A New Way. Can You Help Some People Who Mean Alot To The World, and To Me?

Throughout our lives, we will come to find ourselves in a lot of different places.

A lot of different rooms.
A lot of different corners.
A lot of different wheres.

Those wheres will be unexpected. They will surprise us, scare us, change everything, change nothing, and break our hearts.

I’ve found myself in some pretty amazing wheres, and some pretty devastating places. But one of the constants was having the opportunity to be part of Postmasters Gallery, and to continue to feel like I am part of their huge art family.

And that’s why I am asking you to be a Patron and help support them to keep making the artworld more radical, more daring and the world a better place to be – for us all. 

Furthermore, outside of art, The Postmasters Family helped save my life… and helped me get back onto the path of trying to live my life.  See Postmasters aren’t just a normal gallery. They’re everything and more. They’re community, they’re bravery, they’re hope, they’re protest, they’re US.

Let me tell you how, and just how their Patron rewards will LITERALLY MAKE A DIFFERENCE to YOU if you invest.

In 2008, I got to chance of a lifetime. I had decided the previous summer (2007), whilst working with steadfast ambitious & economically supported college-aged Americans, that I needed to catch up with my life and career ambitions. And my career ambitions was to be an artist and to live and work in NYC. Preferably in a gallery. This was no small-feat for an under confident, working class kid from Doncaster, UK (DONX!).

I worked at a bookies and at a toy-shop part-time during term-time,  whilst praying to the art gods that I’d get my artworld NYC summer. I did anything to make sure I could afford to go.

I remember exactly where I was when Magda of Postmasters Gallery said she’d meet me in person with the chance of getting to be Postmasters’ intern the summer of 2008. I was sat with my friend James Cotton in the Graphic Design-Apple suite at the old art campus. It was a super sunny day for the winter and the sun was blinding through the large windows. I just-re-read that same email, over & over again. I still have it archived even though I no longer have that email address (at hotmail.com?!).

I remember being incredibly nervous. I think I was practically mute for the first 2 weeks of being at Postmasters. But I learned so much.

I learnt around 26 years of Postmasters Show history, and art history in the making, as I was set to digitalizing their whole archive. Endless slides to be scanned, and amazing write-ups of artists in ArtForum, NYT, Art In America, et al – of still practicing, artists who have since disappeared, but a theme emerged.

These shows were often groundbreaking, urgent, courageous, some genuinely funny, ahead of the curves. New Media Art shows before new media art was accepted as it is today (though we still have ways to go with this medium). Women artists equally represented, and mostly – it still felt contemporary, and alive and represented the values that Magda and Tamas have sought to bring to the artworld their whole life.

I also learnt how to send invoices via fax (though still not into faxing), I met some of the coolest artists who continue to inspire my practice today, about art museums collections & how they buy art for them, at one point – I was left manning the whole establishment for a week?! and I learnt loads from Magda and Paulina’s experiences and ideas.

I was properly schooled that summer I was at Postmasters. I remember leaving after my last shift and I walked down to 9th Ave, and had to search for a working pay-phone to call my mom because I felt so sad I was leaving this amazing thing I had sort of been apart of for a short time.  I left that summer with my heart heavy but inspired.

I got back to the U.K. and art school felt kind of boring after that experience. I had to do something. Magda taught me that literally, anything is possible, even starting from scratch, along as you have perseverance, some people and community who can support you.

So my friends and I started our own lil’ artspace called CAKE (rebranded CAKE Everyone). We were a small space above a bar on West Street, Sheffield, UK. We lasted around 2 years and we learnt loads and had so much fun. But the thing is, I took everything I had learnt from Magda & Postmasters, and I put it into action in Sheffield – and invested it back into our local community.

I am still employing these lessons from this time into my life and practice.

Now, it would be easy to say – I became, like, an awesome artist, or got lots of gallery jobs… but because i’m not very smart or that talented, that didn’t really happen (and that’s ok!). But the year after I graduated was HARD. I nearly lost my own belief. But Magda offered hope and advise on the end of emails. That really helped me push through what I thought was a dark time…

Then things started to work out… I got a residency at SITE Gallery, I was working freelance as an illustrator, doing some university lecturing… I came over to work a summer in Boston/New Hampshire in the U.S.A.  but I had been feeling poorly for a good few months before I went… tired beyond belief, coughing up blood, endless nosebleeds, bone-pain, flu-like symptoms, drenching nightsweats.

And on the 21st August, everything changed. I found myself sitting in front an oncologist at General Mass Hospital. With my YMCA boss, 3,000 miles away from home. The doctor cleared his throat a few times and told me it looked like Lymphoma… Cancer. He told me, if it was time-sensitive and I didn’t get it sorted then I would die.

Well. As you can imagine, that wasn’t the news that I was expecting. I didn’t tell my mom for weeks (I was only 24). I felt ashamed, I don’t even know why. I thought it couldn’t be true. I googled the odds every-single-day. My boss kept telling me I needed to go home. The only person who I decided to tell who I didn’t work with — was Magda.

Because Magda was a person I knew I could trust, and always has a no bullshit take on everything but has an aabundance of empathy too.

After a crazy 32 U.S.A. state roadtrip (yolo!) Magda & Tamas put me up at their place, Magda cooked me an amazing breakfast before I left the USA for unknowns at home, not knowing whether I’d make it back again.

But the story is more complicated.

Magda nearly saw me go under. A few times.

I just had no energy. I laid in bed. Feeling sorry for myself. I was in pain. I was really sick. I couldn’t even watch Netflix. But Magda & Paulina would send reassuring tweets and emails and I slowly kept it together.

I worked harder at building my art-practice than on anything in my life, though it never felt like work. I devoted myself to it, though it never felt like sacrifice.  I am also endlessly grateful. Those years gifted me experiences, skills, lessons, and friendships. I would not be me without them.

Many forget that it’s a rare privilege to find something you care about so deeply and be able to make it your life.

I had struggled to get back, but my heart wasn’t in it in the same way.  I simply craved a new challenge. It didn’t matter why — I couldn’t lead  my life in the same way, and I had promised myself that I wouldn’t be caught without a plan if something happened to me again.

I realized I couldn’t have my old life back, but I also didn’t want it anymore.

So I decided to go into healthcare… radiotherapy & oncology! Of all things. But I’d kept all this secret from most people. It was furtive, shadowy work, and the secrets made my stomach ache.

 

But I reached out to M, and I hoped that she would still think I was an okay person.

The wild thing is, Magda still helped me through emails – giving me incredible advise and inspiration for my healthcare practice. To the point that I realized that I was still a fucking artist. I had got lost, but she never stopped helping me find the tracks back. I’m now doing my PhD combining all of my double agent status’ together. Just insane.

But here’s the thing about the Postmasters Fam., is that they don’t let you down.

Magda once said to me that we get dealt the cards that we get dealt, but we play them like they’re fucking Aces.  She has taught me that experience is subjective. We get to decide what’s devastating, what’s beautiful, and what we do next. In the books of our lives, we are both protagonist and narrator. And narrators have incredible power.

