Tallulah Takes A Trip

The End

2010-03-25T11:28:00.001Z

Remember the gig we went to, before we left LA? We were able to get free tickets through Tim McCall, Jarvis Cocker's guitarist, to see Jarvis at the Wiltern. It was an amazing gig. It made us feel that to be a Sheffielder was something. Maybe. It at least helped our move from LA.

Tim McCall became a father for the first time in January. Two weeks later, he fell and died at home. He was 37. I did not know Tim McCall, save speaking to him briefly, I mainly know him through Husband. But his death is one of the saddest things I have ever known.

We went to his funeral on 1st March. The great and the good of Sheffield's music scene (including Jarvis) were there. I saw famous people. But that was no relief or consolation. Not even for the shallow part of me. At the start of the service, as the coffin was carried in, The Beach Boys sang 'God Only Knows'.

And that, my friends, is a fitting place to end. For me, a powerful reminder that all that we can do with this life, is to seize the day. Because after that, it is all over.

RIP Timothy McCall 1972-2010

No More Wrist Plate

2010-01-05T12:47:00.000Z

A little remainder of my CalArts time is gone! The plate that was put into my wrist to bring the bones together has outlived its usefulness. The bones are now together and the plate was getting in the way of my tendons. I had surgery to take the plate out of my wrist on 31st December 2009. The scar is pretty ugly, like a Frankenstein one. Like a tattooed reminder I am a CalArtian. Bye bye plate! Bye bye CalArts!

20 Boxes

2009-09-28T13:46:00.005+01:00

I spent 3 days obsessive-neatly wrapping and packing accumulated books, papers and clothes in June. I sat on the floor of our large kitchen/living room, hunched over as I discarded bumf and saved for posterity. My back killed, but I was against the clock. Husband went to buy me some GT Dave’s kombucha as a treat to get me through. It was pretty much a job I did alone, as it was pretty much all my stuff. I inherited packing boxes, sharpie markers, tape guns, newsprint paper and bubble wrap from the week before – Leslie and I neatly sorted Peter Wollen’s papers for their future life in the BFI archive, awaiting the day that a researcher will make a break through upon finding collected library fines. So I had the skills to archive my own California life so they could be shipped separately. 20 boxes with hospital corners later and my life was all wrapped up. We loaded up our car with the assorted leftover debris and went to cat-sit for 3 weeks on the Westside, before returning to Sheffield. Our cat-sit stint served as a buffer between our two separate lives.

We said au revoir to the ranch in a number of ways. (Not goodbye). We threw a party to celebrate my birthday, with CalArts and Mexican friends. My birthday present from Husband was a horse ride on one of the ranch horses, Bear, a retired park-ride horse with a shoulder injury, indulged me whilst we walked the arena and some lemon groves. I cried as I got off, it was an intimate and emotional experience.

Once we left we visited a couple of times, to spend time with Gera and his family, going to the beach with them, and to cook a meal for Ellen and David and spend time with them. The ranch was the first place husband and I lived together, and as I look back on our time there, its like a dream, I can’t believe we were so lucky and everything worked out so well. A part of us will always be Deep End Ranchers. (Saying goodbye to Lily the Springer Spaniel broke my heart, and with no spaniel in my life at present, I don’t know how I will ever cope with stress again. She was a fluffball of love who slept on our bed and played fetch obsessively, oh bless her sweetness!)

The final three weeks flew by and contained some Iyengar yoga classes, beach walks, a goodbye to me and Brica beach party followed by barbeque and our final Mexican meals (our staple diet for the year).

I saw a posted for Jarvis Cocker playing at the Wiltern Theatre in LA, two days before our flight home. Husband facebooked his old friend, now Jarvis’ guitarist, to wangle us some free tickets (we’d pretty much run out of money) and so we found ourselves at the gig. Jarvis, a professional Sheffielder, was a great way to get us excited about our return home (and down to earth). His witty observations and great music connected me to our roots. Before I left Sheffield in 2007 we went to see the Red Hot Chilli Peppers and I remember using that to get excited about my new California life.

As I looked out the window of our flight from Heathrow to Manchester (we had a direct flight from LA to Heathrow), I saw the grey sky and green fields with different eyes. My land felt foreign. The next 6 weeks were in a sense, a struggle to find myself, at home. I took part in a Summer Yoga School at the Sheffield Yoga Centre and S1/Critique at S1 Artspace, both important places in re-situating myself. On the critique programme was Jerome, a friend I know through S1 and particularly coffee mornings showing and telling our work.

I house sat for 10 days in London. I meant to see art, but after a trip to the Freud Museum, the Camden Arts Centre and the Photographer’s Gallery I realised I wasn’t in the mood. Instead I went to see ‘the London Folies’ and ‘Hotel Follies’ and put Fopp DVDs, M & S blouses and a What Katy Did waist cincher on my credit card. My job applications for Photo Technician at Sheffield Hallam University and Project Manger at BLOCspace were unsuccessful. The real world felt bleak. I felt empty and lost. I wanted something to that would totally take over my life instead of the bits of bobs of a freelancer I left in 2007. I saw an advert for ‘Fine Art Teaching Researcher’ at Sheffield Hallam. The post was for a full time three year PhD in Fine Art with some teaching. The details sounded like everything I wanted in my life, perfect I thought. I completed the application form and proposal down in London, and I knew I was punching above my weight. I found myself in an art book shop on Charing Cross road. I had the overwhelming feeling of being a fraud – I didn’t know every theory and every artist in all the books there – how could I be ready to teach or generate the original work a PhD required? Well, sometimes, winging it works. I got it! Hurrah! I had to do a 10-minute presentation on ‘Fine Art Research’ in front of an audience of 15 teachers and an in-depth interview with a panel of four. I met the three other applicants for the two available posts. I was the youngest and least experienced. I was relieved to see Jerome was there too. I was over the moon to hear later that evening that Jerome and me were successful.

The day of the interview, our 20 boxes arrived from LA. I’ve spent the last week unpacking the boxes and trying to integrate this surplus of stuff into my Sheffield home. I realise now that some of it is worthless rubbish that went straight in the bin, but on the Ranch, I needed to defer that decision to trash everything. I just didn’t know what was what at that point.

In the meantime, Husband has been focussed on mentally preparing for his first return to full time study since he left school aged 15. He’s doing BSc Biomedical Sciences at Sheffield Hallam University, the same campus I’ll be at! Unfortunately, he broke his collarbone 15 days ago so we’re sitting in the Northern General Hospital now. I got my wrist re-Xrayed too (lingering pain).

Things are slotting into place. The boxes are getting unpacked. Tomorrow is my first day at Hallam. Husband and I can go in together.

On Reflection

2009-07-21T07:46:00.000+01:00

Today, I am 31 years old and 15 days. When I was born, my mother was 31 years old and 15 days. My mother died when she was 51 years old and 15 days, 11 years ago today. From today, and for the next 20 years, I will be an age that my mother was at some point, with me. After that, I will have no maternal precedent. Phew. Talk about taking stock. I probably took too much stock. But, being away from my usual ritual (visiting the book of of the dead and kerb of remembrance at Hutcliffe Wood) with Dad meant I had to do something today to recognise the day. I went to the beach, to reflect.

Yesterday we went to the beach too. Plan A was always going to the beach - we were meeting Gerado, Marta and their daughter Paloma in Santa Monica. But, the day prior Gerado told us about a rodeo taking place that he'd just been told about and wanted to ride in. So, we went to a ranch near to the ranch we used to live at in Santa Paula with Gerado et al. It was absolutely scorching at this ranch. Bulls were hired for the day ($60 each), and we looked at the bulls Gerado has previously ridden, including one that took a gash out of his leg and his horse. But no other riders turned up! Perhaps the short-noticed didn't work for everyone. It was a bit sad, as this was the one thing we never got to do that we really wanted to do. So, instead, we went to a small beach in Malibu that we discovered through CalArts friends last week. And bless him, Gerado paddled in the sea with his jeans and cowboy boots on. A strict uniform that works for any occasion. It was Paloma's first visit to the beach and she loved paddling. It was lovely to see them all again, as husband became very close to Gerado working alongside him on the ranch.

Friday night was the opening of MFA Conversations. Its a small gallery, packed to bursting with art. Its strange being a group show with other recently graduated MFAs that I don't know. I couldn't help thinking how pretentious they are. A guy from a blog came and photographed the artists next to their work. It was totally cringing being asked to pose, and smile with teeth showing. The curator had initially said she was putting the price of our work next to each piece (now that's cringey) but fortunately, she created a price list that also had a sentence by each artist on their work, so it wasn't just strictly a price list. I don't know how I felt about it all.

I don't know what you leave with when you get an MFA in the UK, but here, this is what I have; in order to pass we have a type of exit interview, where a panel of 3 teachers and a transcriber meets you in your studio for 45 mins. You discuss your work and your two years of study in an in depth way. Based on this, your 'review' and your performance during the MFA, and your thesis show, you are either passed to graduate or not, in which case you are awarded an 'Advanced Certificate' instead of a masters. And if you do pass, you just get a masters, no grade. You get a transcript from your review, and, I did not know about this until I received it the other day, a report form from your mentor. In the interests of sharing I shall put my usual modesty on hold and type up some of the contents of this report, because it is a very useful document and something I know I would really have found useful after my BA (where all you get is your grade, for me, a 2:1, and absolutely no feedback).

Preliminarily blurb: The purpose of this report is to provide the student with an easily understood assessment of progress towards the future, noting strengths and ares for improvement... The report does not serve as notice of any academic sanction.
1. How do your rate your mentee's artistic development this past year? Did s/he mount an exhibition or similar project?
[Tallulah] had a very productive year. She deepened and expanded on her interests and put enormous effort into her thesis show - researching, writing, rehearsing, and performing, - all told revealing incredible perserverance, bravery even, and humor in and through it all.
3. Has your mentee attained a visual literacy and awareness of the cultural and historical context of their practice appropriate to current year level?
I think the emphasis of [Tallulah's] work this year tended to be more theoretical and conceptual than visual. I think post-grad school, she will be better able to synthesize her visual abilities with her, now more sophisticated intellectual concerns.
5. Are there areas to improve on? Are there specific recommendations for next year?
[Tallulah] is a serious and thoughtful artist. Her work has a great wit and a thoughtfulness and vulnerability that adds to its richness. I think that [Tallulah] takes criticism very hard and very personally - I encourage her, after a long, hard year, to try to feel more confident and satisfied with herself and how far she has come

All in all, my report is a really wonderful document to walk away with. More useful as a document to look back on, and for now, as my jumping off point, than a grade.

So, I don't have any children, but I have my MFA. And I don't have a mother (although, I know that she is proud), but I have 3 female teachers (Leslie, Ellen & Natalie) I am really close to, that I know I will continue to be friends with for the rest of my career. Maybe life. They really are very wonderful women.

And so, that's a lot to reflect on.

PS As I type this, KitKat, the cat we are sitting, is next to me licking her bum, in a kind of cat-yoga position, that until this week, I did not know cats perform.

The End Of Things

2009-07-16T08:11:00.000+01:00

So, here I am. I've graduated. I'm done. I have not fully emptied out my studio, but all my books are boxed and are in transit, along with other accumulated ephemera. The our ranch home is vacated and our bags our semi-packed (we still have too much stuff!) and we are now housing-sitting on the Westside of LA until our flight home 29th July.

So, what happened?

Let me start at the end of school. Literally the Friday afternoon of the last week of school was the graduation ceremony. The week was one of those where you are madly trying to meet final deadlines and that. And I needed a haircut badly. My regular trim appointment was cancelled by the hairdresser as she was ill, so I had to go right before the ceremony. I was sitting next to girls getting their hair done for their prom-night in the hairdressers, feeling way too in the same boat! New hair; old frock. I couldn't find anything I liked for zero dollars in zero time, so I got out a reliable wrap dress and safety pinned it (I've erm, grown out of it, shall we say) and wore an under-tshirt for modesty. Champagne (x3 glasses) and strawberries reception. No alcohol is allowed during the ceremony, so tradition has it that first years smuggle you some alcohol. Vitamin water, with the vitamins emptied out and vodka poured in. Speeches. Line up, on stage, shake hands with the Dean of the Art School, Tom Lawson, the heads of department, other faculty. By that time, I was tired and emotional. I hugged everyone, told them I loved them (yes, even my teachers). Cut to the after-party. I'll conclude with a tableau of that: it felt totally filmic, like I could see the camera shot and the camera pulling up into the night looking down. Husband was there, everyone was dancing to awful music. Happy, relieved, euphoric and sad.

But that was not an end for school yet, we had a show at the ranch from the class I TA'd for, which meant I had to keep making work the next day, hungover and install the day after that.

The end of school was 17th May, but the MFA grad show opened 20th June, so, the end was not an end. The show went fine, I used my thesis show work, but redid the editing to iron out flaws (and because, I lost all my original Final Cut Pro files). We had a show opening, a show closing and a screening at REDCAT. The latter was very interesting. I edited my work down to a 12 minute one channel piece and it was the first up of the night. I had a good response to it.

And even now, in my mind I keep deferring the end. I'm in a show 'MFA Conversations' and another, 'Greater LA MFA exhibition'. The first one opens 17th July and there's a talk I must attend too, before I come home. The latter I won't be around for.

Moving back in time, I need to explain my hiatus. Blogging has helped me in a couple of ways, it's freed up brain space, allowing me to sort through my ideas and anxieties but its also been a way to maintain the dialogue with friends back home. What happened after my thesis show was that my brain took a holiday, there were, in a sense, no ideas or anxieties to unload. And what's more, lucky me, we had 4 lots of visitors that came out to the ranch. That sort of took care of my need to communicate to my friends in other places.

Of course, my tardy blogging absence is inexcusable. But I think its worth me making an effort to reflect now, and figure out what just happened. So, hopefully more from me very soon.

Faking It

2009-02-07T20:51:00.000Z

Seventeen years of dancing lessons (at Constance Grant Dance Centre to be precise) have taught me a number of things. But perhaps, my favourite of all, is ‘faking it’: when you have forgotten the correct dance steps, substitute them for steps you make up as you go, with such performance, personality and conviction that it looks to the audience as though you either have different dance steps to everyone else on purpose, or that everyone else is wrong. (I’ve had Miss Tracey in hysterics watching me totally re-do her choreography whilst performing and smiling for all I’m worth. But of course, since she taught me the trick of faking, she could do nothing else but laugh!)

