I’ve been dying to tell you about this since last month and I’m glad that now I can…

I’m delighted to announce that the last Craftypod of 2007 is an interview with me. It’s pretty interesting, if I say so myself, and Sister Diane did a fantastic job in editing our long conversation so that I sound reasonably coherent!

Many thanks to Sister Diane for her great editing, her insightful questions and for being kind enough to ask me in the first place; I very much enjoyed being interviewed by her and what a great way to round off my year of drawing.

Kirsty Hall: Diary Project Envelope from 10th December 2007

In the early hours of yesterday morning I finished a mammoth update of The Diary Project blog because I thought it would look really shoddy to Craftypod listeners if the blog was still stuck in November - it’s helpful to have a bit of a kick every now and then. Apparently I’d had a long enough break from writing about drawing and I was able to do it again without banging my head on my desk. I’m nearly up to date now, I just have a week’s worth of envelopes to write up and then I’ll be all caught up. It’s so nice to be ending the year without that hanging over me.

Wow, I can’t believe that I only have 3 days of the project left to go, it’s a very strange feeling and I’m still processing it: it feels quite unreal.

I’ve just discovered the sculpture and steel jewellery of artist, Megan Auman. I don’t know how I’ve missed seeing it before because she’s been mentioned by Cally, whose blog I read regularly.

Long Leaf Necklace’ by Megan Auman

Isn’t this fab. Despite studying and making silver jewellery, I’m not much of a jewellery wearer but I’d make an exception for this. I particularly love that it’s made from steel instead of a precious metal, that really adds to the aesthetic for me - the stark black against the white makes me sigh with visual lust. I’ve been playing around with lots of colour in my new art journal lately but apparently I’m not over my monochrome thing and honestly, I don’t want to be - colour fills a certain place in my soul but black and white will always own my heart.

I had already noted the resemblance of Megan’s work to my own drawings but I was amused to discover that she also did a smaller series of daily drawings in 2007. Megan also has an interesting blog that’s worth a look - apparently she’s going to be making a life size sofa out of metal, I look forward to seeing it.

Clicking on the tab for Up All Night Again, the thought flitted quickly across my mind, “I wonder if there are any new posts?” Er no, dear, not unless you actually bother to write them!

It reminds me of the time that I accidentally hit backspace while surfing and wound up at my own Livejournal profile page. I glanced uncomprehendingly at my own interest list and thought, “hey, this person sounds way cool, I should friend them - oh, wait a minute…” Still, I guess the fact that I instinctively liked the look of myself is probably positive.

It’s been a hectic week. My 40th birthday was on Saturday and my family threw a rather fabulous party for me complete with mountains of healthy yet delicious gluten-free food. We had about 30 people there and I was very touched that so many people, some of whom had travelled quite a distance, came to celebrate with me. I thoroughly enjoyed it and have decided that I should have birthday parties more often (although probably not every year).

The chocolates are all gone and the many bunches of flowers are starting to wilt but I’m still happily playing with several of my presents, which included a pile of books, a full set of Sakura glaze pens and a very cute, tiny set of travelling watercolours with a little water brush. Art materials - the gifts that keep on giving!

Unfortunately everything else is in flux at the moment because as soon as we got the party out of the way, I had to empty my study so that it could be decorated. I can’t think what possessed me to arrange two such major events within two days of each other. I am temporarily installed in the living room and connecting to the net through the X-Box cable. The painters finished this afternoon but I need to buy a carpet and have that fitted before I can move back in. I also need to have a rethink about where everything goes and what I need to store. Oh, and buy a new desk because this Ikea one has bowed drastically in the middle, which is rather worrying in a piece of furniture that’s holding a heavy and expensive Mac!

Continuing the decluttering and organising theme of the last few months, I’m using this an opportunity to get rid of some stuff. I’ve drastically culled my art magazine collection - I gave away about 50 of them and have another huge pile to donate to the art college where I do my jewellery course. I’ve kept the ones I still refer to but it feels wonderful to pass the rest onto people who will actually use them. And as an added bonus, it frees up a lot of storage space on my shelves. Next I have to tackle my many folders of saved articles and images.

I’ve come to understand that having too much stuff weighs me down and makes it far more difficult for me to create. I had the realisation about a month ago that it didn’t matter how many neatly labelled boxes I had, if I simply had too much to store, then my shelves and cupboards were always going to be an impenetrable mess.

So lately I’ve been tackling The Cupboard Of Doom, a huge walk-in cupboard that we’ve thoroughly filled up with stuff. I’ve been systematically clearing it out; going through boxes, throwing things out, visiting the dump, filling up our weekly recycling bins and giving away hundreds of items on freecycle.

I’ve even surprised myself by being able to give away some art and craft supplies: usually I hold onto those for dear life but sorting out my studio has helped me to see what I already have and what I no longer use. Having too many supplies can actually be a disadvantage when making art because you can suffer from a sort of mental paralysis when faced with too many options. In addition, having vast quantities of supplies makes it harder to find the things you actually want to use.

Decluttering may not seem like it has much to do with art, but it feels as though what I’m really doing is making a much bigger space in my life for my art.

Lately it seems that most of my art conversations have been happening inside the computer. However, yesterday afternoon I was fortunate enough to meet up with artist, Camilla Stacey for tea and cake.

Camilla and I used to work quite closely together when we were both curating shows over at the Here Gallery, the artist-run space that Camilla was instrumental in founding. We haven’t seen as much of each other lately because we’re both taking a curating break and we live in different towns, so it was great to catch up over cheesecake and hot chocolate. The conversation ranged from our lives to our work and back again; we talked about whether I need to continue with obsessive repetition in my work and Camilla explained the rationale behind her latest ceramic pieces.

Because it’s my birthday on Saturday, Camilla brought me these fabulous thistles - she said they reminded her of my Diary Project drawings and I can see what she means.

Having people who ‘get’ your work, whether in real life or in the computer, is such a gift for any artist and I am blessed to know many people with whom I can have these sort of deep conversations. I hope you all have real life friends that you can talk art and eat cake with.

I spent some time in my local yarn store today. Sure, I needed yarn for my next couple of projects but much more than that, I needed an hour to soak up some colour and texture. I could have ordered the yarn from the shop’s website and saved myself a trip in appalling traffic but I knew that I needed to go: something in me was craving that experience. I wanted to wander around, picking up the yarns and squashing the skeins in my fingers. I needed to feel the softness, the springiness and the resistance of the different fibres. But most of all, I needed to marvel at the myriad of colours. I needed to see the ways in which different dyers had married shades together, to notice how some tones zinged and jumped, while others were muted and subtle. I spent some time holding balls of yarn next to each other, testing to see which would go well together and which were jarring or unpleasant. I didn’t have a particular project in mind, I just wanted to see what worked and what didn’t. You can learn a lot this way - maybe art teachers should stop bothering with boring old colour wheels and just take their students to a fantastic yarn store instead!

I’ve never been brilliant at colour, I don’t have the instinct for it that some artists do, but I still occasionally need a bit of colour therapy. Sometimes my muse (for want of a better word) craves time spent in art galleries, libraries, parks or beautiful buildings - and sometimes it just needs to smoosh some yarn!

I left with the yarn I’d planned to buy and only one extra thing (a bargain skein of very beautiful sock yarn) but more importantly, with my heart contented and my inspiration levels rising.

We all need to spend some time inspiring ourselves, otherwise our art will eventually run dry. What have you done to inspire yourself lately? Do you take yourself out on regular ‘artists’ dates’, as Julia Cameron recommends? I often forget and only realise that I need to once it becomes a desperate craving. If you’re in the same boat, then I hope you can take some time over the next few days or weeks to recharge those artistic batteries by doing something that’s just for you. It’s especially important to do this if you’re caught up in the seasonal madness. It doesn’t need to be much and it doesn’t need to take long but I think it’s vital to remind ourselves that our art is every bit as important as buying presents, baking cookies, decorating trees, placating relatives and all the other traditions that we may have encumbered ourselves with.

And if you don’t celebrate anything at this time of year, then maybe you can indulge in your own personal art hibernation while all around are drowning in festivities? Get a pile of good art books from the library, stock up on some exciting new materials, shut the door and spend a few days just losing yourself in play. Mmm, sounds good to me!

The Decorated Journal by Gwen Diehn is a book that focuses on art journalling.

The book is divided into sections, the first is an extensive exploration of the different materials used in art journalling including paper, pencils, paints, pens, glue and other commonly used materials. This section is, to my mind, the strongest in the book. It contains handy tables that show the advantages and disadvantages of different types of glue, a section on the paint colours you’ll need to be able to mix a good palette, lots of information about the different grades of paper, explanations of the properties of various different materials and clear advice on what to buy and why. There’s even a page on making your own ink and paint from naturally occurring pigments that you’ve gathered! I also like the way she emphasises investing in a few well chosen, quality materials rather than getting suckered into buying endless new products that are actually quite limited in scope.

In the second section of the book, Diehn describes different types of journalling. She categorises journals into 7 different types and provides techniques that she thinks are particularly appropriate for each. I wasn’t totally convinced by her categories and most of the stuff I objected to occurred in this section.

The third section of the book is called ‘Pages In Stages’ and Diehn splits the working process into ’starters, middles and toppings’.explores how to work with the different levels of the page through techniques like layering, collage and using text. This is one of the shorter sections in the book since it’s basically reprising things that have already been described in earlier sections.

The final section of the book deals with some basic bookbinding - Diehn is a big fan of making your own journals so that you can control the size and type of paper and she demonstrates how to make several simple handmade books plus how to customise existing journals and reuse the covers from old hardback books. I have several other bookbinding books already so there wasn’t a whole lot here that was new to me but the information seemed clear and competent and it’s obvious that it’s something she’s passionate about.

Although there is undoubtedly much of value here, this is not a book that I can wholeheartedly recommend. The main problem I had with this book was Diehn’s tone, which I found overly lecturing and didactic. It’s very clear that she feels there’s a right and a wrong way to do things - for example, she assumes that paper buckling is always to be avoided but personally, I’ve found that buckled paper can be an interesting design element on a journal page rather than a problem.

Sure, it’s important to learn ‘the correct way’ to do things and I can understand her desire for ‘good practice’ but I also felt she could have recognised that art journalling is an expressive, experimental and free space for the artist, where the rules don’t always need to apply. It’s not that what she says is necessarily wrong - I agree with many of her opinions - but the way she says them invariably seemed to get my back up. Reading her words made me feel as though I was back at art college again. This isn’t surprising since Diehn is a tutor at an art college but I didn’t find it at all helpful or inspiring. Since I’m currently trying to unlearn quite a few of those art school conventions, I don’t need this approach. I took particular exception to her saying things like “you have to earn the right to draw the details”: I think that’s a staggeringly unhelpful thing to say to anyone, whatever stage of drawing they’re at.

In addition, I wasn’t particularly blown away by the journal pages shown; they often seemed to fall into a particular style and I felt there could have been a lot more variety. There also frequently seemed to be a disconnect between the illustrations and the text and it was sometimes hard to work out why a journal page had been selected to show a particular technique or idea.

However, many people might find her ‘voice of authority’ reassuring and comforting rather than invasive and irritating, as I did. If you want a book that tells you to ‘buy this colour’ and ‘don’t do that’, then this would be a good book to invest in because, despite my personal reservations, there is a huge amount of good information in here. In particular, if you’re new to art or art journalling and want to know about different materials and to be talked through the basics, then this book has a lot to recommend it. I just didn’t like the feeling of being talked down to but I’m well aware that this may be my personal hang-up. Certainly the book gets generally positive reviews on Amazon.com and elsewhere.

I borrowed this book from the library and while I’m glad that I’ve read it because I did learn some interesting new stuff, I was even more glad that I hadn’t bought it or added it to my Christmas list because personally I would have been disappointed. That said, I’m sure that many people would find it invaluable but I’d advise getting it from the library or checking it out in a bookshop before you buy to make sure it’s right for you.

I’m all out of words today, so here are a few photos that I took this morning.

Sitting on a park bench looking straight up into a grey sky drawn with inky branches:

The pavement is a book we can read:

Soaking my eyes in green:

Sometimes correspondences in your work surprise you. me-jade recently added these two photos of mine as ‘favourites’ on Flickr.

Kirsty Hall: Diary Project envelope from the 26th July 2007

Kirsty Hall: Parse, January 2007

Although I wasn’t conscious of it when I was drawing the envelope, when I saw the two images next to each other, I was struck by how very similar the shapes are.

I’ve been concentrating on updating The Diary Project blog this week: I’m woefully behind on it and it’s getting embarrassing. I’ve been updating the blog in small chunks because that’s all I can manage right now - writing the little musings is getting to be almost impossible. I’ve pretty much run out of things to say about my work: I didn’t know this was possible but apparently it is!

I did an update on Sunday and another one this morning plus I’m about halfway through scanning more than a month’s worth of envelopes. I scanned to the end of October yesterday and felt very pleased with myself before realising that hey, we’re already half way through November.

Here’s my favourite drawing from the latest update:

Kirsty Hall: Diary Project envelope from the 21st October 2007

Hopefully I’ll get another chunk done tomorrow - although frankly, if I never have to write another word about my damn drawings, it’ll be way too soon! In the meantime, I’m off to scan envelopes, which is time consuming but thankfully a lot less mentally taxing and I can catch up on podcasts while I’m doing it.

Apparently my muse really needed pens today!

A visit to both the craft store and the art shop this morning - conveniently but rather dangerously located a couple of minutes away from each other - resulted in rather more shopping than I had originally planned.

I bought 2 bottles of liquid acrylic (the only kind of acrylic I can stand the smell of), some varnish, some small metal brads and some stamps for the Diary Project - so far, so good. Unfortunately I then went a bit bananas with the pens and got 10 different ones that do a variety of exciting things. I’ve been doing lots of pages in my new art journal and need pens that will write over difficult surfaces such as soluble oil pastels; I’m hoping that at least some of these will.

For any fellow pen geeks out there, here’s what I got:

A waterproof black Faber-Castell Pitt Artist pen - I have some of their sepia ones but I haven’t tried the black before. I’m always on the look-out for good quality black pens for The Diary Project - at this point, I’ve probably tried most of the ones on the market.
Two Copic Ciao double-ended markers - I’ve never tried these before but I’ve heard good things about their ability to draw on almost every surface.
A Staedtler Triplus gel-liner in silver - because everyone needs a silver pen
A Sakura Gold Shadow pen in grey - these make a sort of two-tone metallic outline.
A Sakura Souffle pen in dark grey - these give a slightly embossed 3-D line, so they should be good when I want colour to stay contained within a certain area.
A Sakura Glaze pen in black - these dry to a nice glossy finish and can be used on all sorts of surfaces. I’m a bit excited by the idea of the clear one that you can write with and then layer colour over so it magically appears but I’ll see how I do with this one first.
A Sakura waterproof and archival Micron 01 black ink pen - again, to test out for The Diary Project.
A Sakura fine point gold marker - see silver pen comment!
A Sakura White extra fine marker - surprisingly the most expensive pen at £3.10. I do already have a white ink gel pen that I use in the Diary Project but it sticks a lot, the one seems to give a much smoother line.