In writing this, I thought a lot about the places that shape us, and how, in turn, we shape those places in our minds. Postmasters have really shaped my life, in so many ways.

As human beings living on earth right now, we find ourselves in a very particular where.  The art-world mostly sucks, because it works for the 1%, lets not even talk about politics.

But this is something we can all help, maintain, and be a part of. Help sustain the legacy, help to make the future, help to secure a better history. Look down at your feet and decide what that means.

Instead of being afraid, I’m going to try to be brave. Instead of feeling regret, I’m going to focus on getting better tomorrow, and instead of hoping that someone else will say it or move it or mean it, I’m going to do it myself.

Postmasters has been there for us (in ways you might not even know yet!) so lets me THERE FOR THEM!

And as I’ve just shown you, the $100 or $500 a month reward will LITERALLY CHANGE YOUR LIFE. I can’t stress enough how much its worth it.

Let’s make art, and friends, and purpose, and be good to each other. And please spread the word!

If you got this far – Thanks!

pm2

Advertisements

2014 moments: Hopes for 2015

My mom always says that on the first of the new year, you should do a little bit of everything good: small bits of good habits you want to carry through into the new year.

That’s how I’ve always tried to start every first day of the year, no matter where in the world I am.

This year, I am doing a little of the same here: going on (very) short runs, finishing unfinished books, starting a new one, do some writing, do some work, trying to be creative and challenge the boundaries. And then, because I’ll be in Lisbon, Portugal in a few days: I’m going to listen to some good music, go to galleries, eat whatever delightful food there is to wonder upon to and take a walk to explore and learn more about a new country, a new city and all it’s neighborhoods.

It allows for a little reflection, a little resetting, and a little bit of conscious forward-thinking about how you should spend the rest of the year.

That’s a little bit of everything good.

—->

I am, however, a kid of tradition (or superstitious – depends how you look at it). And if I find something that works – I go with it. i can’t take chances changing it.  Each year I sort of blaze over the best highlights, and then wish for the things I’d like to happen/achieve in 2015. It’s a good way to hold myself accountable – and additionally – i think it works 😉

2014 moments:

It was amazing. And bittersweet. And hardwork but full of laughs and adventures too.

Jan:

I sat my first ever exams in about 8 years. I can’t even remember how to do exams, but I passed all with Firsts. That was a trip!

My Slovakian Friends, Rado & Katka who I worked with for 2 years in the USA, came to live with us for a year! Exciting!

I did some cool work for TalkTalk

Gave a talk on #RONCrg twitter group that I run & recieved some great feedback.

Got Shep – the awesome German Shephard doggie!

Feb:

I started running & going to Row-Fit, which was really fun!

Found a new house for all of us to move into.

March:

Drew the International NHS Health Expo in Manchester, that was so rad!

Drew more stuff for TalkTalk

Got the HEADACHE from hell (which I still have as I type this).

April:

Had my first ever A&E admission [for worst headache ever], nothing like spending a night on an Emergency decision ward to make you appreciate the affects of life on people.

Went to NYC – got to see my friends exhibition, privately, and we got so drunk in the depths of Bushwick. I ended up seeing my first Brooklyn Bridge Sunrise (drunk), and worst hangover to date. I also had to take a plane to Vegas, hungover. So a bunch of firsts. It rained so hard that trip that I had to throw away my running sneakers.

May:

Saw my mom get married! Yay!

Went to Vegas from NYC – met with my great USA friend, Leah, and we had LOTS of including sneaking into pools and beach-pools that we weren’t supposed to & I accidently tipped a pool-boy $20. Call me generous.

Got Shingles – which I thought were bedbugs from NYC/Vegas – duh.

Sat some more exams which I passed pretty awesomely if I do say so myself.

June:

DREW THE AMAZING SHEFFIELD DOC/FEST!!!

More clinical placement antics. Really don’t remember anything of any value here. Just work, work, work.

July:

Got hit by a car & was pretty traumatised by it.

Was in our first ever HUGE house fire.

Started skateboarding again because my bike was fucked up.

Spent the last weeks of July trying to desperately do a whole years worth of ePortfolio in 6 weeks total. (I won’t be doing that again!)

Designed a website for my friend and her exhibition at YorkshireSculpturePark

August:

Passed palliative case discussion.

Got a super dope mark (SURPRISINGLY) for ePortfolio

Got mega cheap flights to USA – So went back to NYC & saw all my friends at Camp in New Hampshire!

Got Shingles AGAIN.

Got another old-puppy – Finnley the Border Collie!

September:

Was made a recluse because of Shingles.

Finished clinical for a bit – went back to uni. Moved back to Sheffield properly (rather than living in Leeds)

Did my first Pecha Kucha Talk! YAY!

Had an awesome house party!

Gemma left for New Zealand.

October:

Drew TEDXSalford

Drew stuff for University of Derby

Had an awesome Halloween pumpkin carving party at Charlottes!

WE ORGANIZED & HOSTED RAD conference successfully – YAY!

November:

Drew stuff for Uni of Sheff

Drew TEDXSheff

Had the bestest Thanksgiving!

December:

Went to Copenhagen & saw so much awesomely designed stuff!

Had an awesome Christmas!

HOPES FOR 2015

Here is my new list. It’s pretty much the same as last year with some re-thoughts. But I can’t stress enough my main goals are to:
STUDY-HARDER
BE MORE MOTIVATED
NOT WASTE TIME
WORK HARD (ER)
MAKE A DIFFERENCE (IN A POSITIVE WAY, SOME HOW)
MAKE TIME FOR FRIENDS
HELP OTHERS
HAVE MORE FUN
ADVENTURE
WHAT I WISH WISH WISH for in 2015: Keeping the same values/wishes/hopes/resolutions as last year:
  1. That my mom, bro, nan and friends are all super happy, heathy and that NO ONE DIES! Including ME! But I would die instead of the above people if it has to come down to that.
  2. Last year, and the year before that I asked for a job  that I enjoyed. I ended up getting at lots of cool small ones!  So thank you 2013 & 2014 for amazing job years;  PLEASE New Year help me find these golden eggs of opportunity and help me reach my potential. Help me make GREAT/BETTER impressions at the places where I currently work. Let me move small mountains. Please find extra work to fund me through uni. Please find me more amazing opportunities. Let me be BETTER. WORK HARDER. Even more so, PLEASE provide me with opportunities to help others and to make a positive difference! Esp. in radiotherapy.
  3. Make extra time for friends, make sure i actually see friends who live else where. Don’t let money define this.
  4. This year I need to be more motivated. Be more time-focused. Less TV and more drawing. More studying less sleeping.  This is also very, very do-able if I just organize my priorities too! I need to make more great art-works rather than just research and develop ideas that never get shown. I need to remember the stuff I learn in class! I need to be more confident in clinical.
  5. I really really hope that i can make a positive difference this year, help others that need it, and make the world a place i’m proud to live in.
  6. More teaching opportunities PLEASE! This is a must if i want a chance at achieving number 5! too
  7. I would like to interact with people better, so I can communicate effectively and be wayyy more better and likeable esp for clinical placement.
  8. As with any artist, any exhibition/residential/print opportunities no matter how small or little they may seem all adds to the endless cannon of critical thinking and art practice!
  9. I need to become more motivated to learn my material… I can only make the difference I want to make if I am disciplined enough to sit down and dedicate the time to master my craft. Please give me the strength, the focus and the motivation – and mostly the energy to do this!
  10. I just want to feel normal again. Like not have bone ache, or nightsweats, where i could get up in the morning and not feel insanely hungover despite not actually touched alcohol in weeks. I want to not feel SUPER tired for NO reason anymore. I want to be fit, i want to be healthy again, i just want my body and health back from circa 2006 (that was a good year ha!) I’d even take health back from circa 2010/early 2011.
  11. I’d like to take up running, agaaaaiiiinnnn. By the end of the year I want to run 10K – like a fit person.
  12. I know I can’t travel like I have done previous years, but I would absolutely love to visit USA again & do lots of small local EU travelling like to Italy!

