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Apologies for the lack of posting - as you may have guessed from my last big post, I've not been too well. I also got stuck in a cycle of perfectionism, the sort where I think, "ah, I absolutely must blog about such and such a thing next but oh dear, I can't until I take some photos or do some more research or until the planets are in the correct alignment!"

Sometimes I just get caught up in these mental loops and stay there until I realise that I'm stuck and do something to free myself - in this case, writing a very different blog post to the one I had planned. So here, to loosen me up and hopefully to inspire you, are two very different but connected videos about the nature of inspiration.

First of all, here's Susan Boyle performing on the reality TV show, Britain's Got Talent. Unfortunately, embedding is disabled, so you'll need to pop over to YouTube to watch it.

Secondly, here's a longer address by writer, Elizabeth Gilbert on the subject of genius, inspiration and creativity. It's twenty minutes but it's well worth your time.

I found this touching in a very different way - much of what she spoke about was deeply familiar to me as a creative person and I just loved the two anecdotes she relates. I've never been sure where I stand on the whole muse concept but I'm sure that we're all familiar with the 'where the hell did THAT come from' sensation when we're making our work.

I found this video on Denise Carkeek's excellent Melancholie Dreams blog. It's well worth a visit and do make sure you check out her wistful and haunting ceramics.

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Firstly, some of you may have noticed that comments aren't always appearing straight away. Unfortunately we've had to tighten up security after the site was hit by a bot that can crack the anti-spam word feature. So if you've not commented on the site before, your comment now won't appear until I've accepted it. I'm checking every day to make sure that comments don't languish in purgatory for ages. If you've commented before, your comment should appear straight away unless you include any URL's.

Secondly, in celebration of April Fool's Day, here's an art-related Absolutely Fabulous clip to brighten up your day.

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Since I’m currently in the midst of a Chronic Fatigue relapse, I thought I’d do a post about how to continue making art whilst managing an illness. I know it won’t apply to all of you but hopefully it will be useful to some.

Be Realistic
Firstly, it’s important to recognise that ALL artists have challenges in their life. Although it may seem incredibly unfair that you’re limited by your illness or disability, in reality ‘normal’ artists may be struggling just as much to make their art.

It’s easy to look at healthy people and feel jealous but try to remember that NO ONE has unlimited time, energy or money. Many artists need to work part or full time jobs to pay the bills, which drastically reduces the amount of time and energy available for art. Children or other family commitments can also be a serious limitation. Artists working on large, expensive projects may face endless frustrating delays while they scrabble around for funding. No one 'has it easy'.

Identify Strategies
Don’t make yourself more sick by carrying on doing something that is clearly too much. If you are finding it hard to walk or you’re in a lot of pain, then a very active practice that involves shimmying up and down ladders or hours of gruelling physical work may be impossible. Instead, tailor your practice to what you can do and find creative ways to continue to make art.

If you want to carry on making physically demanding things, then maybe you need someone to do a lot of the prep work for you. When Eva Hesse became ill with a brain tumour she employed assistants to make sculptures to her specifications. I employ The Wonderful Zoë two mornings a month to help me with things like admin, framing, organising and anything that involves heavy physical work.

You may need to change the scale on which you work or employ different materials or new techniques. When her almost constant migraines kept her bedbound for months and she could only paint for small stretches of time, Sarah Raphael divided her canvases up like strip cartoons and painted in tiny daily chunks. She also had to switch from oils to acrylics because the smell of the oils was a constant trigger.

When his eyesight started to fail due to cataracts, Monet loosened up his style and began working on his famous waterlily paintings.

I've found that having a small, manageable, daily practice like my current 'Objects For March' project or The Diary Project is helpful - 'little but often' apparently works well for me. I've also annexed an old spare laptop and I've written most of this in bed over the space of several days: right now it's making the difference between being able to blog and not.

Don’t Compare
It’s easy to feel jealous when your peers can accept exciting opportunities that are impossible for you but try not to compare yourself to others too much: it just leads to despair.

I’ve found that it’s more useful to look to people like Frida Kahlo for inspiration - she carried on painting despite being in shocking amounts of pain. Or I look at my college class and realise that even though I am not making art as fast as I want to, I'm still unusual in that I’m consistently making work and showing professionally.

Acknowledge Success
Give yourself props for what you ARE doing instead of mentally punishing yourself for what you’re not.

I have a terrible habit of berating myself for ‘not working’ when what I really mean is that I’m simply not doing as much in the studio as I'd like. I tend to discount anything that isn’t physical making as Not Art even though experience has shown that things like reading, writing, research, thinking, documentation and admin are all vital parts of my art practice.