Faking it in art is a tricky thing to own up to. It translates as bullshitting. No-one wants to admit to that. But I find myself, for quite defensive reasons, convincing myself, unconsciously, that THIS IS IT, because I know I am near to IT, so its comforting to say I am here now, I stake my claim HERE. But, alas, on reflection, I am faking it. It is, a rational response to being not there yet, which is, frustrating and at worst painful. This is where I was last week, and I felt that the combined efforts of Ellen, Natalie and David coxed me – gently, aggressively and without judgement respectively to address my not there-yet-ness and keep working towards the right spot. I am pleased to announce, I got there. I think. Let’s wait and see for the responses to my thesis show.

Yes, the moment the scales fell from my eyes was totally traumatic, I felt lost, confused and scared. Unfortunately, that’s what art-making (for me, at least) involves, and so, the reality is, I’ll have a life-time of these occasional total freak-outs.

Faking is a bit of a recurring motif at present. I’ve felt rather like I’ve been taking part in the Channel 4 television series ‘Faking It’. Before Christmas I had my first ever singing lesson from an actress/opera singer, Danielle. We traded skills – I did 1940s style photo-shoot for her and she gave me singing lessons. Six lessons and much homework later, I recorded the song we worked on together. The tune is ‘And All That Jazz’ a Kander and Ebb song from the musical ‘Chicago’, and the words are taken from a section from Laura Mulvey’s Visual Pleasure in Narrative Cinema (1978) essay. Danielle fit the words to the music and recorded her version for me to practice to. I now have her version and my version. And mine is, well, awful. Danielle was very pleased with my progress – being able to sing the right notes in the right order a cappella. But really, it is not an aesthetic high point. But I tried very hard, and that is the way I know how to generate authenticity. Interestingly, I am now having official singing lessons from the Music School. And the Musical style suits my voice. Apparently. Live performance, anyone?

Concurrently I’ve been learning a Fosse-style dance to go with my song. I’ve been working with a BFA1 dance student, Staci, who’s been great. She worked with me, devising the majority of the choreography, teaching it to me and checking it. With some dance experience this wasn’t so traumatic. A little embarrassing when the only rehearsal space was the large main gallery (also a main thorough-fair in the building. Avram, a graduated BFA, very smart and interesting person, just happened to walk by. He hates my infatuation with the showgirl figure, so no doubt he was grimacing inwardly.

I’m going to video myself singing and dancing my song – the main part of my thesis show. I know I will hate my singing and dancing and the piece will make me cringe. However, It’s been an interesting process stepping into other artforms, ones that use the body as the artwork. I admire that quality in singing, dancing and acting. They involve using the body as a conduit for art. This creates a very immediate relationship to the audience, which I think I’m jealous of. It can feel like art is very separate from you, like a baby. Or a poo. Something that was part of you, but now is not, that you leave in the gallery for all to see.

The process of singing and dancing has been great fun, though. I kinda what to get into amateur dramatics now. I really hope that one of the am-dram companies in Sheffield will do a production of an old-fashioned musical (my wish list: 42nd Street, Chicago, any Cole Porter) when I return home. (When I was about 9 years old, Mum, Dad and I went to London for a short-break which we did a few times when I was young and we went to see 42nd Street. A unknown 19-year old Catherine Zeta Jones was in the lead role.)

Prior to all this art-making/trauma, I had a great Christmas holiday. Dad visited for nearly two weeks. He had a bad cold and felt lousy most of the time, but he enjoyed himself and he got to meet Ellen, David, Leslie, Kaycyila (we had Cricket over Christmas) and David and Ellen’s neighbouring ranch-owner friends. He got on with everyone and everyone liked him. He got to understand Ranch life and being an artist a little more. All good stuff. Sadly, Husband is having back problems – apparently due to his pelvis popping out of place. It’s been really painful for him and he doesn’t have an end point when it will stop and get better, so he’s pretty down about it. This year has been a challenge for him, and it’s been a deviation from his dream-plan. But, I think he will go home with some good life-learning experiences ready for his launch into full-time education (he’s going to start Bsc Biomedical Science at Sheffield Hallam University in September).

Thats a crocheted coral reef from an exhibition we went to see, co-curated (and croched in part) by Christine Wertheim.

Desolation

2009-01-29T20:05:00.000Z

It is my thesis show in three weeks. I have just edited and changed a lot. I think the show will be a video projection. Maybe a video projection opposite.

My show will not be great. It will be ok. I feel desolate. I will not be the best in show. I will be an also ran. I've taken the morning off to cry.

I feel I'm not good enough. I'm not ready for the artworld. I'm not that good an artist. How can I apply for things and try to exhibit and talk about my art? I feel unworthy of the faith art-friends have in me.

I've just finished listening to Rita Hayworth's biography 'If This Was Happiness'. That is unrelenting misery in itself.

I feel desolate.

Performing Artists

2008-12-21T22:49:00.001Z

Yesterday we celebrated Posada with Gorado and Marta and their family. I am not sure what it is, but its related to Christmas and involves singing, role play and the whole neighbourhood eating together in someone’s backyard. We had great fun.

I’ve been thinking about performance a lot. Different qualities and aspects, really. Let me give you examples. A class I should have taken this semester taught by Martin Kersels - Performance & Execution – had an end-of-class-performance at Santa Monica Museum where Martin Kersels currently has an exhibition. Me and husband went along. We missed some stuff, it went on for hours and most of it was impenetrable showings-off made by undergrads. Joanne, from my class, collaborated with a woman called Flint in a rather fascinating piece – both women pressed noses against each other and then in turn helped each other to strip, swap clothes and keep on swapping clothes. The women, both lesbians and presenting very different approaches to both femininity and androgyny in their everyday wear, drew attention to this by moving through different outfits that pointed to different identities and kept on moving through identities until we returned to normality. It was extremely intelligent and very well rehearsed, and resisted platitudes and easy answers. I describe this all as an aside. What I really want to say is that the most awful performance was one that went on for what literally felt like an eternity. It involved a young performer reading against Darwin’s theories of evolution – a creationist view, whilst putting on different ill-fitting items of clothing, cutting into the clothing and felt-tipping words onto his torso. This gesture was repeated over and over and over again. Tension began to fill the audience – when will this end? The audience was composed of CalArts students and faculty. For this performance there was an additional, most attentive audience member – a small-framed man in cap and sunglasses, with white/grey hair. Who was this performer? Who was this audience member? Henry Hopper with father Dennis Hopper enthralled. Oh yes. Hollywood is very much a hop, skip and a jump away from CalArts and with my own navel gazing musings here I sort of forget to report back on that type of thing. I really should share some of my gleanings one day.

Why has Henry Hopper’s performance lingered with me? Well, I got to thinking about narcissism. Narcissism without talent is a repellent gesture to an audience. Its as if the audience are surplus to requirements. But, narcissism with talent is an inviting, generous gesture. Think of Rita Hayworth’s performance of ‘Blame it on Mame’ in Gilda (I mention that moment as it is one I am working with for my thesis show). The audience is invited to collude with the performer, a flirtation between watcher and watched. Craft is an interesting strategy – something held up to the viewer, something generated by the performer. I’ve been thinking about this in relation to women in classic Hollywood film and I’m nearly there with my thoughts – it has got something to do with the agency of the performer and the female masquerade. I’ll get back to you on it.

The visiting artists must perform themselves. Each Thursday night in F200 (aka the room in which I broke my wrist. Incidentally, that was right before doing a performance in an end-of-class showing. I’ll come back to that in a bit), an invited artist shows examples of their work and/or gives explanations or reads aloud recent written material. They then take part in a Q & A session, which is un-moderated and can become an opportunity for the audience to pick holes in the artists work. There is no promise of politeness at a CalArts Q & A – some artists will not come become of its reputation. A team of three students is paid to coordinate the lectures. I find the structure of the whole thing interesting in that the student body shapes the series. The artists often do studio visits too. Isn’t it all performing? Like a performing seal? Performing the self. I remember Sharon Kivland’s maxim: - “an artist is always on duty”. I am going to list all the visiting (performing) artists in the series from the last three semesters. I’ll mark where I attended with a §, when I asked a question with a π and where I had a studio visit with the artist with a Ω.

2007
20th Sept Lisa Anne Auerbach §
25th Sept Mark Lewis
27th Sept Kamau Patton
4th Oct Stanya Kahn & Harry Dodge
11th Oct Francesca Gabbiani
18th Oct Sue de Beer
1st Nov Morgan Fischer
8th Nov Mathias Poledna
15th Nov Frances Stark
29th Nov Symbiotica
6th Dec Lisa Lapinski §
13th Dec Mel Ziegler
15th Jan Miles Coolidge
17th Jan Walid Raad § π
22nd Jan Nicole Cohen
24th Jan Patrick Killoran
29th Jan Edgar Heap-of-Birds §
31st Jan Katja Eydel § π
7th Feb Michelle Grabner
14th Feb Hirsch Perlman
21st Feb Carolla Dertnig (visiting faculty) §
28th Feb Robert Pruitt
6th Mar Richard Hawkins
12th Mar Stefan Romer screening of film Conceptual Paradise §
13th Mar Janice Kerbel § Ω
20th Mar Lane Relyea §
10th Apr Ben Weissman (visiting faculty)
17th Apr Seth Price
24th Apr Lecia Dole-Recio (visiting faculty)
1st May Mary Kelly §
8th May Rebecca Morales
18th Sept Mungo Thomson (Coneptual) §
25th Sept Mindy Shapero (Sculpture/Drawing)
2nd Oct Linda Palmer (Neuroscience of Kantian Philosophy)
9th Oct Yvonne Rainer (Experimental Choreography & Film) §
16th Oct Charles Long (Process-Based Sculpture)
23rd Oct Kim Fisher (Abstract Painting)
30th Oct Panel Discussion: Efficacy of Art & the Politics of Change (participants - Natalie Bookchin, Andrea Bowers, Ashley Hunt, Daniel Joseph Martinez) §
11th Nov Eve Fowler (Portraits/Photography) §
13th Nov Matthew Coolidge (Center for Land Use Interpretation) §
18th Nov Sarah Thornton (author, Seven Days in the Art World)
4th Dec Marnie Weber (Multi-Disciplinary) § Ω
11th Dec Joan Jonas (Video & Performance) § Ω

Each lecture I usually have a question to ask, but I am unable to say anything through (audience) performance anxiety.

In my meeting with Marnie Weber, she told me how it was nice to use my dance knowledge in my artwork. She thinks it is nice when you incorporate your skills into your practice. She was looking at my cigarette-card dancer photos on my studio wall whilst I was telling her about the day I broke my wrist right before our performance presentations. The event was put back a week and I did my performance with a bandaged wrist and on heavy painkillers. Marnie saw a link with my dancers project to this performance – the subversive element of the real person coming through.

Giving and Thanking

2008-12-16T21:50:00.000Z

We spent Thanksgiving at the Ranch, and friends of Ellen and David came to celebrate it with them. We were invited up to the main house to join in with the meal and merry-making. I took pan-baked brussel sprouts which were so yummy and got lots of compliments. Leslie Dick and her daughter were amongst the merry-makers and it was lovely to spend some time with them. Leslie was really impressed with husband too.

I omitted to mention that a couple of weeks back, the Semiotics class looked at Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida. Ellen asked me to choose the reading excerpts from the book for the class and to deliver my interpretation on the readings in class. It was a bit of an honor to be asked and a great experience. Of course, I got the pacing all wrong in my delivery but Ellen jumped in and helped me out when more explanation was needed.

I have had many, many meetings recently and I shall try to give some kind of a description of them. I met with Kerry Tribe, who is incredibly fast-talking, but charming, warm and gave some interesting thoughts. She was just around this semester as a one off and I regret not working with her more. Michelle Dizon is visiting faculty (Allen is taking a year out, Billy had this semester off and Kaucyila is having next semester off so there are lots of visiting faculty this year) and everyone adores her. She is extremely softly spoken, gentle, considered and polite. She seems to have a gift of being able to get into everyone’s headspace. I think CalArts should really make efforts to keep her. I had a wonderful meeting with her and really want to do an Independent Study with her next year. Martin Kersels has been a wonderful consoler, he’s great at bringing soothing and forgiving words to the situation when you think maybe your whole work is a big mess.

Although Leslie Dick has a brain as sharp as a tack our meetings feel like girly chats. By that I mean, I un-load my feelings of inferiority to her, she brings me uplifting and hilarious anecdotes, often very personal, as she is so wonderfully open. She said in one meeting that I was ‘smarter than 90% of the people here’, which I doubt, but I appreciated the sentiment. I give her my ideas, she builds on them and gives them back to me and I reciprocate. Leslie easily gets into my area of thinking, very much like Kaucyila, with whom I swap lines from 1940s musicals and film noirs. Kaucyila gets really invested in my work and to some extent a kind of defensiveness comes out sometimes when I tell her about my criticisms and discussions from others – comments like, ‘What is relevant about the 1940s to now?’ Kaucyila has given me a bank of quips to deal with such lines of thinking. Patrick Killoran met with me the other week and he saw my show last year. He came in and told me what a great show it was and gave me his read of that work. That started a really probing conversation about my work and as I was the last meeting of the day he talked to me for an 1 ½ hours instead of the allotted 45 minutes.

We had a lottery at the start of the semester for meetings with the visiting artists and I managed to get two – one with Marnie Weber and other with Joan Jonas. Here’s a thought I’ve been thinking: if I were studying in the UK, I wonder what artist’s names would come up most in my meetings. As I am here two LA-based artists crop up the most – Marnie Weber and Andrea Fraser. I was really excited to meet with Marnie, and she was very generous in our meeting and related my work to her work. Joan Jonas was nice, but she was pushed for time and essentially I seemed to tell her all about my work, she asked me further questions then just said, 'great'. The visiting artists have to meet you and perform in 45 minutes and that either works or it doesn't.

I love working with Natalie. I think Natalie and I have great rapport. And I think to work closely with someone on your work; you need to feel that you can trust them. Natalie is great at listening to me talk about my work then pointing out the flaws in my thinking. She spotted a huge flaw recently, around my preference for the still image in relation to issues around women in representation. She really encouraged me to look at that so I’ve been reading a lot of theory and writing my ideas down for her in order to really get a handle on what I think and why its relevant. I’ve been doing a lot of spider diagrams.

I talk with Ellen when we ride to and from school together. We talk about all sorts on the 40-minute commute, but my thinking on my work is one of the recurrent themes. She is really supportive, but she knows Natalie is on my ass so she gives me encouragement and we put our heads together and try to come up with some answers on my work. On the days that I do the commute alone I have audio books on my i-pod which Ellen gave me. It’s a wonderful way to read novels without looking at the pages. (I just finished Lolita read by Jeremy Irons – his dulcet British tones are soothing)

There is a lot of tension and stress floating around the MFA2 Art & Photo people. My support system is husband, the ranch and Lily. Husband copes really really well with the situation – I know many people are experiencing tough times in their relationships due to the stress. Not here. And that’s credit to Husband. Lily is the most kind, friendly and sweet natured Springer Spaniel. (Sometimes I just drive home praying she is at our place so I can give her a big cuddle. The other night she stayed the night here as she does sometimes. She stays on the sofa but manages to find her way onto our bed before morning.)

I was shocked to find out how many people are on prescribed medication for the stress. (It is very American to pop a pill if you are not brimming with happiness. I think that there is a huge pressure to live some kind of an ‘American Dream’ and if things go wrong psychiatrists use medication in the first instance. I find it all rather sad and feel very thankful I am a Brit and am allowed to be mardy sometimes. There is no friendly slang for being moody here and I think that is another symptom of what I am talking about. I miss the word mardy).

CalArts is all about the artists in different fields working under one rough in order to swap ideas and collaborate. Collaboration proper doesn’t happen all that often, but skill swapping and favours do. I’m really excited as I am getting singing lessons as I photographed a singer in 1930s style. I want to be able to sing for a video I am doing that will be in my thesis show – singing and dancing an excerpt of Laura Mulvey’s Visual Pleasures in Narrative Cinema. Also, I’ve put together some text to do with my cigarette cards/dancers project and I hope to work with a really sweet designer next semester to produce book(let) of the work.

Friday was the last Post Studio and the class went for a meal out together. I came back from the toilet and everyone had left! I missed my opportunity to say goodbye and thanks to Michael. I enjoyed the class, but I did not do as well in it as I first thought. Funnily enough, the conversations hit on areas where I have no expertise - philosophy, Kant, Foucault, Adorno, and stranger still, this seemed to connect to feelings I had around being expelled from school at 16 for not being academic enough. I eventually got some confidence back, but I'm the girl who likened someone's work the the moment in 'This Is Spinal Tap' when the stone henge copies get lowered onto the stage and they are something like 10 inches instead of 10 feet high. I am that girl. I had a meeting with Michael on Thursday and I was nervous about it so I blurted out at the start of the meeting that I did not know if I was Michael-ready yet, and he said, ‘I’m not sure if I’m [Tallulah] ready yet’. The meeting was all too short, but he thought that I might have a case to argue in my work. He really is rather special. I mean that.

Yesterday some people in the class came out to the ranch for a spot of orange-picking – I thought it may be a nice idea as I take a bag or two of oranges along to class so its become a bit of a theme.

Dad is coming to visit on Sunday, 21st December to 1st January and I’m so excited about to see him and show him the ranch.

No Information In Advance of Need

2008-11-26T18:39:00.000Z

- is the CalArts school motto. Which is rather interesting.

It appears a lot has happened since my last post. America has a new president elect. Saint Obama. A new regime is so needed that election night was an emotional affair, friends and teachers were declaring they would leave the country if he didn't win. You win some, you lose some - in California, the much opposed, but Mormon funded 'Proposition 8' was passed. The one about gay marriage.

Halloween came and went uncelebrated, this year it occurred to me that Halloween is just not as nice as 5th November so we decided not to do anything. We were house/dog-sitting in Silver Lake again and a couple in their 20s came round asking for treats. We had to give them some of our small chocolate supply. On chocolate, most American chocolate, or 'candy' (a word which conjures up cheap, coloured sugary tasteless stuff to me) is inedible, and certainly gives no pleasure. However the fantastic shop 'Trader Joe's' which I shall miss, does a large bar of Belgian chocolate which we make sure we always have in.

I survived Post-Studio! Being under the spotlight for 4 hours was draining and afterwards I had that feeling of 'fine, I'll never make any work again, its all so shit'. But I recuperated and reflected and realised that it was a great conversation where people who don't speak regularly spoke and people discussed the work insightfully and generously. There were some negative points, but I was grateful for them. I took my 'Art Encounters' sound piece. Michael Asher was kind about my work too. He is so funny in class, he has a habit of swinging on his chair, shutting his eyes as if asleep, then opening them and giving an assured epiphany.

American English has a word that I have certainly never encountered in British English - 'docent' - 'a person who acts as a guide, typically on a voluntary basis, in a museum, art gallery or zoo'.

I enjoy staying in Silverlake (back again now to pick up dog, then back to the Ranch for Thanksgiving). Last time I was here I went to a free LACMA talk with Amy Adler, Alex Slade and Penelope Umbrico. We are, however, staying at the ranch, having looked around for elsewhere to live. We found nowhere cheaper or as private, or as large. Additionally, Husband needed to find employment and he looked around for work in LA, which he would have done, but not enjoyed. Ellen and David needed another full-time worker on the Ranch, and Husband loves working on the Ranch and with Gerado, so he's pretty much working for our rent. This does mean that money is a little better for us and we should drive to LA each weekend for art openings etc. Another LA resource I want to explore is the Academy Awards archive and library.

However, last weekend there was a wonderful day of museum interventions at LACMA in collaboration with experimental gallery/space 'Machine Projects' which I was desperate to go to. Fires nearby resulted in road closures that made our journey 4 hours long. Any enthusiasm was pretty much drained by the time we got there. Ellen even had an opening over the road, but that barely perked us up. An opening at 'COMAspace' - and exhibition from Art MFAs who graduated this year made the evening more fun.

On Sunday Husband was invited on a special horse-riding trip: with Gerado and his Mexican friends. An all male affair with beer - they run out of Bud Lite and had to ride into town to buy more. They rode along the river bed and periodically galloped fast. Husband, a novice, kept up with the riding and drinking. He enjoyed it despite the afternoon being pretty much conducted in Spanish. Now he wants to learn Spanish and get a cowboy hat.

My 'Thesis show' - the exhibition I create that is the culmination of my research here, with a coherent set of ideas that are resolved in it, is scheduled for the week of 21st February. I am currently trying to resolve my work for it, but I keep hitting on problems. I have a pile of books around me and I think they all contain the answers I need, but I want the information now, I want to be able to scan each chapter (like a scanner) and absorb the points and know the arguments. But alas, I must sit here, isolating the most pertinent chapters and reading them, notebook, dictionary, pencil for underlining and page tabs to the side of me. I want to figure it out. I had a meeting with Natalie yesterday and she got to the heart of my conflict/incoherence. A lot of people I meet with are wonderful and have a great read of my work and give me really helpful leads. Natalie will not let me get away with anything and I love it. She asked me to put my ideas into writing and refer to theory. I think this will really help.

No information in advance of need.

Connection and Dissolubility

2008-10-29T22:18:00.000Z

There are moments, where everything seems to lead to a single point, and there are other moments where it all just drains away. I'm talking about the art-making process of research, connecting and overlaying ideas and then resolving the work. On that final point, I'm not there yet. When connections connect, then continue to connect and connect and connect it can feel rather like being on some conspiracy theory chase. Do they really connect? Or have I just lost any discernment?

Last week we had the MFA Mid-Residency Exhibition. For it, I decided to continue my investigation of text as art, the next step on from Fuzzy Pictures, and produced an MP3 of my voice, describing art encounters (see tumblr). I was thinking back to a conversation I had with Mentor/Genius friend and recalled 'Stendhal Syndrome', then I was talking to her about Freud's Apres Coup/Deferred Action and discussed this with Leslie Dick in relation to the work. I was reading Saussure and Barthes for Semiotics. Then I was reading 'Reading For the Plot', and pretty much all the above turned up the in first chapter. Which freaked me out. In the space of days everything I was encountering was repeating itself elsewhere. This can mean you are onto something and of course, it can be a red-herring. How does one recoup from such an overload? Well I went from a swim in the school's pool. I did that thing where you lie in the pool just looking up, floating. The sky was cloudless, and for a moment everything connected, before it dissolved.

I have that kind of tight feeling that I am not getting enough done, making art is taking too long, I'm making mistakes, correcting myself, taking time, but I want to go faster. I'm thinking about how I could apply for shows and send work out there into the world, but then I want things to connect properly before I do. My brain is constantly pushing and pulling me. I want to do this, I want to do that. I cry frequently...

Husband and I are currently house sitting in LA, for Kaucyila again, and I'm rather enjoying it. There is a buzz to LA; although motor-based, perhaps its more of a car purr. The LA buzz/car-purr is so hard to hear sometimes that it can feel like the act of hunting the buzz can be too daunting a task. Not so this time. We've had fun. I think we are really thinking about moving to LA for next semester. On Sunday I went to a screening of Liz Goldwyn's Pretty Things documentary film, exploring the lives of the 1940s-60s queens of burlesque. Of most interest to me was Goldwyn's subject position in the film - the film is cut with photographs she took of herself in collected burlesque outfits, learning burlesque dance routines in dance classes and from the queens themselves. It was very interesting, the research and area being rather aligned to one of my interest/areas. I bought her book 'Pretty Things' afterwards and spoke to her briefly, about emailing her. It would be wonderful to pick her brains. She was in conversation with Charlotte Cotton at the beginning too - Charlotte always being both lucid and humorous - with a new short haircut too.

Onwards with my artwork then, back to my ghost towns work - I'm counting down the days now to my Post-Studio cruxifiction on 14th November.

Husband has his down days, away from his home and friends, but this week he has been mountain biking and has been much happier, albeit with heat exhaustion! We got our car now, small engine and the seats go down, so he can put his bike in the back.

Yesterday there was a black widow spider underneath my door handle to my studio. I saw the red hour glass on the underside of its abdomen and everything.

The Semiotics of Mexican Christening Parties

2008-10-16T19:09:00.000+01:00

My internal emotions have been fairly all over the place since I arrived, so I avoided blogging for fear of moaning. In truth, nothing is wrong, per se, but I am a bag of anxieties. As I get further into the semester things are getting better and my paranoias are easing off. But for a while there, I was paranoid, and that’s usually not my style, so the experience was pretty damn disturbing.

This is my Fall Semester schedule; I’m taking a Final Cut Pro technical class, a Visual Semiotics class which I am the teaching assistant for, a class called Narrative Withdrawal about video art and its relationship to film and finally, the world famous, possibly longest running class at CalArts, Post Studio Art with Michael Asher, aka the 8 hour crit. Fortunately it is not my turn in Post Studio until 14th November. I love it, it’s the hardest class I’ve ever done, and it is extremely brutal. Essentially I think that being the critee is rather like stripping yourself naked, pinning yourself to some kind of mast or cross and inviting an audience to ritually abuse you. Just a little observation, based on the faces of those being critiqued by the end of their session and their recovery time. Michael Asher is a sweet though, a real monk to art.

Ranch life has been fun, but it can feel rather like a gilded cage. Its true, you can pick a lot of food here, and it tastes nice, you can also go for walks, see nice views and go for freezing cold swims in an unheated pool. But our rented car, a Lexus, is really bad with fuel consumption and we just cannot justify round trips to LA for the evening, which leaves us rather stranded out here. Money, like the rest of the world, is going rather worse than expected.

However, DVD box sets of Poirot, Foyles War, Upstairs Downstairs, A Bit of Fry and Laurie and Monty Python betray our landlords Anglophilia. We are working our way through their DVD library; at the moment we are addicted to House (the accent may be American, but the timing is British).

I’m having lots of meetings with faculty in my studio; most very positive (notably, not all). Ashley Hunt is a visiting teacher and very charming, with an ability to get right to the heart of the work. Carla Herrera-Prats pushes, and keeps on pushing. Lesley Dick is unreservedly wonderful, as is Christine Wertheim whose all-inclusive vision of feminism is wonderfully provocative, warm and funny – she is my current cheerleader. I regret not doing an Independent Study with Kaucyila Brook, with whom I can talk black and white movies to infinity, and whose relationship to Queer Theory means she brings a greater understanding of female desire and how that is hidden from view in society to our discussions, which are animated, warm and fuelled by pots of tea.

Mary Kelly is organising a happening in Orange County, I had signed up to be a participant in May and was very excited about the opportunity having seen Mary talk last semester. On Sunday, I didn’t know anyone I could share a ride with, and I could not justify the 220 mile round trip expense, so I did not take part. I was gutted not to take part. Each week another opening, talk or happening that I want to go to takes place and I do not go as it is too far away, too expensive and feels too mean to leave husband stranded again on the ranch. We need to rethink our living arrangements for next semester.

Not all is doom and gloom. Our silver lining has been getting to know Gorado, our next door neighbour and ranch foreman. A friendly Mexican whose rushed, clipped English would be fluent if he could relax whilst he spoke. Gorado wins our respect for being the realest cowboy we have ever gotten to know. He wears a straw cowboy hat, boots (with wear and tear signs from spurs on them) and jeans at all times. He loves horses and has been know to ride down to a local restaurant and tether his horse outside while he ate. A couple of weeks ago it was his daughters ‘Baptisto’ party (Christening). He and his family friends cleaned out the barn, brought in tables and chairs and lavender and white balloons, a heart sculpture made of balloons, cakes, crates of Bud Light and lots of Mexican food. A family friend made some kind of a roasted pork dish by cooking it overnight on a fire outside – either on a spit or in a pot, we couldn’t quite work it out. Food was served at 4pm, a band started playing at 9pm and the party finished sometime not long after midnight. We stayed until the end with time-out breaks in between. We tried to imitate Mexican dancing (rather badly, but it was well received). We had great fun at the party and we were praised for being the only white people to stay after the band arrived. It was such a spectacle to see the little boys dressed as cowboys and the men dressed in their best suits with cowboy trimmings – rather like a Mexican Mafia look, mixed with other more urban hip-hop Mexican styles. We were amongst the most under-dressed, but we made up for that with our ability to party.

Finally, I love cuddling Lily, the springer spaniel, who reminds me so much of the dogs we had as I was growing up. I'm back doing CAP classes, this time on Monday evenings not Saturdays which works out better.

Ranch Life

2008-08-30T18:43:00.000+01:00

Husband and I are here together this year. We're on a 100 year old ranch in Santa Paula, home of David Bunn and Ellen Birrell. They have a number of guest houses and we are renting one. It's very hard to understand how we got so lucky, but we have. The ranch is like some kind of retreat. Lemon and avocado orchards are commercially picked and the fruit sold, with plenty of fruit for us and additional grapefruit, orange and pear trees. Chicken and ducks lay eggs and there is a vegetable patch with chard, squash, herbs and I'm not sure what else. Our veg bills will be non-existent. As a vegetable eater this just heaven. We only really need to buy dairy foods, tofu, cereals and pulses to sustain us. There is also a swimming pool shaped like a lagoon, designed by Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch designer earlier in his career. The ranch backs onto National Parks type land (forgotten their terminology here) so when you run out of the 3800 acres of ranch land you can keep going into park land.

We hope to subsidise the rent by working on the ranch. The commute is 40 mins to CalArts, but its a straight drive. We really hope to make it work living up here. Its not city life but it is something rather unique and idyllic. We had to grab the offer with both hands.

My three months at home were great. I got to see pretty much all my friends (bar two) and spend time with Dad. When I got home I really need to rest after the nine months I'd had and with my broken wrist. Husband and I watched two seasons of 24 in a short period of time followed by the Hitchcock Signature DVD collection and a Film Noir boxset. I caught up with one of my old workplaces, the Sheffield Yoga Centre and spent some time with my lovely yoga teacher. A friend's very dear mother whom I visited two days before I initially came out to Calarts last year, lost her battle with breast cancer and I was so privileged to be home and able to attend her funeral. I was home for my own mother's birthday and the tenth anniversary of her death. We don't morbidly dwell on such dates but it was nice to reflect on them at home. I went from a disorientated shell shock of recognising home but not quite being there, to fully being present there. And now I'm here. Again, with a kind of recognition of CalArts but a disengagement of it. That will all change soon. As the term starts the pace will pick up and I'll feel like, 'we're off again'. I'm so lucky to have husband to ground me this year.

I really hope I have a good year this year. I have a plan of what I what to do and I really hope it happens and goes well. The challenge of the year will really be in taking part in the Mid-Residency show and the end of year Los Angeles show, that the students organise. This will be where the diva egos raise their ugly heads. And they will. I hate diva behaviour, and from artists it makes me cringe.

It's Nice To Be Home

2008-06-12T10:37:00.000+01:00

CalArts now seems like a dream sequence, it did as soon as I got home. It's hard to reconcile the experiences of the last nine months with life back in Sheffield. It is great to be back. Though I am taking it slow re-connecting with friends as it feels a bit, erm, cheeky re-inserting yourself into your old life. I have to be considerate of others and not just go 'ta-da!' here I am. Or at least thats how I feel.

A rather valued good friend managed to get me a well paid temporary job, which I really love. Doing PR for b.TWEEN 08, a media/technology/creative event happening in Manchester next week. It's fun. It is so nice it makes me feel like, wow, have I been here all year and not noticed? I don't know, that struggle to bring back California Me pervades all my thoughts.

I have seen a rather successful artist good friend and she's had a great year and I liked hearing her news. I popped into S1 and Bloc and although both are doing well the Arts Council are really putting the squeeze on all art organisations. The Arts Council just pisses me off and I have a lot to say about what they get wrong but I fear if I start to blog that I will be here all day, and also may lessen my chances of getting money off of them, which I probably will want at some point. Even though I think having an Arts Council logo on your artwork is deeply uncool.

Obvioulsy re-uniting with husband was lovely and we are so back into normality again that for me it feels like I haven't been away. I don't think he feels the same way, the nine months having been harder for him. But we've done it. I think that is the longest we will have to be parted and its behind us now.

My little 2-year old friend, Freya is doing very well and is lovely, as are her parents whom I adore, (Pat & Jo) but I don't think Freya remembers me. And that makes me a little sad.

Feeling at home involves re-connecting with people and also tastes of home. Tastes include:
eating fish and chips - our local chippy has changed hands and they now do soggy chips which I cant stand so I'm a bit gutted about that
curry - love it, love our takeaway, wish I could eat it every night
HobNobs, eaten some at work
Ribena - tastes better out of a box rather than out of a bottle
Fruit flavoured beer - Belle Vue - not available at our local offy or supermarket so was pleased its now on tap at the Showroom
Blue Moon cafe meals

Tastes that I miss from my other home:
Pinkberry frozen yogurt
Oreos
Breakfast Burritos
Pancakes
All breakfast food

A Fall Comes Before Pride

2008-05-15T07:47:00.000+01:00

Last week I fell and fractured my wrist in three places. It was in F200, I was doing a few dance steps, nothing fancy, my left foot just gave way and collapsed and my right hand broke my fall. And broke, as it happens. I was preparing for a performance night I was doing something for, for Carola's class. I was going to reprise 'Me Against the Music'.

The Follow Up:
The last thing I wanted to do with a bandage wrist was to type up the story, especially in a morphine-laced painkiller addled state. So here's the expanded version. I fell, broke my wrist and could see that my wrist was mishapen. The adrenalnie from the impending performance saved me from feeling the full extent of the pain. A friend, Carlin, drove me to the local hospital. I had to stay there three nights. They gave me morphine intravenously. I had an operation to set my bones and had a steel plate put in (which does not set off airport security). The drugs made me extremely nauseous and not very lucid. Alexis and Dana were absolute angels, visiting me in hospital twice a day and spending time with me and helping me. I fell ten days before my flight home and I needed a lot of help and support to pack up my clothes and bits from my dorm room and take to my studio and also pack for my return home. A lot of people helped me with all sorts of things from wrapping up and boxing my kitchenware, returning the hire car, washing my hair and driving me to the airport. All this help was amazing and it humbled me to see how willing people were to help me out. It sort of was the response to my earlier blogs posts that were reflecting on my isolation here. It that sense, my wrist break really helped me see my situation in a different way, perhaps a way that I needed to see. It was painful, and the hospital bills are shit, but apart from that, I won't moan about it.

Finding Everything And Realising / Freedom of Expression As Revolution*

2008-05-05T07:47:00.000+01:00

And that's it.

I finished. At 10.30pm precisely, tonight, I finished watching every single episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I was crying my eyes out. I watched the last episode again with Joss Whedon's commentary. You may think that I am just vulnerable to the syrup and simplicity of children's television, but I would argue with you there. The emotional themes of the show and the honesty in the writing and producing of it made it truly amazing; outstanding. The ongoing theme was really the experience of being an individual, having to take on life and face your battles alone. But, paradoxically, also as part of a group, a small, tight group with strengths and weaknesses but a group nevertheless. Spike was/is amazing. He basically saves the world by causing the Hellmouth to implode and destroying Sunnydale in the process. I commit very easily to things which partly explains my determination to complete watching all of the shows, but there are deeper reasons why Buffy won my heart. The small class has been a great place for me to really work through psychoanalytic readings of conventional Hollywood, Freud's ideas on the dichotomy women are faced with, creating resistance and subversion within the male gaze and growing in personal confidence with developing my own ideas and vocalising them in class. There were no photo MFA students in the class - mainly art and film students and evenly split between grad and undergrad students, which gave me a break from my usual set of peers. Its given me the opportunity to understand why I am here, 5000 miles away from home, following my vocation, alone, but part of a network of close friends supporting me and keeping me on track. I have been able to meditate on the purpose of life. I went to breakfast this morning with Dana - we went to a diner and and ate pancakes - and Dana was telling me all about being confused by the variations in the guidance she receives on a daily basis from her mum and dad and I realised then that I do not have that, an adviser, like that. But then I watched Buffy and I understood my situation a little better. I do not need an adviser because I can interpret and learn through art what it is I do and how to do it. And finally, indulge me here with a syrupy moment of my own, I'll try to keep it brief. I found Buffy and Spike's relationship utterly plausible - a girl, with a vocation, though lost, treading water, wasting time and a boy, been doing the same thing for years, not going anywhere, repeating the same things without fulfilment and in the process of leaving behind old habits and without a game plan or seriously understanding the nature of their love, growing and evolving and becoming better versions of themselves because of that love. I'm sorry reader, but I identify.

I've had a long day - after breakfast I went to the Fuzzy Pictures class show installation and put up my piece. It is a piece of text that I have printed very large and laminated it so that it is shiny like a photograph. The text stands in for a photograph and allows a meditation on representation. I wanted the text to operate the way I speak in class - which can be quite lucid and articulate, which is disappointingly not usually mirrored in my writing. So I invited the other class members to email their definition of 'Fuzzy Pictures' and suggest to me an example of a fuzzy picture. I'll post my text piece here so you can have a read of it.

After that I took part in a re-do of Allan Kaprow's happening 'Publicity', which was organised by CalArts students working with David Bunn and MOCA who are doing a retrospective of Kaprow at the moment. The whole thing was thoroughly enjoyable and really unique. A bunch of us went at Vasquez Rocks - which has been used by Star Trek - and wearing hard hats, erected any kind of temporary structure out of string and wood and debris, whilst 4 people videoed the action and others used loud speakers to call to each other. It was a strange kind of way to understand how Kaprow's happenings work, maybe he would or woudn't approve. But you know what? I enjoyed it.

On Friday I went to Miller Updegraff's house. He and his wife hosted a rather lovely dinner party with a great group of people. There was only one other current MFA student there, in the mix where an animator/tv person who works on South Park, the curator of the Hammer Museum, a theatre writer/director & reviewer for the LA Weekly, 2 CalArts faculty, a woman who is one of the 17 assistants for Mike Kelly, Taryn the admissions director for the art school and lil ol' me. I was quite nervous about the evening and thought I might be out of my depth, but I really had a great time.

Last week the visiting artist was Mary Kelly who I found very interesting and I really liked her and her work and the week before I went to a film evening with Carolee Schneeman. It's been so lovely to get the opportunity to see these women in the flesh and hear them talk about their work. Although Carolee's latest video piece consists of photographs she takes daily of her being woken up by her cat licking her on her open mouth first thing in the morning, which I'm sorry to say, I found gross.

The other week an art MFA2 student, Nate Page, removed all the posters from the school (which is against school policy) and turned them into a giant piece of artwork on the far wall of the main gallery. I did not see the piece itself but I hear it was quite beautiful and extended all the way up to the high ceiling. As a violation of school policy Facilities removed the piece and re-stuck the posters around the campus. That evening, Aaron Wrinkle did a sort of protest performance in defence of Nate, which was really thought provoking, all about bringing back the radical spirit to CalArts. Arguably, CalArts is less radical than it has been in the past, but what I am interested by, is that we, the students, are encouraged to think of this place as ours, and to do with it what we want. We make the place. And that is true here, more than any other place I have experienced. And I love it.

I have 11 days before I come home to Sheffield for the summer. And that's it.

*taken from the lyrics of F.E.A.R. by Ian Brown

Feeling Fuzzy - Text Piece

2008-05-05T07:45:00.000+01:00

Feeling Fuzzy

Photographic meaning is extremely fuzzy. Trying to represent is like juggling with jelly…

This semester, our Fuzzy Pictures1 class did not reach a consensus on what fuzziness is. Not that I took a poll. But it is hard to pinpoint how meaning can be derived from an image. Any given image shifts its meaning when it has to operate outside of its natural context. But what is a natural context for an image? Fuzzy Pictures2 encouraged us to think about how meaning functions in relation to information given about an image, or how an image functions when detached from such information. Is it better to have contextual information to ease us into a photograph? Can we jump straight in? If we do jump, what happens if we land in the wrong place? And is there a wrong place?

At the end The Silence of the Lambs I know that Clarice Starling is ok, she does not get killed. But each time I watch the scene in the basement where Buffalo Bill watches Clarice through night vision glasses, my heart starts pounding and for a moment there, I really wonder how it will end. I cannot help myself. When we see photographs, regardless of how contentious the image is with regard any kind of veracity, how can we keep ourselves from reacting? How can we look at a photograph and not feel “something”? We may be able to intellectually respond to a photograph, knowing that the subjective nature of any image makes all photographs impossible to read literally, and we may be aware of how vulnerable to massage pixels are in a digital photograph, but can we stop ourselves from emotionally responding to a photograph? Can we stop ourselves from being duped? More importantly, is it desirable to be so cynical? Indeed, it is nice enjoying photographs. But then, are all photographs Fuzzy Pictures3 and can other forms of representation be Fuzzy Pictures4 too?

Garfield Minus Garfield (garfieldminusgarfield.tumblr.com) can be seen as a Fuzzy Picture5 as it subverts the regular Garfield comic strip by (guess what?) removing Garfield. Without this crucial character, the narrative moves from an amusing dialogue between cat and owner, to a lone man asking questions to the air. Because we mourn the humour that is meant to present, the scenario quickly moves to tragedy as we realise that Jon is all alone.

A photograph of a pet horse: presumably a beloved friend can take on Fuzzy Pictures6 attributes if the angle of composition focuses our attention on his enlarged head, cropped out eyes and ears and highlights a nostril and mouth with chance patch of strong light. A pet portrait mutates into a snarling monster as the musculature of the flared nostril comes towards us. Photographs can be pushed into being extremely Fuzzy Pictures7 by complicating their methods of production. An evolutionary method of production involving a camera, film, Photoshop and pencil makes the labelling of an image we are seeing fuzzy. This gives these hybrid images an uneasy feeling – all categorisation being disallowed, we are denied easy access to the image. A night time cityscape, or a long exposure without a flash, create a literal Fuzzy Picture8 . All that can be made out is the blur of street lights, a few office bulbs left on in high-rising buildings and a strip of vertical sky between the buildings, an eerily light and dark feeling at the same time. Nothing is clear in the photograph. This photograph is not an attempt to transmit information, but its Fuzzy Picture9 -ness can be used by the image maker to describe a relationship with the city. A sense of wonder, mystery and respect is created in the haze of city life in this image. Cindy Sherman trades on Fuzzy Pictures10 ideas in all of her work, but perhaps, her work combining medical anatomical dummy parts are her fuzziest. The clash of body parts, plastic genitalia, awkward angles and red silk resists any pleasure that we may wish to find in a photograph. As we move between the different elements of the photographs, attempting or failing to find meaning, erotic pleasure, we are resisted at every turn. We must withdraw from the photograph, scolded for our vain try to enter it.

Larry Sultan’s book, Evidence, is full of Fuzzy Pictures11 . The fuzziness here lies in the lack of contextual information. Butting the images up against one another without any explanatory notes takes the world of the evidentiary document to the realm of nonsense, and all of a sudden the photographic meanings are up for grabs. Any discussion can be had over any image. The most fantastical explanation is permitted. Stripped of a title and context, Robert Capa’s Death of a Loyalist Soldier (1936) is an extremely Fuzzy Picture12. This is a soldier’s last breath. This moment, the most important moment for this soldier, has been recorded and saved for us to view. There is no model release form. This is death. Photographs can record anything we choose. This type of photograph reminds us of the ethical-aesthetic responsibilities we have as image makers, as we produce visual evidence of moments existing while the fuzziness of the eventual photograph can be at odds with our intentions. War photographs exist long after the conflict has passed. How do we interpret them now? Can we re-contextualise them for the present, or must we be careful to preserve all contextual information in order to view such imagery as historical artefacts? Or does this type of image transcend its own context, and reminds us of the fragility of life, when the other imagery we are surrounded by, with imperfections erased, tells us a contradictory message? What about news pictures? The images we see circulated on the television, newspapers and online. Are they all Fuzzy Pictures ? If we accept their inherent fuzziness, how should we approach them? If we accept there is no truth in a news image, what do we see exactly when we encounter it? Must we stop looking?

1 I think a fuzzy picture is a picture that lacks one or both of the following: a clear referent, despite the fact that pictures are supposed to refer/point toward something, and/or a picture in which the intentionality of the photographer seems (purposefully) unclear. Fuzziness is almost entirely dependent upon context.
2 Fuzzy Pictures are photographs that create questions but do not provide answers.
3 Because a photograph is by nature a recording of something, whether real or created, a viewer is always aware that they are looking at a photograph, and there is always a lingering question of how the photograph came to be. It becomes impossible for a photographer to simply send one message with a photograph as that photograph immediately also brings up discussion of the process, form, and representation. The photograph is formed in this mystery of being. Without it, the photograph would not be controversial, it would not be alive. It would not ask questions or present answers to those that had not yet been asked, the way a photograph always does. Because of this, all photographs are "fuzzy", although some perhaps fuzzier than others.
4 A fuzzy image is and can be anything, everything and nothing. Taken literally, a fuzzy image can be an image with fur on it, or with motion causing a blur. A fuzzy picture gives little to nothing about itself and allows the viewer to make up and fill in the gaps.
5 I guess the way I see it is that there is fuzziness in all photographs. For instance, with almost any form of art photography, we run into gray, or fuzzy, areas. For example, with documentary photography, we are in a sense replicating something through our own ideas. So the images themselves are not really what we are documenting, rather they are the idea that the photographer has about their subject. So, I guess, to me, the idea is not that a picture IS fuzzy but what it is in a photograph that makes it fuzzy.
6 Fuzzy Pictures are ones that refuse to give all the information and ask questions; fuzziness represents the instability in art.
A piece of artwork that always remains unresolved. The ambiguity of the work should leave the viewer thinking about all the possible resolutions that are unattainable.
7 A fuzzy image is and can be anything, everything and nothing. Taken literally a fuzzy image can be an image with fur on it, or with motion causing a blur. A fuzzy picture gives little to nothing about itself and allows the viewer to both make up and fill in the gaps.
8 I think a fuzzy picture is when what is outside the frame is more important than what is in the frame, physically and theoretically.
9 The heart of the idea is in understanding fuzziness itself. Like in general use, it indicates something unclear, as in a disjunction or delay between the perceived surface and the suggestion of a more solid form somewhere within, possibly edgeless or permeable. The purpose of seeking out this function in a photograph can be manifold. Simply to point at the difficulty of locating meaning in an image where context often obscures its nature as a construction. When looking at a fuzzy picture, you may find yourself spit back out, somewhere unexpected or at a complete loss for the tangibility that photography is known for. If a photograph manoeuvres slipperily around meanings, fuzziness is the reveal of the layers between those meanings as well as between the photographic object and its viewer. Places and thoughts that are complicated to perceive and are not recordable through the process of light reflecting off a surface necessitate seeing in-between layers of indeterminacy.
10 The term “fuzzy picture” produces a fuzzy definition that includes, but is not limited to, an image that blurs the lines of certainty, that raises questions within the viewer. It offers an intangible element that can exist on an intuitive level, while becoming confused when examined in rational terms.
11 A fuzzy picture is 1. not a kodak moment
2. one that makes you linger over the answer to "what is this a picture of?" a. defers closure
3. revels in the inevitable and incommensurate gap between representation and its referent
12 Fuzzy Picture- An image in which the meaning is to be interpreted by the viewer.

Bite Me

2008-04-09T04:48:00.000+01:00

Me and Husband celebrated one year of marriage yesterday! Albeit in separate countries. Fish and chips is a special meal for us so when we had our respective teas (dinners - I miss saying the word tea, sorry to non-Northerners there!) we had fish and chips. That was the plan. There's a British restaurant called The Rose & Crown in a mini shopping precinct on a street round the corner that I went to with Alexis and Sidonie - a really nice MFA2 Photo student from Paris. It was shut. Its shut on Mondays. Using her quick thinking Alexis called up BJs, a Chicago diner chain to find out if they served the important dish - they did - we ate it - and had a big brownie pudding thing afterwards too for good measure. It was not exactly authentic, but nice. The chips were coated in savoury seasonings and the fish batter was a bit too heavy - a bit like a pancake batter, not light and crispy enough. Husband had has fish and chips at home, and his mum made it healthy with a jacket potato. This places added importance on our first fish and chip shop take away complete with mushy peas, when I get home in 5 weeks. Funnily enough, Sidonie, the Parisian was very interested to hear about mushy peas and wants me to make some here. Can you believe that? It took me a while to get my head around that.

Other good news. I got a Calarts scholarship for next year - they are giving me $12,000 for the year. This is an unusually high figure for a grad student. So I feel very lucky. I still need to do much fund raising and need to earn a lot of money over the summer.

Today I gave a presentation in Buffy class. I worked really hard on it. My feeling is, I can unpick film, photography and television and by having something to say on them, I am admitted to higher, more learned debates (without having to do all that reading. I'm not so good at reading). So I pushed myself, I wanted to see how far I could take my ideas. My presentation was basically delivering a formal paper - just me speaking - a personal perspective on watching way too much Buffy. I entitled it 'Christianity, Rape, Heroin Addiction, Cockney Rhyming Slang, Tea and The British Class System: A Personal Decoding of Buffy'. If that really tickles your fancy, email me and I can forward you my notes. Leslie came up to me afterwards to tell me that she really enjoyed it and that she overheard many of the others in the class saying how much they enjoyed it too. She really liked what my brain did with it, she said. In particular, she liked an observation I made. I noticed in Pangs, Season 4, Episode 8, when the Initiative plants a chip in Spike’s head and he tries to bite Willow, the scene is played as a farce and Willow expresses her sadness at not being very bite worthy. Spike reassures her by saying “Don’t be ridiculous, I’d bite you in a heart beat” and “If I could, I would”. The following episode, Something Blue, Season 4, Episode 9, Spike’s inability to bite is referred to by calling him “impotent” and “flaccid”. Instead he must drink blood through a straw in mug. The mug has written on it: “Kiss the Librarian” – its as if all he can do now is kiss. And here's my big observation that Leslie liked: its as if male vampires can experience impotency in two ways. The penis is doubled in the teeth. The wet mouth that house the teeth is a symbolic doubling of the vagina. This means that a vampire’s mouth is constantly a symbol for penetrative sex! Leslie told me that in psychoanalysis we can go off and view the world symbolically, and then return to normality, but bringing back a little bit of experience. The same arc that happens each Buffy episode, we wander off into fantasy but return to our starting position by the end of the episode - a little bit wiser. As previously mentioned, I adore Leslie, so this all made me feel very pleased with myself.

Show-girl!

2008-04-01T06:01:00.000+01:00

One solitary dancer out of say, about 100 had a boob job, and that got me thinking.

I went to Las Vegas last week, from Sunday to Thursday as it was Spring Break. I stayed at Angie Rizzo's dad's place with Angie and her friend Gabby. Angie is a photo BFA3, and she's really nice. Very mature, but funny too. We work on CAP together. We mainly chilled, but also went for a swim in a casino/hotel's fancy pool and joined Alexis, Calvin and Grace, Alexis's room mate to watch them give large amounts of money to the casino. I did not partake in any of the gambling business, because that whole risk thing has no thrills for me. Instead, I want and blew a small amount of money on eyeshadows I don't need from MAC, because they look so cute.

Angie's step mum got us a great deal on tickets to see 'Jubilee' - the longest running and most classic showgirl show in Vegas, its been going for years. It was amazing, such a spectacle. It was a song a dance thing borrowing heavily from ballet and Paris music hall. I loved it. Formation dancing and sequins and ostrich feathers just warm the cockles of my heart. I needed more. I came out from Jubilee at 9.30pm and went straight to the Folies Bergere, the only other classic showgirl show. I saw so many showgirls in one night it wasn't true. And only one had a boob job. In showgirl shows there are topless girls who move around less, have to be at least 5ft 8 and wear the taller headdresses. Only small pert breasts that don't jiggle to much are allowed. The other dancers, the 'ponies', don't have to be as tall and they do the more turn and jump moves and have smaller headdresses. They are the best dancers. The boob job stood out so much as it seemed to be the ugly detail that stuck out to unpick the suspension of disbelief that goes on with the whole spectacle. Topless revues go back to the Folies Bergere and Windmill in London and other music halls, that justified using semi-nude women by relating them to sculptures. They created classic scenes that the women just stood in, unable by law to move. Looking at dancers is a salacious business, even ballet has proved an excuse to look at young women's legs. Overt sexuality interrupts the constructed innocence of the pleasure of watching a nice girl dance. As you can tell, this boob job really got to the heart of my interests in my work.

We went in Angie's car. Although I have a car now. It's all a bit funny, I am renting it from a man, a private rental. His insurance only covers me within 100 miles of Santa Monica. Which is great. I have a car. But no road trips for me. Doing it this way has meant that I have circumnavigated registering the car, getting it insured and means that getting a California Driving License (I need to take a written test and an actual, real driving one too) is less urgent as I am not a car owner. Getting a car has totally transformed my life here and I now feel I am just begining to get LA and figure it out. It makes me wonder if I wasted last semester by being here and not having a set of wheels.

One of my first trips was with Dana to Burbank. I posted a request for burlesque ostrich feather fans on Craigslist, for a photo-shoot and woman replied with the offer of renting me some fans. I went with Dana to her house. It was awful. Her entire yard and garage was stuffed full of atrophied crap. She had bin liners full of showgirl outfits not used since the 90s - it would have been great stuff back in the day, but now, they were rotting corpses. Her garage stuck of mould and cat poo. She thought she could set up a business renting this stuff out to dance troupes, she thought she was sitting on a gold mine. I thought she needed the 'How Clean Is Your House?' team to come round and sort her life out. There was a very creepy atmosphere about the whole set up and me and Dana had to make our apologies and run as she started to argue with her very dodgy looking partner. Incidently, she's been campaigning for Hillary. She rings round numbers and talks to them about how great the Clinton woman is.

And I'm the proud owner of a Mamiya R-Z 67, which I keep pronouncing R Zee - because thats what everyone here calls them and I forget to say R Zed. I got it second hand from one of my class mates. I'm so dumb, she said she'd sell the whole kit for $1000 in December, but I didn't get round to paying for it til February, and I offered her $1100 then. I just found the original email now, doh! I'm so bad at getting deals! (BTW, more evidence that I really am a real photographer now, not just messing about)

I'm half way through Buffy Season 4 and Angel Season 1. It's the only thing I do when I have a spare moment. Which is great, but I think about it way to much. The other week CalArts held interviews for the Art and Photo MFAs - the first time they've done that - I got in on portfolio only. Current students toured the interviewees round the facilities. I had 4 to take round. One of them was an English woman, my age. I can't say any of this without coming off as absolutely petty, but here goes. She went to Goldsmiths, she has a place at the fully funded RCA, she is currently an artist's assistant in London, she is into 'Grime' music and her accent is more Northern than mine. I'm sure, reader, that you either get how these facts relate to me or you don't. But let's just say, I was Buffy when Faith came to town. Someone was stealing my act. And she's got a better act.

At the last Buffy class we watched 'Once More With Feeling', the musical episode, I love it. If you haven't seen it, check it out at: http://www.surfthechannel.com/info/television/Buffy_The_Vampire_Slayer/1152/S6E7.html - it really is worth watching.

On another note, that day Natalie Bookchin told me that if they had interviewed me I would have got a place at CalArts much sooner. I applied 3 times and was wait listed once so I sent in 4 portfolios. Yep, I really wanted to come and I'm stubborn as hell. And 'no', means nothing to me.

Dana is in a directing class and the other week I was her performer. It was only a thing for her class, but it was site specific so it was set in the car park. It was an improv piece that I did with an actor in Dana's class. We had to have an argument, that resolved with me unable to speak and finally having to say 'I love you'. All the actors couldn't believe that I, untrained person that I am, could get into character so much and make it really sad. So that was a nice little exercise. You only get that kind of opportunity at CalArts. I think I'm going to do another thing like that for Dana next week.

Last night I went to a viewing of some of Allan Sekula's films in Hollywood. The final film of the night was from 1973 in which Allan himself starred. It was a 20-minute improv sketch were he and his collaborator were miming making pizzas in a restaurant. It was so funny. Allan had shoulder length thick brown hair, wore a bandana, baggy jeans and oversize t-shirt and spoke with a street New York accent. It was hilarious. Really.

I'm feeling the end of the year coming. And I'm scared. I really am getting it at the moment, I don't want to stop for Summer break. I'm worried that the second year will go as quick as this year and that means that it will be over in 5 minutes. I'm just getting to really bond with the graduating second years so I gutted to have to say goodbye imminently. Liz Glynn, Lesley Dick's teaching assistant (who I really like but never get to hang out with and who went to Harvard) is a second year and I don't want to see her go. She is so smart and says such clever insightful things in class. Imagine my surprise when she drunkenly told me how impressed and intimidated she is with my comments in Buffy class, she said she just didn't get film like I did, she couldn't see the things I see. This makes me happy. Low culture, vernacular, television and other general trash are the things I can get and unpick, and my getting them is my admittance into higher more learned debates. I'm only really high-minded if principles can be related back to The Simpsons. But don't tell anyone that.

I'm feeling good

2008-03-11T04:26:00.000Z

I went to bed at 3am last Thursday, rather worse for wear. Its the first time I've been drunk since New Year's Eve. I had a lot of fun, I found myself dancing to vintage hip-hop and house in a tiny art studio in the annex, with lots of lovely art people. Alexis was there, she was a bit drunker than I thought as the next day she did not stop throwing up until 3pm. I was there, in turquoise sparkly dress and with bunch of flowers in hand - it was my show opening and the culmination of a 2 year project. I deserved a drink.

The show was entitled 'Wish You Were Here, Real Photographs, Series of 9'. The project hinges on my recreation of 10 photographs that I bought at a car boot sale, however despite being 1 photograph down (due to not being able to find some burlesque fans I could borrow - I have an interesting story involving Craigslist that I'll leave til next time), I felt like I had completed the work. Much more than before. I feel I have researched and read around the subject so much more extensively, that my printing, hanging and titling really brought it together and said what I wanted it to say. I want to go on to do some more experimental (dumb) stuff, that I won't get so invested in. Not that I think its bad to get heavily invested in your work, but I need a break. Interestingly, I feel at this stage, I really occupy the role of the photographer in this work. As my technical incompetences get ironed out, I really need to drop my defensive 'I am not a photographer, I am a photo-theorist' line. Not that I am not a photo-theorist any longer, but I am starting to be disingenuous.

My reception went fine/great. A lot of people like my work, even outside the art school. However, I find that I am resistant to some of that love because not all reads of my work I am comfortable with. Some people love that I can actually print 20" X 24" black & white fibre based prints (but really if you spend 6 hours on each print anyone can produce good results). I am not comfortable with this point of view as I feel I need to do what I have to do for that work, I am not insisting on a kind of craftsmanship in a political way. I am absolutely comfortable with presenting slap-dash work where a project calls for that approach. Others see a beauty and glamour in my work which I feel I am only borrowing codes from, not full-on subscribing to. The contents of my photographs (subject I mean) is incredibly DIY and thats important. Nor am I putting forward an ideal beauty. I had my yearly review and Grad Crit last week too - both in my show. In Grad Crit someone in my class who had serious problems with my work told in and out of class that she thought I was really successful in my resolutions of the project. This meant an awful lot to me and her approval was something I never imagined I would gain after some of the discussions last semester, so her comments moved me a great deal. She said that the weight I have gained helped to clarify the work and my insistence on continuing the work was a very strong element in the work. My teacher talked about how subversive it was of me to approach the male gaze with such a joyful light-hearted touch.

I'm glad my labour paid off. Like I said before, each print took 6 hours and due to a power cut and starting my Saturday teaching assistant post for CAP a week earlier than I thought, I was so pushed for time that I was in the darkoom from 9am-2am for 4 days with other slightly shorter stints. I shot 3 new photographs for the project at CalArts and those photos bring a lot of clarity to the whole thing (I think). Alexis helped me a lot (along with 2 other women on my course) and her loyalty and support really touched me. I have to say, that Alexis is a huge part of support network here I would have a lot less fun if she was not my friend. But she is, and I am very very thankful for her.

Another pivotal moment for me last week, Leslie Dick came to see me to talk about my show and hugged me when she came in the room. I am taking a class with her entitled 'Conversations with Dead People: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sex, Death and the End of the World', and Leslie is grateful that I am in the class because of my comments. She came in the room and said, 'You're so articulate! I'm so glad your in the class! I must give you a hug!' That was a real high point, as I love Leslie dearly. Amongst other things, she reminds me of my late mother. But less emotively speaking, her brain is as sharp as a tack and her wit is utterly British (years spent in London have left their mark).

I'm enjoying all my classes, a mixture of critique and discussion, lecture and technique are represented in my timetable, which I took more care in composing. I'm doing:
Advanced Studio Lighting with Joe Schmelzer (an adjunct, commercial photographer and CalArts grad) www.joeschmelzer.com
Direct to Print, how to process RAW images, edit, file, store and print work with Shari Bond
Buffy (see above)
Fuzzy Pictures with the very lovely Ellen Birrell who I am also desperate to hug (its a strange thing, the teachers here are so like parents in terms of age and extensive knowledge and experience that I find myself really wanting to hug them, is that weird?), which looks at the theories of Batchen, Barthes, Krauss and others and applies their ideas to actual artwork, artists out there and ours, its a lot of fun,
Let's Twist Again, Performance and Documentation with Carola Dertnig, a visiting artist from Vienna, another great class
Grad Crit with Natalie Bookchin, who I love, who makes us sit in a circle and speak in turn - first time descriptive comments, second time round with our read of the work. It sounds remedial but works amazingly well,
History of Photography with Allan Sekula, which bares very little resemblance to any other History of Photography. It is really Allan discussing the contexts of photography and showing various images which he dissects for us. A familiarity with his writing is really essential as it is very hard to follow his thoughts, as his goes on so many tangents. However, he is so smart and I love the class.
View Camera - this class starts in a couple of weeks so I will tell you more about that in time.

I'm feeling really comfortable here now and I am forming strong friendships with some lovely interesting people. I'm having fun! Keeping in touch with husband seems easier since his visit. Time is racing so fast that it really isn't long now before I'm home for the summer.

On to new work now, I feel I've tied up my loose ends. I'm off to go watch some Buffy - for class I am endevouring to watch the entire thing - I'm half way through Season 2.

Antmaggadon

2008-01-26T06:05:00.000Z

Three days (is it longer? I'm not sure) of rain has forced the ants that live under the grad student house, Ahmanson, to come inside. Ahmanson was built on an ant hill. Why? Why would you build living spaces on an ant hill? I have wasted much of my time yesterday and today killing ants with kitchen cleaner and the dish sponge, I am not sure how you are supposed to get rid of them - my method is not particularly working. I don't like killing insects but reasoning was not working - we tried that. Now I have a lot of ant blood on my hand. Metaphorically, I have washed them.

This is the second week of the semester and the first 3 weeks are devoted to 'practicums'. A practicum is a 3 hour workshop over 5 or 6 days in something practical. They are taught by CalArts grads and other 'young' (emerging?) teachers. I think its a great idea, it warms you up for the semester and you can pick up some skills. Grads can only take one practicum. I'm doing frame making - as in get wood and plexiglass and mount your photographs in an actual frame. I think its really cool. It also gets me into the Super Shop (woodworking/sculpture fabrication place) which I would like to use but have not really been in there to acquaint myself with it. I am also TAing (teaching assistant) studio lighting/medium format practicum. I was about the fifth person who was offered the role, but I think I'm doing pretty good on it and have actually been able to answer questions. I have quite a low opinion of my technical knowledge, so it has come as a total surprise that I know stuff. I only get paid $9/hour but it looks good to do it.

I need the money too. My scholarship money came yesterday. It was meant to be half the total amount but was actually significantly less. I think they must have deducted tax or something. It makes life that bit harder for me financially. This whole two years I am only just going to manage it financially and if I am honest it is a worry. I try not to think about it though. Good fortune keeps happening, I just need to hope for some more.

However, I am going to do a long term car rental. It sounds extremely decadent but saves me a lot of hassle of finding a cheap car that is safe and reliable and then insuring and registering in LA. I have really, really tried with public transport and continue to persevere. It's not good though. I do not feel particularly safe and it has taken me hours to travel across LA and if you get on the wrong train or bus that adds so much time on to correct yourself. Not having a car makes me feel very disconnected with LA and unable to easily get equipment and materials for my art practice. Its been getting me down so much that it seems that regardless of the expense, I would be wasting this experience if I did not get a car.

This is turning into one long moan. I think that's ok though, it at least is a counter-point to how much I love CalArts. And I do love CalArts.

My final point is really a couple of observations. Post-Husband time I'm feeling a bit Americaned out. In general I can cope with Americans and the kind of people at CalArts are on the whole pretty cool. But, I've been noticing the collective traits that seem to be on display in many people here, to a greater or lesser degree. I think that they are very LA traits but I also think that they are probably common to other American urban cities. The first trait is an inability to commit to one thought at a time - ADHD focus - talking fast, changing subjects quickly, never finishing a sentence, zoning out. It seems very childish to see in adults. Some people approach their practice and life in general with this ADHD focus. I am not like this at all and it can be alienating. I can feel un-listened to and out of step for being so committed. Having said that, it makes me feel like my most meaningful affinities are with the faculty, who all have very esteemed careers and are generally around late 40s and 50s and as a result are able to chill-out in themselves. I relate to their attitudes and behaviour much more. I think that maybe that's ok though, I think I am popular with the faculty and maybe post-CalArts they will be my network/friends. Having said that, the MFA1 Photo students are not very ADHD, its mainly either under-grads and other subject people.

The second negative trait is arrogance. Its subtle, but prevalent. It manifests itself in the way that people speak about themselves without the tiniest hint of self-deprecation or humour. Think about it. As a Brit, how do you engage with that? It is not possible to NOT be self deprecating, it is too intrinsic to our conditioning. When people go on and on about their fabulousness, personal connections, possessions etc it feels like a weird kind of bullying. Arrogance in shops and cars is awful too. The driving style here is really 'I'm coming through, I'm more important than you, gedoutta my way'. A general rudeness or inferring your own importance is de rigueur in LA. It makes my skin crawl as much as the ants.

I have to emphasise that not everyone displays these traits, there are exceptions and its usually very slight when I come across it. But at present I feel over-sensitive to this negative behaviour and see it all the time. Hopefully I'll grow a thicker skin. Anything, but pick the traits up...

Catch Up/Love Rat

2008-01-18T17:47:00.000Z

I'm sorry I haven't been blogging, it means this one will be long and probably incoherent.

I feel pretty refreshed after the Christmas break - 4 weeks. Husband was here for 3 weeks so that was soooo lovely. We went up to Big Sur and stayed in a hotel of little cabins built by a Norwegian in the 1930s, called Deetjens. It was just so restful. We also dog-sat for Kaucyila - a beautiful, placid English Setter called Cricket. We had fun with her and staying at Kaucyila's was ideal for us as she is in a hip area called Silver Lake in LA - we're definitely thinking about living there when we come here for the Autumn Semester. On Christmas day we went to where Alex, a BFA4, was house-sitting in the Hollywood Hills, a very nice place, very fancy. We took brought-from-home Christmas Pudding and ate a lamb roast (me just the veg), with her Australian Jewish family. Not traditional in any sense, but they were great company and Mom had been educated and worked for a bit in Britain, so there was enthusiasm for our Christmas Pud.

Before the end of last semester I had so many deadlines coming at me it was really stressful, but a nice kind of stressful. By that I mean, when its your own stuff, and when its ‘school’, your in control of it, if it goes wrong, its you you let down. But it didn’t go wrong and I got HP in all my classes except Yoga which I got P for – that’s because I skipped 3. CalArts is not into grading, I think the ethos here is more, get the knowledge, not worry about grades. So instead, they have (which is still a form of grading), High Pass, Pass, Low Pass, No Credit (for not doing it), Incomplete – when you still need to submit work to pass and NX but I can’t remember what that is.

By the way, I must warn you. If you are interested in coming to America to study, consider this, it’s not written in any of the prospectuses that I ever looked at. (BTW I never looked at any other prospectuses that CalArts, just successive years, I was very sure I wanted to come here) Knuckle-cracking. Everyone, and I mean everyone, without exception, including most teachers, crack their knuckles. Each class you can hear at least 3 sets and a set is not merely 10, its every joint in the hand, so that can be a minimum of 20 cracks. Unfortunately, knuckle cracking is the only sound that makes me heave. For some, it is chalk on a board, but for me its knuckles. Every time I hear joints being forcibly clicked I recoil and tense. It makes me quince unbearably.

I went to Photo LA last weekend and like Frieze, it is difficult to really gush over the experience. It does what it says on the tin. Galleries get booths, put their best work on the wall, buyers look round, and… buy. Students at CalArts look round desperately trying to see a gallery that may be worthy of them. I approached 3 galleries to find out what their submission policy is. When I have a website again, I will, maybe, email them.

However, I met somebody. That you, English blog readers, will absolutely be impressed/horrified by. But no-one here knows who is, so so far no-one (except Husband via Skype) has been impressed. Impressed is not the right word at all, let me explain. I got into to Photo LA for free because Alexis was working on it, on the front desk, because her friend Sara’s mum works for one of the top commercial galleries in LA. I ended up being there for 2 days, for quite some time, looking at work, at the people there and catching the talks. Taking some time out I sat next to someone in the café area who is a friend of someone in my class. They worked together at A&! – that’s a commercial photo specialist/finishing place. We chatted and I talked to his friends. Then, I bearded man came up – young, about 30, in hip/casual clothes and started to talk to friend of friend, in Estuary English. There was something familiar about him. When he went away I asked who he was. None other than James Gooding, the infamous Kylie Love Rat. Apparently, he has gallery representation in London and LA and does rather well, thank you. He is also a regular photographer for a hip LA magazine. He lives in his girlfriend's place in a fancy pad on Mulholland Drive. For his work that he sells, he travels round America photographing, a la Eggleston, Frank et al. Not bad, eh? Not content with that, or to put it another way, I was caught staring at him a couple of times, when I passed him in the corridor going to the loo, I couldn’t stop myself, I said ‘You’re English aren’t you?’, ‘Yes’, ‘I’m sure I know you don’t I? You’re face is just so familiar’, ‘No sorry, just got one of those faces’.

The day before yesterday I went to a lecture/presentation at REDCAT by Walid Raad/The Atlas Group. He is pretty quiet and soft spoken, but if you get the chance, go to one of his lectures. He’s work is so very well negotiated and what is startling is that it is not the nature of his material that makes him so prominent but his handling of the material. He absolutely knows what art is and how to get the most creatively out of his ideas. I can’t really articulate my opinions on him better than that, for now at least. I’m just very impressed. He is artist as investigator and years ago, that was how I thought of myself. I’ve been getting a bit off track I think since then. I want to go back to my material and compose it thinking a bit more like Raad. Yesterday there was an hour long Q&A session with him at CalArts and I actually asked 2 questions. His answers were very lucid and really spoke to me and my current work. He spoke about an author, who he feels he, in only the sense of being in dialogue with his text, collaborates with, the author is called Jalal, who I know nothing about, but will find out about.

Winter Break 2007/2008

2008-01-01T23:29:00.000Z

...and the award goes to...

2007-12-06T21:56:00.000Z

I got the scholarship! $18, 000! My next tuition payment! It's unbelievable. I'm in shock. Mad, huh? The idea that this may just work out... it may all be coming together... it just might all be alright. Weird, this is unfamiliar ground to me.

New York, baby!

2007-12-01T06:02:00.000Z

Wow! It's been a long couple of weeks and pretty stressful, with relaxing moments in between. But stressful mainly.

Thanksgiving was on 22nd November and I took advantage of the long weekend by spending five days in New York at a friend's place. It appears that Thanksgiving is just about the turkey. And thanking. But thank who/what you like for whatever you like, it doesn't seem that there is any kind of a philosophy attached to it. There is an obligation to see family. But it seems important nevertheless to have a pan-American festivity in a multi-faith country. I had tofurkey. It's underwhelming. Chewy. I don't recommend. Other things I managed to do in the Big Apple were: buy some clothes (never seem to go to nice shops here in LA, time and transport factors), buy a Canon G9 digital compact camera that could just change the way I photograph forever (ie my photographs might actually not look shit), go to umpteen Chelsea galleries and MOMA, Whitney, Guggenheim and International Center of Photography. Had nice time. Met some cool people. Ate calorie laden food. Experienced REAL cold for first time in ages. Had to borrow coats before I went from Dana and Alexis and needed to borrow scarves and hats too. The thing about New York is, it puts you on to an extent, it takes the edge off any yearnings for Blighty. Not that I really miss home that much. Friends and family and Dad's tea excluded.

Had some deadlines: showed my work in Image & Text, a presentation in After Archive, a scholarship application and more coming up next week. I did my After Archive presentation after 2 hours of sleep followed by 3 hours of broken sleep on the plane. I went to class direct from the airport. I gave a good talk, but I did not get through all my material because my presentation was hijacked by two hecklers. These two men in the class gave me such a hard time over my work I felt really dragged over hot coals. I really felt that they were bullying rather than constructively critiquing. I am not sure how I handled it, but people came up to me after class saying they liked my work and were really pleased I stood my ground. The funny thing is that the person who went before me was woefully under prepared and he only received support from the class.