Thanks 2014 for a dope year, 2015 I know you’ve got my back. Here’s to hard-work, game changing, trying to stay focused, fighting against the ordinary daily events, challenges and finding ways or re-focusing when things might not work out exactly as we might want them to. TO FRIENDSHIP yo!

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

On Navigating Stuckness

I’ve loved a lot of cities, but I didn’t know what it was like to be *in love* with a city, until New York. 

Today I take my flight home (and i’m bringing the shingles back with me too). Whilst I’m not best pleased to leave, it marks another summer that I’m still here, kickin’ it and this fact feels good. After a year of falls, bike-accidents, too many punctures to count,  fires, shingles, doom-headache-facial-numbness-from-hell, treatments, steep learning curves, sleep-less nights, never-ending deadlines, constant doubt and having to rebuild my confidence to name a few – I’m feeling pretty [very] lucky. 

Time is already a tough customer, but it is torturous when you start measuring it. Becoming a new parent is a struggle (as most of my friends are now new parents! congrats, guys!). Starting a new course is a struggle. Staying with your values and staying healthy and keeping a good perspective is a struggle. But struggling is good. It is one of the only things that exercise the deep well of will and vitality within us. That help us dig into ourselves deeper, that push us to grow.

I went back to Sandy Island this vacation on different terms than previous years. And I was welcomed with so much warmth and posters everywhere that said WELCOME BACK SMIZZ! I felt like I had come home. I can’t explain the feeling.

When I think about my time at Sandy I just don’t know where to begin. It was there where I started to get the help I needed when I fell sick a few years ago now, and well, it’s always on my mind because ALL of my friends (sandy, donx, sheffo, nyc, everyone!) came together to help me through it all – and they still are. falling sick has taught me a lot about loss and resilience and the will to live and adapt. I feel broken, always. But when I start talking about the outpouring of love and support that I had received since my illness and accidents, ect, I become really weepy. Because I realized that for the first time in my life, I was truly letting love into my heart. Losing a small part of me has connected me to others in a way I had never felt. And whilst I feel broken, a sense of myself lost from feeling constantly tired and in pain, in a way, I feel as if I have gained much more.

This trip I’ve had the chance to see people I never thought I’d get to see again (or for a very long time). I got to see friends, and meet their friends, and meet their awesome boyfriends. I got to go to my first ever garage jamming session. I got to drink in brooklyn dive bars and see a record album release party! I saw a hipster version of charlie & chocolate factory store, got to see more of the sketchbook project, tried properly independently brewed coffee (still think coffee is gross), I gave up my seat on a bolt bus so 2 kid brothers could sit together and then the people on the bus all gave me an applause?! i went into the lake, felt sand between my toes, watched a new hampshire sunset. Went to my favourite chinese restaurant in  Meredith, NH with 3 great amazing people and the owners remembered not only who I was – but also what my favourite dish was! I went to my favourite thai-food place and managed to get really good Thai-iced tea. I survived 3 craz thunder-storms, including when I was on a BOAT! I made some cool new friends, and stayed up until 4am learning all about my new friends lives. I got a t-shirt with my artwork on ! And then managed to get a ride all the way from NH to Brooklyn, for free, so I could get there to NYC in time to see the US Open with another super special person who took me! I officially fell asleep on the streets of NYC whist waiting in line to get super awesome improve comedy free tickets. and I’ve drank enough delicious horchata to last until my next trip. 

I’ve done lots more, and ate a lot more food than mentioned here. But this stands out.

 I can say that i’m old enough to have a past with some regrets, but young enough to feel like I have a stake in the game for righting the course, and self-obsessed enough to have a hyper-vigilant sense of justice. I feel it. Life is a set of nested envelopes. 

“In the trade off between timeliness and timelessness, choose the latter. The zeitgeist rewards timeliness, but your soul rewards timelessness.” – Jonathan Harris

My trip reminds me that we need to work on things that will last.  I leave this here as a reminder to write the counter-point to this quote. My current belief is that after timelessness comes a second stage of timeliness: attention to quality time with people and interests you love, independent from their longevity.

As I’ve said before, I have some time left, and if I use it well, it will be more than enough.

Hopefully I will see you USA folks soon (without the gross shingles), and to my UK friends – I’m going to see you all super soon to catch up! 

Skateboarding produces space, but also time and the self.

My bike (which I made from scratch) is pretty mushed up from when I got hit by a car 2 weeks ago. The front wheel is about as damaged as my ribs. As a result I was feeling pretty lost at getting from A to B. Sure I can walk, but it’s slow and boring. I could take the bus but it’s expensive. I need to do the excerise too. I’ve never been a fan of walking about, unless it’s a new place or in a city, like NYC where everything is a sight to be savoured. But generally, I’d rather take my bike instead. Nothing beats having the wind in your hair, the sun in your eyes, the burn from a mad-dash up a hill, or the adrenaline of riding down a steep hill at 30-40MPH.

No bike, I was stumped. Until I remembered that I had my skateboard that I bought whilst living in Brooklyn during the summer of 2008. It was a way to ensure I’d get invited by skaters to rooftop BK parties. And I wasn’t in a position to turn down friends. I’d practice riding the -then – not very busy industrial streets of Williamsburg, of course now it’s really busy down by the waterfront. And if you’re not getting hit by a car you’re probably getting run down by some dude on a fixie.

So it’s been a while since I took my skateboard out. My mom had hidden it in the depths of the cupboard where inanimate objects and old clothes go to die. I waited until I could lift my hands higher that my clavical without wincing in pain, and decided to take out the skateboard. I’ve certainly lost my confidence in riding, but mane, nothing beats the sound of skateboard on concrete.

