Following from the cameraless 16mm film animation workshop that I did with Hands on Film Lab in December, I have become a member of the film lab and have been working on my own film strips.
I used the lab to splice together the film stirps and preview them on the 16mm projector. Here are some stills from one of the film reels.
Thursday, 25 January 2018
Wednesday, 24 January 2018
Studio is Sudden: Nadia Hebson
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Image: Vyt Residency programme, New York May, 2014 |
Between November 2017 and February 2018 Giles Bailey & CIRCA Projects have invited a number of guests who take interesting and unique approaches to working with archival material, rethinking the contemporary by moving away from dominant narratives in history. This week's event was a conversation with Nadia Hebson as she reflected upon her recent practice.
Nadia writes
“When considering the legacy of American painter Christina Ramberg and her creative female circle I have made paintings in concert with large-scale prints, objects and text. When called to I’ve described the work through a narrative of recuperation, a reconsideration of overlooked histories, aware this was a partial truth perhaps more diminishing than expanding.
One afternoon in Antwerp the writers Daniela Cascella, Kate Briggs and myself met to discuss Daniela’s book ‘Singed’, Daniela had just read an excerpt that described her coming to Clarice Lispector, a woman writer drawn to a woman writer, but a description of recuperation wasn’t enough to describe this exchange. Daniela, Kate and myself searched for another way to acknowledge this work, our work and the impulses that drive it, criticism seemed like the only option.
Italian feminist Carla Lonzi had a theory that in order to break the monologue of patriarchal history women needed to articulate their subjective experience through a collective endeavour, as unexpected subjects they could converse with other women both in and across time. Lonzi named this political act resonance, a means by which to avoid complicity with the patriarchy, a means by which to undo the roles linked to women’s oppression.
If the work I make needs to resist categories, how do I talk about it, how do I make it and what is it? Not interested in re-configuring canons but addressing alternative histories through self-reflexive means (maybe?) how do we even start a conversation, please let’s start a conversation”.

I admire Nadia's articulacy and depth of knowledge, and have held the impression that her work is heavily researched and academic. I was therefore surprised to find out that the way her work is framed in the academic field is not necessarily how she wants the work to be understood. Throughout the conversation Nadia spoke about her personal reaction to other artists work and the memories and associations that are attached to particular materials. Framing her work in terms of archives seems to ignore the more subjective and intuitive nature of Nadia's practice.

Sadly, I did not have long to spend in Nadia's studio, but what was obvious was that there was a continual process of play with materials, colours, forms and imagery and I think that the language used to describe Nadia's practice does not necessarily recognise these important aspects of her process and work.

Nadia writes
“When considering the legacy of American painter Christina Ramberg and her creative female circle I have made paintings in concert with large-scale prints, objects and text. When called to I’ve described the work through a narrative of recuperation, a reconsideration of overlooked histories, aware this was a partial truth perhaps more diminishing than expanding.
One afternoon in Antwerp the writers Daniela Cascella, Kate Briggs and myself met to discuss Daniela’s book ‘Singed’, Daniela had just read an excerpt that described her coming to Clarice Lispector, a woman writer drawn to a woman writer, but a description of recuperation wasn’t enough to describe this exchange. Daniela, Kate and myself searched for another way to acknowledge this work, our work and the impulses that drive it, criticism seemed like the only option.
Italian feminist Carla Lonzi had a theory that in order to break the monologue of patriarchal history women needed to articulate their subjective experience through a collective endeavour, as unexpected subjects they could converse with other women both in and across time. Lonzi named this political act resonance, a means by which to avoid complicity with the patriarchy, a means by which to undo the roles linked to women’s oppression.
If the work I make needs to resist categories, how do I talk about it, how do I make it and what is it? Not interested in re-configuring canons but addressing alternative histories through self-reflexive means (maybe?) how do we even start a conversation, please let’s start a conversation”.

I admire Nadia's articulacy and depth of knowledge, and have held the impression that her work is heavily researched and academic. I was therefore surprised to find out that the way her work is framed in the academic field is not necessarily how she wants the work to be understood. Throughout the conversation Nadia spoke about her personal reaction to other artists work and the memories and associations that are attached to particular materials. Framing her work in terms of archives seems to ignore the more subjective and intuitive nature of Nadia's practice.

Sadly, I did not have long to spend in Nadia's studio, but what was obvious was that there was a continual process of play with materials, colours, forms and imagery and I think that the language used to describe Nadia's practice does not necessarily recognise these important aspects of her process and work.