You know, I wasn’t doing too badly until I saw that Sakura display in the craft shop - I’ve never seen this brand before and they were so alluring that I lost all sense of reason! What’s truly scary is that I could easily have spent a lot more. I was actually pretty restrained: I didn’t buy any sets and I didn’t get every kind of Sakura pen they had, I could have added another 4 or 5 to my basket but chose not to. Instead I deliberately got a selection of different things to test out, with the idea that if I like any particular kind, then I can add a set or two to my birthday/Christmas list.

We all have things we find hard to resist - for some people it’s magazines, clothes or electronics; with me it’s art materials. It used to be books as well but I’ve managed to get into the habit of mostly ordering those from the library instead of from Amazon.

I can mostly control my addiction to art materials - I often go for months without buying anything at all but every so often I just need a bit of a splurge. My wallet is definitely a lot lighter - altogether I spent just under £40 and about half of that was on the pens. I came out feeling that I probably ought to feel guilty but really I just felt utterly gleeful and still do. I guess sometimes you just need to do these things.

Well, I guess I’ll see you later - I’ve got a hot date with some pens!

Last week, I was lucky enough to be a recipient of a beautiful hand-bound book by Kaija as part of the Paying It Forward exchange. I’ve been putting off blogging about it because a) I haven’t been able to get a decent photo of the book and b) I wasn’t sure if any of Kaija’s other recipient’s read my blog and I didn’t want to spoil anyone else’s surprise.

However, since Kaija has just blogged about it, I guess it’s OK to go public about it now.

My book was beautifully wrapped…

And unsurprisingly, there was much squealing when I undid the ribbon to discover this…

Kaija took much better pictures than me, you can see the stitching and the image properly on her photograph.

Handbound book by Kaija, photograph by Kaija

Isn’t that stunning! The book opens completely flat, which is very helpful in an art journal and I love the image of the bare tree and the way the stitching goes into the cover. What you can’t see in the photos is that the pages inside are also brown paper - Kaija somehow miraculously knew without being told that I adore notebooks with brown pages. I may be visiting Australia in the spring for my brother’s wedding, so I have decided to save this very special book to use as a travel diary.

I can’t even begin to describe how fantastically well-made this book is and how wonderful it feels and looks in real life. It’s way beyond my own very limited book-binding skills and I’m quite in awe of her talents. I can only suggest that you all head over to her Etsy shop and indulge in one of her very reasonably priced treasures.

Now I just need to get my own exchange items out to my three Paying It Forward recipients; Kim, Liz and Tina. I have started work on my items but it’ll probably be at least another couple of weeks before I get them in the post; I’m never quick about these sort of things.

I have always been fascinated by artists’ studios, to the extent that I even wrote my BA dissertation on them. One of the things I find so compelling about them is their very distinct aura: well-loved and much-used studios have a powerful sense of place. I’m sure it’s one reason why art trails and open studio events are so popular; being allowed into the spaces where other people create has a seductive allure and the strong suggestion of intimate secrets revealed. Personally, I can never resist having a peek at other artists’ storage systems. Is there an order that I can discern and do I understand it? Would I have arranged things differently and what does their system tell me about them? How have they organised their tools - are they a neat or a messy worker? And do they clean their brushes!

You can often get a strong sense of the artist’s personality from their studio. When I visited Barbara Hepworth’s studio in St Ives, I was struck by how very present she was: even though she was dead, it truly felt as though she’d just popped out to do a bit of drawing on the beach and she’d be back to finish off that stone carving any second now.

Artists are usually well aware that their studio is almost a person in its own right - at the very least, it has a definite genius loci or ’spirit of place’. But in order to keep this spirit happy, a studio needs to be inhabited, it needs to be worked in. I’ve often heard artists describe their studios as ‘dead’ or ’stale’ when they haven’t been working in them enough and I’m sure most artists are familiar with the need to tidy the studio after an absence or when they’re getting ready for a new series of work.

I’ve been having that discontented ‘I need to start something new’ art itch lately and have even been questioning the direction that my work has taken in past years - in short, I feel on the cusp of change. So it’s no coincidence that my studio has been undergoing a redesign in the last couple of months. In the summer I acquired some much-needed shelving and moved the desk to a better position and it instantly became a much more inviting creative space.

A studio is a working space and consequently it needs to work - things have to be accessible and easy to find, you need to know where your materials are and to have power, heat and light where you want them. Your studio also needs to be right for you and your working pattern, which is why artists’ studios are so very individual and revealing. While I’m absolutely enthralled by Francis Bacon’s re-created studio, I know I couldn’t create a single thing in it - I need more order and much more visual simplicity than that. Your studio should fit you like a pair of comfortable shoes - if it doesn’t, then you simply won’t want to spend time there. I hadn’t consciously realised how draining and unappealing I’d been finding my own studio until I started the overhaul.

It’s also important not to get hung up on romantic images of what you think an artists’ studio should look like or where it should be - spend some time exploring what your studio needs to look and feel like. When I first graduated, I paid for three months of studio time in a cold, noisy building on the other side of town because I thought that ‘a real artist needs a proper studio’ and I thought that meant a building with other artists in it. Then a conversation with a friend made me realise that I did all my best work at home and always had done - when I was in college, I used to work in the evenings on the dining room table and then take my work into college and install it in my space. My days at college weren’t usually spent making - instead they were spent researching in the library, updating my sketchbook, pottering around seeing what everyone else was up to, drinking endless cups of tea and gossiping!

Recognising this fact made it apparent why dragging myself over to the cold, expensive studio had been so very hard - there were no friends, no communal cups of tea and no nice library books!

We’re fortunate enough to have a large house, so I promptly cancelled the studio, happily put the rent money towards materials and got on with working from home. For a while I worked downstairs in our basement before discovering that it was wrong for the kind of work I make - everything got damp or dirty and I didn’t like going down there because it was too dark and gloomy. Eventually I moved up to a spare room in the top floor of the house where I have cream walls, lots of natural light, plenty of warmth and carpeting - apparently I am an artist who needs a lot of home comforts in order to create! Yet even when I was finally installed in the right space, it took me until this year to get my studio working properly and it’s still not quite how I want it.

So this afternoon - bone tired after a bad night of insomnia and with all my creative wells dry - I once again found myself tending to The Spirit Of My Studio. My son helped me carry up boxes of materials from the appropriately named Cupboard Of Doom. I then spent an hour sorting through them, getting rid of some things, rehoming misplaced items and then labelling the boxes with my beloved Dymo labeller before stacking them neatly on the shelves.

It’s still not quite right in there but each time I organise my studio, it gets a little bit clearer. And I feel that space inside, the space where the new work is beginning to grow, getting just that little bit bigger and I breathe a little more easily.

I think I just fell a little bit in love. Suzi Blu is a cute young art goddess who makes short videos about art journalling that she puts up on YouTube.

I just love her quirkiness and her passion. She’s done lots of videos - there’s a list here - and I’m having a happy evening working my way through them.

OK, I have a BIG confession to make. All through college, I kept immaculate, beautifully presented and very professional A4 sketchbooks. Looking up at the shelves above me, I see fifteen of them in an ordered line, their spines labelled with the dates. They’re almost identical - always portrait style and usually black, with a couple of patterned ones when I couldn’t find black ones.

Not for me the messy, spilling out at the seams, arty sketchbook barely held together with bits of string or rubber bands. Although I adore that style when I look at other people’s journals, at the time I just couldn’t bring myself to be that messy. Instead, my sketchbooks closed tidily on pages filled with perfectly aligned, neatly trimmed images and printed or carefully handwritten thoughts on my art. It’s slightly odd because I’m certainly not a naturally tidy person - maybe I was searching for a safe space within the chaos?

I spent a lot of time on those sketchbooks. I kept huge boxes of trimmed photos that I regularly culled from magazines and I would spend happy hours sorting through them looking for just the right combination of images that would show where my inspiration was coming from. I patiently selected the photos that showed my work to its best advantage, as well as the ‘during’ shots that documented the process and lined them up and taped them in. I added documentation from exhibitions I was involved in and analysed what I could have done better. I went through hundreds of rolls of my beloved double-sided sticky tape. I thought of my sketchbooks as works of art in their own right and they truly are. When I reread them, I can see that they are wonderful objects, as well as being useful documents that accurately chart my artistic process through the years. I’m justifiably proud of them and I love to look up at that neat line of them on my bookshelf.

But… but… but…

I got out of college and my sketchbooks sort of ground to a halt and then stopped almost completely. Every so often I’ll pick up the current one, write an ‘it’s been far too long since I’ve written anything in here’ entry, post in a couple of pictures, write down a few ideas and then guiltily ignore it for another six months. I think I’ve filled nearly two in the last five years - me, an artist who once went through a sketchbook every three months or so! It’s pitiful and it’s been weighing on me a lot recently.

I’m sure it’s no coincidence that my sketchbook use tailed off when I started blogging - a lot of my writing energy undoubtedly went into my online journalling instead. In addition, no longer being in college seemed to take a lot of the ‘people judging me’ energy out of it. There just wasn’t the same drive to do my sketchbooks that there had once been.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never stopped writing down my ideas - I have a little notebook by my bed where most of my art pieces start and another notebook in my handbag to catch the ideas that happen when I’m out of the house and I treasure both of those. I also write ideas on my computer if that’s where I happen to be, keep a card index box of ‘art ideas’ on my desk and for the last two years I’ve been doing a series of ink drawings in an ever increasing pile of A5 cartridge pads.

But those well documented, bright, shiny and oh-so-acceptable sketchbooks - er, not so much! I’m kind of embarrassed about it and I feel guilty and cross with myself. But when I think about sitting down and taping in photos, writing about what I’ve been doing, trimming photocopies and images to fit the pages and lining everything up perfectly - well, my heart just sinks. It feels overwhelming and impossible and it’s time to admit it; something that once brought me genuine joy and satisfaction, now just fills me with dread.

After watching Suzi’s videos, I thought ‘enough already, I’ve got to do something about this situation’. So I picked up the mostly unused moleskine sketchbook sitting next to my computer and let rip with some black goache, white ink pen and a couple of my beloved Inktense pencils. Wham, two pages of art journalling done in about half an hour and boy, do I feel better. No, it’s definitely not my perfect and pristine sketchbook but it’s obvious that the old way isn’t working any more, so I need to try something new.

Our ’shoulds’ can really inhibit our art; they stifle the flow of creativity within us. Yes, it would be nice if I could keep making those beautiful ordered sketchbooks and I probably ’should’ but it’s far more important that I keep my art going. On the first page of my new journal I wrote in coloured pencil “It’s time to get messy” and it is. Perhaps one day those pristine sketchbooks will be right for me again but for now, it’s time to let them go.

Last night I pottered over to my friend Camilla’s private view at the Here Gallery. Unfortunately I got there quite late, which meant that I missed seeing some friends but there was a silver lining because I got to go to the pub with Camilla and a few people afterwards.

The show is called Abracadabra and features work by three different artists - Cindy Jaswal, Claire Platt and of course, Camilla Stacey. It’s a fun little show and well worth a look if you’re in the Bristol area. Interestingly, the show came about after the artists met through the internet - yet another example of how artists can find and develop art opportunities online.

Camilla is showing some of her series of reglazed found porcelain figures against a background of hand made wallpaper. She hunts for little figures in charity shops and then re-paints them with gold lustre glaze and then re-fires them. The glaze seems to make the figures heavy and sometimes slightly melancholic because it’s not a bright gold but more of a dull, thick colour that seems to pull the light into the figures rather than reflecting it. She also had a set of white figures in varying states of decrepitude that she’d cast in plaster. She gave me a little head with a missing nose, which I’ll be putting in my cabinet of curiosities. I hadn’t seen this work before, so I was interested in how it was coming along but I was sad that Camilla hadn’t shown any of her excellent drawings.

Camilla Stacey - Virgin Mary

Claire Platt trained in Bristol but now lives and works in London. She’s showing a large group of her embroideries, drawings and ceramics based on human anatomy. I liked these a great deal, they’re shown in a big group and I love the way they work together. A lot of the pieces have gold thread, are encrusted with sequins or are shown in mirrored or gilt frames - it could be tacky but somehow it really works.

Claire Platt - Installation View

I was a bit naughty and bought myself an early birthday present - one of the most abstract drawings (you can’t see it clearly but it’s the little blue rectangle on the bottom left). Claire, if you happen to read this, I’m thrilled to have got one of your pieces but both Camilla and I think you’re drastically underpricing your work!

If I’d had the money, I would definitely have bought one of Cindy Jarwal’s exquisite ink drawings too. Sadly, although they were very fairly priced at £100, they were just a bit out of my reach - one of the downsides of being an artist is that although you’d happily buy art, you don’t usually have much of a budget for it. I’m not showing Cindy’s work in this post because she asks that people don’t reproduce it without permission but you can see more of it on her Flickr or her website and it’s gorgeous so I strongly encourage you to hop over and have a look. Her style reminded me quite strongly of my own Diary Project drawings, so it’s not surprisingly that I liked them so much. They were my favourite things in the exhibition and I may just have to go back and see if I can buy a piece in instalments. I don’t buy that much art - usually just one or two pieces a year - but I know that I’ll absolutely kick myself if I don’t get one of these.

Here’s a little something for Halloween!

Luke Chueh’s paintings astound me. Glancing at the thumbnails, I thought they might be overly sweet and sentimental - ha, nothing could be further from the truth!

Luke Chueh - 15 Minutes of Fame

Obviously many of his paintings - with their cast of sad bunnies, worried chickens, disturbed monkeys and world-weary teddy bears - explore horror and the darker side of childhood. However, what takes his work up to the next level for me is the expressions on his characters faces; there’s such pathos there but described with such precise and retrained economy. There’s always been something a little tragic about cuddly toys and he exploits this to the full, but his twisted, and often very silly, sense of humour usually stops his work from becoming maudlin. On a technical level, I love his pared-down palette of sombre colours.

Luke Chueh - Monkey Grinder

His work is sometimes available as prints from Munky King and he’s definitely on my list of ‘artists whose work I want to own’.

Luke Chueh - Squid

Having seen the Paying It Forward idea on Artist, Emerging, I immediately wanted to join in, so I headed over to the people Deanna was making things for and was delighted to discover that Kaija from Paperiaarre still had one space. So I’m her third person and I consider myself very lucky because wow, just look at the gorgeous books she makes!

I’ve done a little bit of very simple book binding and it’s a lot of fun but I’ve certainly not made any as luscious as this. She also makes very beautiful handmade brooches.

Anyway, it’s now my turn to pass it on.

Pay It Forward (via Kaija, via Deanna, via Mrs Eliot and so on)*

Here are the rules:

I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.

Pretty straightforward huh, I agree to make and send something to the first three people to comment, who then make things for their first three commenters and so on. OK, have at it, people…

EDIT: Even though it looks like I’ve got three responders, one of them is my partner and he doesn’t actually want to take part - he was just responding to the question of who came up with the term ‘paying it forward’ - so, there’s still one spot available.

* I’ve tried to find out who originally started this idea but haven’t been able to follow the thread of connections back far enough. Does anyone know who should get the credit?

Wow, I didn’t mean to be away for so long - sorry about that. Despite my policy of trying to post most days, the last two weeks have been completely hopeless. Last week I had the cold from hell, on top of an existing illness and it just knocked me flat. I’m still sneezing explosively but at least I’ve got my voice back and I’m thankful that I’m no longer violently coughing quite so frequently. Ah well, at least it’s taught me is that I need to store a backlog of extra posts to use when I’m not well - so I guess it was useful for something!

Needless to say, not much art has been happening around here lately - I’ve been managing to do my daily envelope for The Diary Project and that’s been about it. However, in between doses of cough medicine and Lemsip, I have been getting plenty of knitting and reading done - so here, for your delectation and delight, is a book review.

Following Katherine’s positive review of The Drawing Book by Dr. Sarah Simblet, I ordered a copy from the local library (don’t you just love interlibrary loans!) and it’s been my late night reading for the past week or so.

I can safely say that The Drawing Book will definitely be going on my Christmas wish list because it’s absolutely chock full of good stuff, including one of the clearest explanations of traditional perspective that I’ve read.

The book is split into short, well written chapters on a variety of subjects including landscape drawing portraiture, nature drawing and even abstract drawing. I particularly liked that drawing from the imagination wasn’t ignored - so many drawing instruction books focus solely on realism, which often puts me off since that’s not my primary interest. Simblet introduces each topic with relevant drawings, both her own and other artists, before going on to detail a drawing exercise that the reader can attempt. However, even if you don’t try any of the exercises - and I haven’t yet - you’ll still get a lot out of this book.

I was particularly struck by the way she looks at drawing with a fresh eye and how she’s able to communicate that to the reader. The book is full of a wide range of great drawings and she has included some more unusual artists alongside the usual subjects such as Picasso, Goya and Rembrandt. The range of drawings is pleasingly global and stretches from neolithic cave painting right through to contemporary artists who are taking drawing in new directions. It was actually a little odd that I’d met three of the people whose work she showed but since she used to teach at my college and they also had links there, I guess it’s not so very strange - the British art scene is staggeringly small at times!

The information about materials is also very solid. Apart from focusing on the usual things like paper, pencils, ink and charcoal - which all have handy, nicely illustrated, double page spreads scattered throughout the book - Simblet also highlights some more unusual drawing materials like silverpoint, which I’ve never considered using before and am now very keen to try. Her explanations of drawing materials are straightforward and easy to understand without being overly simplistic. Indeed, the same can be said for all the language throughout the book, which makes it pleasingly accessible - frankly, this is an absolute blessing since far too many art books are heavy-going to say the least.

I’d say this book would be good both for relative beginners and more experienced artists who are looking to expand or develop their drawing skills. Older children who are keen on art might also benefit from this book, not least because of the potted tour of art history. That said, I don’t think it’s a book that I’d give to a complete beginner because I think they might find it a bit daunting. But if you’ve been drawing for a little while and have got past the absolute basics, then I’d definitely recommend it - I’ve been drawing for years and I still learnt loads. Plus, it’s beautifully laid out with high production values, reasonably priced, well edited and best of all, it doesn’t make drawing seem boring!

Joanne B Kaar is a Scottish artist who works with fibre and bookmaking. In 2006 she completed a three month residency in Durness in Sutherland, which she documented in a fascinating blog.

Joanne B Kaar - Sango Sands Seapapers

During the residency she made a series of books from handmade paper, often using local materials. Some of these books were subjected to pretty harsh treatment like being buried or thrown in the sea! It’s amazing that they’ve survived as well as they have - it’s easy to forget how robust paper can be as a medium.

Sutherland is a place that is very dear to my heart. Most of my childhood holidays were spent in Achnahaird in Ross and Cromarty and every holiday included a day trip to Lochinver in the neighbouring Sutherland. Although it was very close as the crow flies, it was an hour-long drive on a narrow, twisting and often terrifying road. I’ve just checked and according to the AA it’s 16 miles yet takes an hour and 8 minutes - that should give you an idea of just how bad the road is! It was worth it though - not least for the annual visit to Achins Bookshop in Inverkirkaig - apparently the most remote bookshop in the British Isles. I always saved most of my holiday money so that I could splurge on books and I still remember the feeling of deep contentment that walking out with a bag of carefully chosen books gave me. I also have fond memories of standing on the pier in Lochinver watching the fishing boats unloading and sitting on the seafront eating homemade pies from the incredibly good local bakery.

Durness is a lot further up the coast and not somewhere I’ve visited but Joanne’s photographs of the area, with all their Highland familiarity, certainly brought up plenty of nostalgia. I love living in Bristol and feel very at home here, but so many of my creative roots lie in those summer holidays in the Highlands - long days spent damming little streams with my brothers and cousins, building complex sand sculptures with my Dad, riding invisible horses, grinding down sandstone in an attempt to make pigment (I used to pretend I was a neolithic cave painter!), patiently drawing for hours in the caravan on rainy days and writing bad poetry once I was a teenager. For several years now I’ve been needing to reconnect with those roots and I know that I absolutely must make a trip to the Highlands soon because the feeling is getting quite desperate. While I don’t really subscribe to the idea of a ‘muse’, I have learnt over the years that it’s not a good idea to ignore particularly persistent creative cravings.

Where do your creative roots lie? Is it a place? A feeling? A particular smell? A certain kind of pencil or the feel of a fresh sketchbook?

Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find out all that much about Dutch artist, Anita Groener but I like the way her work alternates between spareness and complexity.

Anita Groener: Labyrinth IX

Anita Groener - Freeway

These two works form part of the Crossing series. Over the space of three years Groener drove about 12,000 kilometers between The Netherlands (her homeland) and Ireland (her adopted country) and these regular road trips became a huge influence on her studio practice. She describes this series in the following way:

The verb Crossing signifies movement, a movement which is not uniform but which is drawn back and forth. In my drawings I try to capture the delineation of movements of thought processes occurring in space and time, between here and there, between the point of departure and arrival. The journey of the line marks the surface turning it into visual patterns. What you see is a physical manifestation of the layers of routes and directions taken in this process, revealing its manifold meanings.

I’ve found so many stories and links that I’d slung into the folders on my desktop, that the only way to get through them is to do a bit of a round-up. Maybe I’ll make this a weekly feature since I always seem to find far more than will comfortably fit into my regular blogging schedule.

Links

Nick from The Boat Lullabies blog found a fascinating photographic history in a thrift store.

Bob collects pencils - lots and lots of brand name pencils. Now, I like pencils as much as the next artist but this strikes even me as a tad odd. It is a well done site though - I like the regularity of the design and you know what, Bob’s right, these pencils are kind of beautiful when you see them all en masse.

Photographer Helga Steppan, organised all her belongings by colour - the results are stunning.

The Mega Penny Project is a handy way to visualise large numbers.

