Thursday 25 March 2010

The End

Remember the gig we went to, before we left LA?  We were able to get free tickets through Tim McCall, Jarvis Cocker's guitarist, to see Jarvis at the Wiltern.  It was an amazing gig.  It made us feel that to be a Sheffielder was something.  Maybe.  It at least helped our move from LA.

Tim McCall became a father for the first time in January.  Two weeks later, he fell and died at home. He was 37.  I did not know Tim McCall, save speaking to him briefly, I mainly know him through Husband.  But his death is one of the saddest things I have ever known.

We went to his funeral on 1st March.  The great and the good of Sheffield's music scene (including Jarvis) were there.  I saw famous people.  But that was no relief or consolation.  Not even for the shallow part of me.  At the start of the service, as the coffin was carried in, The Beach Boys sang 'God Only Knows'.

And that, my friends, is a fitting place to end.  For me, a powerful reminder that all that we can do with this life, is to seize the day. Because after that, it is all over.

RIP Timothy McCall 1972-2010

Tuesday 5 January 2010

No More Wrist Plate

A little remainder of my CalArts time is gone!  The plate that was put into my wrist to bring the bones together has outlived its usefulness.  The bones are now together and the plate was getting in the way of my tendons.  I had surgery to take the plate out of my wrist on 31st December 2009.  The scar is pretty ugly, like a Frankenstein one.  Like a tattooed reminder I am a CalArtian.  Bye bye plate!  Bye bye CalArts!

Monday 28 September 2009

20 Boxes


I spent 3 days obsessive-neatly wrapping and packing accumulated books, papers and clothes in June. I sat on the floor of our large kitchen/living room, hunched over as I discarded bumf and saved for posterity. My back killed, but I was against the clock. Husband went to buy me some GT Dave’s kombucha as a treat to get me through. It was pretty much a job I did alone, as it was pretty much all my stuff. I inherited packing boxes, sharpie markers, tape guns, newsprint paper and bubble wrap from the week before – Leslie and I neatly sorted Peter Wollen’s papers for their future life in the BFI archive, awaiting the day that a researcher will make a break through upon finding collected library fines. So I had the skills to archive my own California life so they could be shipped separately. 20 boxes with hospital corners later and my life was all wrapped up. We loaded up our car with the assorted leftover debris and went to cat-sit for 3 weeks on the Westside, before returning to Sheffield. Our cat-sit stint served as a buffer between our two separate lives.


We said au revoir to the ranch in a number of ways. (Not goodbye). We threw a party to celebrate my birthday, with CalArts and Mexican friends. My birthday present from Husband was a horse ride on one of the ranch horses, Bear, a retired park-ride horse with a shoulder injury, indulged me whilst we walked the arena and some lemon groves. I cried as I got off, it was an intimate and emotional experience.

Once we left we visited a couple of times, to spend time with Gera and his family, going to the beach with them, and to cook a meal for Ellen and David and spend time with them. The ranch was the first place husband and I lived together, and as I look back on our time there, its like a dream, I can’t believe we were so lucky and everything worked out so well. A part of us will always be Deep End Ranchers. (Saying goodbye to Lily the Springer Spaniel broke my heart, and with no spaniel in my life at present, I don’t know how I will ever cope with stress again. She was a fluffball of love who slept on our bed and played fetch obsessively, oh bless her sweetness!)

The final three weeks flew by and contained some Iyengar yoga classes, beach walks, a goodbye to me and Brica beach party followed by barbeque and our final Mexican meals (our staple diet for the year).


I saw a posted for Jarvis Cocker playing at the Wiltern Theatre in LA, two days before our flight home. Husband facebooked his old friend, now Jarvis’ guitarist, to wangle us some free tickets (we’d pretty much run out of money) and so we found ourselves at the gig. Jarvis, a professional Sheffielder, was a great way to get us excited about our return home (and down to earth). His witty observations and great music connected me to our roots. Before I left Sheffield in 2007 we went to see the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and I remember using that to get excited about my new California life.

As I looked out the window of our flight from Heathrow to Manchester (we had a direct flight from LA to Heathrow), I saw the grey sky and green fields with different eyes. My land felt foreign. The next 6 weeks were in a sense, a struggle to find myself, at home. I took part in a Summer Yoga School at the Sheffield Yoga Centre and S1/Critique at S1 Artspace, both important places in re-situating myself. On the critique programme was Jerome, a friend I know through S1 and particularly coffee mornings showing and telling our work.