The conversation was a very effective way of learning more about what Nadia is interested in and her process of making work. Thank you to her and CIRCA Projects for sharing this with me and the audience.
Monday, 22 January 2018
Emily’s Voices by Emily Knoll reviewed by Nancy Nyquist Potter
Emily’s Voices by Emily Knoll (Knoll Publications, 2017).
Reviewed by Nancy Nyquist Potter, Professor of Philosophy and Associate with the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the University of Louisville.
Emily Knoll offers readers a first-person account of her experiences with voice-hearing, telling of her journey of fear and despair, and her growing path to understanding not only herself but the phenomenon as well. Her memoir is aimed at a young adult audience and is written accessibly but powerfully in the present tense, giving an immediacy and concreteness to Emily’s story. This memoir is extremely rich in conveying to readers a non-pathologizing way to think about voice-hearing and voice-hearers. It should be read not only by voice-hearers themselves, who will find comfort in her narrative, but also by mental health professionals, as it presents a challenge to the biomedical model of voice-hearing as evidence of psychosis.
Phenomenology.
Reviewed by Nancy Nyquist Potter, Professor of Philosophy and Associate with the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Sciences at the University of Louisville.
Emily Knoll offers readers a first-person account of her experiences with voice-hearing, telling of her journey of fear and despair, and her growing path to understanding not only herself but the phenomenon as well. Her memoir is aimed at a young adult audience and is written accessibly but powerfully in the present tense, giving an immediacy and concreteness to Emily’s story. This memoir is extremely rich in conveying to readers a non-pathologizing way to think about voice-hearing and voice-hearers. It should be read not only by voice-hearers themselves, who will find comfort in her narrative, but also by mental health professionals, as it presents a challenge to the biomedical model of voice-hearing as evidence of psychosis.
Phenomenology.
Emily describes in detail the experiences of overwhelming emotions that accompany and sometimes lead up to voice-hearing. Terror, shame, confusion, anger, failure as work and education become too difficult, and low self-esteem are almost constant companions in her path toward knowledge, recovery, and employment. These varying emotions are conveyed clearly in ways that many readers can relate to and which may help them understand what Emily’s experience of being a voice-hearer has been. As Emily interprets them, her voices are separate from her (87). During one period of her early life, she develops eating disorders as a way to cope with her emotions. Later, she turns to alcohol, which she learns makes her feel more depressed and even suicidal. She also goes through agonizing periods of isolation, which serve to protect her but tend to increase the voices and her anguish. She longs for connection—to tell others what she was feeling, and she needs listeners who will understand and not treat her like she’s crazy. But as she begins to see psychiatrists who diagnose and medicate her, she fears that she is ‘trapped within a world of illness’ (108). ‘I’m not who I was before I cracked up,’ she screams at her mother (p. 90). Cycles of retreat and resistance are discouraging and defeating. She does have some close friends, such as Beth and Daniel, who listen, spend time with her, and stand by her, and the role of these people in her life cannot be over emphasized; friends keep her tethered to love and reality, and give her hope that she is capable, worthwhile, interesting, and fun just as she is.
Challenging the biomedical model.
Challenging the biomedical model.
Emily’s experiences with mental health professionals illuminate the need for more clinicians to learn to think differently about voice-hearing and to challenge the prevailing model. While some clinicians in Emily’s story play a crucial role in departing from the biomedical model, others do so less. The question directly arises in Emily’s story of what the ontology of voice-hearing is and what meaning to make of it. Emily receives numerous diagnoses, including Borderline Personality Disorder, schizoaffective disorder, and schizophrenia; none of them seem to fit. Schizophrenia seems to be the most common diagnosis given, perhaps due to an ontological and epistemic commitment to categorizing voice-hearing as a symptom of psychosis. But, as I explain below, it has become increasingly clear that not all voice-hearers are mentally ill, and the question arises as to just what to make of such experiences and when to think of them as symptomatic and when not to. Causality is also a contested issue in voice-hearing. Emily, who as an adult is an academic student working towards her Master’s degree, is a brilliant, talented, and sensitive child when we meet her. Her childhood development occurs in the context of her father’s abandonment, pressure from her mother to be a high achiever, and tension between her grandmother and her parents. Early on, Emily draws on imaginative powers to entertain herself and to escape difficulty in daily life. She often needs to retreat from uncomfortable and tense environments. Yet it is not clear that her voice-hearing is caused by traumatic experiences. After undertaking considerable research into others with such experiences, Emily concludes that ‘This trauma paradigm risked being as reductive a model as the biomedical explanation that psychiatry gave for voice-hearing’ (154).
In terms of treatment, some clinicians suggest that she needs to lower her expectations, and they medicate her in ways that she finds are dampening her creativity (96). These forms of treatment are fairly common experiences for voice-hearers. But other clinicians normalize Emily’s voice-hearing, bringing together questions of ontology with questions about treatment and recovery. When Emily arrives at University, for example, her therapist Daphne Coton explains that ‘You can hear voices and not be psychotic,’ a position that some clinicians who are committed to the biomedical model of mental disorders may reject (154). Daphne also tells Emily that ‘the voices are parts of yourself’—an idea that seems antithetical to Emily’s belief that they are separate from her— and she asserts that no medication can make the voices go away. ‘We all hear inner voices,’ Daphne says to Emily. ‘It’s just that yours are outside your head. So you have to work hard to remind yourself that they come from within you. And that it’s your mind creating them’ (104). Later, when Emily tells Daphne, ‘I just wish that I was like the others, and I didn’t hear voices,’ Dr. Coton bluntly replies, ‘Well tough, you do. So you’ve got to think of ways to cope.’ A central part of Emily’s coping and recovery includes becoming part of a network of people who are talking about voice-hearing and reframing it so that it isn’t as stigmatizing and damaging (see below.) Many clinicians guide Emily toward communities with whom she can feel more comfortable. For instance, she is recommended to attending a ‘hearing voices’ training course to learn to facilitate peer support groups, and this somewhat alleviates isolation and stress by finding connection with others who will listen openly and respectfully and will be encouraging of change and growth.
An important message in Emily’s book is that there is no monolithic way to frame voice-hearing. Instead, there exist diverse experiences and many strategies of dealing with voices. Some reject their voices and yell at them to go away, others have a dialogue with them. Emily learns that some voice-hearers accept their voices and even welcome them.
Stigma
In terms of treatment, some clinicians suggest that she needs to lower her expectations, and they medicate her in ways that she finds are dampening her creativity (96). These forms of treatment are fairly common experiences for voice-hearers. But other clinicians normalize Emily’s voice-hearing, bringing together questions of ontology with questions about treatment and recovery. When Emily arrives at University, for example, her therapist Daphne Coton explains that ‘You can hear voices and not be psychotic,’ a position that some clinicians who are committed to the biomedical model of mental disorders may reject (154). Daphne also tells Emily that ‘the voices are parts of yourself’—an idea that seems antithetical to Emily’s belief that they are separate from her— and she asserts that no medication can make the voices go away. ‘We all hear inner voices,’ Daphne says to Emily. ‘It’s just that yours are outside your head. So you have to work hard to remind yourself that they come from within you. And that it’s your mind creating them’ (104). Later, when Emily tells Daphne, ‘I just wish that I was like the others, and I didn’t hear voices,’ Dr. Coton bluntly replies, ‘Well tough, you do. So you’ve got to think of ways to cope.’ A central part of Emily’s coping and recovery includes becoming part of a network of people who are talking about voice-hearing and reframing it so that it isn’t as stigmatizing and damaging (see below.) Many clinicians guide Emily toward communities with whom she can feel more comfortable. For instance, she is recommended to attending a ‘hearing voices’ training course to learn to facilitate peer support groups, and this somewhat alleviates isolation and stress by finding connection with others who will listen openly and respectfully and will be encouraging of change and growth.
