Now Garden State is in New Jersey and there’s that Zack Braff movie (which I totally digged for a while ). All those familair with the Garden State movie will know the plot of: “Andrew Largeman shuffled through life in a lithium-induced coma until his mother’s death inspired a vacation from the pills to see what might happen. A moderately successful TV actor living in Los Angeles, “Large” hasn’t been home to the Garden State in nine years. But even with 3,000 miles between them, he’s been unable to escape his domineering father Gideon and the silencing effect he’s had on his son from afar. Stunned to find himself in his hometown after such a long absence, Large finds old acquaintances around every corner living quite unique lives as gravediggers, fast food knights and the panderers of pyramid schemes. Meanwhile, at home, he does his best to avoid a long-simmering but inevitable confrontation with his father. By a twist of fate, Large meets Sam, a girl who is everything he isn’t. A blast of color, hope and quirks, Sam becomes a sidekick who refuses to ride in his sidecar. Her warmth and fearlessness give Large the courage to open his heart to the joy and pain of the infinite abyss that is life.” (stolen from IMDB.COM)

Well going home to the Donx, is a tiny bit like that movie. Minus the death of a mother who was disabled and being on Drugs.

But the return when you haven’t been around in years. And I mean when you haven’t been seen out and about in years.

This is where I live:

And this is my house.

Yup, I’m all council house. Fo’ shizzle!! Anyways, you can tell that it’s one of those neighborhoods that twitch the curtains when a new person walks down the street. To be gerred at as you walk down the street because you’re different. Tonight I went to watch my younger bro (horseboy) get a trophy for football.

I live in one of these communities. I’m not part of it, because obviously I live in Sheffo - and I’m classed as “weird”. When you come here, its like time has stopped. It’s great to see a community still exists but its stuck in itsways. You always see people who were in your year - and they’re working in the bar which used to be part time work for them. People give you dirty looks if you say your studying at uni - because they think you’re taking the piss out of their existence. Its hard stuff. I can’t explain it.

When I walk down the streets, there’s smells that aren’t present in Sheffield. The sun and the smell and certain walking routes makes me feel like i’m 15 again with hardly any cares in the world. I feel like I should go and get on my bike and go and call for Kezwilla, but she will be at work or getting pissed up just to get away from the stress of shit capitalistic work.

I know that this is Nostagia. But it dawns on me as I walk home from the working mans club. I don’t fit in here, and what happens if my plans of living in NYC or else where being an artist or a teacher don’t work out - where am I left? What am I left with?

At least they have each other right?

The uncharacteristic summery weather of the UK this week has been AMAZING.
Tuesday we had to hand in our essays meaning that we have officially finished Uni for a whole year. This year has gone by far too fast for my liking!
Before I know it, it’s going to be overrrr. Anyways I thought I just moan on this blog, lol. There are many positive aspects to my life that I fail to mention so here’s a somewhat typical over view of a week.

FRIDAY 2ND MAY

In a true socialite fashion, I pretend to be a middle classer of Sheffield and attend a ‘buzzing’ gallery opening at the prestigious Site Gallery. Those shades, don’t belong to me. The hat does. Mental note to ones self is to NOT wear a hat again to a gallery opening unless wanting to attract dirty looks.

The actual exhibition? was shit. It was a performance and one of the most mind numbing experiences of my artlife.  I wouldn’t have minded, however, if it wasn’t for Maurie Cool’s HUGE statements that by walking wayyyyyyy slow in a space, and playing around with some paper that she was re-creating the History of Art. How about just being bored in the work place? Now, that would have been funny.

