I’m very sad to report that while I was away in Scotland, the lovely Pepper was nabbed by a fox and she is no more.

It was upsetting but we always knew it was a possibility because our chickens room around the garden most afternoons. Even though we keep an eye on them when they’re out of their run, the urban foxes around here are quite bold & unfortunately they only need to get lucky once.

When I got back, Ginger was clearly very unsettled and lonely. It’s a bad idea to keep chickens singly because they are flock birds and need at least one other hen around. So on Saturday we headed over to our local supplier and scored a new chicken.

Meet Colette.

Kirsty Hall: Colette, February 2010

She’s a beautiful Cou Cou or Cuckoo Maran – the ‘cuckoo/cou cou’ part refers to the speckled silver and black colouring. Marans are originally a French breed, so naturally we had to go with an appropriately French name. She’s a ‘point of lay’, which means that she’s not laying yet but should start in a week or two once her comb grows in.

Kirsty Hall: Colette, February 2010

Because Ginger & Pepper had always been such good friends, I didn’t anticipate any problems introducing Colette. Boy, was that a rookie mistake! Ginger took huge exception to this interloper in her run & was absolutely rotten to poor Colette. She wouldn’t let Colette anywhere near the food & water and defended her territory with quite shocking levels of violence.

After a day of a traumatised Colette refusing to come out of the coop, I admitted defeat & asked on Freecycle for a spare run. Fortunately someone had a small rabbit run that they were planning to take to the dump, so I collected that on Monday evening and ever since Ginger has been spending her days in solitary confinement with a dish of food and water. She is less than happy!

Fortunately this is just a temporary measure – I’ve ordered another set of feeders from ebay & when those arrive, I shall divide the run with bamboo canes during the day. They’ll be near each other but they’ll both be safe and Ginger will have more room. I’m going to carry on separating them during the day until they can get along, which apparently can sometimes take months. I am making progress though, they managed to room around the garden together today without fighting and they’re sleeping together quite happily: the problems just seem to be over food.

Thankfully Colette has been slowly regaining her confidence over the last few days. She’s still jittery though – I let her out of the run today so I could clean out the coop and then she wouldn’t let me anywhere near her and wouldn’t be persuaded back in again. I couldn’t even tempt her back in with food. Fortunately she went back in on her own accord eventually & I was able to shut her in. Ginger is easy to get into the run – she’ll go anywhere for a handful of grain, the wee strumpet!

Kirsty Hall: Broken Bauble, January 2010

Last October I took Alyson Stanfield’s excellent Blast Off course. This course was a life-changing experience for me – amongst other things, I realised that I need to find more sustainable ways to manage my health & my art before I can develop my career further.

Basically, I’ve been trying to build my house on sand. I’ve been constantly draining myself by doing more than my health allows. Because I’m pig awkward that way.

Last November’s arts trail was a good case in point. I’ve only just been back to take down 3 Score & 10 because I got sick immediately after the trail, then my host fell ill, then there was Christmas & snow. I finally managed to take the work down last Monday but completely exhausted myself in the process and I’ve been in a proper CFS crash ever since. I’m not quite on bed rest but it’s pretty close.

This is clearly absolutely unsustainable; I cannot continue to do shows if it knocks me out for months afterwards.

Now obviously I don’t want to give up doing shows: I love exhibiting my work – it’s one of my favourite parts of being an artist. Since I want to continue to make art and exhibit it, it’s clear to me that I need to do everything in my power to recover from my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

That’s a tough call because no one knows what causes it or how to fix it but even if I can’t find a permanent cure, I want to get to a healthier place. So I’ve been working on my pacing and my chronic insomnia. I also took a scary step and in November I joined Slimming World. I’ve lost 18.5 pounds so far and my goal is lose a further 3 stone by Christmas 2010, something I’m well on track to do. Losing weight is unlikely to be a miracle cure – I was unwell before I put on weight – but I know that being overweight can’t be helping. Slimming World is awesome, btw – I won’t bang on about it here but email if you’d like to know more about my experiences with it.

Even though I currently feel like Wile E. Coyote after he’s been squashed flat by an anvil, I’m taking the long view here. This is definitely NOT me giving up, it’s me refocusing and working on the basics. I do still have an art career, I’m just taking the scenic route: there will lots of tea breaks, picnics on the side of the road and photographs of sheep but I’ll get there eventually!

Kirsty Hall: Winter Fog, Jan 2010

As you may have heard, Britain is in the grip of some cold weather and things have ground to a halt because alas, alack, white stuff has fallen from the sky – hey, who knew that could happen in the winter?

