I have new neighbours, Kylie and Jason and their little baby, Harold. They live in the Point of Ayre foghorn. I realised Kylie and Jason had a chick a couple of evenings back when I heard him squawking inside a hollow in the foghorn. Then last night, my fella and I saw Harold for the first time, it was beyond exciting. I wasn’t able to get a photo of Harold, as we didn’t want to get too close, but here is some footage I managed to get of Kylie and Jason last week.
The painting breakthroughs kept coming this week. A distinct style for the green paintings is emerging, and I love it. I feel like I have been given a small glimpse of what the paintings can be, and although I take nothing for granted, and realise there is still a possibility I can’t pull them off, I have reason to be hopeful.
The main focus again has been painting bigger. With the drawing practice I have been doing, it has proved much easier than I thought it would be. It’s also far more interesting painting bigger, as it allows for more detail.
To help with the bigger drawings, I bought a ginormous sketchbook, and so far I have found drawing big just as easy as drawing small.
I have also started a daily reading discipline, without which I would never get through all the books/papers I have to read for my research paper this summer. Don’t feel too sorry for me though, as this is where my reading discipline takes place.
I finished the Ann painting this week. The last section was quite fiddly and intense to paint, and it was a sweet relief when it was over. I didn’t even stand back and look at it afterwards, I just pushed it in the corner of the studio, facing the wall, so it can dry. Once it has, I will look at it with fresh eyes. I will also have an open-studio, so friends and family can come and see it. I especially look forward to showing my mum, as I feel the painting has a special connection to her. As I mentioned before, not only has she been helping me with the research for Ann Thompson’s story, but her middle and maiden name are also Ann Thompson, which I think is very special.
There’s always a bit of an anti-climax when I finish a big, labour intensive painting like that, and I tend to feel a little bit lost, in terms of what to do next. To keep up the momentum of my art practice, I make sure I keep my 3 daily painting sessions. Since finishing the Ann painting, I’ve been playing with old paintings that were never really resolved, working on what might possibly be my next big painting, and painting horses.
It’s enjoyable just playing and experimenting, but very soon I will have to focus on my MA project about water. I will also have to start looking at the other artworks I want to make to go with the Ann painting, particularly the film, as well as consolidate the research into Ann’s story, and see where the holes are, and where further research is required. There’s a lot to do, but for the next few days, I think I’ll just play.
I had a couple of workshops this week. One was about socially engaged art, with David McGovern, which I found really informative and interesting. The other was one our whole class did together, called “Emerging dialogues through textile and visual arrangements” with Sukie Sagoo-Reddy. It was actually a workshop I had done last term, even so, it was enjoyable and inspiring to do again, especially with all my classmates. My favourite task was called “chasing shadows”, where we were asked to create a piece of work that involved shadows. I decided to arrange and photograph the shadows cast by these beautiful glass ornaments made by a lovely friend of mine. I love how glass effectively casts coloured shadows.
Anam Cara (where I live) has been exceptionally beautiful this week, and my new favourite thing is to sit on the front lawn, facing the sea, and do the readings for my research paper. To be honest, I spend most of the time just looking at the sea (keeping an eye out for Fonzi of course), or closing my eyes to heighten the sensation of being in such an exhilarating place.
Term 3 began this week, which means it’s only 10 weeks until I have finished the first year of my masters. It is scary to think how fast the time is going, especially as I feel so faraway from achieving the creative goals I have set myself, especially related to my water-paintings project.
I am hoping I will feel a bit better about things once I have finished the Ann painting. I thought I’d finish last week, but alas, that was not the case. The hold-up isn’t for want of spending endless hours painting it each day, it’s just that it’s such an delicate, time-consuming painting, and I keep under-estimating how long it will take. Thankfully, I truly am nearly there.
While I’ve been on the home-stretch the past couple of weeks, my fella has effectively been banished from the studio, as I’m paranoid the painting will be knocked, so it’s just too stressful to have anyone around. I’m sure if he was telling the story, banished would be changed to steering clear of that mad woman and her “delicate painting”!
I continued drawing horses this week, which has been a pleasure as usual. My goal is to include a horse-like figure in my water paintings, a Kelpie to be precise. The problem is, a Kelpie is a malevolent water-horse that preys on people and drowns them, and my horses all look cute and cheerful. When told my fella I was having trouble making them look sinister, he suggested adding eyebrows. I think you’ll agree I nailed it.
I find the idea of a predatory, human-killing horse fascinating, considering that they are a prey animal, and left to their own devices, wouldn’t come anywhere near us. This contradiction is precisely why they are the perfect representation of the dangers of water, particularly rivers.