SATURDAY

I didn’t get up till 1pm : I changed my essay typo’s and wrote my biblography in Colligate. Afterwards I went home and Top-Shop Sophie; Dancing Sophie; Richie and myself were in the house all together (doesn’t happen often). We decided to watch a movie! We watched Saved. We shared our food between us (I only had spring rolls from Tesco 2 offer). Afterwards we argued over what to watch next. I wanted to watch Brick; or Dark Days and amoungst other stuff - but the Girls and richie totally out voted me and we watched The Devil Wears Prada - Which I’ve seen before about 2 years ago… but in the first 15 minute of the movie (technically the most important part for the audience and in terms of character building) Michael Corris gets a mention. Richie and I automatically like lift our heads up - and we’re like… helll nahhh? Did that just say that?! And we decided that it had to be the real deal M.C. fo’ shizz. Who else is cool enough to have a party to attend?! Other than Mr. Corris. The Devil Wears Prada has gone up in my estimations. We decide that Corris should have a role in the new Sex and the City Movie. What do you think? They always have cool artists on the show.

In the night I have the FREAKEST Nightmare, in which I scream - I screamed loads, jumped out of bed and ran to turn the light on. Shake at the light inspecting all the room. Its always uneasy going back to sleep

SUNDAY:

 I didn’t get up till 1ish again. I checked my mail and hung out around the house for a bit. I started to watch Hardball until Richie disturbed the peace! He demanded me to walk to KFC with him. We bought a Family Feast to share between us; and he makes me carry it home because he doesn’t want the Sports students who litter the streets in bars to judge him. We get in, and Top-Shop Sophie wants to watcha  movie again - so we go to Blockbusters and buy Stardust (again, I’ve seen this before) and She buys the Simple Life 2. We watch Stardust and then the WHOLE series of Simple Life. My braincells are reduced to a mere 40% after the viewing of the Simple Life. I only watched it because I didn’t want to sit upstairs on my own. Whilst at Blockbusters,  I bought running with Sissors - I’ve read the book - so I watch the movie and go to bed at about 3:30am. Just as I’, settling down - I freak myself out again - and i scream once more and run and turn the lights on. This has to stop. So I sleep with the blind wide open (for light) and with radio 1xtra on.

MONDAY

Bank Holiday. I lay in bed till 2pm.  I get up. Go into town. Buy Fraiser season 1 on DVD, a real cool cd Kid Cerole - and a Jack London novel. ride my bike back. The Big Issue guy who stands outside Tescos says Hi- we’re becoming good friends - i dont have to buy them off him anymore for nice chats. I chill upstairs in my room reading my first novel in about half a year. It feels GREAT not 2 read an art book! Whilst listening 2 my new CD which is amazing. I sit outside on the wall with Ella , top-shop; dancing soph and richie. I drink Coke, they drink Wine. We annoy the street with Richie’s Ipod. It’s all goood - untill about 10pm and I decide to go and watch Fraiser.

TUESDAY

We hand in the essay. And waste the rest of the day in the Psalter Lane Resturant since I haven’t a clue what to do with my new found freedom. It gets to the point where its too late to go home and come back for the MA exhibition opening in the End Gallery. A piece of work has me in it; and I look AWFUL. It bares allllof double chins. I ain’t happy. I never knew it would be used as art! lol. After that Richie and I leave, meet James at the Agraa and we dine in style to celebrate our freedom and the journey!!  On our way back, Richie buys some DVDs. We watch The Host and the officially one of the worst movies of all time - It’s aBoy Girl thing.

WEDNESDAY

I rock and roll into uni to meet up with the group to prepare for our school on Thursday. We make a powerpoint; discuss artists and how we’re going to rock and roll. Afterwards, in boredom, we start planning our European extravagent trip! I go to my ” elitest meeting” announce how I think i’m black to academics and go home. Brendan and I treat ourselves to chips from the chip-shop. I watch some Fraiser, go to Colligiate to pass sometime. End up staying there chatting online to Feebo in Finland till 12:30am. Then Richie and I chat shit and I make the workshops worksheet I go to bed at 3am.

THURSDAY

I have ti get up at 7:00am. We all meet at the station. Brendan can’t make it cuz he smells of Whiskey lol. We have a laugh trying to figure out trains and buses to get to teh school and which stops to get off at.

We get there. we create magic we go home. Then I fall asleep at home at 3pm cuz I’m KNACKERED. and I get a phone call from Sianbohn saying PARTY. So I get up and its a streetparty. We chill out for 5 hours and rock and roll to the Fuzz club.