Kirsty Hall: Snowy Branch, Jan 2010

The snow has come as quite a relief to me. I’m still recovering from The Virus Of Doom. I’m having a couple of weeks where I deliberately don’t make art but I’ve still not been resting enough, so a couple of enforced snow days are just what I needed.

Of course, my idea of what constitutes resting is somewhat suspect. I didn’t get as much contemplative time as I planned in the last week of 2009, so I’ve spent the couple of days mindmapping, writing lists and drawing colourful diagrams of the coming year.

Oh, and I’ve moved my bedroom around to make room for a dedicated ‘thinking space’ where I can update my sketchbook and work on my visual journal. I’ve been horribly neglecting the former and I’ve been doing the later in bed but it’s bad for my back and there’s always the worry that I’ll get gesso and paint on the sheets.

Although experts say that the bedroom should just be for sleeping, I find that it’s my best thinking space and I also do quite a lot of drawing in there. One of my aims for this year is to ‘meet myself where I am’. In other words, to deal with my actual truth rather than what I think should be true. So instead of denying that I use my bedroom this way and feeling guilty that I don’t go upstairs to my studio instead, I’ve decided to honour what actually is and next week I’m going shopping for a desk, preferably an old rolltop one so that everything can be hidden away when not in use.

Having some introspective time is even easier when the streets are so quiet. There are very few cars about, instead there are giggly people making snow beings, including this rather fabulous creation – in my 42 years on this planet, this is the first time I’ve seen a snow duck!

Kirsty Hall: Snow Duck, Jan 2010

However, not everyone is enjoying the snow – the chickens are distinctly unimpressed…

Hooray, I’ve finally finished the second report from last month’s Front Room art trail. It would have been done sooner but I’ve been down with The Never-Ending Virus Of Doom.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

As well as doing the Red Thread performance piece, I decided to listen to the voices of reason (aka Dave Devereux and Cat Vincent) and NOT make another sculptural piece at such short notice. Instead, I installed 3 Score & 10, an existing sculpture which was completed in 2005 but which had only been shown twice before.

It was a wise choice. Not only was it a lot less stress but it looked stunning in the space. It was also hugely popular with visitors – sitting at the top of the stairs, I would often hear people exclaiming in wonder as they came up the staircase.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

3 Score & 10 is part of an ongoing series of work exploring the meaning and measurement of time. It comprises 70 long pieces of string, each containing 365 hand-tied knots. The knots represent the number of days (including leap days) that you would experience if you lived to your biblically allotted 70 years. It contains 25,568 knots and took just under two years to complete.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

This piece is different every time it’s installed. The first time, it fell neatly to the floor. The second time, it was shown in a tangle. And this third time, people were able to actually walk through the piece, which was very successful as it gave them a different visual experience from every angle.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

I was fortunate enough to have many intense conversations with visitors about the meaning of time. One thing I noticed was that the majority were fascinated by how long the piece had taken to make and the fact that I’d done all the knotting myself. It confirmed my recent realisation that there is an intangible value in making these sort of pieces myself, even though it’s undoubtedly slow and inefficient.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

One conversation that really moved me was with a model ship builder who was initially rather sceptical about my work until he suddenly connected it with the intricacy, repetition and length of time it took him to make his models, at which point he completely switched around and ‘got’ what I was doing. It’s these sort of moments that make showing art so worthwhile for me. I just love the generous way people open up to me and share their thoughts and ideas about what my work is about – it’s a huge privilege.

Kirsty Hall: 3 Score & 10, 2005, as shown at Front Room, Nov 2009

Here’s the first of two reports on the work I showed at the Front Room art trail in November.

………………………

The statement I wrote for this piece:
Red Thread
2009
Red thread, white dress, gag, chair, table, plasters, scissors, pincushion, needles.

Red Thread is a brand new piece being performed for the first time at Front Room.

This piece is so new that even I’m not entirely sure what it’s about but part of the inspiration came from Snow White:

“Oh, how I wish that I had a daughter that had skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony”.

Red thread has great magical significance in many cultures and is often used to make talismans or protective embroidery on clothes. It is usually associated with luck, protection or fertility. There is a particularly beautiful Chinese myth that an invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet – in that case, the entire world must be completely criss-crossed with invisible red lines.

………………………

I don’t usually like photos of myself but I like the intensity of this one.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Wow, I really should have ironed that sheet! But I put it up at the last minute to hide a corridor and didn’t have access to an iron – it’s always these little things that catch you out. Apart from that, my preparation for this show was very good.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Cutting the knotted thread – many visitors noticed that both my pieces contained knots.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

I enjoyed the way the thread spread over me like a virus. Someone said it reminded them of mushroom spores.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

Doing the arms was tricky – I had to use my teeth to tie the knots.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

The little stool that I completely covered in medical plasters – a process that amused my Twitter followers for several days.

