Showing posts with label student. Show all posts
Showing posts with label student. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

So what the hell have I been doing the last few months? (1/6)

Last night I stayed awake until 2AM evaluating the last 14 weeks of my artistic practice. The result - six sides of A4 which my tutor seemed to enjoy reading this morning. My assessment is done, my show is up, and I find my grade out next Monday.
I will publish small parts of my evaluation (along with accompanying images) at a time, for those of you who might be interested.

It is an incredibly frank piece of writing, so I urge anybody who struggles with the truth to avoid it like the plague.

Part 1 of Godknowshowmany (just kidding, this makes it about 6 parts)
“My specialism is Fine Art, and I intend to make a Fine Art outcome (sculpture/drawing/painting/installation/film/audio/photography or any combination of the techniques) exhibited as professionally as if for a gallery, for the FMP show.”

Following the college trip to Barcelona, I felt inspired to go out and collect items and make sketches. Rather than a working title, this was my starting point – the feeling of not knowing everything about one area, and being so hungry to. During the first week of this brief I had begun to make sketches of the places I inhabited, and I took my first walk collecting small objects and photographing them in a field opposite my home. I immediately felt a kind of affinity to these objects – discarded, trodden into the earth, unidentifiable from neglect. I had been having a pretty strange time myself.



Having focussed solely on digital photography during ‘Flow Around Town’ I decided to step back and use film. There is a strange sense of soullessness I feel shooting digitally, as if I, the artist, am not involved enough in my own work, allowing a machine driven by science and maths to create the images. My friends were involved in hands on processes like painting, drawing, sculpting, and it made me feel like a bit of a con artist, rather than a visual artist, to be working in a media so uninvolved.
So I shot photos using disposable cameras as well as old film SLRs, and used the dark room to blow up negatives and develop my own roll of black and white film. Artists understand the mother-and-child sort of connection between themselves and their work, and working in a hands-on way enabled me to feel that connection again.



At first ideas behind the work were, as before, over-conceptual and difficult convey visually. I had feared and anticipated this writing my statement of intent - “This project should find a way to make a conceptual piece understandable to a wider audience – a strong concept shown through my exhibited work”
The concepts I was dealing with were those of value – what makes one item so easy to discard, and not another? I was also trying to imagine these objects as patients – how could I treat them, make them better, return them to the original location as something more valuable in any way? The yearning to do this was partly down to my own poor mental health. It is far too easy to over-conceptualise or over-analyse anything at all in this situation.



Ordinarily whilst working on projects I enjoy visiting galleries for inspiration, since as a 'fine artist', presentation of final works is something I like to focus on alongside every idea. University interviews in various parts of the country made attending exhibitions a little more difficult, but I did manage to see a lot of Fine Art Undergraduate works in progress. At an interview in Leeds I saw a work by a girl who had collected lost gloves over various parts of Yorkshire, photographing them as she collected them, with the intention of eventually returning the glove to that place. One of the other prospective students on the tour asked – “why is she doing that?” … This glove girl and I had something in common. Inspired, especially since our projects had started in the same way, I tried this idea of ‘returning’ my found objects. I printed the photographs that I had taken when I first took them, and stuck them on a wooden stick, going round the route I had found them on and sticking the corresponding image into the area in which it was found. I then photographed this again. It was like the idea of a ghost – only two weeks ago an old tennis ball lay on that earth, for two weeks it was empty, and then reunited with a fragment (photograph) of the tennis ball.



... So what do we think so far? Am I depressing you enough?

Friday, June 15, 2012

Exhibiting and being a Primadonna Bitch



It has been a stressful week preparing for my show, and I've ashamedly taken it out on other people... and if you're one of them then I apologize profusely.

The private show opens on Monday 18th at 6pm, at Oxford & Cherwell Valley College (Oxford Campus, opposite the ice rink) and here's a plug -


Would like to state that I had nothing to do with that exhibition title choice... Sounds naff, sorry whoever decided it. It's also the name of one of my less favourite early Laura Marling songs.

