This week has seen the attainment of my honours degree in Fine Art and an acceptance from Edinburgh College of Art to study Contemporary Art Theory with them. And its Degree Show tomorrow. “eek”.
I am looking forward to the event and appreciate the effort my friends and family have made with travelling up to Dundee. I have no idea what the night will have in store for me and ‘nervous’ doesn’t seem to cover what I’m feeling. It’s 5am. I can’t sleep.
Here’s a sneak preview of what to expect from me tomorrow, I hope to see you all there.
After a long two days of prepping my sand mould, pounding it into a sturdy brick, it was ready to have bronze poured into it. The excitement of the pour is hard to describe. It really has to be seen. We waited an hour for the bronze to be melted in and before we knew it our casts were alight.
Today I registered for graduation. I handed over three pages of forms and £40 and got handed back a receipt measuring 3x4cm. I don’t know what I expected. Champagne? Perhaps later. I came back to my studio and made some art. It seems all I’ve been doing lately is filling out forms and applications. I like organising and tackling little issues like this. But it’s nice to be truly creative also.
I found this tackle box in my loft over Summer and have only recently brought it to my studio. Some objects I find I instantly connect with and others feel disposable. This one is precious. The bulb and wrapper hold value to be too. And yet they have short histories and have seen little. The psychology of nostalgia is not as straightforward as the cliches would suggest.
I guess this is good. The stuff is just me. The problem is its so me that I’m protective of it. I don’t want anyone to know.
Perhaps, however, if they did know the stories of the work, it would help them to appreciate said work. A title provides context, but is it enough? Do my titles need to be more revealing? Do my descriptions need to be more in-depth?
Or can I provide a hint and a little bit of context and rely on you to enjoy it anyway?
Everything I Know About Him
spent matches, collected circles, text on trace, war used binoculars, rusted soap dish.
Do I have to tell you who ‘him’ is and what it is I know?
The end of the banana project, and my submission into Relics of Attachment Part II.
“20 Bananas Put To Rest
Rachael Disbury’s work surrounds the themes of obsessive sentimentality. The artist has spent four months trying to preserve a banana peel. This piece shows the end of the project. It is up to the viewer if the artist was successful in her attempt. “
‘Frenetic’ is my new favourite word. I’ve been slipping it into conversations at intervals over the last couple of weeks and wondering if people actually know what I’m talking about.
Fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way: “a frenetic pace of activity”.
I couldn’t sleep a couple of weeks ago. This isn’t uncommon for me, but there was one particularly awful Saturday night. I found myself awake at 4am knowing I wasn’t going to be granted any dream time. I got my project book out with the intention to make some more unrealistic to do lists or another elaborate sketch of a farfetched idea. Instead I started writing. Just writing. No stop for consideration, just impulsive words on paper. Mostly the same phrase over and over, with some sporadic moments of varied expression.
When Monday showed its face, I still had this phrase in my head. And the typewriter came out. Brilliant. Sitting on the floor of the studio with black coffee and pounding keys is good therapy. And you can sometimes make some art out of it.
Perhaps the writing is a physical representation of my overactive mind. Thoughts go round and round, every event gets analysed and scrutinised in detail.
I don’t like obviously confessional art. I don’t wish to submit a diary entry. Thats too easy for people to just get facts and nothing else. I like the ambiguity of the frenetic typing. I don’t want to tell you a story, but I want you to wonder what the story is about. I’m still expressing thoughts and relaying events personal to me, you maybe just don’t have a clue what I’m on about. And I like that.
I spieled for a good 48cm last week resulting in, ‘On Wednesday the 7th of November’, an object/text combination piece, I don’t really want to explain that one.
New academic year, new white space. I spent a week last semester painting the walls and scrubbing the floor of 606, in preparation for the previous 4th years degree show, so it’s only fitting I should inherit the studio.
Here it is, my new canvas.
I’ve moved some stuff in now. The addition of some collected objects and a pot of coffee has it suddenly feeling more ‘Rachael’. Last week was a bit lacking in productivity on account of 21st birthday related excitement. It was a fantastic week otherwise though. And following that high I’m now ready to make a start with the semester.
I find it easier to think about my stuff when I isolate and arrange my objects into compositions. Things look better when they’re displayed more formally, objects begin to become artworks when they stop being used for their original purpose, so I spent today putting shelves up and playing.
This is what I do.
I’m not completely consumed by any one idea yet but I have that exciting feeling that I’m onto something.
Things I’m thinking about:
Empty jewellery boxes
Hyper recording of data
Make of that what you will. There’s a lot of little ideas floating around, I just need to grab and develop them.
Actually every time is photo time. I take too many photos. As anyone who knows me will have noticed. I’m the creep who snaps you when you aren’t looking and takes still lives of every meal she eats. I probably take an average of 5 photos a day. So although I’ve basically completed my practical work for this semester, making sketchbooks is going to be quite a tedious process. I always have a photo book to go alongside my installations. I think the installation and the photographs of the installation are separate things in themselves, both with nice qualities, and both with merit to be displayed. So now I have the long task of editing and selecting, and then that horrible final job of double-sided taping them all down.
Nothing to do but get it done.
Here’s some snaps of my metalwork closeup…
Not long to go til the deadline. Why am I not more stressed out right now? Since when am I a chilled person…?