Last night I went to my local leisure center. I know it closes at 4pm on a Sunday ensuring an empty parking lot. And honestly, I feel back in love with skating.  There’s a freedom to it. A control. A beauty between architecture, being and balance. It’s almost zen like. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was content with just riding up and down and around a parking lot. Just doing something relatively banal which feels so exciting! I feel like a child again trying to master something for the first time.

I’m quite excited to start taking the board from A to B again. Skateboarding produces space, but also time and the self.  I’m reminded of The practices of everyday life, which in everyday space, are rich in agency, invention and subversion, as much as they are habitual, controlled and restricted. Such practices produce and reproduce social space in ways that are both planned and unforeseen.

Here’s some of my favourite videos that I’ve found that really capture that playful, architectural production of space and time. It makes me really want to go back to America.

 

Screen Shot 2014-07-08 at 01.35.16

QUIK from Colin Kennedy on Vimeo.

Balmorhea – Pyrakantha [official] from Colin Kennedy on Vimeo.

form from Colin Kennedy on Vimeo.

Four Corners: West – Episode 1 from Vans Europe on Vimeo.

Growing Up A Second Time

It was my good friends birthday yesterday. She turned only 19 years old. Still a baby. Although 19 was only 6/7 years ago for me, it seems so much longer. Being in your mid-20′s isn’t that old, but I feel like I’ve aged 2 lifetimes in the past 3+ years, I feel like I’m ageing in dog years. Maybe ageing like that makes you look back a bit more.

As I was out with my young course friends, I thought about what I’ve done so far in and with my life. And what getting older kind of feels like.

Philosopher Alain De Botton tweeted today that ” ‘Growing up’ in many ways a long process of learning to put up with stuff. Eventually, even the idea of dying.”

I came from an incredibly poor family, mostly it was just my mom, my bro, and me with my nan popping in often.    As a result I didn’t have many things considered as “cool” growing up. My clothes were cheap, and shabby. I was a bit weird, I loved hip-hop and animation as a 8 year old. I had this incredible imagination. And I was kinda fat. This made me such an easy target to be bullied every-single-day up to high school. I tried my very best to be “cool” and “likeable”, but we didn’t have the money and when I did save up to get some “cool things”, the clothes looked weird on me. It looked insincere & wrong.  Luckily, time and age taught me to slowly accept myself and follow what I like. And the strangest thing was, the more I accepted myself, the less grief I got from my fellow bully students. In fact, almost the opposite happened. I got more respected, and more known once I had accepted myself. Funny thing that, self-acceptance.

After my GCSE’s, we were made homeless (for too many reasons) for 6 months. We lived with my nan for a few months, until her landlord knew she was over exceeding her limit of people in the house. And then we went from temporary accommodation to temporary accommodation, all whilst I was trying to study for my AS levels. We finally busted the system and got enough points to get a council house. Crazy point: being homeless doesn’t give you enough points on the system to be eligible for a council house. Or it didn’t in 2004/5. How fucked up is that?  I remember at the time being incredibly embarrassed about this. I didn’t tell a soul for months. But it just reinforced my love for Marxism and social justice. I was voted, by the whole of Doncaster by kids, to be a Youth Councillor for the Donx Youth.

I lasted about 8 months (and resigned) when I realised we didn’t really do that much except organize fun pizza parties.

I met Ed Miliband, he was the new MP the North Doncaster then. My friend & I had gone to complain about UCAS taking our money and then not processing our applications making our application late, and after the deadline – potentially affecting our uni offers (It didn’t). I stated it was because we’re working class, and the system was against us (Marxist in me). Of course, it was just a person not doing their job correctly, some clerical error. I can’t remember what he said he’d do. But I do wonder how many 16/17 year olds go to see their MP these days? You guys really should if you have an issue!

Ed asked, since he was new to the area, if I could organize for him to come to our school. I was pretty stoked with this & ended up doing a lil work with Ed. I had no idea back then that he could be the potential prime minister of 2016! (Hopefully, eh?!) – People, strangers, you meet will always surprise you. Everyone has a story.

I then was head-girl of the school in 6th form, and then also got excluded (for political reasons) as Head-Girl. I was also embarrassed about this. But as time has gone on, I realized just how kind of awesome it was. And it’s just another crazy story I get to tell. This taught me that the system, if it really wants to, will make sure you’re screwed over if you try and disrupt corrupted power.

As soon as I turned 15 my mom made me get a job. I didn’t even want one.  And earnt a measily £2.50 per hour of my life. I knew my time was worth more than watching kids throw plastic balls at each other and fish dirty nappies out of the ball-pool. But as I got older, I realised why my mom made me do it. 1.) to instil a sense of labour and work and pride in earning your own way. 2) to learn how to interact with people you may never interact with outside of that environment. I swapped the wacky warehouse for scraping chicken fat off trays at ASDA in the rotisserie for 2 years every weekend & some more, but for £8.50 an hour. Not too shabby for a 16/17/18 year old. I saved all my money from this job, & EMA and took my mom to NYC for her birthday. It’s one of the best trips I’ve ever had.

I went to study Fine Art at university, I’m not sure how I came to decide to go to university as I’m the first person & so far the only person who has gone to uni in my whole family. It’s something that was never discussed. I just came home one day & was like, oh I’ve applied to university! Like I’d just subscribed to a mailing list. I remember feeling very casual about it. I even thought that once I got to university, that I wouldn’t be smart enough, get home-sick and drop out.

But I was pretty wrong. I ended up bulking up my time an extra year & getting a BA & a MA.  I didn’t really return home for longer than 3 weeks for 4+ years.

My first uni year I applied to do Camp America. I ended up  being placed on an island in the middle of a beautiful, clear water lake surrounded by mountains and trees in New Hampshire. Once I arrived to USA, I stayed in an industrial part of New Jersey for a night, I had to catch another bus at 5:30am to take me to port authority bus station, NYC, where I had to catch a greyhound bus to Boston, switch to another bus in Boston to a Fullers Gas station in Meredith, NH. (a lonely, virtually empty – and closed gas station when I got there) Where a complete stranger from the camp was to meet me, alone. I felt like I was some tame, none-drug induced version of Jack Karoac’s On The Road at age 18/19. The age my friend just turned.

I had a decent enough time at the camp, but I felt like an outsider in a very -family orientated family camp, enriched in family tradition – where everyone had been brought up together. I counted the days down to when I could leave and be back in NYC. The strangest thing was, once I got to NYC for a whole week. I felt incredibly lonely. I hadn’t realized that I had accustomed myself to Sandy Island life and friends. That’s the thing about time, it punishes you later for wishing away your time.