My work will be assessed on Tuesday. I still have some work to finish for the exhibition - I want audio playing of an essay or interview based around my works, having bought all the audio equipment for recording it, I now need to write the essay.
Tomorrow my day begins getting on a bus at 9:30, tutoring between 10:30 and 1:30, working in the shop between 2 and 6, and jumping on a train at 7pm to see my boyfriend by 10. Saturday is this wedding, and I finally have an outfit! Hopefully we might get the first ever decent photo of us together - but it is more probable that pigs will grow wings this weekend. Oh well.

Provided it all gets finished off, it's going to be a cracking show. Regardless of how mine turns out, I am so impressed by everybody else's hard work and stunning shows. I have to admit I had no idea it would look so good and my heart genuinely skipped a beat when I saw the studios yesterday... the whole thing is getting me very hyped for London and the chance to exhibit more work, hopefully I'll learn to be more organized!

This is my show anyway, as I know the vast majority of you won't get to it (cynical as ever? Or just realistic...)

This has been stuck in my head since my wonderful trip to MAC today (Laura will be so proud) so I'm using it to say sorry again to everyone who's experienced my Primadonna-but-not-as-hot-as-Marina ways this week.

Mad love,
x


PS. yesterday saw me enjoying my first 'mocktail'... it was tasty, but I hope to jump back on the alcohol wagon next week! The end is in sight! (Excuse the baggies, there's not much left in me)

Sunday, January 01, 2012

Dear men in nightclubs: stop being assholes. Sincerely, Kat.

And so, here it is: 2012.
I don't know about you, folks, but I didn't wake up as a new girl. Instead I woke up at 8am in an upright position on my friend's sofa and thought - "How long have I been awake? Why is there a bed on the floor? Where are Bethan and Louise?" Not a lot of time got spent on the thinking, I was pretty happy to climb into this makeshift bed for a few hours, because at 8am I was still drunk. My New Years Eve was spent in Northampton, with my friend's student house as base, and Northampton "clubs" as our destination.

I do not like clubs.
When I was 10 years old "clubs" had a different meaning to me (girl guides, swimming team, etc) and I still didn't like them. You may sit there and think "but you're a young, single girl who likes to drink and act in a completely obnoxious manner - why on earth would you not absolutely love clubs?"

Well for a start: the music, the girls, the guys, the prices... so everything. There are some things associated with clubs that I do like. I like getting ready (to an extent) and I like spending time with my friends.

Everyone you meet in a club is an absolute asshole. The girls all want free drinks, so they've dressed as much like a prospective rape victim as they possibly can. And the guys all want someone to fuck and it doesn't even matter who. Why would they waste breath on conversation when they can as easily say nothing and grope a woman? It's just as charming, right? Wrong. So wrong.

Last night some guy, who we'll call Dick, repeatedly pinched my bum. The first time I let it slide a bit, I probably politely told him to fuck off. He was less lucky the second time. I was drunk, but I'm pretty sure I slapped him, and I'm told that I then picked up a bottle and told him he really better leave me alone. I'd never have actually bottled the guy (I don't come from Brixton, for one) because even when I'm drunk I know it's best not to get a criminal record for GBH... even if it'd be totally justified.

Sometimes words are wasted on individuals like Dick. Instead of the vocal act of making small talk, he opted for the physical pinching act. And so, instead of the vocal act of explaining that women don't take too kindly to that kind of come-on, and "do you know that's harassment?" etc, I opted for the more physical act of slapping his big stupid face. Some people are too ignorant to understand words, but I'm hoping his sore face will teach him everything I could have explained.

Maybe I just shouldn't go to clubs, or maybe guys in clubs should stop being such complete freaks. I have never met a nice-seeming guy there, and if I have, I am pretty sure they were hiding some Rohypnol for later. The guys who I have met in clubs act like they're on night release from prison for rape-related-crimes. Please note, men, that there is NOTHING sexy about that.

And if I'm wrong about clubs - if these sex pests are actually the best boyfriend material I'll ever find, then I would rather die alone with several cats for company.

I believe that I can leave Jenna Marbles to wrap this up for me.