It cannot be over-stated how dangerous rivers are, especially ones that look calm and benign on the surface. For lurking underneath, you’ll often find a strong current that will easily knock you off your feet, making you vulnerable to shock, jagged stones, tangley weeds, to name but a few perils. Even a shallow river can be dangerous for these reasons, but if its deep, you’ve almost got no chance.
It is no surprise then, that the ancients told the story of a friendly horse by the riverside, that offered a group of children (or a lone adult) a ride. Once they mounted it, they were stuck-fast, and the Kelpie transformed into a malevolent spirit, and leapt into the water and drowned them. The warning being, children should not play unsupervised in rivers, and adults should not enter them alone.
I can’t believe it’s been over two weeks since I was in London. I even had to look at my diary to make sure I was counting right. I think the problem with my time perception at the moment is I had a bit of a groundhog week, in that it was almost exactly the same as the week before. Added to which, almost every day followed the same routine:
Yoga
I typically start my day with yoga. It’s sounds super healthy and together, but in reality the max I do is 15 minutes. Still, I’m always very grateful to myself when I have done it, and definitely feel better for it.
Drawing horses
I kept up my 20 minute drawing exercise this week, and continued with drawing horses. They are so much fun to draw, and though I don’t seem to have improved much, I have definitely loosened up. Also, drawing them has made me love the horses next door even more. My favourite is a Clydesdale that I call Mr Rogers, on account of him being so friendly – he came to the fence twice this week and had a wee chat with me.
Mr Rogers
Painting
Painting the Ann painting has been my main focus this week, which has been as wonderful and nerve-wracking as usual. I had another stress dream this morning that it got smudged. It was by a person that I really like, so I didn’t yell at them, but I did tell them that they’d have to leave. When I have one of these dreams, the sense of stress and blind fury I feel makes it difficult to speak, and is so intense that it generally wakes me up. The only upside to such a dream is the relief I feel when I fully come-to and realise the painting is alright.
Looking for Fonzi
Usually when I finish my morning paint I’ll go out looking for Fonzi. I’m ridiculously happy when I see him. If I don’t, I content myself with looking at the sea and saying hello to Mr Rogers.
Massaging
Sunday to Thursday, I tend have a morning massage appointment. I’ve had my homebased massage business for about 6 years now, and have a lovely assortment of regular clients. Becoming a Massage Therapist is one of the best decisions I have ever made, not only is it a great thing to do for someone else, but it is the perfect compliment to being an artist.
Painting
My afternoon paint tends to be the longest of the 3, and for some reason the most relaxed. I like to have a clear four hours to play with, which gives me both time to paint and research things that come to mind.
Looking for Fonzi
Since Spring has sprung, I am able to go looking for Fonzi after my afternoon paint as well. I saw him a few times this week, but no land-bound sighting compared to the drone footage my fella got of him yesterday. Look how handsome he is (and his friend is pretty cute too)!
Massaging
As well as a morning massage, I tend to have an early evening one too, which is handy for those clients that have to work during the day. When I first started my business, I used to advertise for clients by running adverts on Facebook (like the one below), now it ticks along nicely with returning clients and word of mouth.
A visit from my fella (if I’m lucky)
My fella wasn’t able to come out every evening this week, but it was certainly splendid when he did. As usual, we had fun catching up on each other’s newses – his was generally more exciting than mine, considering mine consisted of “I saw Fonzi and said hello to Mr Rogers”.
Painting
My evenings this week were spent painting the Ann painting. I’m so close to finishing that I am literally counting the days – I reckon 10 if I keep going at my current pace. My evening paint tends to be the shortest of the 3, though still a minimum of two hours.
Bed
I absolutely love going to bed, and am usually in a hurry to get there, which is why my evening paint session tends to be the shortest. I really like my current bed – true, it’s no dead-lady-bed, but still, its super comfortable and a pleasure to sleep in. I don’t always sleep the whole night through, but if I wake up I just read my book or research things on my phone (ahem…watch cat videos) so I never really mind. Plus, if it’s after 4am, I usually just get up and paint – the wee hours being my favourite time to do so.
So there we have it, my current routine. If Aristotle is right, I guess that means I am yoga doing, seal watching, horse drawing, massage giving, fella loving, bed indulging painter!
A bird sang me awake this morning. It was a lovely song and a lovely way to wake up. It made me think of how our lives intersect with other living things. How we witness each other’s existence. Whether momentarily or for long periods of time, we become part of each other’s story. It’s like Fonzi, he might not comprehend what I am, but, nevertheless, when he bobs past my house, he often sees a strange, upright creature standing on the beach looking at him. I don’t know what he makes of me, but I do know he’s curious about me, because whenever I turn around and make my way back towards the house, he comes in for a closer look. He responds to my presence, and I most definitely respond to his. We share time and space to together. It’s a beautiful thing.
