Life Post-Exhibition

Hey, did you hear? I had an exhibition! No really, I did! It was an amazing experience.

From the end of August to the end of the exhibition on the 27th October, my head was down and I prioritised like an army general. I had to put to one side anything that didn't directly have anything to do with Dave and/or the exhibition in an effort to get everything ready in time. To say I had blinkers on would be an understatement, to the point where all I could see was the small light at the end of the tunnel that was the exhibition.

And after? Well, darlings I had been warned that I would crash and burn and I'm grateful to those who shared their post-exhibition experiences with me. I would have been seriously worried otherwise. The first week after the end, I managed to put my onesie on and brush my teeth. Outside of that, nothing much else happened. I didn't help that the day after the Private View, Dave had cycle 5 of his chemotherapy. Dealing with either the exhibition or Dave's chemo would be hard enough; together...yeah...I had to pull energetic resources from wherever I could find them (though no Red Bull was consumed. That stuff is disgusting). I am deeply grateful for the support I received through this time. People stepped up and took over when I couldn't. 

The exhibition was called: The Speed of Colour: an abstract encounter with astrophotography. Chris and I were very lucky to have the exhibition as part of the annual Norwich Science Festival and on Saturday 27th, we did a presentation to a small group about our process and the science behind the work. 

Chris sold a piece and quite a few others on the back of the show, I didn't sell anything. In all honesty, I'm not disappointed. I did the exhibition because I wanted to know that I could. I could learn what I needed to know, engage with art and science in a meaningful way and ultimately, that people would consider my work. Which they did. The Private View on the 18th October was very well attended and people really did take the time to check out our work and engage with it and with us.

You will notice I make no mention of "like" or "dislike". The exhibition was about that, it was about getting my audience to take a moment to consider what's out there in the vast universe and the bigger questions that can come out of looking up at the night sky. Some people 'got' my intention, but didn't particularly appreciate the outcome and that was good too. Happily, no one said to my face "my 3 year old can do better than that." I took that away as a win. 

Following is my work that was included in the exhibition. Thanks to an amazing brain fart on my part, one of the pieces didn't get framed which I didn't realise until we were at the gallery, hanging paintings. By then, I was too far gone to worry. And truthfully, the work wasn't missed (whoops!).

On the Surface

Acrylic on board

3ft x 2ft

Starfield

Acrylic on board

3ft x 2 ft

3am Anywhere

Oil on board

3ft x 2 ft

Filters

Oil on board

3ft x 2ft

Continuance

Acrylic on board

3ft x 2ft

Triptych

Joy. Equanimity. Despair

Acrylic on Board

3 x 2ft x 3ft

Speed of Colour

Oil on board

3ft x2ft

Let There be Colour

Oil on board

3ft x 2ft

The Private View was an amazing experience. In fact, preparing and doing the exhibition was one of the most challenging, terrifying and exhilarating experiences. I now know I can do it...yes I'm already plotting....

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The Space Between

The Speed of Colour

oil on board, 3ft x 2ft

I'm in that weird space between the body of work having been finished and the exhibition date. Last Monday evening I crashed and burned. I was exhausted. I can't find the words to tell you how bone tired, ass-dragging knackered I felt. My brain ground to a complete halt. It got to the point where I could only sit on the sofa and drool. Last week, I rested. I'm still not at 75%, but I've got enough juice in the tank to start encouraging my ducks to line up. This week, I don't have high expectations for myself and I'm okay with that. That's what next week is for (fingers crossed).

My To Do List, pre-exhibition spans two pages and is frankly scaring me to death. Almost as much as the exhibition itself, and that's saying something. Rather than lie on the floor quaking (as I really would like to do), I've broken down all of the tasks into chunks and I'm going to trust that everything will get done and to a good enough standard. Yes, I would like everything to be perfect. Unfortunately, 'perfect' is not within my abilities. 'Good enough' will have to do. 

After I finish this post, I will start writing both the exhibition statement and my artist's statement. Given I've been working on this project for two years, you'd think I'd be all over this like white on rice. Yeah, no.

Rowan asked me last night why am I doing this? What is it I hope to achieve? I stuttered for a long time.

Why am I doing this? It's obvious, isn't it?

Actually, no it isn't.

I'm an artist, because I do the art work. Whether I'm a good, bad or indifferent artist is another question I am not qualified to answer. I'm too close to this body of work to judge it's success or failure or quality.

I do this for the same reason I blog. It's a my way of communicating, I am reaching out beyond my small sphere to offer a glimpse into my reality. I hope to connect with other people who are willing to have a conversation about what comes up in my life, in my thoughts. My blog does this with words, my art does this visually.

