Day Five

18/01/08

In the morning I go shopping. I arrive back at the studio with: a towel, some paper and pencils, polystyrene balls (I accept now that I have a problem), a polar bear and a clear plastic box. I’m really pleased to have found a polar bear in Bedford and although it is not truly a creature of the Antarctic it was cheap.

Filming is continuing and I make a concerted effort to edit the clips together into a cohesive whole. I think this will be the biggest struggle of the residency and I am more than a little worried about it. While I am worrying I accidentally tear a blue bouncy ball in half and glue a drowning couple into its icy depths, this cheers me up no end. I also make a balsa wood sailboat with clockwork motor, which I hope to launch on the river with a camera in it.

In the evening we make a BCA excursion to Wysing Arts, which is reopening after a 1.7 million pound refit. I catch a lift with Katie who doesn’t know the way but makes up for it by driving as fast as she can. We arrive to find a glowing space station full of undercover arts council operatives (I forget to wear black again). The new studios are hugely impressive über-clean loveliness some containing living spaces, kitchenettes, double beds… Franko B is there, handing out plastic bags and jellybeans as we file awkwardly through, trying not to touch anything. Matthew Collings does a speech in which he worries: about his eye (runny), about the forward looking nature of the building and art within, about his own 70s painting and about the need for artists to look back at the Greeks. He says art is about stress or pain or worry which makes me feel part of things. Later the talk is of funding cuts and I drink too much champagne.

Day Four

17/01/08

Word keeps ‘unexpectedly quitting’ actually now I’m kind of expecting it. My brain feels similar, I spent most of today staring at the stuff I’ve done and wondering what to do with it. All of the bits work ok on their own and I could imagine them displayed on separate screens but my original intention was to use the time to make something a little more narrative. I have to keep telling myself that its only day four and that if I don’t relax a bit I might go pop. I’m still reading bits of Scott’s journals and thinking vaguely about Moby Dick, which might not be helping my frame of mind. Today I started work on a machine that will reproduce the Aurora Borealis in my studio.

I was also feeling slightly guilty at my lack of research; this has never been a strong point. I love the story that Raymond Roussel wrote ‘Impressions of Africa’ after seeing the coastline through a telescope. Three minutes on Google revealed two interesting people with Bedford connections.

1. Commander Frank Wild (1874-1939), Polar explorer
2. Charles Wells, (1860s), Brewer.

Wells was a sea captain who abandoned the sea to marry the woman he loved. Unfortunately he suffered from depression and committed suicide by slashing his wrists.

Day 3

12/01/08

It was freezing this morning; the Travelodge car park was icy underfoot. There are no footpaths at the Travelodge you are expected to arrive by car and are considered freakish if you don’t.

On my walk in I have had a sudden urge to buy snow globes. Usually this would not be a problem as lack of time forces me to filter out bad ideas, they die of natural causes. But now I that can do everything how can I tell which ideas should be put down?

I made a wave machine in the morning and filmed an ice flow breaking up while eating a packet of biscuits.

Later, in order to slow myself down, I went for a walk down the river. While I was filming bits of floating polystyrene, queues of rowers shot past shouted on by old men riding bicycles.

In the afternoon I did some editing and James and Christina popped in to offer me a room in their house.

I’ve had another urge to fill the studio with polystyrene balls and electric fans.

The journey home was largely uneventful, though I was pleased to see a Husky at Bedford station.

However, travelers at Stratford should note that platform 10A is nowhere near platform 10. In fact it is down the stairs, turn right, run 50 yards, turn right, climb the stairs on to platform 11, catch breath, continue past some blank hoardings, turn right again down an unlit alley and left round a blind corner where you will see your train pulling away.

Day Two

11/01/08

Today I am told tactfully that there is another artist and I may be in her space also that I can use some shelves if I want. At the interview last year we never discussed how untidy I can be and its true there is a trail of stuff all over the studio. I must tidy up tomorrow.

Later I took a break in a coffee shop and read the holiday guide in a local paper. There was a trip to Greenland in which the journalist described seeing two (mammoth?) whales surfacing in an ice fjord. After this I walked down to the river and watched two large pieces of polystyrene floating downstream.