I house sat for 10 days in London. I meant to see art, but after a trip to the Freud Museum, the Camden Arts Centre and the Photographer’s Gallery I realised I wasn’t in the mood. Instead I went to see ‘the London Folies’ and ‘Hotel Follies’ and put Fopp DVDs, M & S blouses and a What Katy Did waist cincher on my credit card. My job applications for Photo Technician at Sheffield Hallam University and Project Manger at BLOCspace were unsuccessful. The real world felt bleak. I felt empty and lost. I wanted something to that would totally take over my life instead of the bits of bobs of a freelancer I left in 2007. I saw an advert for ‘Fine Art Teaching Researcher’ at Sheffield Hallam. The post was for a full time three year PhD in Fine Art with some teaching. The details sounded like everything I wanted in my life, perfect I thought. I completed the application form and proposal down in London, and I knew I was punching above my weight. I found myself in an art book shop on Charing Cross road. I had the overwhelming feeling of being a fraud – I didn’t know every theory and every artist in all the books there – how could I be ready to teach or generate the original work a PhD required? Well, sometimes, winging it works. I got it! Hurrah! I had to do a 10-minute presentation on ‘Fine Art Research’ in front of an audience of 15 teachers and an in-depth interview with a panel of four. I met the three other applicants for the two available posts. I was the youngest and least experienced. I was relieved to see Jerome was there too. I was over the moon to hear later that evening that Jerome and me were successful.

The day of the interview, our 20 boxes arrived from LA. I’ve spent the last week unpacking the boxes and trying to integrate this surplus of stuff into my Sheffield home. I realise now that some of it is worthless rubbish that went straight in the bin, but on the Ranch, I needed to defer that decision to trash everything. I just didn’t know what was what at that point.

In the meantime, Husband has been focussed on mentally preparing for his first return to full time study since he left school aged 15. He’s doing BSc Biomedical Sciences at Sheffield Hallam University, the same campus I’ll be at! Unfortunately, he broke his collarbone 15 days ago so we’re sitting in the Northern General Hospital now. I got my wrist re-Xrayed too (lingering pain).

Things are slotting into place. The boxes are getting unpacked. Tomorrow is my first day at Hallam. Husband and I can go in together.

Tuesday 21 July 2009

On Reflection

Today, I am 31 years old and 15 days. When I was born, my mother was 31 years old and 15 days. My mother died when she was 51 years old and 15 days, 11 years ago today. From today, and for the next 20 years, I will be an age that my mother was at some point, with me. After that, I will have no maternal precedent. Phew. Talk about taking stock. I probably took too much stock. But, being away from my usual ritual (visiting the book of of the dead and kerb of remembrance at Hutcliffe Wood) with Dad meant I had to do something today to recognise the day. I went to the beach, to reflect.

Yesterday we went to the beach too. Plan A was always going to the beach - we were meeting Gerado, Marta and their daughter Paloma in Santa Monica. But, the day prior Gerado told us about a rodeo taking place that he'd just been told about and wanted to ride in. So, we went to a ranch near to the ranch we used to live at in Santa Paula with Gerado et al. It was absolutely scorching at this ranch. Bulls were hired for the day ($60 each), and we looked at the bulls Gerado has previously ridden, including one that took a gash out of his leg and his horse. But no other riders turned up! Perhaps the short-noticed didn't work for everyone. It was a bit sad, as this was the one thing we never got to do that we really wanted to do. So, instead, we went to a small beach in Malibu that we discovered through CalArts friends last week. And bless him, Gerado paddled in the sea with his jeans and cowboy boots on. A strict uniform that works for any occasion. It was Paloma's first visit to the beach and she loved paddling. It was lovely to see them all again, as husband became very close to Gerado working alongside him on the ranch.

Friday night was the opening of MFA Conversations. Its a small gallery, packed to bursting with art. Its strange being a group show with other recently graduated MFAs that I don't know. I couldn't help thinking how pretentious they are. A guy from a blog came and photographed the artists next to their work. It was totally cringing being asked to pose, and smile with teeth showing. The curator had initially said she was putting the price of our work next to each piece (now that's cringey) but fortunately, she created a price list that also had a sentence by each artist on their work, so it wasn't just strictly a price list. I don't know how I felt about it all.



I don't know what you leave with when you get an MFA in the UK, but here, this is what I have; in order to pass we have a type of exit interview, where a panel of 3 teachers and a transcriber meets you in your studio for 45 mins. You discuss your work and your two years of study in an in depth way. Based on this, your 'review' and your performance during the MFA, and your thesis show, you are either passed to graduate or not, in which case you are awarded an 'Advanced Certificate' instead of a masters. And if you do pass, you just get a masters, no grade. You get a transcript from your review, and, I did not know about this until I received it the other day, a report form from your mentor. In the interests of sharing I shall put my usual modesty on hold and type up some of the contents of this report, because it is a very useful document and something I know I would really have found useful after my BA (where all you get is your grade, for me, a 2:1, and absolutely no feedback).