My blog has been a vehicle in which I've explored how it's been to be Me dealing with various challenges, issues, people, situations. My art is taking things a step further. It's an invitation to have a conversation about what it is to be human and look up at the Universe. What do we see?

I believe Life is a paradox. On the one hand it is meaningless. You're born, you live, you die. There are seven billion of us on Earth currently going through this process. The only two certainties in life, often quoted, are death and taxes. If life itself is meaningless, what then? It is up to the individual to create meaning. Therefore everything then becomes full of meaning. The decision to connect, to create, to communicate becomes the starting point of a meaning-full life. 

This morning, I realised the work for this exhibition is not going to be good enough; it never was going to be. With this exhibition, I stepped up and stated "this is what it's like to be human, looking up." This is the kind of subject best left to the end of an artistic career, after many, many years of practice, honing of skills, success and failure, trial and error. I've gone and jumped in at the deep end at the beginning of my artistic career. This is Big Picture stuff and who the hell am I to have an opinion about anything?

Who am I? I am an artist. As an artist my job is to start the conversation, to ask the difficult questions. I'm not here to paint pretty pictures. I'm here to highlight the difficult things about being human: the fear, the anger, the hurt, the loneliness; as well as the positive. 

I want to contribute to the Big Picture. 

Waiting for Paint to Dry

Yesterday evening, I thought I'd finished the triptych. I kicked back, drank a glass of raspberry beer and contemplated my work. As I contemplated, I realised as much as I like the piece I've done, it doesn't work with the triptych.*sigh*

Earlier in the week, I had another realisation: while my first love is oil, one of the pieces really did not work in that medium. The acrylic paint I've been using with the triptych gave exactly the effect I wanted. *bangs head on wall*

Dave and I hit the DIY store for more MDF boards and yesterday I started on that piece of work. Of course it meant emergency buying of yet more art supplies and quite a lot of stressing about varnish to finish the pieces off. Everything I had was geared for oils. I've had to learn about acrylic paint from scratch. It was never a medium I liked. The paints I'd used just weren't up to much.

Ladies and Gentlemen, a piece of unsolicited advice, if I may? If you are thinking of trying out something new in the art and craft world and you're standing in front of a few racks of shelves of materials and you think "I'll get the starter stuff, there's no point in spending a lot of money, if I don't know if I'll like it." STOP. Step away from the cheap supplies. Find someone who uses them, ask them what the middle of the road version is, swallow your uncertainty and buy that stuff. Do. Not. Buy. Cheap. Art. Supplies.

Seriously, don't. 

My experience with cheap-ass acrylic paints was so disappointing, I walked away and never looked back until I had to use a different brand entirely. 

Also, just because you see 'that' brand in every other art shop and it gives good bullshit marketing in the blurb, don't believe it. Art materials are not made equally. There are some that are truly dire. Then there are some that are excellent value for the money. You've got to experiment.

Anyway, I'm currently multi-tasking like a boss. I've got a piece varnished and drying, two other pieces drying. All of them are quite large, 3ft x 2ft, cause I deal in old money, as they say here. And yes, before you start, size does matter. In this case bigger is better. No, it's not negotiable. In this case, I'm right. It's my work damn it.

Dry damn it.

While Dave was driving me towards the DIY shop so I could get more MDF, I realised he's my muse. All artist's go on about their muses, well he's mine. Dave did give me a funny look when I said that to him. Muses inspire, challenge and generally put up with a lot of shit from their artist. Tick, tick and tick.

Me and my muse!

Therefore, I roped him in to providing some assistance with the piece I was re-doing....

Every journey...

I've glanced across and I think one painting is ready for more.

Laters darlings.

It's Been Awhile

I've been busy...I've been arting, chasing chickens and coming to terms with the difficulty of living with Dave's cancer. Since I last blogged and not that long ago, his cancer began progressing which means he's back on the chemotherapy. It's hard people, it's hard. Life is uncertain and has meant I focus pretty much on a week at time now. Planning further than that is harder. Dave is coping with the chemo as best he can, which frankly is like a super-human. Given the level of pain, the effects and side-effects of the treatment, he remains stoic throughout...me, I'd be whinging like I was training for an Olympic sport. When I hurt, everyone knows about it. 

In the meantime, in between hospital appointments, travelling for treatments and generally trying to live, I've been working towards my first joint exhibition in October. I find it difficult to write about my art, it's personal and I'm insecure. Now's the time to get over myself. The exhibition is coming up, whether I'm ready or not. I'm working on the last pieces that will form a triptych and will be the centre-piece over the fire place...no pressure then.

Yeah...my exhibition....

It's called The Speed of Colour: an abstract exploration of astrophotography. I'm doing it with astrophotographer, Chris Grimmer. I had this wacky idea, talked him into it, now I'm reaping what I sow.

I've got three more pieces to do before the work goes off to be framed at the beginning of next month. 

This has been a very steep learning curve. I've had to learn as I've done...and I'm still doing...I've gone from planning everything to working intuitively, the results are a bit variable but on the whole I think the work is stronger for it. 

I'm going to leave you with my latest obsession: lemons.

Earlier this summer I couldn't stop painting and drawing lemons. I did them in as many different mediums as I could...though thinking about it, I didn't do pastels. I'll have to rectify that. Anyway, here they are:

Sardines & Beer

The last two weeks have been unbelievably hectic and I'm only now finding the space to sit down and actually relax. Hence being a bit slow to blog about it.

On Wednesday, I decided I'd been big and brave enough by myself and met up with Nicola, my art mentor for some gentle hand holding and reassurance. I'm glad I did. She reminded me of how far I've come, complimented me on the quality of the work, its presentation and my preparation. Perhaps more importantly, we talked about my scheme of work next week and for the next month. It was crucial for me not to get to this weekend and fall flat after the event. It seems I worry and stress unnecessarily. The self-inflicted pressure is counter-productive. May's objective is to lighten up a bit. To take more breaks. To breathe more deeply. 

That probably tells you my state of mind Thursday morning. Poor Dave, I volunteered him to babysit me as I waited for the gallery to open. Happily, I was not first in the queue, I was third. What I am particularly proud of, was the fact I did not gush, I did not do my wet spaniel impression all over everyone involved. I calmly handed over my two pieces of work (the framer had ignored Dave's instructions and I wasn't happy showing the sunflowers in the end) and then Dave and I went on our way so I could complete my preparation for the evening. I needed good nails and two eyebrows stat!

I think I probably over-thought the whole thing as I planned everything down to my outfit. Inspired by Georgia O'Keeffe's iconic style, I made an executive decision and bought a man's suit. I don't have the income to be a fashion plate and I'm not interested enough to do it on a budget. Neither am I retro, vintage or hipster in any form. Classic fashion is beyond me, though I can do it if pressed. I'm too old and cranky to be sexy-chic and I didn't want to present myself as an artist as a sexual being. Don't get me wrong, I am a sexual being, but I don't want it to be part and parcel of my marketing. I'm not interested in flirting for the camera or anyone else for my art. Hence, the suit. I'd read this article about a woman wearing men's suits for a month and it appealed. A suit would be stylish, classic and comfortable. I talked to Dave about it and boy did we have fun, we went to Moss Bros and got the suit. I did have to get the trousers and the vest adjusted though; with the best will in the world, I'm still a curvy woman trying to fit into clothes that were meant for frames more straight than mine. I found women's double-cuffed shirts online. My neck size is 11.5 inches, men's shirts tend to start at 14 inches and any smaller are for boy's clothes which I'd have never buttoned up. Dave was my valet and did my tie for me.

Once dressed, I felt amazing. Power dressing at it's best. I sat and walked differently. And darlings, pockets. Men's tailoring has pockets in so many convenient places, it was just a question of where I put things.

Letting social media know I was on my way

Thirteen A is a small gallery. It's more the size of someone's front room than an exhibition space. We were definitely sardines. There were bottles of beer and ice in a large plastic tub in the middle of the room. I had an absolute blast. 

The Private View was mainly attended by artists and their friends all crammed into this small space. We spilled outside onto the pavement as well, when it got too packed inside. I got to talk to so many incredibly interesting people. The show was an open submission and yet it worked. The diversity of styles and media meant it should have clashed, it shouldn't have made sense. And yet, it did. The synergy was astonishing. There were oil paintings, lino prints, acrylic paintings, drawings, 3-D pen sculptures and of course my work.

The whole point of the experience for me was to put my intention out into the world. I did what I set out to do. Earlier in the week, I watched an amazing talk by Paul Klein on YouTube, on How to be A Successful Artist. Amongst other things he talked about not the Art World, but Art Villages. He said the challenge artists face is to find their art village, the place where they can call home i.e. the internet, the gallery space, etsy, it's not so much about geography per se, or the base market, but an amalgamation of the two. There's also an expectation that an artist will move around for a while before they find their art village. Thursday night for me was my first exploration into the art village in Norwich. 