An important message in Emily’s book is that there is no monolithic way to frame voice-hearing. Instead, there exist diverse experiences and many strategies of dealing with voices. Some reject their voices and yell at them to go away, others have a dialogue with them. Emily learns that some voice-hearers accept their voices and even welcome them.
Stigma
Goffman describes stigma as an experience of being deeply discredited due to some characteristic or attribute of a person. He argues that, rather than thinking of stigma in terms of negative attributes, it is better to think of it as a relation between groups. In mental illness (or perceptions of it), the relation is that the stigmatizing attributes are always understood in the context of the ‘normals’ (Thachuk 141). ‘Public stigma encompasses negative stereotypes, prejudice and discriminative behaviours present in the general public, while self-stigma refers to internalization of these stereotypes, prejudices and discrimination’ (Vilhauer 2017, 6). Thus, stigma is part of a complex knowledge structure that negatively affects marked social groups (Corrigan 2004). In fact, Thachuk reports that people considered to have mental illnesses often find the stigma attached to them to be far more painful than ‘having’ the mental illness itself(141). Just referring to voice-hearing as ‘auditory hallucinations’ is stigmatizing, because hallucinations are clinically and popularly associated with schizophrenia and psychosis. Vilhauer (2017) found that media associates voice hearing with schizophrenia; she performed a literature review on damage experienced by voice-hearers who are stigmatized. Harms suffered by the stigma of voice-hearing include not being able to talk with others about the experience because of fear and shame; isolation; low self-esteem; and heightened stress of living alone with a confusing problem. Additionally, when mental health professionals hold low expectations for recovery, voice-hearers can become discouraged and trapped in illness (see 108; 173). These are all difficulties that Emily writes about in her memoir, where she makes vivid how destructive the stigma of voice-hearing really is.
Persistence.
Persistence.
Emily’s story is one of struggle, terror, and pain—but it is also one of persistence. Readers come to see that lowered expectations of people who hear voices and have a diagnosis of psychosis are not always appropriate and may even be undermining. Despite mistakes, Emily continues to pick herself up, find avenues of recovery, and dedicate herself to playing the cello and to research on voice-hearing. In fact, I have permission to report here that Emily is a pseudonym for Roz Austin, who received her Ph.D. in 2017 from Durham University as a member of the ‘Hearing the Voice’ research project. Drawing on work in cultural and emotional geography, Dr. Austin’s survivor-researcher-led project investigates emotional aspects of the experience of hearing voices and demonstrates the significance of space and spatial metaphors in voice-hearers’ relationships with their voices.
Emily’s Voices is a poignant and ground-breaking memoir on the phenomenological experience of one voice-hearing person that plainly illustrates the fears, hopes, and strength it requires to face stigma and loneliness yet come out radiant. I was moved by reading this memoir and urge clinicians to read it and consider the limitations of the biomedical model and the successes of other treatment options for voice-hearers.
References
Corrigan, P. 2004. How stigma interferes with mental health care. American Psychologist: 614-625.
Thachuk, A. Stigma and the politics of biomedical models of mental illness. International Journal of Feminist Approaches to Bioethics, Special Issue: Feminist Perspectives on Ethics in Psychiatry, 4(1): 140-163.
Vilhauer, RP. 2017. Stigma and need for care in individuals who hear voices. Int. J. Soc Psychiatry, 63(1): 5-13.
Posted on JANUARY 19, 2018 by MDICLHUMANITIES
http://centreformedicalhumanities.org/emilys-voices-by-emily-knoll-reviewed-by-nancy-nyquist-potter/
Emily’s Voices is a poignant and ground-breaking memoir on the phenomenological experience of one voice-hearing person that plainly illustrates the fears, hopes, and strength it requires to face stigma and loneliness yet come out radiant. I was moved by reading this memoir and urge clinicians to read it and consider the limitations of the biomedical model and the successes of other treatment options for voice-hearers.
References
Corrigan, P. 2004. How stigma interferes with mental health care. American Psychologist: 614-625.
Thachuk, A. Stigma and the politics of biomedical models of mental illness. International Journal of Feminist Approaches to Bioethics, Special Issue: Feminist Perspectives on Ethics in Psychiatry, 4(1): 140-163.
Vilhauer, RP. 2017. Stigma and need for care in individuals who hear voices. Int. J. Soc Psychiatry, 63(1): 5-13.
Posted on JANUARY 19, 2018 by MDICLHUMANITIES
http://centreformedicalhumanities.org/emilys-voices-by-emily-knoll-reviewed-by-nancy-nyquist-potter/
Saturday, 20 January 2018
Against Everything - Mark Greif as part of Reading for _____ at The NewBridge Project
On Monday, at the first of what is intended to be a regular series of sessions at The NewBridge Project, Daniel Russell selected Against Everything by Mark Greif as the text to be shared and discussed.
"Against Everything is a thought-provoking study and essential guide to the vicissitudes of everyday life under twenty-first-century capitalism. He challenges us to rethink the ordinary world and take life seriously."
Dan chose to focus on the first essay within the book, Against Exercise because he had noticed a similarity between the behaviour and mentality applied when going to a present-day gym and that of production line employees in the industrial society. Has our change of working conditions i.e. less manual labour, had an impact on the way we want to exercise? Are we nostalgic about factory work?
Rather than operating the conveyor belt, we turn to the gym to walk on the conveyor belt.
We employ a personal trainer to punish us in order to liberate ourselves.
We track progress by focusing on numbers - output = kilometres walked, weight lifted, calories burned etc
We criticise those who don't partake in the gym culture
The need to go to the gym is another example of the desire to be productive, doing something worthwhile with our time and even manage to do two things at once at the gym, workout while catching up on the latest television, listening to music etc.
The gym is a public space where private activities are carried out. Acts that previously would be regarded as private actions are now done in front of others, we puff, pant and grunt as we put our bodies through hard labour.
And the reason for these efforts? Greif argues that our actions are intended to prolong our lives, yet argues that in doing so, we are forgetting how to live.
I do not necessarily agree with this argument. He fails to consider the enjoyment that many people yield from participating in exercise and the social aspect of going to the gym.
"Against Everything is a thought-provoking study and essential guide to the vicissitudes of everyday life under twenty-first-century capitalism. He challenges us to rethink the ordinary world and take life seriously."
Dan chose to focus on the first essay within the book, Against Exercise because he had noticed a similarity between the behaviour and mentality applied when going to a present-day gym and that of production line employees in the industrial society. Has our change of working conditions i.e. less manual labour, had an impact on the way we want to exercise? Are we nostalgic about factory work?
Rather than operating the conveyor belt, we turn to the gym to walk on the conveyor belt.
We employ a personal trainer to punish us in order to liberate ourselves.
We track progress by focusing on numbers - output = kilometres walked, weight lifted, calories burned etc
We criticise those who don't partake in the gym culture
The need to go to the gym is another example of the desire to be productive, doing something worthwhile with our time and even manage to do two things at once at the gym, workout while catching up on the latest television, listening to music etc.
The gym is a public space where private activities are carried out. Acts that previously would be regarded as private actions are now done in front of others, we puff, pant and grunt as we put our bodies through hard labour.
And the reason for these efforts? Greif argues that our actions are intended to prolong our lives, yet argues that in doing so, we are forgetting how to live.
I do not necessarily agree with this argument. He fails to consider the enjoyment that many people yield from participating in exercise and the social aspect of going to the gym.
Wednesday, 17 January 2018
Reading for _______ at The NewBridge Project
On Monday evening I attended Reading for _______ , a Practice Make Practice event at The NewBridge Project. It was programmed with Nathaniel Whitfield, who is currently undertaking Practice Makes Practice – A Social Residency at The NewBridge Project.
“The purpose of Art” James Baldwin wrote “is to lay bare the questions that have been hidden by the answers”.