So, today I came clean about my heritage

In an encouraging message I got the other day, it said that they couldn’t think of nothing better than “someone like me” doing well. Which in all honesty made my day (or my month) because I respect this person in all totality. But then, in my born-into me skepticism… I was forced to wonder what “Someone like me” is. Who is someone like me? Is that stupid? Someone who tries but doesn’t quite get there. Someone working class etc.  It’s a typical Smizz thing to do to turn a possiitive into a negative. But It really has got me thinking.

Who is someone like me? For real.

We have these what I like to call ‘elitest’ meetings (makes me feel proper special - all Art&Language without the conceptual nature. ) There’s a select few of us who attend: 4 second years (including myself), 2 MA students, 1 first year and 1 Lecture/’Real’ Artist- out of office hours.

We have come to use the empty spaces that the Artworld, and its institutions such as Artschool running as a business, provides. How the plausibility of revolution, the classist view- the actual making and love of what we do as artists - is somewhat missing - in the marketisation of the gallerist and collectors etc.

We encouraged each of us to create a somewhat ‘virtual’ artist of what we would like to see in the artworld. Perhaps a projection on what we would like to be. Or create - or have in the future.

Mine came to me as a Colombian workin’ class kid, who was lucky enough to secure a scholarship at New York City Visual Arts under Kosuth (we can time travel) and they rented a place on the Lower Eastside and was part of the PAD/D movements. to put it in a nutshell.

Then I came out with it, when questioned. I’ve never openly admitted it; although we sometimes joke in passing judgements. But I’ve never EVER felt British/English or White.  I’m not sure where I fit; but i feel more black African American. mainly because of my upbringing.

Exploited, repressed, poverty stricken, culture fed by myself which is just movies, American sit-coms and hip-hop music. (That’s not me sayin - that’s what every Black African American does- because clearly it’s not. Nor am I suggesting I feel the pain of 2,000 years of slavery and still have racial abuse) but there are parrells in Working class society within a middle class structure. 

Growin’ up I struggled really hard to find out what suited me. Domestic violence; alcoholism; (there’s more) I know how to make a ketchup sandwich last all day.  I was bullied real bad in Junior school because I couldn’t afford Nike sneakers. And cuz I loved drawing. I’ve been classed as mentally retarded / having learning disabilities twice!!

Then in Highschool I turned all Chavvy in order to fit in. Shop lifted- gettin’ drunk in the park on White Lightening- becoming a DJ - attempted 2 make cool music videos - gettin’; int nightclubs before was necessary - didn’t try at school because it was the uncool thing to do. All the time I knew it wasn’t me. This ain’t who I am. But it’s what becomes of the majority of people where I come from. 

 this was all in about a year of hittin teen-dom. Then I got lucky - and a science teacher saw some potential in me, and got me off the dodgy road and helped me on the straight on. I feel honoured that I can pin point the moment. AND That some1 took a chance on “someone like me.”

That’s when I discovered graffiti - art - hip-hop- movies - Marxism- all this./ I educated myself. And everything felt right. I felt accepted. It felt like me. This was me. tHIS IS ME.

I ain’t denying my roots no more - I dunno where they are from - some are Irish; some are Polish the others i don’t know. But I know, I ain’t white. My culture and identity is fragmented from my oppressors who have stood before my ancestors before me.

And you know what, it felt good to say it out aloud- seriously. It sounds ridicolus. People think I put it on; but this is really how I have created myself from a young age and it feels right.

Sometimes, I’m so melodramatic. My assessment actually turned out wayyyyyyy better than I thought it would. So all that drama for nothing.

So now on to the mellowwww…

I’m at colligate library burning the midnight oils since I don’t have the internet - and I had to type up my list of galleries I’ve been to; just about to go home and write up my tutorial forms (like i’m supposed to do that after the tutorial - who does?) I’m pretty tired. I was up till 4:30am this morning. Doing the last bits to print and shizzle. What is done, is done. I can’t do anything more.

