Busy busy busy ... Happy happy happy

Today has been a mad run through the streets of Nova Gorica, a small city near by, where i was running up and down streets looking for materials and printing shops. Its amazing how things translate and a good print is always a good print. I'm making devilish good use of all the cheap printing facilities and getting some good things done :)



I've also begun making some sculptural installationish kind of work which i am thoroughly enjoying. i had forgotten how much fun having a studio can be! Tomorrow i will begin to record parts of the story i have been working on, which i will be making in to a sound installation that will play in various places around the house on the night of the exhibition...or will if i can get the stereo system to work... cables cables and cables!




Also the open studio yesterday went well there were about 20 people that came, which isn't many but better than nothing...hopefully many more will come next Sunday to the actual exhibition. Tomorrow i will be going for a hike in the alps as part of our residency excursions which is exciting.. can't wait.

OPEN Studio come one come all

Today is the day of the Branik village festival and we will be having an open studio where all are welcome to come and see our work being made. I have been working with found / scavenged materials and am becoming quite prolific at painting with berries...that is I am very good at making a mess. Mostly I am working on an installation that has taken over the studio ceiling and some sculptures. I also began filming some footage for a short film I am making about girl who eats fabric and there just happened to be a great amount of lightning last night, perfect for one of the sequences. I have also written a lot! Maybe forty pages so far and once I manage to put it on my computer I will up load snippets here as well.

adventures

First impressions – 25.08.2009

A wasp
circles my espresso
keen with interest
he playfully tastes
the aromas.

Last night I arrived in Ljubljana after a frightening flight in a small plane. It was dark and all I could see were the street lights and roads similar to any other found in a western country. When I woke up I saw that Ljubljana, much like most of the Slovenia I saw on my train journey, is full of high hills practically mountains covered by a cloud of trees that give them a soft look that begs to be touched.
I took the train to Sezana and from there to my current destination of Branik a small town over looked by an ancient roman fortress that I found out has had many inhabitants; German dukes, one of whom refused to serve in the German army and was taken to a concentration camp and then to bicycle his way back to his beloved castle at the end of the war. The nazis also occupied the castle for a time which they filled with ammunition supplies that the resistance blew up explaining why there is no outer wall and you can now see straight in to the courtyard. Later in the Yugoslavian era the castle became a national heritage sight, which was then eventually during the separation of Yugoslavia handed back to the previous owners whose name escapes me at the moment. As Slovenia became part of the European union, ownership was once again handed back to the government who began restoration work that has since ceased due to a rare species of bat moving in to the old castle. I am sure this story has quite a few flaws through it but it is the way I remember it being told.
The Villa I am staying in is beautiful; It has a turquoise green gate with that is adorned with eighteen flames and a downward spiral that blooms in to a flower, it also has a lovely little garden, a spacious studio and a cat that comes to visit, his name is Mickey. Inside there are four swords that Tjasa the owner of this house found on the streets of Venice.
The town of Branik itself consists of 1500 inhabitants, a post office, grocery store, town hall, pub and a church that rings its bells. I have found myself writing since the moment I got here and have already been inspired to write a new story, a mystery which is why I a sceptical about how much I should say about it. I will however put some excerpts in here from time to time. Tomorrow I will wake up early and hike up to one of the nearby mountains from where I will be able to view the Mediterranean sea.

The cigarette seller, the man who collects for charities, a near nutter and a whore; because there is always one whore who is perceived as one, who denies it but in essence acts like a prostitute. Six crowns and one is yet to be bestowed.

narratives in pictures

I have been thinking of how to create alternative narratives in the way we read and the way we look. I’ve gone back to my copy of ‘Ways of Seeing’ by John Berger a book, which in honesty I haven’t looked at since the first year of Uni. It has made me rethink the idea of effective visual essays and ponder why it has not been utilised to a larger extent in the traditional novel.
I have been taking photographs on my mobile that remind me of potential plot turning points.

what i've been writing this week

This week I have finally managed to complete my Arts Council application and send it off to Manchester to be assessed. In any case it was a good Monday. Since then writing creatively has been easier and I have been producing some new text, which is always exciting. Now I guess all I can do is wait the six weeks that it will take them process my application and hope for the best. In the meantime I continue to do what I love best.

Anthony is standing at the bus stop. It is six am and the fog surrounds him deeply. ‘It’s just as well’ he thinks, this mossy, sticky dream state suits him. He knows it won’t allow hope that the day might be special, but gives him the resolve to see it through, because after all it is only just a dream. It’s November and the days don’t start for several more hours, only half people are awake now, four including him.

A man in large tan boots stands stoic, he doesn’t require words just concise stares and a seat facing a window.

There are also two Indian girls chattering in what he assumes is Urdu. He can never determine what any of their conversations are about even though he has listened to them for almost a year now. He wonders where they are going, if its work or a ridiculously early start at university. He can imagine them in a physics department somewhere mixing, calculating, peering at paper streams of data. Especially the thin pretty one whose veiled head can’t hide the abundance of her dark thick hair. He likes her. She doesn’t talk quite as loudly as the rounded one who reminds him of Kay, the girl who gave him his first kiss.

The kiss had taken place when he was sixteen at his friend Irvins house. He had shown up to the party around eight with some beer he had stolen from his dad. It had been easy slipping in to the house and finding the girl who was a bit drunk, unsure of herself but hiding it under a low cut shirt that accentuated her small lumps of breast. Her name was Kay and she had a nose that didn’t quite fit her face, but she smiled a lot and that had made Anthony like her. He hadn’t tried to lure her in, just made sure that when she was susceptible to making out he would be at hand. And so Kay had been his first real kiss.

The next Monday at school he had pretended not to know her and when they had met in an empty corridor he had looked in to the distance, pretending to not see her. He had felt her hurt burning then through the sweater that now covered her chest and would for the rest of the time he knew her. That had been his first mistake with women and since then he had never quite learned how to know someone. The embarrassment he felt about his first encounter was still crippling. A laugh from one of the Indian girls pulled him out of his reverie. He looked up, raised his hand and the bus stopped.