"With the aim of provoking discussion, engagement and even disagreement with each other, we hope this space will shed light and provide us with new ways of seeing and articulating ideas."
This was the first of what is intended to be a series of sessions "where we can come together to share each other’s ideas through the texts we are reading individually."
The sessions take the following format:
- A group member brings to the session a text / essay / book / podcast / film that they are currently engaging with
- The group member briefly presents to the group the reasons they are reading / listening / watching them and how they are finding them
- The group reads from / listens to / watches some selected sections of the item to be discussed
- The group has a discussion, shares ideas and opinions and makes suggestions of other sources that are related and could be of interest
Monday, 15 January 2018
Dazzle font - Visual Pain by Yurki
This amazing dazzle font is called Visual Pain and is by Yurki.
Sorry if your eyes hurt after seeing it!
Sunday, 14 January 2018
Jacqueline Donachie - Right here among them at The Fruitmarket Gallery
I specifically recall her telling us about how she struggled to make work immediately after graduating. She explained that after going to Art School, she needed to earn some money and so worked in a bar. It was while working at the bar that she created Advice Bar (1995), "a makeshift bar manned by the artist, who gave out drinks in exchange for problems, for which she would offer advice." It has since existed in many versions. For the Fruitmarket exhibition the gallery has been developed into Advice Bar (Expanded for the Times) (2017), a long concrete bar which cuts intrusively through the lower gallery. I enjoy the way that Donachie adapts the work according to the context. It seems particularly relevant that we have an opportunity and space to discuss problems given the current political and social state of the world.
Also in the downstairs gallery, Temple of Jackie (2011), is another work that I was familiar with in a previous iteration. The adapted camping trailer was used to serve soup and drinks at the opening of the Glasgow Sculpture Studios when they relocated to Kelvinhaugh Street. I was working at Glasgow Sculpture Studios at the time, and so was involved in the set-up of this installation. The trailer has also been used "to screen films, as a DJ booth (as here), as part of the impromptu, socially engaged part of her practice. The Temple will be used for several events throughout the course of the exhibition."
Upstairs, the work took a slightly different slant. Through my knowledge of Donachie's work, I was aware that she has being investigating myotonic dystrophy, an inherited muscular degenerative disorder that affects several members of Donachie’s family, but not the artist herself. "In the video, Pose Work for Sisters (2016), shown upstairs, Donachie and her sister, Susan, pose before the camera in homage to Bruce McLean’s Pose Work for Plinths (1971). The sisters interact with the props in different ways, striking complementary poses that require various amounts of flexibility, balance and strength. Though the family resemblance can be seen, a disparity in the physical capabilities of the women becomes apparent."
The monitor showing Pose Work for Sisters (2016) is placed upon In the End Times (2017), a steel ramped platform that has been powder-coated dark grey. This non-slip surface is often used for stairs, walkways and ramps, and for the floors of trucks, trailers and ferries.
In the End Times (2017) has the appearance of an item of 'urban furniture', as do other works such as Walk With Me (2017), a green line of aluminium tubing that cuts through the gallery and acts as a drawing in space.
The large drawings of lampposts and CCTV cameras on poles belong to Glimmer (2013–), an ongoing series. In the context of the other work, I became aware of the fragility of the structures, how they lean and can take on quite human-like stances.
It was fascinating to see such a range of new and old work made by Donachie. I enjoyed the more sculptural, material-focused aspects of her work alongside the more socially engaged event-based part of her practice. At the root of all the work there is an underlying interest in how individuals exist in the world, things that unite us, and things that distance us from others. There is a sense of trying to find a way of existing within society.
Curator studio visit for Assembly House exhibition
Today Liam McCabe and Emily Garvey came for a studio visit.
Liam McCabe is a visual artist, curator, writer and works on the Programme Team at East Street Arts based in Leeds. His artwork explores data, repetition and information overload.
Emily Garvey is a visual artist based in Newcastle. Her interests lie partially within the realm of the digital. Using 3D modelling software, she produces fantastical virtual worlds, which echo not only ideas of paradise but also well-known mundane environments, of which we are all familiar. Emily and Liam are curating BITTER SWEET, a group exhibition that will take place at Assembly House in Leeds in March this year.
We met to discuss ideas and plans for the exhibition.
This is the space
http://assemblyhousestudios.co.uk/project-space