Preliminarily blurb: The purpose of this report is to provide the student with an easily understood assessment of progress towards the future, noting strengths and ares for improvement... The report does not serve as notice of any academic sanction.
1. How do your rate your mentee's artistic development this past year? Did s/he mount an exhibition or similar project?
[Tallulah] had a very productive year. She deepened and expanded on her interests and put enormous effort into her thesis show - researching, writing, rehearsing, and performing, - all told revealing incredible perserverance, bravery even, and humor in and through it all.
3. Has your mentee attained a visual literacy and awareness of the cultural and historical context of their practice appropriate to current year level?
I think the emphasis of [Tallulah's] work this year tended to be more theoretical and conceptual than visual. I think post-grad school, she will be better able to synthesize her visual abilities with her, now more sophisticated intellectual concerns.
5. Are there areas to improve on? Are there specific recommendations for next year?
[Tallulah] is a serious and thoughtful artist. Her work has a great wit and a thoughtfulness and vulnerability that adds to its richness. I think that [Tallulah] takes criticism very hard and very personally - I encourage her, after a long, hard year, to try to feel more confident and satisfied with herself and how far she has come


All in all, my report is a really wonderful document to walk away with. More useful as a document to look back on, and for now, as my jumping off point, than a grade.

So, I don't have any children, but I have my MFA. And I don't have a mother (although, I know that she is proud), but I have 3 female teachers (Leslie, Ellen & Natalie) I am really close to, that I know I will continue to be friends with for the rest of my career. Maybe life. They really are very wonderful women.

And so, that's a lot to reflect on.

PS As I type this, KitKat, the cat we are sitting, is next to me licking her bum, in a kind of cat-yoga position, that until this week, I did not know cats perform.

Thursday 16 July 2009

The End Of Things

So, here I am. I've graduated. I'm done. I have not fully emptied out my studio, but all my books are boxed and are in transit, along with other accumulated ephemera. The our ranch home is vacated and our bags our semi-packed (we still have too much stuff!) and we are now housing-sitting on the Westside of LA until our flight home 29th July.

So, what happened?

Let me start at the end of school. Literally the Friday afternoon of the last week of school was the graduation ceremony. The week was one of those where you are madly trying to meet final deadlines and that. And I needed a haircut badly. My regular trim appointment was cancelled by the hairdresser as she was ill, so I had to go right before the ceremony. I was sitting next to girls getting their hair done for their prom-night in the hairdressers, feeling way too in the same boat! New hair; old frock. I couldn't find anything I liked for zero dollars in zero time, so I got out a reliable wrap dress and safety pinned it (I've erm, grown out of it, shall we say) and wore an under-tshirt for modesty. Champagne (x3 glasses) and strawberries reception. No alcohol is allowed during the ceremony, so tradition has it that first years smuggle you some alcohol. Vitamin water, with the vitamins emptied out and vodka poured in. Speeches. Line up, on stage, shake hands with the Dean of the Art School, Tom Lawson, the heads of department, other faculty. By that time, I was tired and emotional. I hugged everyone, told them I loved them (yes, even my teachers). Cut to the after-party. I'll conclude with a tableau of that: it felt totally filmic, like I could see the camera shot and the camera pulling up into the night looking down. Husband was there, everyone was dancing to awful music. Happy, relieved, euphoric and sad.

But that was not an end for school yet, we had a show at the ranch from the class I TA'd for, which meant I had to keep making work the next day, hungover and install the day after that.

The end of school was 17th May, but the MFA grad show opened 20th June, so, the end was not an end. The show went fine, I used my thesis show work, but redid the editing to iron out flaws (and because, I lost all my original Final Cut Pro files). We had a show opening, a show closing and a screening at REDCAT. The latter was very interesting. I edited my work down to a 12 minute one channel piece and it was the first up of the night. I had a good response to it.

And even now, in my mind I keep deferring the end. I'm in a show 'MFA Conversations' and another, 'Greater LA MFA exhibition'. The first one opens 17th July and there's a talk I must attend too, before I come home. The latter I won't be around for.