I decided to do live my fantasy of “On The Road” I had about $500 in my pocket from my camp summer job and a flight home from LA. I was still in NYC. So I took a bus to DC (I didn’t have any sort of game plan, don’t ask how I was planning to get to LA?!) but ended up meeting some people around my age who were going cross country in  a van and camping. They asked if I wanted to join them so I decided to tag along. We did > DC > West Virgina and went Wild Rapid Boating > Virgina > Tennessee > Alabama > New Orleans — where my identity was stolen and I  was fruaded and had no $$ in my bank account. At this point I had about $150 to last me. I cried. I had no idea what to do. But  thing is, things work out. I was with good people. My mom wired me $80 >> we moved onto Texas, survived a mild hurricane >> Hitch-hiked over the border to Mexico, got really drunk and had to beg my way back into the USA >> New Mexico – saw some crazy bats > Went to Monument Valley and stayed on Native American land. I’ve never seen skies so clear. I slept outside on the ground in my sleeping bag instead of the tent – not even thinking about scorpions and crazy spiders and snakes that could have been hanging around – to sleep under the milkyway >> Went to Zion – hiked angels trek, and through rivers, went to Grand Canyon and we partied so hard we got asked to leave. >> We went to Vegas where I fake-ID’d my way into clubs, and bought nothing because well I had no money. But my new travel buddies help to pay for my liquor. We did a limo and ate at this super cool sushi place just off the strip. My first ever sushi experience> We drove to LA where we drank in a dive bar just near downtown LA, under a bridge. I felt like I was in some indie movie. This was the last night I saw my travel buddies. They were carrying on to San Francisco. I had my plane to catch.

That was the last time I saw them. I’ve seen a few of them since and we’re all still friends on Facebook. But this taught me to talk to strangers, take calculated risks, some times not having plans works out way better than having a rigid plan.

I once lived in this hip-apartment in Williamsburg one summer, that over looked the NYC skyline with a bunch of cool people doing internships for MTV, Saturday Night Live and The Onion – all on their daddy’s $$$ funds. I was funding my own dream. One of the dudes is an upcoming comedian on the West Coast and was in that Oscar winning Ben Affleck movie.

We were a mixed group of kids, with high energy, big dreams. Wide-Eyed in NYC. I ended up working for some of the most amazing and awesome people who changed my life in a then Chelsea Gallery. I remember how hot a NYC summer is… Coldplay Vida viva song was hot shit too. That album & Chris Brown Forever always takes me back.  I asked M, the gallery boss, what her story was, how did she and her husband open the gallery. She spoke about communist Poland, trips to Chicago that made her fall in love with NYC, a burning love for art & art-history, selling shoes, joining rich upperside ladies visiting studios and collections, borrowing money & opening their first gallery that’s still going strong 28/29 years later.

I remember every single piece of art in that summer show and if I even really think about it – how much each piece of art was being sold for. I’ve never been so upset about leaving a job (even though it was so short), some people, a place before that. But one of my distinctive memories is my last day there, i walked out of the gallery, turned left walked down to 9th ave, kind of holding tears back looking up at a clear blue hot sky. I walked to the first working pay-phone I could  find to call home to my mom to say how i was so happy that i had this amazing opportunity, but how sad I was to leave.  I thought that I’d probably never see the Postmasters crew again, I thought I’d get forgotten about because that’s how my life was/is… Important people just fleeting between moments.

Luckily, I get to go and see them every year and this makes my heart  so happy.

I left NYC and worked in a bookies (betting shop), trying to gain back the money I spent on my NYC wild adventure. I learnt how to bet, how to calculate all different bets like round robins and how to really bet on horses. That a favourite horse is statistically 33% to come in at a meeting, if you’re willing to chase your money around. I learnt how to follow soccer and do football bets. A great way to make money if it accumulates!  I saved enough money to take an amtrak train ride across USA the same summer with my good friend shivvers.

She made me a rule. I couldn’t talk about art the whole journey. I suspect that’s all I was bothered about back then. We stayed in the Bellagio Hotel in Vegas courtesy of her dad. Shivvers wouldn’t even let me open the mini-bar so we created our own from mini’s from the vegas giftshops. We had a cab driver who had some sort of turrets and cursed death on every driver he drove past. I learnt that it takes about 3 whole days to take a train from LA to Chicago, and that you should pack spare clothes and not just check them all in. There was a guy who was giving strangers Tattoos on the train (certainly not us). We sat on the train, making up our own before sunrise stories up for all the strangers. 2008 was a good year. I keep telling the kids on my course that 20 was one of the best years of my life.

I taught spanish kids english in Hastings for what I think was the Spanish Mafia. They paid me about £400 a week in fresh £50 notes, cash. I’d take it to the bank and every time panic that they might question me. They never did but I was sure they thought it was dodgy money.  These Spanish kids were clever, and spoke many languages. They learnt quick. I remember my favourite and most promising student failing her exam. She was the only one out of all 16 kids I taught, but I felt a sense of  responsibility & guilt for it. That I was the reason why she failed. Perhaps it was nerves. Perhaps it was my teaching. perhaps we were both complacent. I often wonder what they’re up to now and how their English is.

I went to Chicago and worked on social art projects, and at the university of Chicago. I saw proper Labour Activist movements, I worked with real poor communities. I wrote things for great art magazines. I lived with people who worked at the MCA and Hyde Park Contemporary Art Center. I saw Obama’s house, I saw the Home Alone house, I had my first ever real Thanksgiving, and lived through the coldest weather I have EVER EVER walked through (about -20). These experiences woke something up in me, I went back to standing true to what I loved doing. Drawing and comedy and truths.

I wanted nothing more than a 1st class degree in art, but I couldn’t figure what I was missing to push my grade in to the first category. When I decided to go back to what I love, not worrying too much about the marking criteria, I finally graduated at the last hurdle with that hard worked for first class degree. Another lesson to be learnt. Sometimes you need to stick to your guns and your integrity. Don’t just do something to please others or because you think it will sell. People can see if it’s not true. And remember not everything that glitters is gold.

I have since never had to use my degree. No one has ever asked to see it, except when I went back to study. i do remember my art lecturer sending me an email telling me what I got. my heart was practically in my mouth, I opened the email using Boltbus free slow wifi on a bus from NYC to Boston (On my way to work back at camp some 3 years later from my first experience). I was stoked. I just wanted to tell the world! But I was travelling alone, so I did the next best thing. I wrote an email to my mom, a few select friends, to M at Postmasters and to a past lecturer michael corris who I looked up to in many different ways.

The first year after graduating with an art degree can be pretty hard. They never really tell you that, you assume it will be hard but you’re hopeful that it won’t. I graduated in the thick of the new recession. people were loosing their jobs left, right and center. Companies were being acquired or forced into bankruptcy. I got lucky and worked part time in a bookstore with another group of amazing people. Nothing prepares you for the doubt that you feel about following what you love when you consistently get rejected. But with rejections come some lessons. Lessons turned into opportunities and more opportunities and more lessons to learn from.

Things started working out for me with making a basic living with art and drawing. And then I started feeling all funny. I experienced fatigue like I’ve never experienced in my life, I was having these drenching nightsweats, I couldn’t eat, I had nose bleeds constantly, I had pretty bad bone-pain. It felt like flu-like symptoms but without the flu. I went back to the USA where I ended up being told it looked like Lymphoma. Cancer. I was like, fuck.