The exhibition will include the following artists
Neil Carrivine
Emily Garvey
Jawbone Jawbone
Oliver Perry
Helen Shaddock
It was really good to share my ideas with Liam and Emily and to hear about what some of the other artists are working on for the exhibition. It is shaping up nicely!
Friday, 12 January 2018
Visit to The Word to discuss forthcoming exhibition
Yesterday Jenny Richards and I went to The Word in South Shields to meet to discuss plans for my solo exhibition and to develop plans for a symposium to be held to coincide with the exhibition. I have been speaking with Jenny Richards, Joseph Cowen Professor of English Literature at Newcastle University. Her current work is focussed on the physical voice, the fifth part of rhetoric, pronuntiatio or delivery, and the history of reading aloud.
One of the outputs of the project is to host an event that brings together eminent Voice specialists and academics in order to share research and work towards the development of a large scale funding bid to the AHRC or Wellcome Trust. It is this event that we proposed to host at the the symposium at The Word.
Richard Barber and Pauline Martin at The Word were both very encouraging about hosting the symposium at The Word, and suggested that we actually adjust the dates of my exhibition so that it corresponds with Write Festival which is happening in May, and should attracts lots of people. We looked at possible options of spaces in which the symposium could take place. I'll keep you posted with dates.
Jennifer invited me to be part of her project, Recovering the Voice.
Richard Barber and Pauline Martin at The Word were both very encouraging about hosting the symposium at The Word, and suggested that we actually adjust the dates of my exhibition so that it corresponds with Write Festival which is happening in May, and should attracts lots of people. We looked at possible options of spaces in which the symposium could take place. I'll keep you posted with dates.
Tuesday, 9 January 2018
John Akomfrah - Vertigo Sea at The Talbot Rice Gallery, Edinburgh
The Talbot Rice Gallery is currently exhibiting two video installations by John Akomfrah, namely ‘At the Graveside of Tarkovsky’ (2012) and ‘Vertigo Sea’ (2015). Both installations "elegise the sea and use it as a metaphor for those lost to both recent and historic memory."
The Georgian Gallery has been filled with pebbles reminiscent of being at the coast. Audience members have to walk over the pebbles in order to be able to view the work well. Having felt the smooth pebbles on the balls of my feet, and heard the sound of pebbles knocking together as people walk through the exhibition, I felt like I had been transported to the scene. I felt much more immersed ‘At The Graveside’ as a consequence.