Such a clever idea - people who’ve matched their screensavers to the background behind their computer so that it looks as though their computer screen is transparent.

I adored this short animation called Hiccups 101 by Jessica Sances.

Craig Robinson has done a series of what he calls ‘lollipops’ - abstracted computer drawings of musicians and pop stars. I was fascinated by how little I needed to identify some of them. I listen to a lot of music on my computer but I don’t watch MTV particularly, so I was surprised at how often the names of musicians instantly popped into my head - even ones I’d never heard sing. Even when I couldn’t remember the name, I’d often still know who it was meant to be - I guess most of us are steeped in celebrity culture whether we want to be or not.

It’s not art related but this YouTube video of a small child trying to communicate something important to his increasingly giggly father makes me laugh hysterically every time I see it.

People

Regular commenter, Tina Mammoser from The Cycling Artist has a good post about avoiding scams which was inspired by this post by Alyson Stanfield.

Ulf Nawrot who did the post-it drawings that I linked to back in August, kindly sent the following clarification on his process:

All my post its were drawn while doing something else in an ad agency: phone calls, meetings, brainstormings-if you are looking close you will find lots of valuable information hidden on these notes like phone numbers, comments etc.-but you will also find my different states of mind, anger, distraction, making fun of people…the whole thing started subconscious like the swirls and ornaments a lot of people draw on desks and everything else in reach when they are doing phone calls.I have been collecting my post its since 1993 and at this point there must be around 25.000 of them.

25,000 of them - wow, way to go, Ulf!

I’ve been in a creative slump lately because I’ve been unwell. I just haven’t had the energy to do much of anything, let alone making art - although of course, I’m still doing my daily envelopes for The Diary Project. But overall, I’ve just been feeling totally blah about my work - it happens and I know it’ll pass but it’s still not a fun place to be in.

One of the few things that has been creatively exciting me lately is Camilla Engman’s Organized Collection group on Flickr.

So my art practice for the last few weeks has mostly involved collecting little object on the days when I’ve been able to get out and about and just taking simple photos of them on walls or paving stones. It’s small and it’s simple but at least it makes me feel as if I’m still doing something.

Kirsty Hall, found rubber bands, October 2007

Kirsty Hall, found rubber bands, October 2007

One of the things I noticed when I first started joining Flickr groups was how it made me see the world in different ways and how I stretched my photography a little bit because of it. I’d take different photos than usual because I’d think “hey, that would be a good shot for such-and-such a group”. If you’re feeling the need for a bit of a creative stretch, particularly in relation to your photography, then I’d recommend it.

And having said all that, I’m now going to take myself and my camera outside to the garden to see what I can find, before I need to go for yet another rest.

1: Keep Something Back

You don’t have to share your whole process and every piece of art you make. It can be nourishing to keep a private sketchbook or make little test pieces that you don’t intend to share. I have a couple of sketchbooks that I don’t usually show to anyone. Apart from anything else, we all need a place where we feel emotionally free to make bad art without worrying about an audience!

2: Let Yourself Play

Remember what got you into art in the first place and take some time to reconnect with that joy. This can easily get forgotten when you’re a professional artist and bogged down in promotional activities and exhibition schedules, so make sure you also schedule some playing time. Taking classes in a different technique or trying out an exciting new art material can be a good way to access what Buddhists calls ‘beginner’s mind’, that wonderful state where everything is exciting and fresh.

3: Find A Balance

Balance your practice by finding forms that complement each other. For example, if your work takes a long time and involves long and complicated projects, then regularly doing little pieces that can be finished quickly is a good counterbalance. It helps you feel as though you really are getting stuff done. Artists have traditionally done this by using drawing as a complement to painting or sculpture but it’s not the only option, performance, photography, writing, music or another form can also fill that need for immediacy.

Conversely, if you tend to complete works quickly, taking on a longer, more involved project can be an interesting challenge. Working in series is often a way of doing this but maybe you can think of other more unusual ways.

4: Love Your Process

I’ve seen far too many people, particularly at art school, endlessly struggling with a medium or form that they just don’t enjoy. Why? Art is hard enough without handicapping yourself with a process that doesn’t excite you. You need a certain amount of joy to get through all the bits that you don’t like, so don’t lumber yourself with a form that just doesn’t do it for you - it’s not noble, it’s just masochistic!

5: Accept The Lows

Anyone who tells you that art is a wonderful, creative thing that always makes you happy is an idiot!

Annoyance, small bursts of depression and large doses of frustration are a normal part of the artistic process. It doesn’t mean that you’re no good, that you’re not cut out to be an artist or that you’re doing the wrong thing, it just means that you’re engaged with your work. Just make sure that you do have a deep core of love for your process - if you’re annoyed all the time then you probably need to reconsider your medium (see number 4).

In my experience, anger and frustration usually happen right before a breakthrough and it’s a sign that I need to stick with a piece - although if I’m throwing things around the studio and yelling, I tend to take a day off! Feeling low usually happens when I’ve just completed something big - I call it The Exhibition Blues - and it’s always a sign that I need to step away from art for a while to recharge my batteries, assess what I’ve just finished and get ready for the next piece.

6: Fill Up The Well

Art doesn’t form in a vacuum and it’s important to replenish your inspiration on a regular basis. Julia Cameron suggests regular Artist’s Dates, where you schedule inspirational treats for yourself and I’d totally agree. This could involve reading art books; going to the theatre or cinema; visiting art galleries or museums; taking photograph’s at a farmer’s market; going for a walk; taking a day trip or indulging in some new materials at the art shop - the key is that it should be something that nourishes and inspires you. If you’re starting to feel a bit stale or low, then try this.

7: Write It Down

Give your brain a helping hand and write down all your ideas, not just the ones that seem immediately good and relevant. You can always edit them later and you never know when a seemingly unimportant thought will develop into a larger project. I often think that I’ve come up with a brand new idea but invariably I’ll find a single sentence in an old notebook that was clearly the original spark. New art takes time to grow, at least several years in my experience. Writing things down is a way of planting your ideas and then letting them develop while you’re busy getting on with something else - I call this process ‘composting’.

The notebook that I keep by my bed is the most important of the 5 or 6 journals and sketchbooks that I use. I wouldn’t want to be without the other notebooks because they all serve different purposes but the majority of my ideas start out in that little bedside book.

Bed is apparently where I think best but it varies from person to person. I know someone who keeps a waterproof board and pencil in her bathroom because she gets her best ideas in the bath. Someone else I know writes ideas on the steamy doors of her shower cubicle and then dashes out to grab some paper before they evaporate! Work out where you think best and make absolutely sure that you keep a way of recording ideas there.

8: Make Art A Priority

You need to make a space for art in your life. If art isn’t a priority then it simply won’t get done and you’ll get to the end of another year wondering why you haven’t made any work.

I do know that it’s difficult: if you’re working another job to pay your bills or raising children, then finding time and energy to make art can be especially tough but you need to keep hold of the idea that you’re an artist, that it’s central to who you are and that you’re going to keep making work somehow.

You may need to work in the margins of the day - on your lunch break, on public transport, as you’re waiting for a meeting to start, while the kids are napping or when the rest of the household is asleep. When I worked in a hospital, I used to sketch the visitors to the canteen on my lunchbreak. I didn’t do it every day but I did it enough that it noticeably improved my drawing at a time when I had no access to life drawing classes. I know several writers who’ve written zines and even novels in spare minutes at work. Other artists find ways to incorporate their paid work into their art, perhaps by using it as the subject of their work.

