Stranger in a strange land

I was recently accepted into ArtLab, which is an offshoot program of the University of Lancashire.  In order to be accepted one must submit a proposal outlining what you do & how you do it, your experience, examples of your work etc., etc.  It's pretty cheap to become a member and once you're in, you have access to a lot of amazing equipment and the expertise of staff (and other artists working there).  Yesterday was my first day.

Now, the good thing is that I already knew a few people in ArtLab and since I've been volunteering for a local art gallery and shop (PAD Gallery), I have built-in talking points and managed to meet an artist who sells her work in the shop.  I'm joining right at the tail-end of the session - a calculated move because I wanted to get my first day over and done with before it starts again in September.  Since it's the end of the session, there wasn't a whole lot I could really start doing other than get a tour of the place and speak with staff about the direction of my work and how the whole place basically functions.  All of this is really cool.  But, I felt like I was a fish out of water; first of all, my printing experience isn't very vast.  So all of this, while familiar, leaves me feeling a bit daunted.  I really felt like when I was a kid and moved to a new town (which happened a lot) and I was the stranger in a town that wasn't my own.  I could feel people looking at me, wondering with no apparent purpose, and I'm sure wondering themselves: who is this creature and why is she here?  And indeed, because of my own inexperience felt awkward being there as if they could see right through me and knew that I was a fraud.  Of course this is ridiculous because the program is designed to allow all types of artists in, even those with no experience.  Still, all of this made me reflect on how tightly our childhood memories are imbedded in our brains and how they make up our essence.  Even though I'm a much more confident individual now than I was as a child, for the most part anyway, I can still identify very strongly with all of those fears and insecurities. 

I know it will get easier with each visit I make.  And I did take some time to sit down and really formulize what I want to do so I at least have a plan - I think.  It's just a shame I have to wait several weeks to get there.

Finding my Focus

Over the last couple of days I've been doing some sporatic work in my studio, working on some color sketches and content/compositional ideas for a new series.  For the last three years I find I keep returning to a label from an old product called Rinso (shown below).  I am really drawn to the silhouettes of the 50s housewives it depicts.    

I've been doing some sketches based around the central figure for several months and while I was sketching out some other ideas the other night, I got to thinking about the role women played during that time; that in turn got me to thinking about the role they served just a decade earlier during the Second World War. I find it incredibly interesting that women were recruited to serve the country in numerous ways - in some instances they did the work of men (Rose the Riveter comes to mind) and in other instances they were used as pin-up models. In either case, they served a definite role and, from purely an observational point of view, the women seem to be quite proud to be so useful. Indeed they have a purpose. So imagine, then, what it was like for those women after the War ended. Their boyfriends or husbands came home; they moved to the shiny new suburbs and swapped their dungarees and hot pants for a dress, high heels and apron. I did some research and discovered that in the 50s only 1 in 3 women were employed. I can't help but to think that women must have doubted themselves from time to time, even if in the slightest way. