) it's a mixture of empowerment, leading to you wanting to give it your best, and anxiety, you realise that this one actually counts for something where the others didn't.

The annoying thing about this one is that because I started it an awful lot earlier than I ever have before, (and it's based on what I'm looking at in my studio work) I've got really into it, leading to a highly pretentious, deeply philosophy based essay that backs up half it's theories in the realms of quantum physics. Don't ask me how I got there, it was not intentional. So now I'm stuck with the task of connecting together all my disparate ramblings. I figure this could go one of three ways:
1. i crash and burn (this one is not so likely)
2. Everything goes fine or
3. I have a mid writing epiphany... call me in a few years when I've discovered the theory of everything. (also - not so likely)

Long story short, this is my life right now: a scary amount of work (which I'm actually really enjoying... can't decide if that's a good thing or no...) and a desperate effort to avoid Christmas, at least until the new year anyway.

im off to venice!

well it happened again...

but i have to admit that breaking down in cars has brought me into conact with some lovely people lately that i never would have met otherwise so there's really nothing worth complaining about.

my current lack of car is even less important for the next week since tonight im leaving for venice for the biennale. a solid week of art. although it hasn't really sunk in yet, i think i might be excited.

so much for my carbon footprint though im mildly ashamed (although actually not) that after this trip i'll have clocked 16 flights this year. the chances of this happening again are fairly slim so i guess it's not that bad.

If it's cold just run around in circles!

Scotland is a strange place at times. I think it might be because of the people here.
I've never felt particularly like I belong here but don't get me wrong you can't help but love it here. I think that might be because of the people too.
Winter comes along, everything gets a little bit minging, (the short distance between house door and car door becomes a mini expidition - the wind attacks and your hair is left standing upwards or shooting off to the right, or if your really unfortunate it'll be the rain and you'll be soaked through) but what do we do? Complain incesantly? well... yes. But what else do we do?
We take the cold weather and turn it into the best way to cool down after a ceilidh.*
You gotta love that attitude. It makes this time of year something to look forward too. Lots of ceilidhs and stovies, mulled wine and fireworks.
I love it.

Although, regardless how many celidhs I go to I always forget how much it's going to hurt the next day.(I was at one last night. Muscles hurt that I didn't know I had and have bruises on my arms today - nevertheless - seriously good fun!)

*mildly insane energetic scottish country dancing

It's winter.

Why is it that winter always seems to sneak up out of nowhere? It happens every year and every year we (that'll be me) feel hard done by and taken by surprise.

Wednesday I walked outside with no need for a jacket. Thursday some shockingly strong winds made for a very interesting drive to uni (lorries blown over etc.) It seemed pretty cold but I figured I was being melodramatic until i found myself in the middle of a snow storm in the afternoon.

So it's official. It's winter.

My car seemed to notice too. I just picked it up from the garage on wednesday and on thursday it died in the middle of rush hour traffic smack bag in the middle of a main road. I'm pretty used to breaking down, I think it's a gift, so wasn't fazed by it, but it was just a bit annoying given that it was new so there was no way I could have broken it that quickly.

I don't do cars. They're a necessary evil. So here's my theory: never let them catch you thinking nice thoughts about them (they were starting to float around my head just before it stopped) or it grows an ego for which the engine doesn't have the right capacity and so it self destructs.

I think I might be on to something...

the best layed plans

Okay, so I may not have gotten off to the great start (or any really if I'm being honest) that I had hoped for. But in my defence - here's my defence:
My parents (who I'm currently living with) went to Kenya for a couple of weeks leaving me my dad's car. Unfortuanately that meant I had to run my brother to work - a two hour drive there after 6.15 wake up call, and near two hours back for a late dinner and early bed.

I thought it was going okay until the tiredness took its toll. Unfortuanately on my dad's car rendering it useless for the best part of a week and left me stuck away from uni chasing up the garage to fix it before my folks got back (nobody wants to explain why there is a car less in the drive after a long flight.)

Fortunately for me the mistake I made (filling up a diesel car with petrol and driving it till it stopped) cost a fifth of what it should have in an amazing turn of events where the engine didn't need replaced. The very definition of relief given that my financial status is that of a student and I didn't want my parents to pay for my mistakes.

Should anyone find themselves in a similar situation take note of the following stroke of genius...

I made a heap of apple spiced muffins for my grandparents to thank them for coming to the rescue. Seeing the results I realised that this wouldn't be te worst way to break the news to my dad on his return that despite the apparent fineness of his car it may in fact die at any point over the next week. But muffins dont possess the caliber needed for such a task. They just don't cut it. What was needed, was brownies. Not just any brownies, but the best brownie recipe in existence to my knowledge, impervious to drying out and sufficiently gooey.

Lo and behold the 'but I made brownies' line never fails to bring a smile to any silly thing I may have done for the last couple of weeks. I tell you - genius!

To account for the time between te cars return and now, I must rely on all the catching up that had to be done mixed with a couple of bad colds.

So now I'm back, and although I have learned come to the realisation that during a final year at uni, it's actually not possible to blog every day, I will make every effort to do so at least once a week (probably a saturday) and more if anything interesting happens.