Moving back in time, I need to explain my hiatus. Blogging has helped me in a couple of ways, it's freed up brain space, allowing me to sort through my ideas and anxieties but its also been a way to maintain the dialogue with friends back home. What happened after my thesis show was that my brain took a holiday, there were, in a sense, no ideas or anxieties to unload. And what's more, lucky me, we had 4 lots of visitors that came out to the ranch. That sort of took care of my need to communicate to my friends in other places.

Of course, my tardy blogging absence is inexcusable. But I think its worth me making an effort to reflect now, and figure out what just happened. So, hopefully more from me very soon.

Saturday 7 February 2009

Faking It

Seventeen years of dancing lessons (at Constance Grant Dance Centre to be precise) have taught me a number of things. But perhaps, my favourite of all, is ‘faking it’: when you have forgotten the correct dance steps, substitute them for steps you make up as you go, with such performance, personality and conviction that it looks to the audience as though you either have different dance steps to everyone else on purpose, or that everyone else is wrong. (I’ve had Miss Tracey in hysterics watching me totally re-do her choreography whilst performing and smiling for all I’m worth. But of course, since she taught me the trick of faking, she could do nothing else but laugh!)

Faking it in art is a tricky thing to own up to. It translates as bullshitting. No-one wants to admit to that. But I find myself, for quite defensive reasons, convincing myself, unconsciously, that THIS IS IT, because I know I am near to IT, so its comforting to say I am here now, I stake my claim HERE. But, alas, on reflection, I am faking it. It is, a rational response to being not there yet, which is, frustrating and at worst painful. This is where I was last week, and I felt that the combined efforts of Ellen, Natalie and David coxed me – gently, aggressively and without judgement respectively to address my not there-yet-ness and keep working towards the right spot. I am pleased to announce, I got there. I think. Let’s wait and see for the responses to my thesis show.

Yes, the moment the scales fell from my eyes was totally traumatic, I felt lost, confused and scared. Unfortunately, that’s what art-making (for me, at least) involves, and so, the reality is, I’ll have a life-time of these occasional total freak-outs.

Faking is a bit of a recurring motif at present. I’ve felt rather like I’ve been taking part in the Channel 4 television series ‘Faking It’. Before Christmas I had my first ever singing lesson from an actress/opera singer, Danielle. We traded skills – I did 1940s style photo-shoot for her and she gave me singing lessons. Six lessons and much homework later, I recorded the song we worked on together. The tune is ‘And All That Jazz’ a Kander and Ebb song from the musical ‘Chicago’, and the words are taken from a section from Laura Mulvey’s Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema (1978) essay. Danielle fit the words to the music and recorded her version for me to practice to. I now have her version and my version. And mine is, well, awful. Danielle was very pleased with my progress – being able to sing the right notes in the right order a cappella. But really, it is not an aesthetic high point. But I tried very hard, and that is the way I know how to generate authenticity. Interestingly, I am now having official singing lessons from the Music School. And the Musical style suits my voice. Apparently. Live performance, anyone?

Concurrently I’ve been learning a Fosse-style dance to go with my song. I’ve been working with a BFA1 dance student, Staci, who’s been great. She worked with me, devising the majority of the choreography, teaching it to me and checking it. With some dance experience this wasn’t so traumatic. A little embarrassing when the only rehearsal space was the large main gallery (also a main thorough-fair in the building. Avram, a graduated BFA, very smart and interesting person, just happened to walk by. He hates my infatuation with the showgirl figure, so no doubt he was grimacing inwardly.

I’m going to video myself singing and dancing my song – the main part of my thesis show. I know I will hate my singing and dancing and the piece will make me cringe. However, It’s been an interesting process stepping into other artforms, ones that use the body as the artwork. I admire that quality in singing, dancing and acting. They involve using the body as a conduit for art. This creates a very immediate relationship to the audience, which I think I’m jealous of. It can feel like art is very separate from you, like a baby. Or a poo. Something that was part of you, but now is not, that you leave in the gallery for all to see.

The process of singing and dancing has been great fun, though. I kinda what to get into amateur dramatics now. I really hope that one of the am-dram companies in Sheffield will do a production of an old-fashioned musical (my wish list: 42nd Street, Chicago, any Cole Porter) when I return home. (When I was about 9 years old, Mum, Dad and I went to London for a short-break which we did a few times when I was young and we went to see 42nd Street. A unknown 19-year old Catherine Zeta Jones was in the lead role.)