Sigh, I love my cute little bird scissors.

Kirsty Hall: Red Thread performance, Nov 2009

………………………

Overall this performance went well, although I discovered fairly quickly that being gagged didn’t work because people on art trails really want to talk to the artists and I needed to be available for that. So I abandoned that part for the duration. That’s one of the joyous things about performances, you can react instantly to things; it’s scary yet freeing. If I ever get the chance to repeat this piece in a more formal setting, I think the gag could still work.

I also managed to persuade a few people to join me in sewing. Even without the gag they were quite reluctant, possibly partly because of fears of blocking a narrow space but also, I think, because it’s a strangely intimate act.

Kirsty Hall: Back of Sequin Apron, Oct 2009

I’ve been working steadily on my sequin apron and it’s coming along; I’m trying to do at least an hour on it every single day and progress is being made but it’s just very s-l-o-w. I’m currently on the outside of the pocket and should get that finished this week.

A few weeks ago I completed the inside of the pocket – a masochistic pursuit as it was awkward to sew and seemed to take forever but it was SO worth it.

Kirsty Hall: Inside of Apron Pocket, Oct 2009

Kirsty Hall: Inside of Apron Pocket, Oct 2009

I find myself quite fascinated by the patterns the sequins make when they’re piled up in my little glass bowl. I especially like it when they form clumps. There may be a piece of work in this at some point.

Kirsty Hall: Sequins, Oct 2009

Oh, and I made a short video about the sequins. Naturally, it also features the chickens; I swear, these chickens are going to end up more famous than me (which admittedly, wouldn’t be hard!)

It’s very definitely autumn now, as evidenced by the first proper mist of the season on Tuesday.

Kirsty Hall, Morning Mist, October 2009

This was the sight that made me run back inside for my camera! Isn’t this leaf just incredible – it looks as though it’s been gilded or sprayed with gold paint but it’s completely natural.

Kirsty Hall, Leaf Turning Gold, October 2009

The spiders really pull out all the stops at this time of year. I am always astounded when I go out in the morning to find metres of silk spanning entire corners of the garden – how do they even do that?

Kirsty Hall, Spider Web, October 2009

Kirsty Hall, Spider Web, October 2009

Kirsty Hall, Spider Web, October 2009

As an artist, I get strange obsessions. Something about a material or an image will seduce me. I have an artist friend who uses the word ‘authentic’ to describe this attraction but I use ‘particular’. I’ll say, ‘that’s very particular‘ and I mean that there’s something about that object that is compelling and unique to me, something that draws me. I don’t always know what it is but I do know that these visual or tactile obsessions are what fuel my work.

At the moment, greaseproof paper is one of these things.

There’s something about the combination of translucency and opaqueness that I find utterly irresistible.

And when I finally got to it, the little plum & almond cake was delicious too!

Hi everyone. Unfortunately I’ve gone down with a milder version of my partner’s flu. I don’t feel too bad unless I try to do anything but posting may be a bit on the fluffy side this week.

With that in mind, here are the last of the Dewstow images. It looks like I’ve messed around with filters in Photoshop but I promise these are straight from the camera – isn’t physics wonderful!

Kirsty Hall, Dewstow Reflections, Aug 2009

Kirsty Hall, Dewstow Reflections, Aug 2009

Kirsty Hall, Dewstow Reflections, Aug 2009

Kirsty Hall, Dewstow Reflections, Aug 2009

I was captivated by the skylights in the tunnels – there’s something about shafts of light cutting through darkness that I’ve always been drawn to.

This is my favourite shot from the whole day.

Ah, the grottoes…

Kirsty Hall: Dewstow Grottoes, Aug 2009

We found these utterly magical. We were constantly seduced by the cool shade; the sudden dancing shafts of sunlight from skylights; the incredible jungle greens of the ferns and mosses and the constant soothing sound of water.

Kirsty Hall: Dewstow Grottoes, Aug 2009

There are several different grottoes at Dewstow, all connected with tunnels. Some are shady and cave-like…

Kirsty Hall: Dewstow Grottoes, Aug 2009

…while others are far more open and tropical in feel.

Kirsty Hall: Dewstow Grottoes, Aug 2009

And having fallen in love with this Victorian madness, I immediately decided that we should have a grotto at home! Just, you know, a small one…

Kirsty Hall: Dewstow Grottoes, Aug 2009

But even if I don’t manage to acquire a grotto of my own, I can certainly take inspiration from Dewstow and plant more ferns.