"Created with long-time collaborator Trevor Mathison, the work builds upon extracts from various Andrei Tarkovsky films to create a tapestry of sound memories from the islands of Skye (in the Hebrides) and Maui (in Hawaii). A meditation on disappearance, memory and death, the work is at once a personal lament – Akomfrah suffering loss at this time of his first visits to the islands – and an ode to the great Russian director who inspired Akomfrah as a young filmmaker."
‘Vertigo Sea’ (2015) is a three-screen installation that highlights the beauty and danger of the sea.

"Weaving together narratives of slavery, whaling and the current refugee crisis it is comprised of new footage, archival footage – with breath-taking selections from the BBC Natural History Unit – and literary sources, including Heathcote Williams’ ‘Whale Nation’ (1988) and Herman Melville’s ‘Moby Dick’ (1851). Initially prompted by a radio interview with a group of young Nigerian migrants, who had survived an illegal crossing of the Mediterranean, it expresses the feeling of what it is like to be at the mercy of something vast. Overwhelming, ever changing, and with unfathomable depths, the film represents both the physical and intellectual sense of ‘vertigo’ embodied by the sea."
John Akomfrah Vertigo Sea Trailer from Arnolfini on Vimeo.
This is spectacular. Unfortunately I didn't have enough time to watch the footage in its entirity (it's around 50 minutes long), but it is definately something I would like to go back and see. The footage is stunning, both beautiful and haunting. The three screens are edited to correspond with each other at times, the outer two may mirror each other but on the other hand, they may operate seemingly separately, focusing on different scenes. The pace of the different types of footage on the screens is well balanced. There is footage of the whaling process which viewers could find very distressing. Despite being pretty squeemish, I was able to continue to look as it was as though the whale meat was being treated as a sculptural material, and I almost forgot that I was looking at flesh.
Monday, 8 January 2018
A weight off my shoulders
I've not been blog-posting as regularly as usual as I have been, and continue to be consumed by some pretty bog-standard 'life' duties and some that are part and parcel of being a self-employed artist.
As the end of January looms, you may notice that the self-employed become a little more weary-eyed and are buried in paperwork. Yes, the end of January is the tax-return deadline!
I am delighted to announce that today I managed to submit my records for the 2016-2017 financial year.
Here is my proof
I'd like to wish good luck to those who are going through the turmoil that is the HMRC Self-assessment tax return submission process. I'd also like to report that the internet submission was operating very efficiently today, so the process was relatively painless compared to previous years. Thanks to HMRC if you have made improvements with the website.
As the end of January looms, you may notice that the self-employed become a little more weary-eyed and are buried in paperwork. Yes, the end of January is the tax-return deadline!
I am delighted to announce that today I managed to submit my records for the 2016-2017 financial year.
Here is my proof
I'd like to wish good luck to those who are going through the turmoil that is the HMRC Self-assessment tax return submission process. I'd also like to report that the internet submission was operating very efficiently today, so the process was relatively painless compared to previous years. Thanks to HMRC if you have made improvements with the website.
Friday, 5 January 2018
Elizabeth Friedlander
I was recently introduced to the work of the artist, designer and typographer, Elizabeth Friedlander.
Friedlander was a Jew, born in Germany in 1903 who studied typography and calligraphy. She designed headings and lay-outs for Die Dame that were published by Ullstein. It was this magazine work that impressed Georg Hartmann of the Bauer Type Foundry in Frankfurt and led him to invite her to design a typeface.

The typeface was initially called Friedlander-Antiqua, but became known as Elisabeth- Antiqua since Friedlander was a recognisably Jewish name, and this would be inadvisable in the current political condition as Hitler had just come to power.

The anti-Semitic laws that were introduced in Germany meant that, as a Jew, Friedlander was refused the permit required for her to continue to work in Germany. She moved to Italy where she was able to work on the condition that she was not politically active. When severe Italian Antisemitic Laws were introduced Friedlander had to flee and so she obtained a Domestic Service permit for Britain. After a period of working as a domestic servant, she got work in the design field.

"By 1942 she was in charge of design at Ellic Howe's black propaganda unit, where she produced forged Wehrmacht and Nazi rubber stamps, false ration books, and so on, while at the same time carrying out freelance commissions."

Once she had decided to settle long-term in Britain, she worked on the series Britain in Pictures, produced patterned papers for Curwen and Penguin Books, created decorative borders for Linotype and calligraphy for the Roll of Honour at Sandhurst. She was responsible for many of the designs of post-war Penguin Books.

The current exhibition at Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft presents the story of the work of Friedlander. The show includes rarely-seen works from the artist’s compelling career including type design, wood engravings, decorative book papers, maps and commercial work.
http://www.ditchlingmuseumartcraft.org.uk/event/elizabeth-friedlander/
Friedlander was a Jew, born in Germany in 1903 who studied typography and calligraphy. She designed headings and lay-outs for Die Dame that were published by Ullstein. It was this magazine work that impressed Georg Hartmann of the Bauer Type Foundry in Frankfurt and led him to invite her to design a typeface.

The typeface was initially called Friedlander-Antiqua, but became known as Elisabeth- Antiqua since Friedlander was a recognisably Jewish name, and this would be inadvisable in the current political condition as Hitler had just come to power.

The anti-Semitic laws that were introduced in Germany meant that, as a Jew, Friedlander was refused the permit required for her to continue to work in Germany. She moved to Italy where she was able to work on the condition that she was not politically active. When severe Italian Antisemitic Laws were introduced Friedlander had to flee and so she obtained a Domestic Service permit for Britain. After a period of working as a domestic servant, she got work in the design field.

"By 1942 she was in charge of design at Ellic Howe's black propaganda unit, where she produced forged Wehrmacht and Nazi rubber stamps, false ration books, and so on, while at the same time carrying out freelance commissions."

Once she had decided to settle long-term in Britain, she worked on the series Britain in Pictures, produced patterned papers for Curwen and Penguin Books, created decorative borders for Linotype and calligraphy for the Roll of Honour at Sandhurst. She was responsible for many of the designs of post-war Penguin Books.

The current exhibition at Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft presents the story of the work of Friedlander. The show includes rarely-seen works from the artist’s compelling career including type design, wood engravings, decorative book papers, maps and commercial work.
http://www.ditchlingmuseumartcraft.org.uk/event/elizabeth-friedlander/
Tuesday, 2 January 2018
Making Culture at Home - Front Row
Monday's Front Row on BBC Radio 4 looked at how arts organisations nationwide are seeking to make themselves open and relevant to their local communities. It provides a fascinating insight into what goes on behind the scenes, and highlights the positive roles that artistic institutions have within local communities.