Prior to all this art-making/trauma, I had a great Christmas holiday. Dad visited for nearly two weeks. He had a bad cold and felt lousy most of the time, but he enjoyed himself and he got to meet Ellen, David, Leslie, Kaycyila (we had Cricket over Christmas) and David and Ellen’s neighbouring ranch-owner friends. He got on with everyone and everyone liked him. He got to understand Ranch life and being an artist a little more. All good stuff. Sadly, Husband is having back problems – apparently due to his pelvis popping out of place. It’s been really painful for him and he doesn’t have an end point when it will stop and get better, so he’s pretty down about it. This year has been a challenge for him, and it’s been a deviation from his dream-plan. But, I think he will go home with some good life-learning experiences ready for his launch into full-time education (he’s going to start Bsc Biomedical Science at Sheffield Hallam University in September).



Thats a crocheted coral reef from an exhibition we went to see, co-curated (and croched in part) by Christine Wertheim.

Thursday 29 January 2009

Desolation

It is my thesis show in three weeks. I have just edited and changed a lot. I think the show will be a video projection. Maybe a video projection opposite.

My show will not be great. It will be ok. I feel desolate. I will not be the best in show. I will be an also ran. I've taken the morning off to cry.

I feel I'm not good enough. I'm not ready for the artworld. I'm not that good an artist. How can I apply for things and try to exhibit and talk about my art? I feel unworthy of the faith art-friends have in me.

I've just finished listening to Rita Hayworth's biography 'If This Was Happiness'. That is unrelenting misery in itself.

I feel desolate.

Sunday 21 December 2008

Performing Artists

Yesterday we celebrated Posada with Gorado and Marta and their family. I am not sure what it is, but its related to Christmas and involves singing, role play and the whole neighbourhood eating together in someone’s backyard. We had great fun.



I’ve been thinking about performance a lot. Different qualities and aspects, really. Let me give you examples. A class I should have taken this semester taught by Martin Kersels - Performance & Execution – had an end-of-class-performance at Santa Monica Museum where Martin Kersels currently has an exhibition. Me and husband went along. We missed some stuff, it went on for hours and most of it was impenetrable showings-off made by undergrads. Joanne, from my class, collaborated with a woman called Flint in a rather fascinating piece – both women pressed noses against each other and then in turn helped each other to strip, swap clothes and keep on swapping clothes. The women, both lesbians and presenting very different approaches to both femininity and androgyny in their everyday wear, drew attention to this by moving through different outfits that pointed to different identities and kept on moving through identities until we returned to normality. It was extremely intelligent and very well rehearsed, and resisted platitudes and easy answers. I describe this all as an aside. What I really want to say is that the most awful performance was one that went on for what literally felt like an eternity. It involved a young performer reading against Darwin’s theories of evolution – a creationist view, whilst putting on different ill-fitting items of clothing, cutting into the clothing and felt-tipping words onto his torso. This gesture was repeated over and over and over again. Tension began to fill the audience – when will this end? The audience was composed of CalArts students and faculty. For this performance there was an additional, most attentive audience member – a small-framed man in cap and sunglasses, with white/grey hair. Who was this performer? Who was this audience member? Henry Hopper with father Dennis Hopper enthralled. Oh yes. Hollywood is very much a hop, skip and a jump away from CalArts and with my own navel gazing musings here I sort of forget to report back on that type of thing. I really should share some of my gleanings one day.

Why has Henry Hopper’s performance lingered with me? Well, I got to thinking about narcissism. Narcissism without talent is a repellent gesture to an audience. Its as if the audience are surplus to requirements. But, narcissism with talent is an inviting, generous gesture. Think of Rita Hayworth’s performance of ‘Blame it on Mame’ in Gilda (I mention that moment as it is one I am working with for my thesis show). The audience is invited to collude with the performer, a flirtation between watcher and watched. Craft is an interesting strategy – something held up to the viewer, something generated by the performer. I’ve been thinking about this in relation to women in classic Hollywood film and I’m nearly there with my thoughts – it has got something to do with the agency of the performer and the female masquerade. I’ll get back to you on it.

The visiting artists must perform themselves. Each Thursday night in F200 (aka the room in which I broke my wrist. Incidentally, that was right before doing a performance in an end-of-class showing. I’ll come back to that in a bit), an invited artist shows examples of their work and/or gives explanations or reads aloud recent written material. They then take part in a Q & A session, which is un-moderated and can become an opportunity for the audience to pick holes in the artists work. There is no promise of politeness at a CalArts Q & A – some artists will not come become of its reputation. A team of three students is paid to coordinate the lectures. I find the structure of the whole thing interesting in that the student body shapes the series. The artists often do studio visits too. Isn’t it all performing? Like a performing seal? Performing the self. I remember Sharon Kivland’s maxim: - “an artist is always on duty”. I am going to list all the visiting (performing) artists in the series from the last three semesters. I’ll mark where I attended with a §, when I asked a question with a π and where I had a studio visit with the artist with a Ω.

