A good-enough artist

On Sundays I try to find time to read one of the magazines I subscribe to while eating my breakfast.  Sometimes I question my continuing subscriptions to Crafts Magazine and Ceramic Review.  Over the years I've heard so many criticisms of Crafts, in particular from craftspeople.  I know what they mean.  What appears in the magazine often bears little resemblance to the quality crafts being produced all the time around the country.  It's that age-old discussion about art versus craft.  Crafts often seems to be more about art than craft as most people think of it.


I'm in danger of getting into the ramble of all rambles here.  So many topics branch out from the art/craft discussion.  (Thinks: or do they stem from it?  What's the difference?  Oh dear, that one really will have to wait for another time.)  Today's magazine browsing made me think about my own place in things, though, so I will try to stay focussed on that.

I came away from college with a B.Ed. Hons in Art (Textiles).  On paper this qualified me to teach Art.  Our final year's 'main subject' work was to prepare for an exhibition, dissertation and viva along with other trainee art teachers and the ethos of the textiles department encouraged us to think of ourselves at this point as artists rather than teachers.  However, most of our four-year training had been in teaching textiles in schools, where the subject was more usually a craft subject than part of the art department.  I applied for a few jobs in art departments but at interviews it soon became clear to me that I was applying for the wrong jobs.  I wasn't an art teacher.  I really only knew about textiles.  Having eventually secured a job to teach textiles, I went on my first pottery summer school course that year and so caught the clay bug and that reinforced my thinking that I belonged with crafts rather than art.

When I began to sell my own work it was framed pictures, embroidered onto a water-colour painted silk or cotton background.  Describing my work in those terms I can see how others might have viewed it as art, but at the time I still thought of myself as a craftsperson.  I was continuing my journey with clay (though not yet at the stage of selling pots.)  I then went to some basic drawing and painting classes where I met and became friends with J, who was teaching me.

I became aware that J and another friend, S (who modelled in clay), would introduce me to people as "another artist".  At first I would rather sheepishly try to disagree but I suppose I realised that this wasn't very polite to J and S and began to accept the description.  Over some indeterminate period of time I gradually  began to describe myself as an artist but all the time I think I was waiting to be challenged on the description by a 'proper' artist.

Friends who had other jobs would often be critical of what they thought was perfectionism.  Time after time I would point out the flaws in my latest offerings from pottery summer school and get a tut-tut about it.  Then one year I made a particular jug which I thought was a good pot.  I said so.  I'm not sure people liked that either. 

So it was with the artist/craftsperson distinction.  I see-sawed my way through the years and through stages in my own work, calling myself a variety of things but none totally comfortably.  Stroud Valleys Craftsmen was born and I joined, happily feeling at home with the description.  At the same time, my textiles work had evolved into wallhangings which really didn't belong on craft tables but were much more happily viewed on gallery walls.  Craft shows were where I showed and sold pots but the wallhangings moved to mixed exhibitions of art.  I was a potter and a textile artist.  It's what I did, what I do and I still use this description of myself in some contexts.

Sometimes, though, you need a shorter job title and I am now clear, not only in my thinking but also in what I feel, that I am an artist.  If you want to get into distinctions, my work with clay is craft work, undoubtedly, my photography is often on an amateur level, but my textiles work is art and I'm definitely an artist in the kitchen.  Primarily, though, I'm an artist because I just am.  I can't not be.  Prevented from creativity in any form I soon become ill-at-ease and probably difficult to live with.  Returning to creative work after an enforced break I feel above all a sense that all is right with the world.

So what's with the good-enough artist?  Well, I still have what I would call a realistic view of things and others less comfortable with honest self-appraisal might call a lack of self esteem or too much perfectionism.  I look through Crafts Magazine and see beautifully made pots and innovative textiles.  My less confident self of years ago would have been prompted into self-doubt and feelings of inferiority and perhaps even thoughts of giving up in the face of standards I could never reach.  Now, though, I enjoy looking at what is often better work than I can make but without devaluing my own work.  I'm not a world-class artist, but I don't need to be.  While thinking about all of this, I was reminded of my couselling training and the work of Donald Winnicott.  Winnicot developed the concept of the 'good-enough mother', rather than the 'perfect mother', where the good-enough mother's children grow up to be psychologically healthy.  I'm not drawing exact parallels between the good-enough mother and the good-enough artist but there is something here about what we think we should be striving for.  Perfection isn't necessarily all it's cracked up to be and good enough isn't a put-down, though I think it's often thought of as one.  Good-enough is good enough.

Honeysuckle

Er, that's it, really. You can't smell it from where you're sitting, but at least you can see it.

The greenhouse project - concrete but still not concrete

I know you have all been on tenterhooks waiting to see the finished concrete.  Well, one or two of you have commented that the photos were still not up.  So here they are.  Concrete more or less finished but the greenhouse itself still not concrete.  We're getting there, though.