On a more positive note, I have now had studio meetings with Allan Sekula, Kaucyila Brooke, Leslie Dick and another with Billy Woodberry. I've found them all really helpful in terms of advice and support, but also I really like and respect them as people. Even Allan. He's great, he likes me. And as for being initially scarred of Billy, I can't believe it, I think he's amazing. He's so knowledgeable and I think he has an incredibly accurate, insightful reading of my work. At my last meeting with him, he shook my hand with the parting shot, 'You're beautiful'.

Assorted good news: an editor from Source magazine contacted me wanting me to send him some j-pegs of my work. I have done. Not heard back from him though. I went to a panel discussion at LACMA this week, chaired by Charlotte Cotton, who I spoke to afterwards, she gave me her email address as she loves CalArts photo people and wants to hear how I'll get on. I'm trying not to think about this too much, but a scholarship that I applied to for 2007-8, that I was put on the waiting list for, has contacted me. There is a slim chance of getting money from them, like now. That would cover for my next tuition payment. Fingers crossed.

The complicated news: the A situation got out of hand, and today she moved out of our suite and into another one. When I pass her now, she ignores me and crosses the corridor/street. I don't want that. I had to go to housing and make a complaint against her though, which I feel bad about, but the situation got far too bad. Very negative. With bad things being said. It's a sad situation though, and one I hoped to avoid.

Independence in Trolley Form

2007-11-13T03:00:00.000Z

I'm typing this in my large studio, not my pokey dorm room. I feel really comfortable in here so it makes a nice change. I think I am going to keep my Macbook down here. So, dear reader, I am sure you are on tenterhooks to find out if I survived Halloween. I did. Pah! They call that a party? Honey, that was a school disco... I was very relieved though, I had visions of me having to politely turn down orgies, saying, 'Well, its a nice idea, maybe next year when my husband will be here too?". It was good fun, and a great spectacle - the main thing I did all night was wander round checking out the costumes. A boy spoke to me who I hadn't spoken to before, even though he is in my After Archive class. He particularly wanted to tell me, whilst he was inebriated, that he likes it when I speak in class as I say interesting things that he agrees with and he thinks that I am clever. He slagged off other people in the class to illustrate his point further. All the time stabbing the air excitedly with a black dildo. It suddenly occurred to me he was gay.

I met with Billy Woodberry, my mentor on Tuesday, the first time I've met up with him. I was scared of him, but you know what? He's great. I was thinking, what has this documentary film maker got to do with my work? Why is he my mentor? But he walked in and started talking to me about my work. He really likes it. He remembered it all from my application portfolio and thinks the way I write about my work is really interesting. This was a total revelation. He is my tutor because he loves my work. Like, of course! I am at a point where I have moved on in my head from 'Les Girls', the dancing ladies project, because I am devising the next project, but he was strict with me, he said, finish the project, wrap it up and send it out into the world. He said he thought it would be interesting to show it at CalArts to see how students and faculty from other departments react to it. His hunch is that many people take it as the original photographs blown up. But he was telling me, the work is subtler than that, he said that my visible nose ring and my 'internal smile' - expression that is not looking out for approval but that is self-satisfied are the details that give the game away, and that they make there appearance slowly. Anyway, it was very interesting and very useful. He did not trifle himself with small matters like how I am settling in, or what exactly one does to get credit for a 3-credit Independent Study project, but that matters not. I like him.

The Crit last week wore me out, our little BFA4 boy presented (BFA4 students sometimes join MFA crit, but only one this semester) and bless him, he was out of his depth. Every time someone talked about his work he resisted their reading. It was exhausting.

The shopping trolley Dad sent me finally arrived on Friday. It is a trolley I can go to the shops with and bring anything I want home in it. It means I don't need to get plastic bags and I don't have to wait to get a lift to the 'Strip Mall' (retail park). It is the same type of thing that old ladies have although theirs are usually tartan. This is red with white flowers printed on it, it has an internal purse and external pocket. Its really roomy, its amazing. Its from Ikea.

Friday night I went to 2 exhibition openings in LA with Brianna and Calvin. The first was Kaucyila Brooke's at Michael Dawson - I loved her work and the gallery is amazing - modernist building with lots of wood panelling and a second hand bookshop in half the space, upmarket though, of course. The second was Miller Updegraff's in a funny space, hard to describe but not so upmarket, apparently a private collector opened it to show off his collection, although it is predominantly UCLA grads. He's branching out into CalArts grads now. Miller is so much fun, he reminds me very much of Joff Whitten, my friend from Psalter Lane, he is very charming and funny, they both are.

I got home at midnight and talked to Nareg for an hour with a cup of Night Time tea which knocks you out. I cleaned my teeth to go to bed when, guess what? A party in our kitchen. Achraf brought his friends home and they put on music and drank and talked loudly. Dana and her friends came home and joined in. There was no way I could have slept through that. I got my duvet and Henry (teddybear - maybe I should tell you about him sometime) and came down to here, my studio. I slept great, btw.

I'm so glad I have my studio sanctuary.

Over the weekend I needed to get off campus, so I went to Alexis's after she finished working in her studio on Saturday night. On Sunday I walked around Hollywood, taking in the spectacle of it all. Although I never took it out the car, Alexis let me take my shopping trolley. She knew that it represented my independence, and that it needed to come with me.

Halloween Nerves

2007-11-02T06:32:00.000Z

Leslie Dick, the Freud tutor, is fantastic. Love her. Today she told us how her middle name is Matthews, thats 3 male names. A student a few years ago thought she had changed her surname in a gesture to re-claim her lost penis (Freud people will know what I mean). But no, its her father's surname. Last week her phone went off, ringtone = Gnarls Berkley, Crazy. And she has an Orla Kiehly bag. We started on Lacan today. He's a refreshing change from all that Freud reading. I had no idea he was such a cad, dandy and rebel.

In American English the word 'redundant' means repetitive.

I bought an outfit for Halloween. An $8 above the knee black jersey dress and fake blood. I'm going as Velma Kelly from Chicago - remember the line in it where she says she didn't know her sister and husband were dead until she was washing the blood off her hands. But basically I'm not into dressing up. Totally nervous about the whole thing, they are meant to be debauched over the top affairs up here. They are legendary. I was talking to an Irish girl yesterday who is in her second year, and I was saying how I know feel I've acclimatised, and she said she felt the same way about this time last year, then going to Halloween put her acclimatisation back a few months. She didn't go into details, she didn't want to scare me too much. The party is tomorrow night. So next time I blog I might be traumatised.

When I was staying at Alexis's in Hollywood I went to a diner for dinner and had eggs, bacon and pancakes. Once I had finished that lot (I was sitting by the counter by the way, as Alexis already had plans to go to her friend's grandma's birthday meal) I got up and picked up the menu to select an milkshake, and a girl had just walked in, and was expecting that I was going to hand her the menu. I didn't. But for about 30 seconds we stared into each other's faces. She was smaller than me, wearing a denim jacket, she was about a size 0 and looked like she needed a good meal. She had my hairstyle, and her hair was my hair's natural colour. It was Christina Ricci.

Fires in California

2007-10-23T20:22:00.000+01:00

Just to let you know, some of the fires got quite close to campus, although in the end they blew the other way. Campus was not officially evacuated, but we were all encouraged to leave. I don't have a car so I got a ride with Dana with one of her friends. Dana has been through Katrina and she knows how to evacuate. I did not want to leave so I did not know how to pack! In the end she had to shout at me to get in the car and go. I wanted to finish my cup of tea. English people will understand that. One reason why I was dragging my heels is that N was as calm as a Hindu cow and was adamant he was staying on campus. Dana and N are my family in California and I was torn between their two very different attitudes. I also did not want to choose between who I stayed with. In the end I told Dana I did not want to leave N (or my dresses) and although he did not come with us she shouted at him enough for him to get his ass into gear, pack his stuff up and go with his friend. In that moment there was a weird role reversal of family positions. Dana became the Alpha male, sorting out every single person she knew, fixing everyone up with rides to somewhere safe. She became a hub and as we left she called campus housing and she told the who was going where. Campus housing were blown away. Everyone was calling them and freaking out, wanting to know what to do and there was Dana calling them and listing them who went where in our suite, how they got there etc. Tornados are a regular occurance in New Orleans and her and her family got out well before Katrina hit, even though they lost everything. Everthing. I can only say that whilst I am in California and Dana is in my family, no harm will come to me.

I ended up at a friend of Dana's appartment in North Hollywood, with a dozen actors. They were all hungry and went for a bite to eat at a cool place called Alcove. On the way there Dana realised that the actors were going to stick together and have fun and be actorish, so she looked at me and said, call Alexis, have her pick you up. She knew that as a non-actor that would be a bit much. So Alexis knew the Alcove and was happy to come meet me. I spent the night here and we had fun and I think we are going to the Getty this afternoon. Totally safe here in Hollywood. N just called and he ended up in North Hollywood too. He's off to MOCA. Dana is still in North Hollywood - just spoken to her - she has a hangover.

Forties and Suitemates

2007-10-17T05:49:00.000+01:00

Cultural references in American music, films and TV don't really come with an explanation or dictionary for British audiences. I find myself suddenly 'getting' so many of those references now. Like the phrase: 'Blunts, 40s and bitches'. This is really a phrase praising a 3 lifestyle choices. Let me explain, a 'blunt' is a hollowed out cigar filled with marijuana, 40s are very large 40 liquid ounce beer bottles, and bitches, obviously are easy ladies. I suddenly got the meaning of this phrase the other day, as suite mate N was telling me about a drinking game, 'Edward Fortyhands', which involves two 40oz beer bottles being gaffer taped to your hands and not being removed until you've finished them. N likes this game. It makes him sick. N is an undergrad. The only one in the house. When he comes out with these stories, the only thing you can do is sigh, 'You're SO undergrad'. Funnily enough, he's a pretty intellectual, politically aware person. I think he feels the pressure of his peers.

Achraf is from Morrocco. He is very softly spoken. He has long hair and quite femine features, but in a way that works. He is in his second year, and so he is a familiar face on campus. This means, it is not uncommon to hear the phrase, 'You live with Achraf? He's beautiful'. Achraf thinks this is immaterial, however, he does concede his own beauty.

Ben is out at his studio the majority of the time. He is great though. Nice boy. Don't know him very well.

Those are the three males of the house.

Dana is dramatic. But she is loveable. She gives a lot of love and needs a lot of love. She gives this house a fantastic warm vibe. She is a lot fun and she is out now as I type and it does feel empty when she is not here.

A. I am not sure how to sum her up. She is the most socially awkward of the suite. Dana suffers a lot from A. A has appeared to be unhinging to a considerable degree this last week. It's not been very nice.

The way that the group dynamics have been impacted by A's behaviour has been of great interest to my former-Big Brother addicted self. As all BB addicts are aware, groups construct themselves into a family. A father figure/alpha male is deferred to for advice and asked to resolve conflicts and desputes. Its become obvious that this title goes to N. (The Undergrad). A mother figure looks after general emotional welfare, domestic cleanliness and other matters that make a place feel like a home. Achraf confirmed that honour went to me yesterday when he said, 'You, more than anyone else here, makes this place feel like home'. Dana is the joker, the person who maintains bon homie amongst the group. And BB addicts know that the joker is more often than not, the winner. The three of us are really aware that A's erratic behaviour needs to be controlled, and we are all trying to work out which of us is to act. (I think N should do it). We may have to take action as a united unit.

It is bizarre to me to be around so many people. In fact, I did not think I had it in me to deal with this type of set up. But I can, and actually I like it. I'm part of team. Who'd have thought it?

Englishness in California

2007-10-16T06:24:00.000+01:00

I walked into the kitchen, straight from finishing painting my studio. I'd just painted the floor with that grey floor paint that gives you a headache. I had paint in my hair, on my face, all over my clothes. I've been wearing some pyjama bottoms and a cheap stripy top to paint in, for days and they smell now. I looked a mess. A girl I didn't know was hanging out with Dana and her friends in our kitchen. She asked me where I was from. She had the poshist most upper class, cut glass English accent you've ever heard. Proper blue blood. I stood there thinking, 'I'm too scruffy to speak to you, I'm too much of a pleb'. It feels weird to feel class anxiety in America. How did that travel? It was very bemusing for the Americans to understand that this girl's voice could have the effect of intimidating me.

Fashion rules are different here. Students are not aiming for sharp or smooth. They are aiming for an affected not-botheredness. On purpose ugly. This works best on thin people with tans. There is also a rather bizarre style called Hifi, which involves lots of neon fabric and old skool hip-hop shapes and accessories. This generally means my style kind of sticks out. But actually, I get people coming up to me complimenting me on my dress sense. Which is nice. Who wants to be skinny and tanned when you have style?

I was asked recently what I miss. I realised then, I just miss my friends and family. Thats all. I have loads of Yorkshire Teabags. So its just people I miss. BTW I love the canteen food here. Fresh salads and lots of fresh organic veggie bakes that sort of thing. And at the weekend, breakfast burrittos, yum!

Read Allan Sekula's 'The Body and The Archive'. It is an amazing essay on photography, portraits, collections, archives and criminal photography. Its an amazing piece of text that is so well researched and just flows. It is really beautiful. Unfortunately, his teaching has no such flow. He is one of the big reasons why I came here, but I find him a big let down. I really get the impression he is seriously unimpressed by me. I thinking I'm going to drop his Globalisation class. I have 3 heavy classes on Thursday followed by the artist's lecture at 7pm followed by the usual exhibition openings on campus Thursday nights. Its just not working. I hear he does a great History of Photography, next semester. I hope maybe without a more coherent topic he will be more engaging.

The word that people ask me to say for them most often is 'dirty'. Apparently it sounds much dirtier with a British accent.

Got a Job

2007-10-06T04:44:00.000+01:00

I need to tell you about my violated computer. Its been fixed. I have a new screen. But it has scratches, loads around the battery area and dirty hand prints inside. It was so new it was pristine when I sent it off for repair, so it doesn't feel like mine now. It cost $830 to repair, not much less than a new computer. And I had had it for two weeks. TWO WEEKS! I can't tell you how gutted I am. But what can I do?

So, I need a job more than ever. I wanted some CAP (Community Arts Partnership) teaching work, but I could not get to the schools without a car and the class on campus clashes with one of my seminars, even though the positions were all mine otherwise. However, they offered me some work in the CAP office. I'm working for peanuts, but it should cover my weekend spends.

I had lots of fun at the Hip Hop night in Hollywood. One of the DJs gave a shout out to Mad Lib who was there. My friend Alexis's is so cool and so are her girlfriends. But none of us knew what Mad Lib looked like although we liked his music.