2007
20th Sept Lisa Anne Auerbach §
25th Sept Mark Lewis
27th Sept Kamau Patton
4th Oct Stanya Kahn & Harry Dodge
11th Oct Francesca Gabbiani
18th Oct Sue de Beer
1st Nov Morgan Fischer
8th Nov Mathias Poledna
15th Nov Frances Stark
29th Nov Symbiotica
6th Dec Lisa Lapinski §
13th Dec Mel Ziegler
15th Jan Miles Coolidge
17th Jan Walid Raad § π
22nd Jan Nicole Cohen
24th Jan Patrick Killoran
29th Jan Edgar Heap-of-Birds §
31st Jan Katja Eydel § π
7th Feb Michelle Grabner
14th Feb Hirsch Perlman
21st Feb Carolla Dertnig (visiting faculty) §
28th Feb Robert Pruitt
6th Mar Richard Hawkins
12th Mar Stefan Romer screening of film Conceptual Paradise §
13th Mar Janice Kerbel § Ω
20th Mar Lane Relyea §
10th Apr Ben Weissman (visiting faculty)
17th Apr Seth Price
24th Apr Lecia Dole-Recio (visiting faculty)
1st May Mary Kelly §
8th May Rebecca Morales
18th Sept Mungo Thomson (Coneptual) §
25th Sept Mindy Shapero (Sculpture/Drawing)
2nd Oct Linda Palmer (Neuroscience of Kantian Philosophy)
9th Oct Yvonne Rainer (Experimental Choreography & Film) §
16th Oct Charles Long (Process-Based Sculpture)
23rd Oct Kim Fisher (Abstract Painting)
30th Oct Panel Discussion: Efficacy of Art & the Politics of Change (participants - Natalie Bookchin, Andrea Bowers, Ashley Hunt, Daniel Joseph Martinez) §
11th Nov Eve Fowler (Portraits/Photography) §
13th Nov Matthew Coolidge (Center for Land Use Interpretation) §
18th Nov Sarah Thornton (author, Seven Days in the Art World)
4th Dec Marnie Weber (Multi-Disciplinary) § Ω
11th Dec Joan Jonas (Video & Performance) § Ω

Each lecture I usually have a question to ask, but I am unable to say anything through (audience) performance anxiety.



In my meeting with Marnie Weber, she told me how it was nice to use my dance knowledge in my artwork. She thinks it is nice when you incorporate your skills into your practice. She was looking at my cigarette-card dancer photos on my studio wall whilst I was telling her about the day I broke my wrist right before our performance presentations. The event was put back a week and I did my performance with a bandaged wrist and on heavy painkillers. Marnie saw a link with my dancers project to this performance – the subversive element of the real person coming through.

Tuesday 16 December 2008

Giving and Thanking

We spent Thanksgiving at the Ranch, and friends of Ellen and David came to celebrate it with them. We were invited up to the main house to join in with the meal and merry-making. I took pan-baked brussel sprouts which were so yummy and got lots of compliments. Leslie Dick and her daughter were amongst the merry-makers and it was lovely to spend some time with them. Leslie was really impressed with husband too.

I omitted to mention that a couple of weeks back, the Semiotics class looked at Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida. Ellen asked me to choose the reading excerpts from the book for the class and to deliver my interpretation on the readings in class. It was a bit of an honor to be asked and a great experience. Of course, I got the pacing all wrong in my delivery but Ellen jumped in and helped me out when more explanation was needed.



I have had many, many meetings recently and I shall try to give some kind of a description of them. I met with Kerry Tribe, who is incredibly fast-talking, but charming, warm and gave some interesting thoughts. She was just around this semester as a one off and I regret not working with her more. Michelle Dizon is visiting faculty (Allen is taking a year out, Billy had this semester off and Kaucyila is having next semester off so there are lots of visiting faculty this year) and everyone adores her. She is extremely softly spoken, gentle, considered and polite. She seems to have a gift of being able to get into everyone’s headspace. I think CalArts should really make efforts to keep her. I had a wonderful meeting with her and really want to do an Independent Study with her next year. Martin Kersels has been a wonderful consoler, he’s great at bringing soothing and forgiving words to the situation when you think maybe your whole work is a big mess.

