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.