thinking through collage

It was a difficult year; 2011, glad it's over and a new direction is emerging out of the mist. I spent most of the Xmas break doing collage; as a way of thinking through 'making'. It's fascinating what it reveals, relatively painlessly though very thoroughly, once you start to unravel it all.
Usually I work with my own small creations within a collage but this time I decided to go with 'ready made' images from the web, wanting to see the possible differences in what eventually developed on the page. I'm still reflecting on all of this, there's so much to think about. here are some of the visual thoughts which I'm still working on:

The ambiguity of metaphor is comforting, it distances me from an inner truth which is difficult to look at, thus allowing for multiple interpretations over time. I've been avoiding gender in all of this but now see that it's here, now and demanding my attention through its insistent 'voice'.

It's been a while

well, much has happened since I was last here; the Shorelines Exhibition at the Maclaurin, Ayr, was installed. It took me 33 hours to install Seasilks for this, lots of Ibuprofen and a total disregard for heights. I'm very pleased though, it looks just fine in gallery 1. I included the sounds of the sea as well, it helps convey my meaning.
The symposium went well, all seemed happy with the very stimulating papers. New friends were made too, which is lovely. I had my mind changed in a most engaging way by Iain McGilchrist, which was a surprise. Don't deconstruct creativity too much, you may just destroy it altogether!
Sadly, I now have an immense sense of grief; the work is no longer in my studio but 'out there'. The void it leaves inside is cold. A good friend has told me that this is what writers feel too, when 'letting go' of a novel.
All that I am is in that work and I now need to remake myself, acknowledge my new role and move on.
Along the way I have lost a very dear friend. Research and friendship are not happy bedfellows it seems.
Ah well.....
If you want to listen/see the work when it was first shown in Taigh Chearsabhagh, North Uist, then follow this link:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_Er_IJMC20
I go into the gallery, stand under my work and just close my eyes.......I'm home.

My looking glass

This image speaks of the place I inhabit, in my head; multi-layered, complex, slightly distorted.

no pictures this time

It's been a while since I last felt like writing anything here, no special reason, inertia/autumn/distracted....whatever, it doesn't matter now.
I do, however, have a much stronger focus on what I'm looking at, or rather, who; myself, first person narrative, life writing, there are many names for this, another might be unkindly called navel gazing. Why bother?
Well, still curiosity heads up the list of reasons why.
That and a growing awareness of others out there who are doing just the same as I am, looking inwards while looking outwards.

As to the validity of this, there are names I'm aware of, names which keep recurring in my reading; Denzin, Ellis, Pelias, Atkinson, Conquergood, Spry............it's reassuring to find that I'm not alone.
How arrogant! Of course I'm not!
I've also discovered that I love Edinburgh; just being there is good, walking around being someone I'd like to be. Or maybe I am already that person, hidden under the layers of being?

dark spaces and inner beings

I spend a great deal of time on reflective writing, through watching words grow on a page so my understanding grows. Added to this process is the creating of textual collages, which also enable and inform understanding.
Autoethnography is dangerous ground to stand on, or so it seems. Solipsism comes to mind and is whispered round corners. The only way for me to achieve what I hope, is to quietly think about my life, its roles, facades, portals and also departures. The 'letting go' of life's various performances is difficult and complex, multilayered and dark.
The liminal space I'm trying to inhabit is tight, new thoughts protrude from the confining walls.
If however, I let my head go silent, the image at the top of this page, is what I see.

identities

I spent a while in the Scottish Poetry Library last week, what a comforting space amid the mayhem of Edinburgh.
Another place I visited was my own past; one full of facades, this is one too, above, though how enigmatic it really is...who knows.
I came across a phrase which rings true; gender identity is created by the roles we play. I've no idea who said that but it is beginning to form the essence of new thoughts on the research journey.

I've intentionally avoided any gender issues, too huge, too crowded, too overwhelming. But now, after a two week stint in Edinburgh, being a 'city' girl, I'm ready to look in that mirror.

Exciting.

I also 'see' the artwork I want to begin in relation to transitioning, liminality and identities; performance, concrete poetry, spoken narrative of journals, 'cast skins' and also....my own clothes, taken from the wardrobes of possible persona, ones which I tried on for size and discarded after the second act.

So where's the theory?  it'll come in time.

reflection on action

Two recent textual collages of my response to emotional experience.
It may be really obvious to say this but I've recently discovered that as I create these textual collages about my recent experiences on Arran, as a way of 'visual thinking', that unless I write notes as I create, then subsequent writing about them can only be an interpretation of the visual content.
Yes, I know this sounds obvious, but it wasn't intentionally done. I hadn't realised what a difference it would make. I found that such was my intense feeling at the time, I couldn't write, I just had to make, with my hands, touch familiar materials and do it all intuitively, Writing would have been out of place within this action/response. I also didn't have time to think. This is especially true of the second, lower work featured above, when I used old, familiar objects from my studio windowsill to express my 'head', as it were. There is so much empty, white space on the paper, the objects chosen are quietly tied down, the paper, the most delicate I have here, almost translucent, has been neatly pleated but the torn edges are irregular.  I used the minimum of imagery to speak volumes. I wonder why? Might it be that with great depth of feeling, rather than breadth of feeling, words are no longer effective? Only the visual will suffice? It leaves the work open to interpretation and the understanding and communication needs to be implicit.
Not rocket science, but thinking on Schon's Reflection in and on action, I can see disadvantages. Both methodologies offer insight, but each quite different to the other. Writing , at the time of creating, gives an accurate description but may miss elements which silently slip into the frame and it's only later, when viewed again, that these elements are obvious? Might this have happened anyway if I'd written words at the time of making the second one? I don't know.
I suppose it's not a case of either reflection in action or on action but that both are necessary, to give a fuller 'picture'?
But then, it all gets rather clinically objective, with 'self' in the 'frame', like a specimen in a jar?

I welcome comments/thoughts on this as I 'reflect' further.