Although Leslie Dick has a brain as sharp as a tack our meetings feel like girly chats. By that I mean, I un-load my feelings of inferiority to her, she brings me uplifting and hilarious anecdotes, often very personal, as she is so wonderfully open. She said in one meeting that I was ‘smarter than 90% of the people here’, which I doubt, but I appreciated the sentiment. I give her my ideas, she builds on them and gives them back to me and I reciprocate. Leslie easily gets into my area of thinking, very much like Kaucyila, with whom I swap lines from 1940s musicals and film noirs. Kaucyila gets really invested in my work and to some extent a kind of defensiveness comes out sometimes when I tell her about my criticisms and discussions from others – comments like, ‘What is relevant about the 1940s to now?’ Kaucyila has given me a bank of quips to deal with such lines of thinking. Patrick Killoran met with me the other week and he saw my show last year. He came in and told me what a great show it was and gave me his read of that work. That started a really probing conversation about my work and as I was the last meeting of the day he talked to me for an 1 ½ hours instead of the allotted 45 minutes.

We had a lottery at the start of the semester for meetings with the visiting artists and I managed to get two – one with Marnie Weber and other with Joan Jonas. Here’s a thought I’ve been thinking: if I were studying in the UK, I wonder what artist’s names would come up most in my meetings. As I am here two LA-based artists crop up the most – Marnie Weber and Andrea Fraser. I was really excited to meet with Marnie, and she was very generous in our meeting and related my work to her work. Joan Jonas was nice, but she was pushed for time and essentially I seemed to tell her all about my work, she asked me further questions then just said, 'great'. The visiting artists have to meet you and perform in 45 minutes and that either works or it doesn't.

I love working with Natalie. I think Natalie and I have great rapport. And I think to work closely with someone on your work; you need to feel that you can trust them. Natalie is great at listening to me talk about my work then pointing out the flaws in my thinking. She spotted a huge flaw recently, around my preference for the still image in relation to issues around women in representation. She really encouraged me to look at that so I’ve been reading a lot of theory and writing my ideas down for her in order to really get a handle on what I think and why its relevant. I’ve been doing a lot of spider diagrams.

I talk with Ellen when we ride to and from school together. We talk about all sorts on the 40-minute commute, but my thinking on my work is one of the recurrent themes. She is really supportive, but she knows Natalie is on my ass so she gives me encouragement and we put our heads together and try to come up with some answers on my work. On the days that I do the commute alone I have audio books on my i-pod which Ellen gave me. It’s a wonderful way to read novels without looking at the pages. (I just finished Lolita read by Jeremy Irons – his dulcet British tones are soothing)

There is a lot of tension and stress floating around the MFA2 Art & Photo people. My support system is husband, the ranch and Lily. Husband copes really really well with the situation – I know many people are experiencing tough times in their relationships due to the stress. Not here. And that’s credit to Husband. Lily is the most kind, friendly and sweet natured Springer Spaniel. (Sometimes I just drive home praying she is at our place so I can give her a big cuddle. The other night she stayed the night here as she does sometimes. She stays on the sofa but manages to find her way onto our bed before morning.)

I was shocked to find out how many people are on prescribed medication for the stress. (It is very American to pop a pill if you are not brimming with happiness. I think that there is a huge pressure to live some kind of an ‘American Dream’ and if things go wrong psychiatrists use medication in the first instance. I find it all rather sad and feel very thankful I am a Brit and am allowed to be mardy sometimes. There is no friendly slang for being moody here and I think that is another symptom of what I am talking about. I miss the word mardy).

CalArts is all about the artists in different fields working under one rough in order to swap ideas and collaborate. Collaboration proper doesn’t happen all that often, but skill swapping and favours do. I’m really excited as I am getting singing lessons as I photographed a singer in 1930s style. I want to be able to sing for a video I am doing that will be in my thesis show – singing and dancing an excerpt of Laura Mulvey’s Visual Pleasures in Narrative Cinema. Also, I’ve put together some text to do with my cigarette cards/dancers project and I hope to work with a really sweet designer next semester to produce book(let) of the work.

Friday was the last Post Studio and the class went for a meal out together. I came back from the toilet and everyone had left! I missed my opportunity to say goodbye and thanks to Michael. I enjoyed the class, but I did not do as well in it as I first thought. Funnily enough, the conversations hit on areas where I have no expertise - philosophy, Kant, Foucault, Adorno, and stranger still, this seemed to connect to feelings I had around being expelled from school at 16 for not being academic enough. I eventually got some confidence back, but I'm the girl who likened someone's work the the moment in 'This Is Spinal Tap' when the stone henge copies get lowered onto the stage and they are something like 10 inches instead of 10 feet high. I am that girl. I had a meeting with Michael on Thursday and I was nervous about it so I blurted out at the start of the meeting that I did not know if I was Michael-ready yet, and he said, ‘I’m not sure if I’m [Tallulah] ready yet’. The meeting was all too short, but he thought that I might have a case to argue in my work. He really is rather special. I mean that.