As soon as I arrived back at Anam Cara and breathed the fresh sea air, I felt immediately better. Never has it felt so good to be home from London. There’s lots I love about the city, but even all those things together pale in comparison to this sweet corner of the world.
Spring arrived in my absence, and flowers and flying things abound. My favourite are the big fat bumblebees. I found one motionless on the doorstep the other evening. Darkness was descending and the rain was on its way, so I brought it inside and gave it some sugar-water, which it happily drank. I then played it some Miles Davis, which made it spring into life and start cleaning itself. Next I played The Who, but it went careening about the place, and seemed at risk of doing itself an injury, so we went back to Miles. Sadly, after our lovely evening together, the weight of living got the better of my little buddy, and it passed away during the night.
As well as enjoying all the creatures out here, including the horses that live next-door, and a pair of dolphins that swam idly by the other day (filling my heart with joy), I have been painting. During the Easter break, my primary artistic goal is to finish the Ann painting, which means working on it 8-9 hours per day. It’s an utter pleasure, and I couldn’t be happier. I have also begun drawing for 20 minutes each morning. The aim is not to draw realistically, but to draw expressively, in the hopes I will find my own style. This week I have been drawing horses, inspired by my beautiful neighbours.
Some days are really great, and today was one of those days. It began fairly early, as my fella had a 7am conference call. While he was in the shower, I set up his work station, poured him a glass of water, then went down stairs and got him a coffee and a sausage. This was no trifling gesture, because those in the know know, the way to a Court man’s heart is through a sausage.
After the call, we went to the Museum of London Docklands. It was absolutely brilliant. It has permanent displays telling the story on the London docklands including it’s relationship with slavery and the sugar trade. It also had a temporary exhibition about the history of execution in London, the majority of which took place on or near the banks of the river Thames. The displays were excellent and informative, and the museum as a whole is definitely worth a visit.
After the museum, we found a really cool place for lunch, called Electric Shuffle. It had an amazing aesthetic and the food and drinks were delcious.
This evening was the opening of the exhibition. We got there early, which gave us a chance to wander around and look at everyone else’s work. There were so many great artworks, and I felt very proud to be part of such an excellent show. I meant to take lots of photos, but got distracted. I’ll try and remember to take some more tomorrow. In the meantime, here are the ones I did take.
My lovely friend Carmel came to the opening. Her and I met on a course at the Slade School of Art in 2018. We have kept in touch since, and always try a meet up when I am in London. My fella had to attend a work function after the exhibition, so he went off to that, and Carmel and I had a drink the bar of our hotel. We had a lovely time catching up, and have made a plan to meet up again next week.
All in all it was a wonderful day, and I feel very fortunate to be here, to be doing my MFA at a school like Central Saint Martins, and to have the fella and friends that I do.
Today was dedicated to all things maritime, in the hopes of furthering my research for the Ann project. It began with a trip to the the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich. Although it is a beautiful museum, I was disappointed to discover that it doesn’t house or display any information about Britain’s Convict Transportation system. Even the Museum’s Caird Library does not have any documents pertaining to it within its archives. However, the librarian there did steer us in the direction of the National Archives in Kew. We did contemplate taking a trip down there, but the weather was so cold and miserable, plus they prefer, though do not require that you to make an appointment. So, instead, I filled out an online archive research form, requesting any information they might have about Ann and/or the Amphitrite shipwreck.
National Maritime Museum
Seeing we were in Greenwich, we decided to visit the Cutty Sark. I’ve never been on a ship like that before, and I have to say I was very impressed. I especially loved seeing the top deck and sleeping quarters. When I was in the hold where the cargo was kept, I thought of Ann’s experience of being locked in the hold of the Amphitrite while it was being wrecked during a storm in the middle of the night. It must have been terrifying. The Amphitrite was more like the Bounty than the Cutty Sark, but it still gave me an idea of the kind of vessel she was on.
The highlight of the day was going on the cable car across the Thames. I was very scared at first, much to my fella’s amusement, but I soon got used to it. It was an amazing way to see the river, and we were even able to see Trinity Buoy Wharf, where the exhibition is, as well as our hotel. Unfortunately, due to the miserable weather, the photos I took left a bit to be desired.
We’ve decided just to hang out in the hotel this evening. There’s a lovely bar downstairs and a McDonald’s next door, so we’ll be well fed and watered.
If I’m out with my fella and he does a double-take, I don’t have to look around to confirm my suspicions. I can tell by the goofy look on his face that he’s spotted a dog. It’s like he has a special dog-radar. If one is in the vicinity – even crouched down in a car or hiding under a bush – he’ll spot it. I am regularly reminded that the only thing he loves more than dogs is me. It’s true that if the house was on fire and it was me or the dog, he’d rescue me first, but, you can guarantee, he’d then risk his life to go back in and rescue the dog. That’s the kind of dog-loving fella he is.