My whole life view was flipped upside down. Things that I thought was important didn’t seem as important as they once did. The unimportant things felt way more important. Time felt heavy. I had to grasp, in that moment, that my life and everything I’ve known will eventually blink away in a matter of decades, if not years, if not hours, and I will cease to exist. Which is hard, because when you’re young – you feel kind of invincible. Like you can put things off, because there’s always tomorrow, next week, next year. But there’s isn’t always more time.

Things carried on as normal though. As if nothing had changed. Which can be the most annoying thing ever, because I guess I’m still hurting and I want change. I want more urgency in things. I learnt from being unwell to ask for help if I need it. We can’t do everything on our own.  I decided to learn from these experiences and use them to make a difference, so I went back to university and I am now studying Radiotherapy & Oncology.

I got hit by a car on my bike 2 weeks ago and broke & bruised my ribs. I flew over my handlebars and through air, I flipped upside down and landed on my neck.  And I realized that there’s far more probability in me dying from being hit by a car than most other things.

So, what does it feel like to be older?

From time to time something reminds you of the past. Things hurt that never hurt before. Music was definitely better 10 years ago than it is right now. You start to buy things because they wash well, and shoes because they’re much more comfortable to wear. Time goes way faster. Experiences mash together like a tie-die. Leaving only horrendous memories and those euphoria, bucket-listy, nice moments that help build who you are in this very moment. There’s nothing much else in between.

When you get older, things you thought were important when you were younger aren’t as important and those things you thought were unimportant become more urgent.

I’m left looking at my younger course friends, what life experiences are in store for their next 6/7 years on this life, and just how much different a 19 yr old mind & body feel like compared to a 26 yr old mind/body.

I ended  my friends birthday with this thought:  What if we celebrated our expected years left instead of our years already spent?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trying to Understand Early Russian Formalism & the Smizz Life

1. ABSENTATION: A member of a family leaves the security of the home environment

Picture: It’s a few years ago. I left for America. I love America.  Except I wasn’t leaving home on my usual terms. I was feeling super run-down. I had been having nightsweats, bone pain, this insane fatigue that wouldn’t subside. The UK doctors told me it was just a “mono-style virus”, so I left for work & adventure. Except my boss in the USA was having none of me just waiting out the virus. She made me see a doctor, who made me see a haematologist oncologist, who then told me it looked bad & that I needed to go home & get it sorted ASAP.

I didn’t though. I thought that this guy is talking shit. I ran away from this statement. I suddenly felt the weight & value of time. I did a pretty amazing YOLO roadtrip visiting 3 coasts of America with friends, all with that thought in the back of my mind.

 

//////////////

In my younger days, I studied Media Studies as one of my A-Levels (& got an A, of course). We looked at a crazy Russian Literary Formalist called ladimir Yakovlevich Propp who came up with something called Morphology of the Folktale  which basically looks at breaking up fairy tales into sections and 31 functions/options of resolution and narrative. His elaborate categorisations of classifications pegs plots points: tricky, guidance, rescue, ect.

Propp claims that you can shuffle any of these into constant rearrangements. They mark a moment where an action takes us in a different direction. It’s a nice way to to look at disruptions. He says everything proceeds from us loosing our place.

 

////////////

 

2.) INTERDICTION: An interdiction is addressed to the hero

We’re out of order and we’ve hardly begun. I was instructed to not stay in the USA and wait out what was happening to me. But I did.

 

3.)VIOLATION of INTERDICTION. The interdiction is violated (villain enters the tale).

The villain and hero here are both myself. The villain is an illness. A feeling of ill-health. A feeling that has slowly taken over and taken everything that was me. I was just in my early 20’s. I had never been properly sick. Sure I had colds and sore-throats, and sickness bugs – but this felt different.

I was a self-absorbed young adult with gritted determination to make it in the art world.  I had learned to be different, to try harder – no matter who I left behind. I had started to get just a tiny-lil bit cock-sure of myself. Just a tiny-tiny-bit. I had just got a prestigious artist residency at Site Gallery when I got hit.

I’d arrived somewhere without being invited.  Maybe I didn’t have the right to be in that place. Maybe that didn’t make it right that I fell ill, but maybe I wasn’t purely innocent either.

 

4.)RECONNAISSANCE: The villain makes an attempt at reconnaissance. The villain (often in disguise) makes an active attempt at seeking information.

 

There was no tricky. But there was deception. For months and months, and months, this illness  hid away. Making itself really hard to put a name to. To be recognised. But, it knows who I am. It knew I stayed up working until late, that I was fairly active. It fed on my inability to get rid of it.

 

8.) VILLAINY or LACK: Villain causes harm/injury

The illness took virtually nearly everything. I no longer can work all day and stay up.  It made me work less, sleep more,  which in turn made people forget about me, helped me to ruin my own reputation I had worked so hard to get. It made me bleed in places I never knew I could bleed. I have days where I literally feel like I might be dying, I catch myself looking super tired & worn-down in pain in a mirror & saying to myself: “I’m ok, I’m ok, I’m ok”. I’ve lost days, weeks, months of my life. I’m still  having pain which no one understands. This makes me feel alone.

 

17.) BRANDING: Hero is branded (wounded/marked, receives ring or scarf);

I was branded. I have no scarfs or rings but emotional scars & a few physical ones. Somethings have shifted under my skin. Emotions and lymph nodes. Things pressing on things which present as neuralgia or headaches or bone aches or passing outs. Swellings around memory, swellings around my intellect and pride which hurts.

 

14.) RECEIPT OF A MAGICAL AGENT: Hero acquires use of a magical agent

Through this struggle, my whole world view changed. I gained this whole new perspective, this whole new weight of the importance of empathy. Before, I now realise, I had little empathy – towards everything. I wasn’t a dick or anything, but I didn’t or couldn’t understand others plights – because I was so blinded by myself. I just understood the system that affected others, not HOW it made them feel & how that affects them.

am more thankful. It’s just not in the way that’s immediately assumed. I am grateful for the pain, because now I understand it better. I am grateful for the struggle, because I can be of more use to those in the midst of it.

 

29.) TRANSFIGURATION: Hero is given a new appearance

I used to only work in art stuff. Now you can find me in both the art-world and in healthcare. I wanted to re-train myself to work in healthcare to both give back, and to be the person who understands because I felt (and still do) misunderstood on how the villain really affected my quality of life. The central question I now ask myself is “What’s the relationship between caring and understanding?”

 

////////////////////////////

 

When I think about my life in these terms I see  all kinds of functions that I never asked for: struggle, challenge, trickery, frustration. There’s some fighting, and a lil bit of winning.  The gold-dust comes in the realisation of personal-growth and amazingly supportive friendships along the way.

The materials of my life, as memory recalls and deforms them, will always involve the villain: the stranger, the illness.