I very much doubt I will sell my work this weekend, and that's fine. I was pleased to be there. I was after the experience, and I feel I presented myself well. I intend to create an art career that will continue into my dotage. This was the first step. 

Yesterday, I went on a day's course on pastels. I had an absolute blast; it turns out I love soft pastels and it's mutual. Please bear in mind I was basically colouring in the tutor's tracing of the reference photograph next to me. But this is what I did. Yeah, I'm beginning to think I've got a good shot at this.

No biting

Spring has Sprung Round 'ere

Darlings, thank you so much for your support in my last post, I have news about the mentor, that's coming below. Again, thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs, they were so appreciated.

Z and LT have left me in charge of the Rampaging Rabble, which meant this afternoon I took the bins out for bin collection day tomorrow. As I walked to and fro I was struck by a sense of deep gratitude and appreciation to be trusted to be here. The Zedary is so beautiful and has healed so many of the broken parts of my soul, in so many tender moments, it held me in the moments of my deepest fear. Being here has meant more to me than I have words to express. And it's spring.

Darlings, there are so many snowdrops. I didn't realise a single place could have so many. Dotted around and in clumps. The narcissi have popped up, egging their later flowering cousins on, some of whom have risen to the challenge and refuse to be out done. 

My chooks are laying again. They started last weekend and the noise they've been making about it, honestly, I thought something had got in there and was attacking them. I suppose they're a bit rusty yet. Happily, bantams don't lay all year round...or at least mine didn't. It means they'll live longer than their more profuse relatives. Z's velociraptors kept going through the winter and age doesn't seem to slow them down much at all.

The DEFRA regulations have lifted the most stringent of restrictions, tomorrow, I'll take the covering off their run, but will keep them all in. I would rather be safe, plus I've discovered how convenient it is to have them in all one place, not racing around creating havoc. With the coop being mobile, I've been moving it around, giving them new ground and a new view every week. It's working quite well.

The pheasants still expect to be fed. They congregate at the hedge when they hear my coffee grinder go off and then get closer and closer to the house the longer I take to feed them. We had some snow about three weeks ago and they were all but banging on my kitchen window. Daft things. They noted I was feeding the rabble and milled around hopefully. Feeding them twice a day would be too much, they're portly enough I feel.

And for my three bits of totally awesome news:

1.  Dave met with his oncologist late in February. He remains cancer free. Not only that, his poor baggy kidney is returning to its normal size and shape. A welcome surprise especially as that explained some of the discomfort he was having. Of course I cried. As much as I would like to tell you I've been big and brave about this particular follow up appointment, I can't. I'd be lying. I was worried as hell. Dave will continue having quarterly follow ups and after two years, will go down to bi-annual checks. I take every day as it comes. 

2.  Social media to the rescue! (again) Thanks to Twitter, a lovely lady responded and offered her services. We met yesterday for the first time and she has been exactly who I was looking for: she's an artist herself, she works in education at the levels I'm looking for and she's just lovely! Thanks to her, my tentative plans are now better formed. 

I'm going to spend the next 18 months arting my little (hah) backside off. This time will be about building my practise as an artist, experimenting wildly, producing masses of work with the intention to put a portfolio together to apply for a Masters of Fine Arts at A.N. Art School (to be determined). Having a mentor means I can focus on doing work I'm drawn to, rather than working my way through a curriculum set by other people. I don't need the discipline put upon me. I just need some guidance and to be fed information occasionally. Having a mentor will do exactly this for me. I will also continue taking as many art classes as I can to continue to build upon my skills. 

I'm working towards a ten year plan and I'm quite happy to have the next three years accounted for; I know the seven years after that will be a slog. That's fine. If my foundations are strong enough I can deal. Besides, it's not like I'll be thinking about retirement. That is simply not going to happen. 

3.  Remember I told you my friend Chris the astrophotographer and I were planning to work together to do an exhibition? I submitted the application a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, I got an email accepting us! Put the 13th to 24th November 2018 in your diaries darlings, you're all invited. It's a conditional offer, as we haven't got the body of work ready to hang, they want to see one of my oil paintings next year. That's fair enough. They are taking a risk with me, I've only just started to explore the subject. Nevertheless, I did a happy dance around my living room. Shortly followed by the stunned "oh bugger" dance. Now the work really begins. 