If you're not strong enough to make art, take a break and if you're able, do something connected to your art instead. When I'm ill, I often use the time to catch up on my reading and documenting.

Allow Yourself To Stop
Art is a higher brain function and creating any sort of art takes a surprising amount of energy. Unfortunately when you are very ill, sometimes you have no choice but to put your art practice down completely for a little while. This can be difficult for artists since many of us are very driven by our art but it’s sometimes necessary. Concentrate on getting well and promise yourself that you’ll find a way to pick it up again as soon as you can. I tend to use my art as a 'canary down a mine' - when the thought of doing anything art-related makes me want to cry then I know I'm 'crashing' and need to recuperate. If I don't try to force things and make the relapse worse, then the art comes back on its own as my health comes back into balance.

Pace and Plan
Find your own rhythms and what works for you. I no longer apply for things that require me to make new work for a deadline because it’s too stressful and it never ends well. Instead I only apply for exhibitions with work that already exists. I don't apply for residencies either because I can't guarantee that I'll be well enough. It can be very frustrating but knowing and (mostly!) accepting my limitations allows me to make more art in the long run.

If you’re exhibiting, do as much as possible well ahead of time. Pace yourself and schedule some downtime for after the show. Ideally you'd schedule some days off beforehand as well but in my experience, that’s rarely possible. Often opportunities seem to come in clumps but try to space things whenever you can. Know your limits and your body and how long it takes you to recover from a show.

Find Support
Depending on your condition there may be specific grants and/or opportunities available. While you may not be comfortable with the 'disabled' tag, there's no harm in seeing what help may exist. Online forms and support groups for your specific condition can also provide valuable information and resources.

It’s also vital to support yourself by pacing, eating healthily and getting enough sleep, especially when you’re experiencing a relapse or if you know that you’re going to be under extra stress. Easier said than done, I know! Accept that you might have to let some things slide. While delicious fresh homecooked meals might be the ideal, remember that getting your vegetables in tinned soup or out of the freezer is better than no vegetables at all!

Finally, do whatever it takes to get yourself through a bad patch, even if that means the house isn't as clean as it could be, your email doesn't get answered promptly or you don't go to all the private views you'd like. Accept that to conserve energy for your art, you may have to let some other things go.

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The Wonderful Zoë was here all weekend helping me clear up the garden. I've been very exhausted and unwell this last week, so she did most of it and I pottered around slowly and directed operations.

On the Saturday night we had a bonfire, partly to celebrate the Spring Equinox but also to get rid of a pile of old wood that we'd been collecting up for months during our various declutterings.

I chopped back the huge rosemary bush, so we had piles of fresh branches to burn...
Bonfire 01
Kirsty Hall: Bonfire, March 09

...and they sent up plumes of aromatic smoke.
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Kirsty Hall: Bonfire, March 09

There's something so primal and satisfying about a fire...
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Kirsty Hall: Bonfire, March 09

...I liked the way it was constantly moving, although it made it hard to photograph.
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Kirsty Hall: Bonfire, March 09

It was a very magical evening.

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It's a beautiful sunny day and I need to make the most of the light by getting up the studio and then out to the garden. I'll be writing a proper post later but in the meantime, have some fun stuff.

I have written about my love for sheds on this blog before and I know I am not alone in my admiration for this humble structure - check out this great song about sheds by Cardiff band, Punks Not Dad.

If only it was really this easy to make money from art! Sean The Sheep shows us how it's done.

Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal absolutely nails the art world.

A pointed cartoon about the gallery system.

The Childbirth Song by the very talented Helen Austin - not particularly worksafe but it makes me howl with comedy of recognition.

If I'm getting a bit up myself, I listen to King Missile's song Sensitive Artist to bring me back down to earth - song here, lyrics here.

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Phew, the Exhibition Blues seem to be lifting - I told you they wouldn't last long. I'm still very physically exhausted and having to curtail my activities accordingly but my mood has thankfully improved.

I am currently planning my garden. This is the first year that I've experimented with sowing seeds and - fingers crossed - so far it seems to be working. I lost one tray of teeny tiny lobelias when Chiana knocked them over in her rush to attack next door's cat (he had dared to come and sit on the windowsill, the bounder!) but everything else is still miraculously alive.

Seedlings
Kirsty Hall: Seedlings, March 2009

Things are seeding and growing on the art front too.

While I was in London, I had an idea for a short daily project. I realised that I was missing The Diary Project and also wanted to challenge myself to just start something straight away instead of ruminating on it for months or years first!