It’s easy to think that you need vast swathes of time in order to be an artist but that’s not always the case: what you need is a steady and regular commitment. Yes, having lots of time can be great but it can also make you freeze. When I was at college I used to spend most of the day talking to people, pottering around the studio and drinking endless cups of tea and then in the last hour I’d finally get myself in gear and do some work. I’ve learnt that I tend to do much better with a limited amount of time and a deadline.

If you’ve got serious limitations to contend with, then another option is to temporarily alter your practice. If you can’t make sculpture because you don’t have the space, then maybe you can draw, if you can’t get access to printmaking equipment, then maybe you can do monoprints instead, if your oil paints are toxic to your toddler then switch to gouache. Don’t be afraid to explore the options - you’re an artist, you can surely come up with a creative solution.

When my son was small, I couldn’t even draw because if he woke up and threw me out of that creative zone, then I wanted to throw him out of the window! I decided this wasn’t an ideal frame of mind for parenting, so I switched to photography and writing - both forms I was able to pick up and put down much more easily - until he was older and I had more mental space. And let me tell you, I came out of that restricted period like a bat out of hell, I had so much stored up creative energy that it powered me for years.

9: Create A Supportive Space

It’s vital for artists to have support, particularly from the people that they live with. The importance of having people in your life who understand your need to make art can’t be overstated. They don’t need to like or understand your work, although it helps, but they do need to understand what it means to you.

Again, I know it isn’t always possible to have this support - you may be in an existing relationship with a partner who doesn’t quite get it or have a birth family who are firmly opposed to you being an artist. You can still make art in these circumstances but you’ll have to be prepared to fight your corner and that’s draining and takes energy away from your work. Sadly, I have noticed that people who end up quitting art often have families who undermine their choice to be an artist, either directly or more subtly.

I’m incredibly lucky, my family of choice are totally supportive - bemused sometimes, but always supportive. Of course, I say luck but really it was a choice - I put art at the centre of my life and deliberately picked people who support me. When I was single, the two fundamental things that anyone getting involved with me had to accept were:
1) I was a parent and my kid came first
2) I was an artist and I had no intention of giving that up for anyone.

It was always an absolute deal-breaker for me - I can be quite hard-nosed and selfish about my art when I have to be and I just wasn’t prepared to trade art for ‘love’.

10: Don’t Quit!

Ah, the most important tip of all!

David Bayles and Ted Orland talk extensively in Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking about the importance of not quitting and give a host of reasons why people do, plus ways to avoid it. It’s an excellent book and one that I reread most years - every artist should own a copy.

If you want to be an artist then quite simply you have to find ways to keep making art and not stop, no matter what life throws at you. Good luck! And don’t forgot to have a bit of fun along the way…

Last night, my son had his 15th birthday ’sleepover’ (why do they call them sleepovers when no sleep ever happens?), so I was in nominal charge of 8 teenage boys. This morning, as my son and I cleared up the quite considerable mess, I found myself musing over the similarities between parenting and art.

Art is an everyday thing. Like parenting, it is made up of lots of little moments, a thousand little decisions and a hundred thousand moments of just showing up - what Alison Lee of Craftcast calls “getting your butt in the chair”.

Art is usually not the heroic struggle of Romanticism or the epic machismo of the 1950’s Action Painters, although those big dramatic moments do sometimes occur, most often in the run up to an exhibition. Instead art - for me at least - is rooted in the everyday; in the daily ritual of the Diary Project envelopes, in the way I sit in my computer chair listening to podcasts while I do another couple of rows on a Thread Drawing canvas, in the slowly changing pile of art books that are permanently in residence under my bed.

Although it is not usually about domesticity, my art is firmly rooted in the home. I am fortunate enough to have a studio at home and like Virginia Woolf, I recognise the importance of having a room of my own. However, my art also takes place in other rooms in the house: in the living room while I’m watching TV with my family, in my bed where I often draw, in our library/dining room where I sit at the big table and stick photos into my sketchbook, in my study as I make work in front of the computer, in the shower where I think up ideas, in the kitchen when I get distracted from cooking by the sudden overwhelming need to photograph the ingredients.

Art permeates my whole life - it isn’t confined to a set time or a set place.

In the myths about art, this everyday quality is often omitted. For some reason, it suits people to imagine dramatic moments of crazed genius, a life lived on the bohemian edge and a slow descent into madness, drugs and suicide. We seem to want our artists to be very different from everyone else. Perhaps the reality of getting your butt in the chair, like the daily grind and pleasure of parenting, seems too mundane to most people? Was this great art really made in front of the TV or with radio 4 playing in the background while the artist drank cups of tea and pottered around the studio - how dull! We wanted death threats and overdoses, tortured homosexual love affairs, rats and cockroaches in the studio, drunken pissing in the fireplace, body parts cut off and maybe a couple of tragic stabbings!

But art - like parenting - is not something you do once in one grand and shocking gesture and then never again. Instead, it’s a constant trickle, a constant reiteration that this tiny thing, this moment of awareness, this quiet, everyday dedication is the really important thing.

Sheree Rensel commented on this post:

I totally agree with comments presented. I too realize that blogging is very beneficial for aspects related to motivation and building an audience. However, I want to know how blogging has helped your INCOME. How has blogging increased your sales or increased the money you get to support your art?
That is the topic for which I am REALLY interested.

Sheree Rensel: Blue

Ah Sheree, the answer to that would be ‘not at all’ since I’m not currently set up to make money off my art. I am slowly coming to terms with the idea that maybe I should try to make some money from my work but it’s something that I’m still internally struggling with. For a long time I believed that my work was completely unsaleable because of the fragile and often temporary nature of the things that I made. That’s no longer as true as it once was but I’m still trying to reprogramme my brain on this issue. I plan to write more about the issue of money and artists in the future.

That’s a long-winded way of saying that I’m probably not the best person to answer your question!

Fortunately, Katherine from Making A Mark left a long and detailed comment, some of which addressed this issue. I’m reprinting the relevant bits here:

Kirsty - I absolutely agree a blog should be for yourself. I personally am less on reading ‘commercial’ blogs where people are blogging for a business which is not their own or because they think it’s ‘what you have to do’ to sell art. These blogs often seem to run out of steam after a bit.

Blogs which just present work for sale (as one e-bay) are fine by me - but IMO they work so much better with a few details about why the artist chose to paint the picture…

…Re. last comment, here’s my observation. The people who appear to sell consistently using their blogs as part of their marketing are those who do good quality work. (By which I mean good quality work will find a buyer if you market effectively). What a blog maybe does for them is speed up the process of increasing awareness - and then once you’ve attracted people who like watching what you produce then you have a ready market of people who are more likely to buy.

I would agree with this, personally I prefer blogs where the artist is not solely focused on selling, although I have no objections to being gently reminded that they’ve updated their Etsy shop or that a particular piece is available in a commercial gallery. In fact, I definitely think that artists should do that, where applicable.

However, the artists who seem to have the most success online usually seem to take the long view. For example, Camilla Engman is an artist who’s had a lot of success online and she seems to have built up her sales in a gentle and organic way. She cultivates an audience for her work by having relationships with the readers of her chatty and informal blog and maintaining an active Flickr presence including starting a new group called Organised Collection recently. And of course, she makes excellent and consistent work that she offers at a range of prices from affordable calendars and prints to the more expensive original paintings.