At the end of November last year, I was struggling somewhat. I put together an action plan to help me get my shit together. December didn't happen because of that bloody virus, pretty much wiped out five weeks of my life (which I deeply resent), but there you go. In January, I discovered the joys of Bullet Journalling which enabled me to chase down my ducks, round them up and get them lined up in some semblance of order. It's meant I'm building a daily meditation practice to keep The Crazy at bay and got me moving again. I'm now beginning to work out again in the mornings, I've had to go back to the beginning with Rosemary Conley, but I'm moving and the best bit is that while I've been frustrated at my general lack of fitness, it turns out I'm a lot better than I thought. My resting heart rate has come down considerably. Three years ago, the best I could manage was 82 bpm, Now it's 68 bpm. Hopefully, that will continue to improve the more I move.

The ridiculous part is I'm getting up the same time and I do all of this stuff first thing...it's still second and third thing in the morning before I'm able to get on with the other things in my life. Having said that, I am not on the sofa very much at all, nor am I on Facebook or Twitter and it's been much better for my general wellbeing. There's some crazy shit going on out there. 

Darlings, this month I aim to do better. See you next week. xx

Almost there....

This is the last week of Dave's treatment. On Friday he will have finished the complete course of radiotherapy. Phew. He did it! 

At the start of his radiotherapy, he moved back to his as it was easier for him to do the daily appointments from his home just outside of Norwich, than from here in the wilds. I confess I found that change a bit traumatic and the weeks after were a bit hard. In truth, Dave has coped with his diagnosis and treatment far better than I. My physical and mental health have pretty much been in free-fall as I've struggled to deal with things. As a friend said over coffee and cake this morning, there isn't a guide book for our experience over the last eight-nine months. We've been dealing with things the best we can.  Some days are better than others. 

As always, I take the moment to be grateful to the loving support around me. Boy and his lovely have been absolute towers of strength. Z and LT have provided gin and wide shoulders at moments notice. The Lovely and Great Ursus have been ever present, ready to provide tea and cinematic fun. Julia, the fabulous poet kept a weathered eye on me and whose cheery messages lifted my flagging spirits so many times. Not to mention the denizens of Facebook who kept me chuckling with cheeky memes and general shenanigans. Not to mention my other friends who come running at the first sight of a window to meet up, who've understood the weeks of silence. 

The Mindfulness Course is fun. Of course I'm the unruly pupil, with my mind like a barrel-full of monkeys. Much of it, I've come across in different forms before, but the condensed version has been incredibly useful. The different meditations and exercises have been very difficult as my monkeys refuse to stay quiet for too long. Had it been easy, there wouldn't have been much point in doing the training. I had to miss last Saturday's session due to the cold that Dave so generously gave to me. I spent last six days feeling like Monty Python's foot squashed me. Bleugh. 

I've been continuing to Art and am beginning to feel more confident. It's funny, but I pick up the brushes and the pencils without much thought. With the writing and poetry, it's always taken a bit of a push and procrastination before I've sat down. I'm not doing as much as I would like, but that's down to the other responsibilities I have right now. I nearly gassed myself by using turpentine in my studio, this lead to a thumping headache and the purchase of more-lung-friendly solvents and a brush-wash tin. 

I'm continuing my abstract work, but I've also been working on my drawing skills. I don't particularly like still life paintings, but I recognise that it's a useful learning opportunity. I set up some sunflowers and got lost in them. Much to our surprise I produced a drawing that I'm really quite pleased with, I gave it to Dave. 

We had a fabulous weekend in London. There was amazing vegan food, outrageous cocktails, The National Gallery and a boat trip down the Thames. Van Gogh's Sunflowers took my breath away. I could have stared at the painting for hours. Unfortunately, the tourists were an absolute nuisance. And I also include the domestic visitors under that label. There were crowds of people around Sunflowers, all taking pictures of themselves or their friends with the painting. They'd then move off without pausing. It made my blood boil. 

It's not a pretty painting by any means, but Van Gogh captured the sunflowerness of the flowers with each stroke of his brush. The yellow of the background is almost gold against the yellow of the petals. It's just gorgeous. Don't assume that the paintings you see  in books are like their physical selves. Paintings have a presence photography doesn't capture. There's a rawness to Van Gogh's work that I knew because of his history, but it was only standing before his paintings (there are four in the National) that I really felt it. 

Anyway, it's time for me to put it out there. This is what I've been working on....

Interconnectedness

Interconnectedness detail

Interconnectedness II

Sunflowers

So there you are. My arting. I need to do it and it pleases me. I suppose that's all that matters really. Hopefully, the words will come creeping back in the next few weeks. I miss them.