So for the duration of March, I'm making a small object no larger than 10cm in any dimension every single day. These aren't necessarily high art or great sculpture but they are fun and a good way of experimenting with form and materials. And I'm enjoying doing a daily project again: I don't think I'd want to work this way all the time but it does often seem to benefit my practice. It feels a bit like a musician doing their scales.

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Kirsty Hall: March Object No 2, March 2009

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Kirsty Hall: March Object No 3, March 2009

It's not a requirement of the project that I make the objects with materials that are lying around the house but it seems to be the way it's going. I'm especially enjoying taking bits of rubbish and making art from them. So far I've used the wax from some BabyBel cheese, a bit of a plastic milk bottle, a torn up paper bag and the thick paper insert from a chocolate box (they're fabulous if you pull them apart because they're sort of corrugated inside).

March Object 05
Kirsty Hall: March Object No 5, March 2009

March Object 06
Kirsty Hall: March Object No 6, March 2009

Oh yes, and quite a lot of thread and yarn. I can't help it: thread is apparently still where my brain is at. In fact, I'm having to force myself not to use thread on every single one and to experiment with other materials.

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Pin Drawing
Kirsty Hall: Pin Drawing at Prick Your Finger, London, Feb 2009

Alas, I have The Exhibition Blues, or more accurately The Post-Exhibition Blues.

This is a normal part of the creative process for me, although somehow it always takes me by surprise.

Here's how it goes. You finish a big piece of work or do a show and when it's over, you fall into a few days of lethargy, depression and general grumpiness with maybe a bit of "my art is really crap" thrown in. It's a documented phenomenon and I'm sure that many of my readers are already nodding their heads in recognition.

My Exhibition Blues are never a sign that a show has gone badly or that I am disappointed by it, in fact, I suspect it's the reverse and the larger and more successful the show, the harder the drop is afterwards. My art assistant, The Wonderful Zoë, says it like catching a great wave in surfing and hitting that perfect high and then suddenly the wave throws you back up on the beach and you just don't have the energy to swim out for the next one quite yet. And you look around and realise that you don't want to be on the damn beach and what's more, there's rubbish and dog shit on the sand!

It's not usually too bad for me - most times it's just a couple of days of 'blah' - but this time it's hit me like a ton of bricks. I am extremely weepy, depressed and being regularly savaged by my internal critics and demons, both artistic and personal. Apparently there is a lot of dog shit on this particular beach!

It's almost certainly because I was tired before I went to London and now I'm deep-down exhausted but I can safely say that I am NOT enjoying the process. Neither, I suspect, are my family, although as usual they are wonderfully patient and kind with me.

The temptation when faced with The Exhibition Blues is to throw myself into something new, and indeed I've been working on two projects since I got back from London - one brand new one and one fairly new one. However, in my experience it's also important to take a little time to recoup and rest. I know that I'll be OK soon; I just need to rest up, read some fun, unchallenging books, nap a lot and sit in the sunshine thinking happy thoughts about my garden. And in the meantime, I'm working away on a couple of fairly gentle projects.

As I slog through this little patch of pain, I just need to hold onto this knowledge that I am still working and that this feeling will soon pass. Ah, us artistic types - so prone to temperamental fits of the vapours!

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The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
Cause London is drowning - and I, I live by the river

London Calling - The Clash

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Kirsty Hall: The Thames, Feb 2009

I'm not a natural London person - I usually find it a tiring and challenging place - but it definitely has its charms. And being near the Thames always makes me fall under London's grimy spell.

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Kirsty Hall: The Thames, Feb 2009

I don't know what Londoners think about the river but I always experience it as a dark, brooding, magical presence in the centre of the city.

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Kirsty Hall: The Thames, Feb 2009

On Friday night I walked along the river between The Hayward gallery and Tate Modern. The trees along the path sparkled with blue fairy lights. It was warmer than usual for February and lovers sat on benches wrapped up in each other and oblivious to the world. A man knelt on a small sandy beach making a large sand sculpture of a face while a woman drew a love heart with a stick and added her own and her lover's initials. A swan flew past with a haunting cry that echoed strangely over the water.

And everywhere the river lapped at the land like a thirsty beast.

Having a lovely but tiring time in London. Did some pinning yesterday afternoon, which was quiet but delightful as the sun was pouring in through the pins above my head. Rachael took a photo of me that I really like, normally I don't much like images of myself but I think this one has a very romantic and timeless quality.

Off to pin some more now while waiting for some internet friends from Ravelry to turn up. I feel a little sad to be taking the pins down today; they feel as if they belong here. Although I expect that the lovely people at Prick Your Finger will be finding little memorial pins in their floorboards for years to come!