When I casually drop into conversation to people that I’m studying radiation oncology, as well as still working as an artist, and still feeling shockingly poorly, they look shocked. They think it’s a huge turn, or that art must not be working for me. But it’s not really. I sit in class, reflecting upon my own life like text. I feel like i’m still constantly shuffling together pieces of a puzzle i can’t see the edges to yet.

There is no function designated for this last part. Where the hero turns to studying healthcare & medicine alongside art to try and understand her own hurt and use it to try and help her to understand others hurt.

 

/////////////////////////////

 

23.) UNRECOGNIZED ARRIVAL

I could spend everyday like it was a holiday. I feel like I deserve to spend my life constantly on vacation. But you can’t. You have to return to normality. But this is hard. It’s hard to return to a familiar land, to return home, to do everything like you used to, when you no longer feel like yourself. Things have changed.

 

 

I remain steadfast

I remain steadfast with my focus on the present and the future.

Currently I’m having like some sort of crazy- probable cause: neck meets over-worked – 37 constant day headache that has degrees of severity from “totally ignorable to- i’m rolling on the floor” painful. It hasn’t gone away, not even once on its own. I go to sleep with it. I wake up with it. I wake up in the middle of the night with it. It reminds me that I’m broken. But despite this, the intensity that fills me in general is overwhelmingly positive.

I am humbled. Truly. I am alive. You are alive. And that’s all that really matters. I think about this, ALOT.  

Sometimes I get so frustrated and pissed off at myself because somedays/weeks my body is nothing but limitations. But really, compared to others suffering. I have it relatively easy. And I have to continuously remind myself about this. Because it’s not even about feeling run-down and shitty. It’s about how amazing people are with me concerning this. From my clinical lead tutor, fellow peers & friends, family,  to colleagues who I worked with on clinical placement (even writing a note in my report book on how my own health is more important), to the kindness and compassion showed to me from doctors and other HCP – i mean I understand me complaining about a headache sounds like the most time-wasting banal medical complaint ever (I assure you all, this feels like no normal headache). So I do appreciate the time and the compassion that I have received all round.

 I constantly feel lucky. And I have no idea how to return your kindness back. I have no idea how to show how thankful I am. The most amazing thing is, you probably don’t want or need anything back in return. That it’s just your general nature, to be so generous and kind. And that makes me even more grateful and humbled. 

I go back to New York City on Monday, and I am so freakin’ excited! I feel like I’m going back for the first time again! Nothing like a crazy 8 months dominated with study and science to make you crave the unpredictable creative chaos of NYC. The fragments of my old life. But I’m even more excited for something else. I always said one of the things I was the most scared of was my mom not finding the true-love that she deserves, I feared that she might not find happiness – This fear gave me a sadness and a powerlessness i can’t explain; that the 1 person who you love unconditionally, isn’t really happy and you can’t help them.  But luckily that fear is in the distance as my mom is getting married – to a guy who seems good (this is super rare for my mom!) And I get to see it! And she’s doing it in Las Vegas, so guys! We’re going to Vegas too! Who needs bucketlists, when the ones you love are happy?  (It’s worth noting here, that I don’t think happiness is finding a man, but rather happiness only exists when shared).

My plan this time for this trip is simple. I’m just going to take it easy and go at my own pace. (Mainly because I have to). And take pleasure in the simple things. No crazy rush. I’m going to smile and laugh with my family, see friends who I was worried I might not see again, or for a really long time, eat the freshest fruits – (Acai bowls come at me!), drink on rooftops, go to art openings, take lots of photos, draw, eat the bestest foods, drink crazy drinks, I’ll do revision work along the way, re-visit the things I love and I’ll instagram the shit outta of it all.  I’m just going to find new things and places as they find me. Like seeing New York again for the first time. 

I’d like to think that I have stopped wasting time.  It’s true in some respects, and failing in others. As David Bowie once said: Time may change me. But I can’t trace time.  The one thing that is for sure is that I still can’t help but feel the weight of times value each day.  And that awareness itself totally feels like a gift.

To New York City, & Las Vegas y’all!

 I will use my time fully, all of it.

Screen Shot 2014-04-26 at 02.10.10 Screen Shot 2014-04-26 at 02.12.37

 

 

This one is for my mom

I do a lot of blogging about myself. And whilst I find it therapeutic and a good distraction from other written work I should be doing, I actually also hate being so self- absorbed (what a LOL!).  It’s a tough tension. However, this isn’t about me. This is a post about my mom. And my family (my bro & nan) and my home-made family of friends.

Life is a  rollercoaster of love lost and gained and changed. It also has the beautiful craziness of indeterminable timing.

My mom is one amazing lady. I’ve been at home in the Donx today. I’ve been locked away in my room working on some of my commission work for Sheff Doc/Fest. In the morning my mom woke me up, asked me where my brother was? Did he come home last night? I had no idea. I was in bed by 9:30pm. Deep sleep by 11PM. Geriatric is the new black. She called him, he was already at work – on 3 hours of sleep – hardcore bro. Relieved she disappeared. I pulled the duvet over my head. It was only 9:30am, I only had like, 9 + hours sleep. My mom came back in, and said, “now that I’ve woke you up. here’s a cup of tea. With 2 sugars, just how you like it.”

That’s like the perfect mom thing. She knows when I get up to work, I have to have a cup of tea to get the day started, and read my twitter feed. She knows it makes me feel warm. She knows I have a super sweet tooth. I never knew until today that she knows that’s what I do?

My mom’s one of the most strongest, selfless and bravest people I know. She’s courageous. And she will do ANYTHING for my brother and me. She has never seen us go without, and always made sure that we ate healthy and well, even when times were extremely strained and hard. We’ve been through a lot together; her domestic violent relationships, homelessness, cancer, death of  her 1st husband, financial difficulties, and a whole lot more together. And she carries on, determined not to defeated, and still puts us first.  She supports me whatever I want to do. She has been my rock throughout art-school,  giving words of support, even though she had NO clue what I was doing. I dragged her to 100s of art galleries in NYC even though she hated pretty much every minute, but pretended not to. Then after I graduated, she let me off with ALOT of rent when I was in between jobs, or saving to go back to the USA. Then after getting sick & doing some illustration work for the NHS, I decided that actually I’m really interested in Medicine and making the patient pathway the best it can be. So i became a student again, and here my mom is. Still supporting her fully grown kid 100% in whatever i put my head to.

I can’t explain to you, just how lucky I am to have my mom in my life. I am thankful and grateful everyday. And I know I need to learn how to emulate her selflessness in my own life.

