gift

Returning to E17, I have a feeling of home. Trotting about my old haunts I'm alert to and grateful for this after my unhomely years in Sheffield.

I walked as a stranger, a player in a film about my life. Watching myself be, monitoring my moves, recording it as an experience I knew wouldn't last. As yet I don't understand why, one day I'll join the dots but for now its simply somewhere that wasn't home. This was my dirty little secret as most Sheffield folk were horrified and perplexed at any mention of not liking the city, my southern accent (that belies my North East Scottish heritage) jumped on as a reason for not coping with The North. City as body, as a pulse that runs through flesh, as a site where words can wound.

What an amazing stepping stone Sheffield was in creating a path to greater self awareness and focusing my thinking towards creating what I want in my life, being strategic for the first time EVER. What a gift. I'm sitting with this now, questions forming, answers yet to materialise - I'm liberated, hopeful, unsure.

jubilee

Love the variety of fabrics, poses and attitudes in this Diamond Jubilee celebration in a garden on Sark. Scarecrow meets haberdashery treasure chest.

sark

The Island where I told my sister that I loved her and my weeping took me by surprise.  

long time, no see

Its been a strange old time lately, a time of no address and moving from friends house to friends house while I find my feet and relocate in London. What I've learnt is I dearly want a home and am committed to making this happen, and SOON. Home will provide me with a stepping stone to move forward into the next chapter of life, how exciting. I've also learnt that I'm blessed with friends who give a shit, who opened up their living spaces to me and this has been a gentle reminder of belonging. In all unsettling experiences there are lessons and this one has allowed me to understand on a deeper level what I need and to summon the momentum and energy to make it happen. I'm adept at packing and moving on but the time has come to challenge myself to settle and be part of a community. 

Today I was out walking with a group of young people as we are working on a project inspired by Richard Long and his meanderings around and about. This had nothing to do with our project but of course caught my eye, as memorials tend too bring out the mournful magpie in me. For a man who drowned I was told. Plastic flowers and synthetic ribbon, a tree carries the message of remembrance. I'm sorry for this man and his family.

park hill

Last weekend I finally climbed the hill behind Sheffield train station and saw British Modern Remade in the Park Hill Estate. Met a Creative practitioner colleague from Hepworth and swooshed upwards in the lift to the 12th floor to see painting, sculpture and collage (missed the film bit...) from the Arts Council Collection. Felt like an intruder as we snooped around the empty flats oohing at stripped back surfaces and smooth sliding doors. The view of Sheffield was astonishing: nestled between tree covered hills, the city laid out like an architects model. And of course there was the art, beautifully staged and appearing as if it had always existed within the space. The work mirrored the permanent collect at The Hepworth Wakefield, and one of the sculptures will be winging its way to the gallery from this show.

I'm on the brink of leaving Sheffield and returning to my pined for London, city of my birth that has invisible threads tugging and pulling me back. To see Sheffield laid before me reaffirmed how little I know of this place and I'm looking forward to returning as a visitor, with time to take in, be in and explore this city.

My colleague/friend Liz then took me to Sheffield Museum for a treat of tea and cake, so all in all this leaving lark has its benefits! 

I'm very glad I moved to Sheffield, I'm leaving with different understandings that wouldn't have been gained if i'd not taken the plunge and I'll carry this knowledge into the next chapter. I've also gained a brace of Yorkshire friends who will provide their own threads to draw me back in the future.

lost and found

This warmed the cockles of my heart today.

waste not

On monday I had a marvelous day in London with my sister. We visited The Hayward and saw the David Shrigley and Jeremy Deller shows. Loved the shopping list etched onto a gravestone and snorted over many of Shrigley's clever drawings. Tea united the exhibitions and in Deller's space I enjoyed a beverage in Valerie's Snack Bar while watching the snack bar trundling down the street in a video of a procession in Manchester. The exhibition felt very familiar, nostalgic even as I was presented with a past I'd been part of and a present I inhabit now. Back in 2005 Deller's show Folk Archive was a revelation to me and continues to be source of inspiration, the accompanying book is one of my favorite possessions. 

Song Dong's installation in The Barbican was affecting. Systematically arranged for our viewing were the contents of his mothers home, she hoarded all items thinking they would be of future use. This was a cultural and personal response to her life experiences and looking at her possessions laid bare was intriguing. While mooching through the stuff of her life I considered loss, value and the complexity of family relationships.