Last Monday turned out to be the hottest day of the year which meant that the concrete was particularly difficult to get into place before it had set too much.  The worst weather for concreting, I am told.  There were one or two other hitches, such as one helper not turning up because his wife hadn't passed on a message (!)  and M suddenly feeling unwell just as the readimix had arrived.  He's fine now, though waiting for clarification from the doctor about what he should be doing now.  The answer is currently, nothing until we have clarified things!

But anyway, here is a lovely new stretch of concrete. 

The plants in the middle are something of a statement.  I am going to have a greenhouse.  I don't have one at the moment.  This is where I am going to have a greenhouse, with plants in.  Here are some plants, to prove it.

Actually, it seemed the safest place to put them, surrounded by copper piping, to protect them from the slugs.  Hope to get them out into the garden in the next few days.

In other news ....  well, really there is very little other news except that I am still either doing work for the Arts and Crafts centre, trying to catch up with household stuff or being too tired to do my own work anyway.  Bit of a grumpy stage, I have to confess.  We are delaying our trip to France but even so I don't see when I am going to catch up with my work. 

Off to acupuncture this evening, which will no doubt put me right in a couple of days and I hope to get blitzing then.  In the mean time, think yourselves lucky I've found a couple of minutes to write here!  (Or not; this is not the best-written piece I've posted here, I know.)  I'm sad at how little time I have in my life at the moment, particularly because it means I don't get a social life and don't get to see my friends.  I know I've seemed to neglect everyone, but it's not intentional, just an unwanted result of having too much to do. 

If only I could post a scent.  The honeysuckle has been spectacular this year.  You can even smell it from an open window on the opposite side of the house.

Greenhouse project - concrete

I'm sorry I won't be here today; I'm working at the Arts and Crafts Centre.  I've never actually seen premixed concrete being delivered and worked on and would very much have liked to.  And it's my greenhouse, my garden, my pottery the concrete is surrounding.  And I'd have liked to take pictures, for the record. But there we are.  The concrete will be here this morning but I won't.

The site is prepared.  Water and electricity emerge from the garage and will then go underground and re-appear in the greenhouse in each 'room'.

In front of the pottery (the building that may remind you of a garage) a retaining wall has been built so that the ground just in front can be level enough to wheel a ware trolley out to dry pots in the sun.

Behind the pottery (beside the new fence panels) the path will end up higher but level with the pottery floor, as it will be all round.

And over the main area is laid pig wire to reinforce the concrete.
Voila!

You can probably see now why I have been describing this as so much more than a greenhouse project.

A time of contrasts

A long time ago I promised to put up some pictures and write about Going Solo, my first solo exhibition.  It's now a month after the exhibition finished though it seems longer.  I've always enjoyed taking photographs and do actually look at them again, even those from forty years ago.  These photos are only a month old but already I need them to keep the exhibition fresh in my memory.

It was a lovely place to exhibit, having perfectly white walls, picture rails all round, large blank spaces so I could arrange the work however I wanted and plenty of white shelves and plinths.

It was especially nice to be able to arrange little groups of work.  Being short of space on the card stand I displayed some cards with the wallhangings that they were photos of and this really added something to the colour groupings.

It was also good to have the blue slip design, with its seagulls and fish, near the two remaining water bird hangings in their own self-contained corner.  The pottery design arrived the same year as the hangings and they were all very much inspired by the same sorts of ideas.

But that was then. Since then (in fact since just before the exhibition started) I have, as I've said before, been very involved in the new Gloucestershire Arts and Crafts Centre and this has given me an interesting perspective on the exhibition. 

I'm struck by the contrast between my first solo exhibition and the work I've been doing on what is above all a group venture.  Group events and outlets are, of course, what I'm most used to, apart from my small showroom here at home.  One is given a space and inevitably compromises have to be made not only on the amount of work which can be displayed but sometimes about exactly which pieces will blend with the work others are showing.  Having a whole, lovely space all to myself to arrange any amount of my work exactly as I wanted was a great pleasure.  I'm not a person who believes in modesty for the sake of it and see no shame in saying that I thought my exhibition looked great!  It was the sort of display I'd like to walk into a gallery and see.   What I'm saying is not so much about the pieces of work themselves, by the way, but about the overall design and impact of the exhibition. Each morning opening up was a delight.

A week flies by and this one did just the same.  Suddenly everything was being packed back up into boxes and carted off home again.

From the peace and tranquility (yes, that is a euphemism for not as many customers as I'd have liked!) of a solo exhibition I was plummetted straight back into the hurly-burly of the new arts and crafts centre and, as I've said, I've been spending quite a lot of time on it.

This work involves a certain amount of work on my own at home as I am responsible for much of the admin work but it also involves lots of phone calls and working in the shop, chatting to the other artists, selling to the public and other things involving lots of people contact.  I like my space in the shop but it is of course limited in size and I have to select what work to show.  I can arrange my own display but not those of other people.  So the whole experience is a very strong contrast to that of the solo exhibition.