A few years ago, I was told that it looked like I had cancer. Lymphoma. I was 1000’s of miles away from home. The oncologist told me to go straight home to deal with it. I didn’t believe it, however. And I wanted to stay in America and live my life, despite feeling shitty. I was planning a roadtrip! I refused to tell my mom for weeks. My boss cried on me like 2/3 times that summer, begging me to both tell my mom and go back home for the help I needed. I did neither. I’m brutally stubborn. I wanted to do this alone, I didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to help. I needed to deal with it, and also not deal with it. Then some how my mom found out, and I had to tell her over the phone (one of the most awkward phone calls I’ve ever had to make) and I’ll never forget that conversation. I forwarded her the letter of recommendation of care/treatment from the USA dr to her. I asked her to make me an appointment to see my GP for 4 weeks later for when I arrived home. She did this. But what I  didn’t know was that she called her best friend (my god-mother) and cried on her  3 nights in a row. (I’ve never seen my mom do this, ever). My god-mom facebooked me, my brother facebooked me. All pleading for me to come home. I of course, obnoxiously declined their help – and said “i’m fine!” . I still had a pretty awesome time in USA. My mom and I have always had a really strong relationship, so I assumed she would be cool with my decision.  I had no idea that by “protecting” her, I hurt her feelings more by pushing her away & not involving her.

Since then, the phone line between Sheffield and Doncaster has been open. My mom calls me even when she’s too tired, and she always listens when I’m not making any sense. I’ve been open to her opinions, and she’s respected my decisions. I’ve been allowed to cry, and she has lovingly held back her tears until the phone call was over. Our relationship isn’t flawless, but she’s been there every painful step of the way. I’ve never loved my mom more.

Equally, my brother is just as equally amazing. He picks me up from the train station. The other day he went to work 1 hour early so he could call into the doctors to get me an appointment for that day. He is extremely generous and I know that if I ever need anything, he wouldn’t hesitate to help me.

My friends, who are also equally amazing also have to put up with a lot of my shit. My lack of patience now, how I disappear to go to sleep early, hospital/illness/pain talk – like-all-the-time. Friends who live long distances, they have to put up with moaning emails about how I feel. And read these whiney blog-posts. They paid for my medical treatments/appointments in USA. They fed me and made sure I was ok. They make me laugh. They make me truly happy. And I never thank them or show them enough gratitude.

I could go on forever about how amazing my friends and family are. But ultimately I am the lucky one who has got to spend my life learning from some of the best people I know, being completely humbled by their awesomeness, and feeling happy because they’re amazing people. They make me want to be a better person, all the time.

Remember UK friends, it’s mothering Sunday next weekend. I’m planning something BIG for my mom. I hope you do too.

Love you guys,

Smizz! tumblr_mjf3us12zI1rkovepo1_1280

Everything is fragile.

Mid-20’s isn’t that old, but I feel like I’ve aged 2 lifetimes in the past 3 years. Maybe aging like that makes you look back a bit more. Just as you can see from my blog, my focuses in life have shifted; I’m not just looking for self-improvement in what I can change per-say, but  more to learn how to have grace in the parts of me that won’t budge, or have grace in things I can’t control right now.

One of the hardest parts of having to adapt to being a much slower, less  interesting and hardly a multi-tasker Smizz due to illness, is being observed 24/7. I used to invite people to watch my performance of trying to make it in the artworld— I’d post lots of things I’d make, constantly advertise myself – I kind of craved the attention— but I had no idea that it was going to open me up to some damaging mindsets. It now makes me feel like I need to be on top of my shit 24 hours a day, and I can’t do that anymore. Mainly because I’m either in bed (mostly), studying (secondly),  drawing, or out trying to live life (making up for 1 & 2).  I’ve been trying to learn the “It’s okay to say no to things sometimes. Because if you can’t say no, you can’t fully say yes”.

I’m no longer  living up to the persona I assigned to myself.  I feel like I’m not only letting everyone down who invested their time into me, but I’ve let it make me believe I’m letting myself down too.

So after feeling like I was going to die, and feeling really sorry for myself. After not having the mental /energy capacity to work on my own work, just enough to work on others (which has been/is amazing, and I needed it to survive- both mentally & financially). After seeing people who I admire and respect because of their vision & dignity, struggle in this world. After months and months and months of wishing I could be part of it,  I returned from this ordeal to resume work and rejoin the artworld, but  my membership had expired. I felt like the Artworld had forgotten about me. And everything I made and saw seemed like trivial bullshit—because quite a bit of it was/is (not all of it). Disingenious money grabs.  all speed was stupid.  Some things was just despicable, because it stole the dignity of everyone involved. We deserve better.

This is harsh criticism, and way super cynical, but it is how I felt at the time. These feelings have eased a lil bit, but I’ve always had a critical view on the Artworld because I’ve always been coming from a disadvantaged point anyways. And I’m a Marxist. However, noticing the bad also makes it easier to see and notice the good. Many of the things I love about the artworld are still here, and doing maybe better than some of the crappy parts of the Artworld.

 

My friends, Lesley Guy & Dale Holmes did this super cool show  at Bloc Projects in Sheffield about Pizza  a few weeks ago. It was so good I went home & ordered a Domineos.

Screen Shot 2014-03-19 at 15.58.44

 

One of the best artists out there Gregory Sholette is trying to crowd-source this phenomenal project. http://www.indiegogo.com/projects/imaginary-archive-kyiv –  Which is an Imaginary Archive – a collection of fictional and real documents from a past whose future never arrived of Ukraine. It’s such a special and important exhibition, and so necessary at this time, so if you can find the time/$ to support it, that would be amazing!

 

Screen Shot 2014-03-19 at 16.10.17

 

 

I really, really, really want to see William Powhida’s phenomenal “overculture” show at the most AMAZING gallery Postmasters NY, that just opened this week. Powhida’s practice is about helping us see how fucked up things are and to inspire us to strive to a world of justice, supporting (art) world which encourages criticality and  risks.  it’s basically the (art)world we all really want, yet too scared to bite the hand that feeds us.  I keep putting (art) like this, because the artworld is just a microscopism of the ‘real’ fucked up world. Every problem within the artworld is a problem within non-art-related society. Mainly because it’s the same shitty force that drives both: greed and value in the banal, and unethical under-valued/under-paid labour in order to make $$. When in actuality, there’s significant power in our dark-matter-ness if we realize it, together.

 

My focus  and definition on “progress” made it easy  for me to forget that you can turn around from traveling in a wrong direction, and return to the place where things last felt right. You can go back. Now I feel like I’m starting from the beginning with my personal art practice, and it felt like a failure. But I’m slowly accepting that sometimes going back is sometimes progress.

A few painful years has taught me 1 of the important lessons about life: you only become bulletproof when you refuse to disguise your injuries. The wounds are a gift: You learn how to accept help, and better yet, how to better give it. This in turn is another reason why I’m studying again, to emulate the best care & understanding I kind of know that the patient needs. Remember: if you need help. Ask for it. We can’t do it all alone. All the time.

Life is now somehow more precious and less. I’m now back to my humble beginnings: To share what you know.

So that’s part of what I’ve been quietly doing/working on with F/O/R/C/E, a collaboration with Paul Harrison and a few others – >  forcelectures.org

Don’t wait for a life disaster to be the thing that spurs you into action. Everything is fragile and you are more resilient than you think.

Screen Shot 2014-03-16 at 12.53.10