In Dundee, as the final preparations for the opening of the new V&A Dundee museum take place, Front Row visited the new V&A Dundee community garden. Volunteers Denis Harkins and Derek Cassie and Communities Producer Peter Nurick discussed their involvement in the garden. Sarah Saunders, Director of Learning and Engagement at V&A Dundee, and Cameron Price talked about the museum's first public engagement project - Living Room For The City. In addition, young engineers Emma Evans and Ross Tolland spoke about their contribution to V&A Dundee's most recent public engagement project - the Scottish Design Challenge.

Natalie Walton, former Head of Learning at the Hepworth Wakefield, winner of the Museum of the Year 2017 award, reflected on the actions they took in the year before it opened that helped to ensure it would be a welcome addition to the lives of local people.

Alex Clifton, the artistic director of Storyhouse - the new and long desired arts centre in Chester - and Michael Green, the executive editor of local newspaper, The Chester Chronicle, discussed why the new £37 million pounds venue has received such strong local support.

Emma Horsman, Project Director of The Cultural Spring in Sunderland and South Tyneside, revealed the work and thinking behind Creative People and Places - Arts Council England's latest approach to arts funding which puts local people first.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b09k0n96
Monday, 1 January 2018
Self care for artists
It can be quite easy to get swept along by the (usually hectic) life of an artist. Consequently, self care may be neglected. Working as an independent artist can be emotionally, physically, mentally and financially challenging. It is important that artists working with material that is often highly emotive, sometimes raw and physically and/or psychologically exhausting, have support networks and systems in place.

In her Checklist of Self care, Sheila Ghelani sets out some things to consider:
Will engaging in this activity / event / performance / ‘act’ be nourishing and full of care towards:

In her Checklist of Self care, Sheila Ghelani sets out some things to consider:
Will engaging in this activity / event / performance / ‘act’ be nourishing and full of care towards:
Me:
Will I be looked after?
Will I get paid?
If travelling where will I sleep? What will I eat? When will I eat?
Will I be fed or is it self-catering? Will I get per diems?
Will I feel safe?
Who will I be hanging out with?
Can I bring someone with me?
If something goes wrong who do I contact and what is my exit strategy?
Do I have any special health needs at the moment and will they be catered for?
Have I informed anyone connected to the activity about these needs?
Will there be any language barriers? How can these be overcome?
Am I insured - health, belongings, public liability
Have I got a contract?
What press / PR will I be expected to do and does this feel ok?
How does this activity / event / performance / ‘act’ align with my politics & beliefs?
Where is the funding coming from?
What’s the overall environmental cost?
What do I know about the location / area in terms of human rights / politics?
What do I know about the organisation?
After the event:
Has this activity had an impact on my politics & beliefs?
Do I feel ok about the parts of myself I've revealed during the course of the activity? And if not, what do I need to do to make this ok again?
Have I learnt anything new about the common themes of my practice (e.g. Visibility/Invisibility)
How does this align with my overall life?
Where am I 'at' at the moment?
Will this activity be helpful in terms of my overall life aims (whatever these happen to be at any given moment and if such 'aims' are actually achievable in the first place)?
Or will this be a distraction?
Others:
Who will my audience be?
Is what I’m doing accessible (in terms of language, non-arts audiences, for those who are visually impaired, are wheelchair users / have limited mobility, are D/deaf or hard of hearing)?
If not, why not? And how can I overcome this.
How can I be a good guest (reciprocity)?
What will I be leaving behind afterwards, both literally and in terms of legacy?
Are those I’m working with being looked after too (pay, accommodation, per diems, well being).
Do they have any special needs?
Could I employ local people instead of bringing others with me?
Who should I try to make contact with whilst I am in the area and what’s the mutual benefit?
Flora & Fauna:
Are the materials I’m using good for the environment?
What about after I’ve left? What will I be leaving behind?
What about the travel? Is the environmental cost worth it?
Society in General:
What is the long-term message of what I’m conveying?
Have I checked all of my language and actions to ensure I’m being inclusive?
Am I reaching outside of my everyday circle of peers/friends? If not, why not?
If conflict/debate is impossible to avoid, what is the best way to deal with this?
Am I self-censoring my own practice to fit in? And if so, why? Is this the right thing to do in the particular context I'm working in? If not, what should I do?
http://sheilaghelani.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/checklist-of-care.html?m=1
Will I be looked after?
Will I get paid?
If travelling where will I sleep? What will I eat? When will I eat?
Will I be fed or is it self-catering? Will I get per diems?
Will I feel safe?
Who will I be hanging out with?
Can I bring someone with me?
If something goes wrong who do I contact and what is my exit strategy?
Do I have any special health needs at the moment and will they be catered for?
Have I informed anyone connected to the activity about these needs?
Will there be any language barriers? How can these be overcome?
Am I insured - health, belongings, public liability
Have I got a contract?
What press / PR will I be expected to do and does this feel ok?
How does this activity / event / performance / ‘act’ align with my politics & beliefs?
Where is the funding coming from?
What’s the overall environmental cost?
What do I know about the location / area in terms of human rights / politics?
What do I know about the organisation?
After the event:
Has this activity had an impact on my politics & beliefs?
Do I feel ok about the parts of myself I've revealed during the course of the activity? And if not, what do I need to do to make this ok again?
Have I learnt anything new about the common themes of my practice (e.g. Visibility/Invisibility)
How does this align with my overall life?
Where am I 'at' at the moment?
Will this activity be helpful in terms of my overall life aims (whatever these happen to be at any given moment and if such 'aims' are actually achievable in the first place)?
Or will this be a distraction?
Others:
Who will my audience be?
Is what I’m doing accessible (in terms of language, non-arts audiences, for those who are visually impaired, are wheelchair users / have limited mobility, are D/deaf or hard of hearing)?
If not, why not? And how can I overcome this.
How can I be a good guest (reciprocity)?
What will I be leaving behind afterwards, both literally and in terms of legacy?
Are those I’m working with being looked after too (pay, accommodation, per diems, well being).
Do they have any special needs?
Could I employ local people instead of bringing others with me?
Who should I try to make contact with whilst I am in the area and what’s the mutual benefit?
Flora & Fauna:
Are the materials I’m using good for the environment?
What about after I’ve left? What will I be leaving behind?
What about the travel? Is the environmental cost worth it?
Society in General:
What is the long-term message of what I’m conveying?
Have I checked all of my language and actions to ensure I’m being inclusive?
Am I reaching outside of my everyday circle of peers/friends? If not, why not?
If conflict/debate is impossible to avoid, what is the best way to deal with this?
Am I self-censoring my own practice to fit in? And if so, why? Is this the right thing to do in the particular context I'm working in? If not, what should I do?
http://sheilaghelani.blogspot.co.uk/2017/10/checklist-of-care.html?m=1
Sunday, 31 December 2017
Alfredo Jaar - The Garden of Good and Evil at Yorkshire Sculpture Park
Having studied Architecture, Alfredo Jaar turned to social engaged art as he enjoyed the freedom it gave him. “I am free to speculate, I am free to dream a better world, and I can only do that in the art world”.
Jaar's work questions humanitarian issues such as the refugee crisis and grief. His exhibition at Yorkshire Sculpture Park spans the Underground Gallery and the open air space in front of the gallery.