In the quiteness of the library -

I’ve realised I quite like deadlines.

I like the sound that they make as they ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooomM! Past!!

I can’t wait for this to be over; regardless of what I get - So I can stop being so serrrrrrrious!!

Rock on some fun blog posts!

This music Myspace page is pretty shit hot: http://www.myspace.com/mastershortie

Today is amazing. It’s warm; there’s a warm breeze. Its one of those days you just wanna go to the park with a blanket with some friends and chill out.

Unfortunately, I can’t do that. We went to some art openings last night./ 7:30pm Friday  - 4:00am this morning. One hour turned into a mixture of some bad art (some good) and a real bad attempt at networking  to lets go for one drink - to getting chucked out of the bar - nasty nightout food - sianbon peeing outside some flats with the cops driving by - up 2 Sianbons house…. to then hittin’ that exhusted peek. And I don’t even drink!

So as a result today and tonight and 2mozzle I have to do my work and work till the early unsociable hours. I’ve got an award plan in hand though - when I finish my essay and other pieces of historical context etc - I’mma eat some Ben and Jerry’s ice cream [Kate bought me some back!]  as i’m really gettin’ grounded down - i wanna have fun but i’m exhusted having to be here, there and everywhere. (ice cream makes everything better ) I’ve got a cold now. so i’m poorly. I’m not down wid that. But I’ll eat the ice cream and imma watch Alvin and the Chipmunks. Yes I don’t have to be a pretensious artist allllllllllllll the time,. quite frankly its tiring being pretenscious. ;o)

So anyone who reads this, get yo ass outside and enjoy the sun - it only happens about once a month in Sheffield. :p

So we did this really bad tour of the city shizzle, exasperated we decide not to go to the Feedback session - it’s been a freakin’ long day. On the way home, a group of us decides to go for a drink in a cafe/bar near the Crucible.

Sianbon and I walk in, on the door there’s a sign saying no under 14’s allowed. We rock and roll to the bar. We get there and ask for a coke. Just a coke. No alcoholic substance - I don’t drink alcohol …. Siabon hasn’t asked for an alcoholic beverage. He then askes us for I.D. At 5pm in a cafe/bar that says no under 14s when I’ve asked for a coke. I’m not happy. I don’t have any ID on me because I don’t drive - my passport being my only form of Age proof. I say I’ve got my student card - it’s no acceptable but he’ll believe i’m over 14 cuz I have it.

Oh my gosh. I blame my hat but under 14? Should I be flattered? I’m not sure. But I’m like 20 and quatre years old!

Today has been one of those complete waste of my life days. We’re moving to the city and the powers that be decide that its necessary that we take a whole day out - 2 days before assessment; one day after a symposium asessment - to discuss the BIG move to city next academic year. Baring in mind the 2 weeks later we’d all have the time in the world to discuss such political bullshit.

I hate the institution. They make out that they’re doing this all for us. studio’s in a basement with no natural light? doesn’t that  encourage vitamin D deficiency? nO NATURAL Light. bUT IT’S FOR Our own good, because that’s what we need.

Of course, there are great advantages to the move such as we don’t have to eat cafateria food. And I can literally roll out of bed into college next year - which I’m looking forward to.

But this type of bullshit is exactly what Hiedegger suggests that keeps us from accessing our Being. Just tedious, inappropriate bullshit. I mean if they’ve made the decissions already - then what is the point? Yes were in the basement; yes we all have less studio space; yes the staff all have communal studio’s; yes you the students don’t have any exhibition spaces - good job my workz already interventionist.

So I’m all restless - somewhat moody (which is a rarity) cuz I am exhusted both physically and mentally. late night readings; late night watchings; late night consoling friends who need support - worrrk worrrkk - symposiums - exhibitions - work. And then actually some Smizz time. I need a certain amount of sleep to function. i’M not just naturally mellowed out. It’s alllll to do with sleep. Roll on The weeeeeekend!

moaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan over. Thank you WWW.