We reached the grand milestone of four years together yesterday. I completely forgot, until he turned up at the studio with two bunches of flowers. That wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t forgotten Valentine’s Day as well. To be precise, I forgot to get him anything, while he surprised me with three lovely presents from a gift shop in town, and a dinner at the local pub.
My Valentine
To make amends, I bought him a belated gift. For future refence: an after-the-fact Amazon gift that you also bought two Valentines ago is bad! Luckily it was a Star Wars t-shirt, which seemed to soften the blow. The upshot is, he’s completely amazing when it comes to rescuing and romance, and I should live on my own with a cat.
I wish I could say that I’ve made great progress on the green paintings. But the truth is, I’ve mixed a bit of paint here and there, producing greens I neither like nor want to use, and that’s about it. Instead, I’ve been spending most of my time on the Ann painting, and I’m not even sorry. The home-stretch of a painting like Ann is an unmitigated pleasure, and I am savouring every moment. I was secretly hoping to have it finished before I go to London next week. But even if I worked on it all day and night, it still wouldn’t be finished. Besides, it would be reckless to try and rush it at this stage, as that is how mistakes are made.
As pleasurable as painting Ann is, it is also really nerve wracking, especially at this late stage. There’s no fixing a delicate, pristine painting like this, so damaging it is some way would be heart-breaking, not just because of the labour involved, but for the painting itself. Like a mother hen, I think all my chicks are beautiful, but Ann, she is beautiful and then some.
A word salad is defined by the Cambridge dictionary as:
a mixture of words or phrases that is confused and difficult to understand.
Borrowed from psychiatry, where it describes the unintelligible speech of those afflicted with particular psychiatric disorders, a word salad has come to be used to describe a style of academic writing or speech that is unintelligible to the uninitiated (and sometimes even the initiated). Often touted as the panicle of the academic word salad is the writing of philosopher and literary theorist Prof. Judith Butler. It’s not hard to see why with gems like this:
The move from a structuralist account in which capital is understood to structure social relations in relatively homologous ways to a view of hegemony in which power relations are subject to repetition, convergence, and rearticulation brought the question of temporality into the thinking of structure, and marked a shift from a form of Althusserian theory that takes structural totalities as theoretical objects to one in which the insights into the contingent possibility of structure inaugurate a renewed conception of hegemony as bound up with the contingent sites and strategies of the rearticulation of power.
Further Reflections on the Conversations of Our Time, published in the scholarly journal Diacritics (1997)
Personally, I find the above completely inaccessible and it hurts my head to even try. Unless Butler is being deliberately obtuse, and there is no “there there”, I assume an expert is needed to teach the meaning of what is being said, because knowing the language in which the ideas are being expressed is simply not enough. Of course, this is nothing new, the history of western philosophy is littered with great thinkers whose ideas were pretty much incomprehensible in their lifetimes, and remained so until greater minds rehashed and broke down the ideas over the years, making them accessible to average-Joes like me. So, who knows, in 100 years everyone might comprehend Butler.
There is an anomaly to my aversion to Butler’s word saladrey, that is a lecture Butler gave at a symposium called Topography of Loss, about Doris Salcedo’s 2017 TheMateriality of Mourning exhibition at the Harvard Art Museums. The lecture was titled Shadows of the Absent Body, and I have to say it was the most powerful, mind-expanding, and heart-wrenching art lecture I have ever heard. On the surface, much of it is incomprehensible. However, the ethereal way Butler strings words together seem to perfectly reflect the theme of the exhibition, that is the terror and loss of disappeared people.
One of the best things about the lecture, was it introduced me to Doris Salcedo’s work, and allowed me to access it and fall in love with it in a way that I wouldn’t have were it not for Bulter’s sublime word salad. I am deeply inspired by Salcedo’s The Materiality of Mourning exhibition, particularly the textile piece below.
Disremembered VIII Sewing needles and silk thread
I would like to make a textile piece for my Ann project, to be shown with the painting. The idea I am toying with is something related to the clothes the transportation system officials required be sent with each prisoner, the list of which I found in Ann’s court records.
I am also thinking of including the list of the female convicts who were on the Amphitrite, all of whom died when it was shipwrecked. I think the contrast between the beautiful penmanship of the writing and the terrible fate that awaited the woman on the list is both poignant and haunting.
Amphitrite Indent List – Ann’s name at the bottom of the last page
I’m not quite sure how I will marry the two together, but as soon as I have finished the Ann painting, I will start experimenting with different ideas and fabrics etc. Who knows, maybe something will come to me in a dream in the meantime.
bexODESSA 