Day One

Today I began my journey to Bedford. In my wisdom I decided to make the first expedition by train. As this was likely to be my most heavily laden leg I thought it would be fun to drag my trunk over platforms and through the underground.

My itinerary was:

Melton – Ipswich
Ipswich – Stratford
Stratford – Farringdon
Farringdon – Bedford

Three and a half hours later sheltering outside Bedford station I set up my cameras and began the final haul to the gallery. I am finding the case easier to pull now although it has character and occasionally performs an elaborate twisting flip. This, my occasional swearing and my tank commander’s hat with attached camera caused the inhabitants of Bedford to keep a respectful distance. By the time I arrived at the Gallery I had worked up quite a sweat and Katie suggested I “go freshen up’ (I think she meant have a wash). Then we had a quick meeting with Eva to go over what I wanted to get out of the residency. In my head all I could hear was “fame, fortune, wine, women and song” but instead I talked about sensible things. I did see a club on my travels offering free women on Fridays but I don’t think that’s what they meant. I might try to write a song. Then I started which to be honest was a bit strange. I didn’t have to be anywhere else or worry about anything except how to find the Travelodge later. I’m sure its not good for me.

I reviewed the video I’d made. Most of it is looking straight up my nose luckily the camera is slightly out of focus.

The Travelodge is a little out of town, another half an hours walk. I’m sitting at my built-in desk in my pants. I only ever do this in Travelodges, and I apologise to future users, but I think it’s my attempt at hedonism. I’ve just eaten in a pub festooned with England flags and men the size of polar bears. As I was wearing what my daughter calls my gay jumper I felt I had to order the manliest meal I could. The all day breakfast “a favourite with local customers” consists of 2 eggs, 3 sausages. 300 baked beans, 37 chips and a pint of Guinness.

Near death now, must stop writing

Packing

Its finally nearly time to go to Bedford. I got an email from Katie including my contract confirming that my residency officially begins next Thursday. I immediately went to the studio to pack my case. Its a big solid trunk on wheels which is as easy to lead as a donkey on roller skates. The beast is crammed full of broken machines, cameras and other oddments; there's a snow globe with flamingos, a floral Barbie skirt, a polystyrene boat and many other things that have starred in previous films. My plan is to go to Bedford on the train somehow making a film of my trek from the station to the gallery. It nearly snowed today.

Walking the young dog on her own is odd. I only have to look forward, I don't need to watch the horizon for danger. We move quickly up the path and I return to the house smiling and relaxed. The highlight of the last few weeks' forays occurred when I managed to entangle her toy in the same tree as last year. We look forward to playing with it again in six months or so.

Yesterday afternoon after 16 rather savage years I was finally forced to have my old dog put down. A few days ago he had a bleed in his left eye. It became infected and he declined quickly. The nurse held him while the vet administered the injection, a clear liquid with a black cloud at its centre. I held his head and true to character he tried to bite us all. Then he relaxed and I stroked him for a while slightly embarrassed at the amount of hair he had shed over the consulting room.

Tozer

First Ice

Incontinent

The older dog is no longer continent. He doesn't quite last the night nor the day while I'm at work. He is not pleased with his lack of control but neither of us can do anything about it. So now both morning and afternoon walks are prefaced with some disgruntled cleaning. After that all is fine and although the weather is becoming progressively more damp and dull he still frollicks (occasionally).

My preparations for Bedford are sporadic and as yet unformed. I have spent the last week staring at lists of ideas and current strands in order to somehow pull them together into a coherent whole. Most of all I don't want to force myself into a dead end. Here is a current itinerary.

Books -
Diaries, some printed some online
Some adventure based books which follow a sort of cinematic sequence involving a clock work antarctic explorer.
Others which are much more static/mundane views of passers by taken through cafe windows.