Yesterday some people in the class came out to the ranch for a spot of orange-picking – I thought it may be a nice idea as I take a bag or two of oranges along to class so its become a bit of a theme.

Dad is coming to visit on Sunday, 21st December to 1st January and I’m so excited about to see him and show him the ranch.

Wednesday 26 November 2008

No Information In Advance of Need

- is the CalArts school motto. Which is rather interesting.

It appears a lot has happened since my last post. America has a new president elect. Saint Obama. A new regime is so needed that election night was an emotional affair, friends and teachers were declaring they would leave the country if he didn't win. You win some, you lose some - in California, the much opposed, but Mormon funded 'Proposition 8' was passed. The one about gay marriage.

Halloween came and went uncelebrated, this year it occurred to me that Halloween is just not as nice as 5th November so we decided not to do anything. We were house/dog-sitting in Silver Lake again and a couple in their 20s came round asking for treats. We had to give them some of our small chocolate supply. On chocolate, most American chocolate, or 'candy' (a word which conjures up cheap, coloured sugary tasteless stuff to me) is inedible, and certainly gives no pleasure. However the fantastic shop 'Trader Joe's' which I shall miss, does a large bar of Belgian chocolate which we make sure we always have in.

I survived Post-Studio! Being under the spotlight for 4 hours was draining and afterwards I had that feeling of 'fine, I'll never make any work again, its all so shit'. But I recuperated and reflected and realised that it was a great conversation where people who don't speak regularly spoke and people discussed the work insightfully and generously. There were some negative points, but I was grateful for them. I took my 'Art Encounters' sound piece. Michael Asher was kind about my work too. He is so funny in class, he has a habit of swinging on his chair, shutting his eyes as if asleep, then opening them and giving an assured epiphany.

American English has a word that I have certainly never encountered in British English - 'docent' - 'a person who acts as a guide, typically on a voluntary basis, in a museum, art gallery or zoo'.

I enjoy staying in Silverlake (back again now to pick up dog, then back to the Ranch for Thanksgiving). Last time I was here I went to a free LACMA talk with Amy Adler, Alex Slade and Penelope Umbrico. We are, however, staying at the ranch, having looked around for elsewhere to live. We found nowhere cheaper or as private, or as large. Additionally, Husband needed to find employment and he looked around for work in LA, which he would have done, but not enjoyed. Ellen and David needed another full-time worker on the Ranch, and Husband loves working on the Ranch and with Gerado, so he's pretty much working for our rent. This does mean that money is a little better for us and we should drive to LA each weekend for art openings etc. Another LA resource I want to explore is the Academy Awards archive and library.

However, last weekend there was a wonderful day of museum interventions at LACMA in collaboration with experimental gallery/space 'Machine Projects' which I was desperate to go to. Fires nearby resulted in road closures that made our journey 4 hours long. Any enthusiasm was pretty much drained by the time we got there. Ellen even had an opening over the road, but that barely perked us up. An opening at 'COMAspace' - and exhibition from Art MFAs who graduated this year made the evening more fun.

On Sunday Husband was invited on a special horse-riding trip: with Gerado and his Mexican friends. An all male affair with beer - they run out of Bud Lite and had to ride into town to buy more. They rode along the river bed and periodically galloped fast. Husband, a novice, kept up with the riding and drinking. He enjoyed it despite the afternoon being pretty much conducted in Spanish. Now he wants to learn Spanish and get a cowboy hat.



My 'Thesis show' - the exhibition I create that is the culmination of my research here, with a coherent set of ideas that are resolved in it, is scheduled for the week of 21st February. I am currently trying to resolve my work for it, but I keep hitting on problems. I have a pile of books around me and I think they all contain the answers I need, but I want the information now, I want to be able to scan each chapter (like a scanner) and absorb the points and know the arguments. But alas, I must sit here, isolating the most pertinent chapters and reading them, notebook, dictionary, pencil for underlining and page tabs to the side of me. I want to figure it out. I had a meeting with Natalie yesterday and she got to the heart of my conflict/incoherence. A lot of people I meet with are wonderful and have a great read of my work and give me really helpful leads. Natalie will not let me get away with anything and I love it. She asked me to put my ideas into writing and refer to theory. I think this will really help.

No information in advance of need.