I enjoy being part of a group very much.  I always enjoyed teaching groups in the reintegration centre more than the solo teaching because of working amongst other people.  I enjoyed being part of a co-operative shop when it was one.  I'm a gregarious sort in general.  Early cine films of me learning to swim aged 4 show that even while concentrating on not drowning I was chattering away.  And yet - I am constantly wanting time on my own. 

Over the years I have come to the conclusion that this sometimes desperate need for solitude has much to do with being an only child.  Most other only children I have known well as adults feel much the same. It's not always convenient, especially when you live with someone else.  I am very lucky and very happy being married to M and love our life together but as we are both based at home it has taken us a while to work out how to fit our different needs for solitude and company together with one another.

This is suddenly gelled into a concept when I sat down to write this piece.  Not just the solo exhibition but also my work in the pottery have a quality which for the moment I'm not going to attempt to explain.  When I walk into the pottery to start work in the morning I get the same sort of feeling as when I walked into the gallery to open my exhibition.  A sort of inner "aaah ... " accompanied by a feeling of relaxation and well-being.

I'd hate to be marooned on a desert island.  I'd last about two minutes.  I need human company desperately.  I just like to choose when I have it, is all.

What I have been mostly doing lately ....

... is getting involved at Gloucestershire Arts and Crafts Centre.  Here I am in front of my pots in the shop.   I have cards elsewhere and a few smaller wallhangings displayed above the pots.

It's all very exciting getting the centre going and it's been a fair bit of work for many of us.  As I am going to be responsible for much of the admin, there's been lots to do getting systems organised.  Once things are up and running it will all take less time but I have been busy, to say the least.

Today I should have been able to make pots.  I'm about a month behind with making my own work and not altogether sure what I will do about it.  But in the meantime we have both been struck by a Dreaded Lurgy.  Actually, it's only a bad cold, but I am certainly under the weather and not up to anything very physical.   It's most frustrating.  It's not only a matter of getting behind but also of 'feeding the inner self'.  I need to be making some of the time for my own general well-being.  Going into the pottery to work feels very restorative these days and I miss it when I can't get in there.

Additionally, I have been living like a hermit lately.  The lurgy struck just when I had planned to become a little more sociable and invite people round and go out with others.  I'm certain none of them want my germs so once again I'm seeing nobody much, which I'm not happy about. 

Hang on in there, folks.  I haven't forgotten you all.  I'm sure that one day I'll be back to my usual sociable self.  In the mean time, I hope this blog is better than nothing and will try to write more frequently.

Life returns ....

...  to normal.  In as much as I have what could be called a normal life.  But today is the first time this month I've felt I have time to write this blog.  It took a bit of doing.  Having got out of the swing of it there are actually dozens of things which seemed more urgent for today and at first I thought this would have to be another blogless day.  But then I realised that a different approach is needed because there will always be a dozen things to do.  We're all familiar (aren't we?) with the concept of prioritising but I think it's something which is easily misused. It tends to acquire a rather mathematical, scientific flavour, to do with order of urgency.  Writing my blog is in no way urgent.  However, prioritising should be about the things that are most important and they may have some other quality that gets overlooked.

Over the last few months I have kept meaning to write about my bread-making but other things jumped up to be written about and the bread was neglected.  I've been making all my own bread, though, since some time in February.  One of the great joys of this is that M prefers my bread to most other (although he still feels that proper French bread is superior!)  Previously, bread choosing has often been a bit of a compromise as we have different preferences in bought bread.  Now, things are easy.  Bread-making has also become a kind of symbol of "getting a life" and holding on to it that I set about last year.  Gardening is another part of that picture.  I have been particularly sad that for about two weeks we had bought bread again, simply because I wasn't home for long enough to complete the process.  Yesterday, therefore, in spite of still having mountains of things to do, bread was made and life started to return to normal.  It seems a natural step to add blogging today.

I wouldn't want to ally myself too closely with the slow-living movement because slower is not really what I'm aiming for.  (Though having gone through about three weeks of much-too-fast-living I can appreciate the point!)  I'm really after balance and a certain quality which I am struggling to find the words for this morning (clearly out of practice.)  It's related to self-sufficiency but without the connotations of "I don't need anyone" that that phrase seems to have taken on recently.  It's to do with being personally involved in the processes and physicality of one's own space.  I don't need to grow my own food.  I don't feel strongly about eating organically-produced things.  I don't fret about a garden having weeds or looking untidy.  I just love to be in contact with my own bit of soil and grow things.  I like making food from scratch not because I don't trust or like any other type of food but just because it's important to me to feel involved in the process.

Writing a blog - using the many technologies of digital camera, computer, internet, blogging software - doesn't obviously have much in common with growing vegetables or making meals from scratch.  There's something here, though, about a sort of hands-on connection with one's life.  Writing involves reflection (well, it's probably better if it does!), which is itself a way of connecting to what is going on.

I do want to post pictures and write about Going Solo.  I also want to write about the new Gloucester shop.  But that is all for another day.  Today is for enjoying being at home, doing washing, sowing long-overdue vegetable seeds and getting back in touch with life.