Invigilating the MA Show

Its been a lot cooler of late weather-wise in the South East of England. The Private View felt like vegetables in a boiling stew, and the first day I invigilated I thought I was going to pass out from the heat. The Gallery, being as it is fully glazed and facing West, pulls in the sun, from the afternoon especially. Now, this is all very useful for my work, which, from 3pm takes on some real life as all its coloured shadows extend, but for someone who has to sit by the window and watch the public to make sure they dont damage anything (including themselves) its the equivalent of sitting in a greenhouse!



However, being in Brighton was a joy rather than a chore on Saturday. No oppressive heat and sweltering people. I could've easily spent the day outside! Walking to Grand Parade, surrounded by shoppers and tourists of every description, in their summer pastels and colours, pinks and blues and cut-off denims (the boys AND the girls!), with the sun gently warming and the air fresher and cooler than it had been in weeks; I felt invigorated and energetic. The train down to the coast was packed with a gaudy rainbow of bodies and happy voices, loud in their abandonment of responsibilty; the windows were open - it was like a fairground ride where the air whips you and you are surrounded by noise and colour. It made me excited too, it was catching, even though all I had to look forward to was sitting in one spot all afternoon, and getting warmer and more uncomfortable. Compared to Tuesday when I had to invigilate, the little drop in temperature caused a great deal of relief and happiness. Even when the full heat of the sun had not yet flooded into the Gallery, I still felt confident that the heat inside would be actually bearable. And, as I said before, it needs to be sunny! The sun needs to shine! Not just because my coloured transparent work inside "depends" on it (although I did make it have more interest than merely shadows), but to also lift the spirits of everyone under the canopy of the blue and add sparkle to the surfaces and faces of this dense and busy seaside city.

A Hot Pepper Pot

At the end of a Tuesday at Uni, one of the MA First Years said "There's a PV at the Pepper Pot, d'ya want to come?"

Well of course not being from Brighton I had no idea what the Pepper Pot was or where is was. I thought it was a pub or restaurant or something like that, and was assured it wasn't far.

After a long uphill walk in the heat which would've challenged Ranulph Fiennes, we arrived at something in the middle of a grass island surrounded by houses, something that looked most out of place, appearing to be a folly of some kind. "Is this it?" I thought "Its rather small and poky". And cylindrical. And rough looking.



Yet inside young artists had made good use of the old damp crumbling walls and the sense of history by setting up sculptures and installations with classical poetry. Brown leather, evocative of another time, a time of saddles and bridles, adorned a space. Outside two small birch trees looked vulnerable in their pots against an older and much more majestic tree, their slim white trunks making them look almost skeletal and anorexic against the wide black gnarled-bark trunk of the old tree (the species of which alludes me for now). Nearby what looked like a coffin with portholes was in fact an outdoor sleeping chamber, which I was assured was very comfortable although did make the occupiers feel rather uneasy as late night and school run pedestrians passed by while they snoozed inside. A lump of gooey dough holding all number of French sticks and loafs together - the bread head - had fallen apart and parts of it lay on the dry summer grass.



The overall feeling was one of vulnerability in an urban area, something I think the residents would really connect with given the chance. There could've been a bit more information given to the community, but some locals took advantage of the free drinks to have a nosey around and a chat to the artist, and a man from the local council with earrings and a casual shirt mingled with everyone and seemed really pleased that this little used venue was finally getting a new lease of life.

To Show The World

Even though I have had 2 group shows since my degree show I still have internal tremors when it comes to letting my work out into the public arena.

The first question is "Is it good enough?"
Well, there are an infinite amount of answers to this question.
The answers come in the form of more pressing questions:
Is it good enough compared to what?
Is it as good as I can make it?
Is it good as a final piece?

Is it good enough compared to what?
This is the biggie.
This is the one that any person in a creative industry has to battle with. If you make something, perform, or are engaged in any act that brings what we call "art" (and by that I myself mean something unique that has been brought about by the talents of oneself, or an invaluable part of cast, contributing something to a production or show), then you are constantly holding yourself up to those who have come before you or are your contemporaries. The songs "We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful" (Morrissey), or "How Do You Expect To Be Taken Seriously" (Pet Shop Boys) always ring in my head when up against "the competition". Failure is not an option, but its pretty inevitable in some degree. Even the best lose sometimes.

Is it as good as I can make it?
Well, at some point work has to be finished doesn't it? Or does it. I get regaled with stories of artists who have turned up to galleries daubing paint on their work because they weren't happy with it, even after the shows have opened! They can never be happy with it, so why should I? Time runs away so fast, and even when I think I have enough confidence to face deadlines head on, thinking what I have makes a really good show, this melts away for no apparent reason other than just pure stage fright. Like an actor or singer (I have dabbled in both) who never feels they have had enough rehearsals, that terrible feeling of not being prepared or not reaching a level of perfection weighs heavy. Your materials might not be the most expensive, the work may look a bit ragged and not put together well, there's something wrong somewhere...
But the good news is, there's always next time, even if it's a disaster and you are met with a wall of apathy - you can learn from it and move on. Even if it means self-funding your own show.

Is it good as a final piece?
If your work has a strong research element, you might feel that nothing you make is worth showing in a gallery, as it is just part of an investigation. But a great many artists display work that's part of an ongoing investigation, like Gerhard Richter, and a lot of people pay a lot of dollars for his paintings! Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and what you find interesting along the way someone else probably will too. Human beings have a lot more in common than is made out in the press, how else do you account for all the good mood in spring when the flowers come out? If a work is visually pleasing, not just pretty but has some deeper poetic qualities, it doesn't matter if its polished to perfection (see previous question) or not, if people look at it, its a winner. Quite often what I think of as a preliminary investigative piece seems to hold more interest for other people than a piece developed later on from the same idea, presumably because its more "fresh" and less contrived.

So in the spirit of optimism for my MA Final Show here are some photos of some of my works...