The Crit session last week, was good, but one woman really could not get past if women should be represented that way, if it was appropriate anymore. Really bizarre hearing that opinion. I am a feminist after all.

Weirder still is that it was my opening at Blocspace in Sheffield tonight. The Husband told me it went really well. I was a little sad not to be there. It's an odd feeling, to be away from your life, but your life to continue, almost in two places. One place where you are and one where you are not.

Partaaaa

2007-09-30T10:03:00.000+01:00

I didn't think I could party anymore. Without Husband. He makes everything cool. But he went to see Ian Brown tonight, so just maybe I could get it together and party. I was invited to cool Brica's party. Love Brica. Desperate to go. N who I live with was definately going to give me a ride. But, the area, whilst not sketchy, is not wholesome either, and his car broke, the diver's window will not go so he could not lift me and and Calvin, another boy from the course to the party. However, he told me about a party in Val Verde to go too, that his friends would be at. He gave me half a packet of fags he's had in his car since summer and told me to put it in my dress strap, a half drunk bottle of vodka, to be held throughout the night and a bracelet that his friend Golly had left in his car for 3 months. She could perhaps identify a friend of N's by it. Despite this being dubbed as 'one of the parties of the year' N was too shattered to come along, so all this paraphenalia was to help me meet people. However, the party was raided and broken up by the police. Boooo. It hadnt even gone on that long. However, it was cool, I danced and drank vodka and cranberry. It felt very odd to party without Husband, almost not possible. I like to drink and let my hair down with him around, then I have someone to snog, too. It just feels weird to deal with a party atomosphere without him. But, just so you know, I still have it, I can party. The party was a bit rubbish though, a bit undergrad. Anyhoo, managed to get home, few vodkas later and I'm typing this. Goodnight! Bed now!

Accents

2007-09-30T03:17:00.000+01:00

Lovely 'suite mate' Dana, is an actor, singer and lots of fun. She is trying to perfect her English accents and so often repeats what I have said when I say it. This is usually fine with me, but occaisionally it winds me up. My other suite mates have told me how much they like my accent too. But it can be problematic, I know its hard for a lot of people to understand me, and I do have to repeat myself to be understood a lot of the time. I've found myself saying 'Hi', 'Yeah' and 'Thanks' in an American accent, particularly with people I do not know, just passing by, to avoid confusion. Last night I practiced my American accent with my suite mates and I spoke for a while with it. They were all telling me to shut up and stop it, and I thought it was because it was so crumby, but it was because they did not want to hear me not using my normal English accent, although my American was thoroughly plausible! Ha ha! Today one of Dana's associates (she would not call him a friend!) started to mimic what I was saying, which, when you do not know someone is very annoying. In protest I started speaking in my American accent and said I would continue to use it if he continued to mimic me! That shut him up! Ha ha!

Calartian

2007-09-28T07:46:00.000+01:00

Ok, so, I've been collecting random thoughts and I better just get them down. Mainly observations.

In most of my classes there are one or two dogs, dogs are allowed everywhere on campus except the canteen. They often bark and run around the class room.

I went and asked the dance department if I could take ballet technique class and I had to get permission from their Dean, and so it took ages to find out, but I can't, the classes are full, that makes me sad. I can go along to this contemporary dance class but not been yet. Been doing yoga with the dance department though. I love watching the dancers float around between classes in their crazy concept leotards and sloppy layers. It makes me feel like I am in some kind of 'Fame' academy. I am thinking of the film not TV programme.

I'm a Calartian! Thats what we're called. Like Martians!

My studio has an olive tree in front of it. That totally sold me when I picked it. Unfortunately I did not notice the totally awful bobbly cruddy walls. Some people's studios are good to go now, they moved straight in without having to re-paint or anything - jealous! My walls needed lots of polyfiller and hopefully I will be able to check out a belt sander to smooth them down and paint them soon (this weekend hopefully) then I can move in properly and put my work up and get a desk and a sofa and have that as my make art and chill out place. For the moment it just has a swivel chair, step ladder and my new printer in a box. The printer came free with my brand new shiny white Macbook. I've had it two weeks. I love it. It also came with a free Ipod Nano. I tripped on my ethernet cable on Tuesday, it crashed to the floor and it smashed the screen. TWO WEEKS! It will now cost me $500 to fix it. Ouch!

I had a class with Allan Sekula today, you know what, I thought I would totally love him, but I don't. Can't tell you why at this point, it was just the first class. But I'll let you know. Still totally love Freud class, the tutor for it too and I love Kaucyila Brooke. Archive class is very relevant and fun, and hey, if, reader, you have time, Google the Collyer Brothers. Their life story is just so hilarious.

Things are good today as I went out for a meal with a girl on my course, Maria, and two of her good friends. I'm going to a party on Saturday night, Brica's party and Sunday I am going to a hip hop night in Hollywood with a really cool girl called Alexis. I will tell you how all that goes and I am really excited. I have not managed to get out enough. The start of the week I felt really weird, a little disconnected and confused. I tell you, the society and learning atmosphere are so radically different there is no way you could do this without some serious hard hitting culture shock. I think I had some culture shock and alienation and remembering lots of weird stuff from my past too at the start of the week. Things are much better now though I hope it continues that way. For now though, good night!

Rain

2007-09-23T07:39:00.000+01:00

Ok, so noone told me it would rain. Well, they did, but they said that over the year it rains in total for about a week. And that was in winter. It seemed to shock everyone then, when it rained yesterday. It was proper bouncing off the ground. Stair-rods. And today. That's 2 days of that week.

I hope that there isn't going to be too much rain. I've had a lot rain this summer. Britain didn't seem to have a summer this year.

The other day I went to an artist's lecture, which was really interesting. I liked the artist's work. She was called Lisa Anne Auerbach. At the end of it, during the Q & A, one student (MFA Art) asked a series of questions that were really expressing how he didn't like many aspects of the artists work. There was no chair or moderator to intervene, so he just kept going. This seemed to be in very poor taste, although the artist took it well. Surely he could have conveyed points in an objective way, and once he made his point he could have shut up. I was totally taken aback by this behaviour. I was really pleased when I talked about it later than everyone else felt the same way. Everyone I spoke to that is. The Art MFA are generally a bit more in your face though.

I still really like my class mates. We saw half the people on our course's work in the last Crit class. I'm showing my work in the next class - its just an introduction thing - 20 minutes. Its on Tuesday - I'll blog how it goes.

On Crits, the normal Grad MFA Photography Crit is 3 hours long and that will be for 2 people. It is recommended that the legendary class 'Post Studio' be taken in your second year, when you can handle it. They look at 2 peoples work in that class too. It starts at 10am and carries on as long as it takes. Last week that was 9 hours! Can you imagine that. They were let out for a lunch break.

Why am I not asleep

2007-09-21T09:37:00.000+01:00

Hi, I am totally wide awake which is weird, I'm heading to my normal body clock. Which means that this is becoming home. The weather has turned. Its jumper weather. No rain or wind, just less sun and heat. Nothing to my Northern stock though. Its been an odd few days, my emotions (strictly internal, no major drama moments) have oscilated from being really happy to be here and a bit lost. I'm trying not to pay to much attention to those feelings. The people I'm around are really cool still, no-one annoying me at all. There's a really informal feel here. Eating meals wherever you want, even in class. That type of thing.

Someone explained to me what House music was. Seriously. I think he thought I was from some quaint English village. I've been accused of being from London many a-time too. But in general, I'm not going to complain about the Americans. I met another English girl today who is here, who complained no-stop about Americans and the way they speak. She even referred to Britain as the motherland. It did make me think though, that if she felt that way, maybe she shouldn't have got onto the plane to get here. If she can only handle Brits, its dumb moving to California. Obviously we are in the minority. She is only here for the semester though. Exchange student.

I had Freud class today. Love it! Totally love it. The teacher applied lipstick mid-sentence. Which I just think is so cool. Somehow, only a lecturer on Freud would do that.

Anyway, I'm going to bed now, and I promise to blog sooner. Its been a weird week for me and I didn't want to write a negative blog. Weird not in the sense that anything bad happened, like I say, just an internal thing.

I got here!

2007-09-14T06:57:00.000+01:00

It's been a while since my last blog I know. Thats because things were moving so fast in August to get here. It took so long to prepare the boring things to do with moving, etc and also wrapping up my life and my freelance jobs in Sheffield. I had a leaving do which was great, but I really had a hard night the following night at my studio landlord's 40th birthday party. Great people. I hate goodbye. I had a bit of a cry.

But, moving on swiftly, I had a new fab haircut before I came away. If that counts for anything.

I came out with Dad and he stayed a week. He helped me to get things for my little prison cell here, like reading lamps, bedding, cutlery, crockery, ringbinders, toilet roll, iron & board, Levi 501s and a MacBook. After all that, I feel like I have everything to fit in. It was lovely to spend time with Dad and we had some great conversations. He got his head around why I was here and what I have come here to do, so mission accomplished. When we said goodbye, I had to dash off for my first two classes, so it felt very difficult. Saying goodbye to Dad is the hardest thing I have had to do. Really hard. But he's proud of me.

The other big goodbye was to the Husband. That was hard, in a different way, and the missing him comes in waves. Its just a feeling of wishing I could talk to him at the end of the day and get an at least weekly hug. I've spent some time talking to him on Skype, but it took a while to set up and I wasn't in contact for a bit. That was a bit bad.

Anyhoo... I bet start to talk about what its like here. I've just got back from a reception evening held by the MFA2 Art Program people and had a few beers, so I'm feeling verbose.

My room is a prison cell, but I mentioned that. I have 5 suite mates, there's 3 girls and 3 boys here. I've recently found out that 3 of them are pot-heads, and that is so not my thing. One girl is really friendly, an actor, she's an extrovert, very outgoing and bubbly. Thats not usually my bag, but she is fun and she does seem to have an on/off switch which is useful. When I pass her in the corridor she usually says something funny to me, and I answer her, then I hear her explain, as I waltz off, 'She's from England and she's my suite-mate'. Which makes me laugh.

On being English, yep, its a big hit. Its odd to be so exotic. But not unique. I have a dancer friend here for a term on the Dance MFA. And I heard a boy today, who is from Manchester, he is doing a film or something like that, but undergrad. He was a puppy. Immature shall we say. Legend has it of 2 other English people. Me and dancer-girl were considering setting up an English people's Tea Drinking Society.

On dancing: unfortunately, I was not able to get on the class for non-Dance students, 'Institute Dance' as it clashes with other things, so I got offered yoga, which I am taking with the sylph-like Dance students. Kinda odd. I seriously want to just do some ballet, even just bar work, and there are 3 different levels doing class 3 times a week each, you'd think someone would let me, but yet to find Faculty to discuss.

The classes I'm taking, I better tell you about them. The requirement is 15 credits, I'm doing 19. Yep, that means alotta reading. You can pick up classes from all over, which I sort of have. They are:
- After Archive with David Bunn, looking at how and why artists employ archiving techniques in their practice;
- Image & Text with Kaucila Brooke, which is a bit of a myth busting discussion class, on putting text into your work;
- Grad Crit class with Kaucila Brooke, where 2 people present their work per week, but then the following week they start the session off by disscussing how the crit went for them;
- Yoga;
- Freud & Lacan with Lesley Dick, a very cool woman who was educated in Britain and lived there for a long time, although and American, so that gives me a bit of heart;
- Arts Pedagogy with Betty Lee, which gives some discussion and context on teaching, particularly in the community;
- Globalisation with Allan Sekula, this class will be looking at Documenta and Istanbul. The 2nd years have gone on a trip there now so the class has not started yet, so not much to say at this point.

I also have 2 independent study contracts too, which I had to write a proposal for.

My class are composed of 8 girls and 2 boys, but everyone is really nice (first impressions) (but my first impressions are usually pretty accurate).

Phew! I think thats enough to report at this stage!

I've got it all to do

2007-07-21T15:20:00.000+01:00

Today I am posting a blog, that I intend I will read in the future and laugh at. I'm sure, if I ever get there, that this summer will just seem so far away in my mind. But, going through this summer is just horrible, in many ways. I must clear out all my stuff, sell on ebay to make money, make a note of what is going and what I might want to get the Husband to bring when he comes out. Me and the husband need to get visas. I need to find flights that are affordable - soon - for me and Dad. I need to make money. I need to find money for my fees. Its just so horrible its comedy.

I have to say though, that various people have really helped, and that of course, humbles me. Help has come in terms of giving me a good bit of well paid work. Also, over the phone counselling that I am doing the right thing and that the money will sort itself out. Belief and support that this massive change and move is a good idea. My doctor also was so interested in my plan, he did not charge me for my medical exam, which was supposed to be £90. All that good will is so great. So why then, does the one bit of negativity, rankle so much? I emailed someone asking for help, and I have heard on the grapevine that my request offended them. And actually, someone recommended I get in touch, and said that it would be ok. It is difficult, being in need. I don't want to need help, but I do. I just don't have the money.

Oh how I will laugh, when I read this back.

Problems, Problems, Problems

2007-07-10T23:38:00.000+01:00

I've survived the Sheffield floods! (Good news).

Everything else is bad news. The educational loan company have not yet started to do loans for US institutions, although they will do. But not right now. And no date for when they will start. A loan from them, was part of the plan. Or at least, featured in all the lettered plans (see above). This is a set back. Maybe the bank can help me. They are going to call me back. Just in a kind of money-less limbo. I am trying...

Someone suggested a good idea to me. Private Eye classified ads. So I wrote one: 'Artist secured place on prestigious Masters, California. Needs support to pursue dream AC24259535 SC45-41-47'. Only I missed a digit from my bank account. I mean! Bum. Bum. I asked them to amend, but have not done so yet and its been up over 24 hours, and I noticed error after reading it back, like a minute after I posted it. Doh! Doh! Doh!

But then, what would it be like if getting what you really wanted was easy? If you could just pursue you dream like that? If there was no sacrifice, or fear before you embarked on something massive, wonderful, challenging? I certainly would prefer this life to Paris Hilton's.

Could be, definately going...

2007-06-24T17:03:00.000+01:00

It definitely, looks like I might be on my way to CalArts. The Husband, a Virgo, has devised a plan. An alphabet of plans in fact. Of best and worst case scenarios. But, not a single one is now the not going plan. The worst case scenario is me going, but alone. No Husband for the full 2 years. The best case scenario is going, and Husband joining me in June 2008. And visiting me at Christmas. Hmmm. I do not like the worst case scenario at all, I mean, how bad will it be when I return, with reverse culture shock and Husband not understanding. And he'll start his Bsc then, so we will, in brain terms, really have chasms between us. Hmmm indeed.