Films -
An inexplicable series of films of bits of polystyrene floating in water.
Some partly made films of foreign landscapes found in an old video camera.
A few films of bobbing boats (automata).
More films of balloons being blown about.
Ongoing Protest films
Ongoing automatic film making
Magic tricks

Drawings -
14 pencil drawings of a piece of elastic that came out of my pants.
A single unbound book of weird little drawings

Sculptures -
Tiny adventure sculptures (some moving - physically not emotionally).
Little models of made up murder scenes.

Photos -
Some photos my wife is (hopefully) taking as she crosses the Atlantic.

Titles for shows -
Pantechnicon

My Daughter is a Beauty Queen

Lucky

The dogs were fine today. I remembered the ball (a special one with a rope through the middle). Yet again the weather was grey and nondescript though a little milder than of late. We went out onto the field and I launched the young one into a frenzy of chasing and fetching until she was unwilling to give the ball back lest I throw it away again. On the way back we met a neighbour's dog with whom my old one has a bit of a history. Luckily I had spotted him coming and my dog was on his lead. He strained and yelped desperate for one last fling, I think he remembers his glory days and wishes to finish his life latched onto Lucky's throat.

OCD

Had to walk the dogs early this morning. The light was really even, no shadows at all. The leaves had crisped up but they had lost their intense colour. Forgot the ball again but both dogs ran around themselves. I was more than a little concerned that the old one might drop dead from exertion but he didn't. Next stop was the doctor's as the daughter has a chest infection. The rest of the day was spent tidying up the house which is covered in half finished projects and other bits of paper: cvs, statements (in first and third person), letters, postcards and catalogues. I feel that if I can sort these out I might be able to think about the future. The daughter has just informed me I have OCD.

Mistakes

The morning dog walk went as usual. The leaves have all changed to brown mush in the rain. Half way up the path there is an opening onto a farmer's field. This year's crop (sugar beet I think) glowed green in the early sun. I'd forgotten the ball so the young dog romped in manic circles around the old one.

The evening was taken up with a rather gentle networking event in Ipswich with tea and cakes. I had to show some work so I chose Ten films for the invisible girl which to be honest I'm still not too sure about. The main speaker was Sue Jones who curates the Whitstable Biennial she made me realise I have been perhaps making a few mistakes approaching curators.

On the way home the bus driver went the wrong way.

News

This morning was grey and damp but rapidly moved on to grey and wet. Walking the dogs is more difficult in this weather. The young one bounces with excitement getting huge pleasure from the spray as she runs across the field. The old one hunches, tucks his tail and steps stiffly looking back, hoping to return to his bed. The grey light somehow intensifies the colour of the fallen leaves. Much better than a sunny day.

I'm looking for a mentor at the moment. Its part of my Arts Council grant which I have been neglecting. Gill sent me a possible name yesterday and I am trying to decide whether to contact him. I probably should.

London

Woke to a bright cold morning feeling exhausted. Half a term of teaching has worn me out. Still it should be worth it because the money earned will allow me plenty of free time in Bedford. Breakfasted hurriedly on tea and toast and exercised the dogs. This was the usual balancing act between watching that the old one was not dropping behind and keeping an eye on the young one who was forging ahead. Got them back in one piece, fed and watered and rushed out of the house to catch the train. Ellie was still in bed.

The train was full so I had to sit in the quiet carriage staring mournfully at my ipod and listening to honking conversations. First stop was the Foundling Museum to drop off the final copies of Diary of a Foundling Artist where I had a quick chat with Alison. The show seems generally well received. Then I went off to find a few of the galleries I had found interesting at the London Art Fairs.

Domobaal was nearby but try as I might I could not find it. I stuck my head in every doorway drawing funny looks from the residents. Angry with myself but wanting not to waste any more time I headed back to Liverpool Street and marched determinedly into the East End. Actually I headed up towards Hoxton street first looking for Store and Peer. I went on an arcing loop through Hoxton walking miles out of my way. The sun was out now and I was starting to sweat under my heavy coat. Peer and Store were both closed behind heavily graffitied shutters. Associates was open so I had a quick peek. I had planned to go on for a look at David Risley and Keith Talent but my earlier tiredness was overcoming me so I headed home.

I have huge swings of mood. Today was quite low.