Camilla Engman: Collection 2

Engman is a lovely example of how to operate as an artist in the offline world too. We had a show of her work at the Here Gallery and she included a couple of packs of her little prints as a thank-you gift for those of us who’d helped with the show. She’s the only artist I can recall who did something like this and it was certainly appreciated by those of us who unpacked and hung her show, since we were all volunteers and none of us were getting paid. Getting curators and gallery people on your side never hurts!

Paul Catanese, Assistant Professor of New Media at San Francisco State University kindly sent me info about a panel on art blogging that he’s chairing at the College Art Association Conference in Dallas in February 2008.

He brings up some interesting questions in the panel blurb:

An explosion of new blogs from artists, collectors, galleries, residency programs and museums are reshaping notions of professional practice within the arts. Though promotion is certainly a major driver in this arena, sites such as Art.Blogging.LA, Walker Blogs, Art Fever and PORT are especially good at projecting a local arts scene into a broader context. Other models investigate blog as sketchbook, establishing a new format for the open atelier. Does art blogging indicate the emergence of a dislocated, yet thoroughly local arts scene? Can blogs shift the space of studio practice while retaining its capability to be unstructured? Is the quest for site traffic inherently at odds with healthy periods of gestation and dormancy? What models exist for balancing these forces? What are the implications for establishing or maintaining an art practice for those who remain virtually present, yet physically distant?

This jumped out at me: Is the quest for site traffic inherently at odds with healthy periods of gestation and dormancy? This is a particularly interesting question to me right now since I’m currently not at my best health-wise and I’m trying to balance regular updating here with a need for large amounts of sleep and cold medicine (could make for some funky blogging this week!) It’s great to see someone recognising that art practice does require these dormant periods where you’re cooking up new work and aren’t ready to talk about it yet and I can certainly see how that could make keeping a sketchbook type blog difficult. Indeed, I’ve noticed that it’s not uncommon for artists who’re doing a blog that’s focused on their own work to go a bit quiet on occasion.

Anyway, if you’re interested, Paul’s currently looking for panel members and the deadline for abstracts is the November 9, 2007.

Sorry about the lack of posts over the weekend, we had visitors and I just didn’t get a spare minute to update.

I’m a big fan of Tara Donovan’s art. I love the way she uses vast accumulations of objects like polystyrene cups, pins, sheets of glass and drinking straws to make dense, layered sculptures. She stacks the objects but then lets them find their own pattern and form.

Tara Donovan: Haze, 2003

I find the way her work refracts colour very interesting, she often uses translucent materials that become subtly coloured when layered in such large quantities. It seems to me that there’s something about the importance of revealing the hidden in her work.

Tara Donovan: Haze, detail, 2003

I must admit that I was envious when I saw her huge block of pins - although I just don’t work on that sort of scale, I love that she does. The pins aren’t held together with anything other than gravity and their own interlocking chaotic mass.

Tara Donovan: Untitled, 2001

If you want to read more about her work, there’s a good review here by Paul Brewer and an artnet interview with Donovan here.

Sorry about the odd formatting on a couple of the images in this post, I can’t work out why it’s doing that or how to fix it.

The Diary Project suffered its first real casualty recently when this envelope came back so mauled that the Royal Mail put it in a special ‘oh dear, we’re incredibly sorry’ plastic bag. Amazingly, the contents are still inside.

Kirsty Hall: Diary Project envelope from the 10th September 2007

Kirsty Hall: plastic bag from the Royal Mail

I was totally thrilled, it’s the most exciting thing that’s happened so far!

The project blog is currently up to date until the 16th September and should be updated again over the weekend, although we have house guests this weekend so it might not happen until Monday. I’ve been a bit behind with it lately but I’m attempting to get back onto a regular schedule with updates. If I leave it too long it gets completely overwhelming.

I got an interesting email from someone a couple of weeks ago asking me why I post the letters to myself and not to another person. I won’t post their original letter because they haven’t responded to my request to do so but here’s an extract from my reply:

Why do I post the letters? Well, I like the sense of risk involved - the envelopes might get lost in the post or damaged. I’m a bit of a control freak so posting the letters is an interesting way for me to let go a bit. My work has always involved a certain amount of ‘letting nature take its course’ - in the past I’ve often made sculptures that rot, decay or slowly change. I like to open myself up to chaos a little because it challenges me and the posting does that. Plus, I’ve always been interested in the idea of journeys and I love the fact that the envelopes take these little journeys without me.

I wanted to send the envelopes to myself rather than someone else because I wanted to have them all to exhibit at the end of the year. Also, there’s just something very absurd about sending letters to yourself for a year and that aspect of the project makes me laugh. And on a completely mundane level, I absolutely love getting post and because of this project, I get a year’s worth of letters, which just delights me. I get a little bit excited every time a letter comes home safely.

Oh, and I think that posting the letters also stops me cheating. It’s a firm deadline - I absolutely have to get the letter in the postbox by midnight or I’ve failed for that day. It’s good to have that sense of ‘I must get this done’. I know that no one but me would know if I did the letter after midnight but somehow having to go out and post them keeps me honest about the project. I don’t know why, but somehow it works as an external control.

Artist Annie Vought meticulously cuts paper to make her beautiful and witty wall pieces. Her recent work has concentrated on writing, while previous work explored the human body through cut up anatomy drawings.

Annie Vought: To Do, 2006

As a compulsive list-maker, I just adore the absurdity of this piece - just think of the hours it must have taken to cut away the paper from something as transitory and throwaway as a to-do list. She’s clearly a woman after my own heart!

The use of shadows in these works interests me and I see obvious parallels with my own thread drawings where the shadows also work to complete the image. Unsurprisingly, it also delights me that she uses pins to attach the delicate cut paper to the wall.

Annie Vought: Slightly, 2006

Kirsty Hall: Thread drawing - work in progress

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Vought is also involved in a radical form of curating in public spaces through her involvement with the Budget Gallery.

The Budget Gallery is not in a specific place. We don’t have a building, so we’re beyond low-rent. We don’t even pay rent. We set up our gallery in co-opted public spaces like vacant walls and fences. The shows are carefully co-ordinated, prepared, and publicized. The pieces are displayed much like a traditional gallery. We paint walls white, install art works and labels. We announce openings that are attended by hundreds. Refreshments are served and one can often hear jazz playing in the background. Of course, this is no traditional gallery - it’s all taking place on the sidewalk. In the end it’s a blend of all the greatest things about attending an art show, a garage sale, and a block party rolled into one.

Check out their project rules:

1. We use underutilized public spaces for our exhibitions.
2. If work doesn’t sell at the opening, it stays, in public, unguarded, for at least 1 week.
3. After the opening the unguarded work is sold on the honor system.
4. All art work in our shows will be sold, stolen*, or vandalized** and we can not pre-determine the outcome.
5. Our commission is arbitrary, optional, and determined by the artist.

*Having a work stolen is the highest honor of the Budget Gallery because it means someone wanted the work so badly they were willing to abandon personal and societal mores to acquire your piece of art. In our eyes, this may be considered a more valuable compliment to you than a simple monetary transaction.

**We suggest you consider vandalism a form a collaboration.

I find that a fascinating concept but also very challenging: it certainly brings up a lot of issues around letting go of control.

How would you feel about your work being shown in these circumstances? Could you deal with it? Would it upset you to have your work stolen from an unguarded public wall? Would it upset you more to have it vandalised?

I think I would have to make work especially for that space, with those aims in mind because if my regular art was stolen or vandalised I’d be upset. I actually had my degree show vandalised and even though I’d known beforehand that it was a possibility because of the extreme delicacy of the piece, I still had to go and cry in the toilets for a while!