Monthly Archives: March 2014


Cy Twombly
Untitled Part VI (A Painting in 9 Parts)

Over the weekend I attended Bobby Convey’s Spring Equinox party in the wilds of North London. I spent ages fucking about with safety pins and bedsheets in an attempt to put together a sort of Druid/Roman stola-style outfit; however, my attempts at looking sylph-like and sophisticated rather failed, and I ended up looking like a student perma-caught in their duvet.

So, that idea was shelved and instead I went overboard with green makeup – eyes, lips, nails – accessorised with green trousers and a vegetation-inspired headpiece (perks of teaching art: never running out of emergency wrapping paper and re-appropriating stuff for costumes) made from wire and green tissue paper.

I had a fabulous time. Lots of booze, great food and great company; in the Summer Bobby hosted a Solstice party where we burned paper with our hopes for the year to come, this time we repeated the exercise, alas not with the accompanying Wicker Man made from a collapsed trellis haha.

Nevertheless, it was a great evening – it’s so rare to be invited to a party – or even bloody well go out and socialise with more than one friend – and i’ve got to the point now where i’ve met the same group of Bobby’s friends a few times, so I vaguely know them, which makes conversation easier.

After a long discussion with Bobby and a friend of hers on Russia and the Ukraine, we broke for more refills and the question asked of Bobby was “How is monky single??”, to which I rolled my eyes (Bobby completely understands). Out of twenty people at the party, I think I was the only solo woman. More men on their own, or with friends, but just me on my not-so-lonesome. Which is interesting, and how things will be I would imagine, until people start ending relationships/getting divorced/dying. Woo! :/

I am guessing that at some point on the hour-long night bus ride through London I fell asleep, as suddenly I found myself looking out the window at Oxford Street, way past where I was supposed to change buses. Lurched off, changed, home to my bed just as the sun broke over a beautiful if frosty morning.

Good times!
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London today to see Heat on the big screen for the first time since I was fifteen, over half a life ago.

[lets that sink in]

It had a huge impact on me at the time; I remember becoming obsessed with the film, buying the soundtrack and a poster to put up in my bedroom. I didn’t fully understand the complexities of the very adult relationships shown, but the feel and look of the film drew me in. There’s a sort of coolness to it, detached from things, but at the same time great emotional anguish bubbling under.

It’s not perfect – the women are underwritten and the sub-plot with Natalie Portman’s character is a poor fit – but it’s still one of my very favouritest films.
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Thinking Thinking / True Detective

True Detective visuals (info here) – See also Dan Mountford

Crumbs of progress: I’m attempting to confront some of the art techniques/subjects I am afraid of or indeed hate by forcing myself to do them. Alongside my teaching portfolio i’ve set up a blog for me to ponder my Art Fears and have conversations with myself about what the hell I want art, work, life-wise. Nothing up there as of yet, and my name on something means I actually have to be public about the work I make, which is a bit on the scary side, given how long it’s been since i’ve made anything for myself.

Anyway, weirdness of writing here pseudonymously vs. using my real name. Overlap possibility, but we’ll see how things go. Those of you who know my full name, knock yourself out. It’s .com btw :)
“When I take out the data monitoring, admin, emailing, meeting, monitoring of my work, what’s left is teaching. I know what works for my children, based on my authentic teacher self and realise that every day I compromise that self to meet someone else’s agenda. Ten years ago, I could produce some of the best results in the country and how I taught was entirely up to me. That is no longer the case.”
Really sad, horribly recognisable posts about leaving teaching because of all the bullshit from Debra Kidd – When you know it’s time to go and Elena Thomas – #313.

Thinking about whether or not taking the post-grad certification will fix my dissatisfaction, raging against how everyone seems to need an MA to get anywhere, talking with my pottery teacher who’s an artist, reading books on productivity and confronting fear and procrastination, I am firm that helping people creatively is an inherent part of who I am. However, my job, which has been a vocation for me, has over time moved further and further away from my personal values. I can understand why so many teachers are either going into the independent schooling system or fleeing the country to international schools. Sigh.

Hmm. Last episode of my latest love True Detective coming up… I am a little bit afraid of finding out the identity of the Yellow King. Conspiracy theories a go-go.
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