Outside, in the gravel path leading up to the Underground Gallery, Jaar has installed 101 trees in a grid with walkable passageways between. Masked by, and positioned within the grid of trees there are nine stainless steel frames structures. These are said to reference ‘black sites’, the secret detention facilities operated by the United States Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) around the world where human beings are being tortured and killed.
"I will not act on the world if I do not understand the world." ALFREDO JAAR
In the first room in the gallery the audience meets a wall of bright light forming one of the sides of an installation booth in which visitors are invited to sit and watch a film. The film, The Sound of Silence (2005), reveals the story of a young victim of the 1993 Sudanese famine. Nearing the end of the film, a sudden flash of light reinforces the drama within the narrative.

Jaar's play on light and dark is continued in another room in which a full colour image taken by photographer Koen Wessing of two grieving daughters morph into black and white silhouettes. Shadows (2014) continues in the adjacent space where six additional images taken on the same day show the family's trauma after the murder of a farmer.
"Generally we are taught how to read, but we are not taught how to look." ALFREDO JAAR

A Hundred Times Nguyen (1994) is a work that is based on an experience that Jaar had when he was visiting ‘refugee detention centres’ in Hong Kong in 1991. In the centre of the gallery there is a vitrine containing the story that lead to the work. Jaar had requested permission to photograph a girl, Nguyen Thi Thuy, who later became emotionally attached to him. Jaar photographed her five times at five-second intervals. Out of the hundreds of images he took while he was in Hong Kong, it was these five images that Jaar was most drawn to. It is these that he has replicated and displayed in various orders in A Hundred Times Nguyen. Personally, I do not think that the images need to be shown 100 times for it to be powerful. It was actually the story that I was moved by, and I felt that the images were unnecessary.
Jaar's work questions humanitarian issues such as the refugee crisis and grief. His exhibition at Yorkshire Sculpture Park spans the Underground Gallery and the open air space in front of the gallery.

Outside, in the gravel path leading up to the Underground Gallery, Jaar has installed 101 trees in a grid with walkable passageways between. Masked by, and positioned within the grid of trees there are nine stainless steel frames structures. These are said to reference ‘black sites’, the secret detention facilities operated by the United States Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) around the world where human beings are being tortured and killed.
"I will not act on the world if I do not understand the world." ALFREDO JAAR
In the first room in the gallery the audience meets a wall of bright light forming one of the sides of an installation booth in which visitors are invited to sit and watch a film. The film, The Sound of Silence (2005), reveals the story of a young victim of the 1993 Sudanese famine. Nearing the end of the film, a sudden flash of light reinforces the drama within the narrative.

Jaar's play on light and dark is continued in another room in which a full colour image taken by photographer Koen Wessing of two grieving daughters morph into black and white silhouettes. Shadows (2014) continues in the adjacent space where six additional images taken on the same day show the family's trauma after the murder of a farmer.
"Generally we are taught how to read, but we are not taught how to look." ALFREDO JAAR

A Hundred Times Nguyen (1994) is a work that is based on an experience that Jaar had when he was visiting ‘refugee detention centres’ in Hong Kong in 1991. In the centre of the gallery there is a vitrine containing the story that lead to the work. Jaar had requested permission to photograph a girl, Nguyen Thi Thuy, who later became emotionally attached to him. Jaar photographed her five times at five-second intervals. Out of the hundreds of images he took while he was in Hong Kong, it was these five images that Jaar was most drawn to. It is these that he has replicated and displayed in various orders in A Hundred Times Nguyen. Personally, I do not think that the images need to be shown 100 times for it to be powerful. It was actually the story that I was moved by, and I felt that the images were unnecessary.
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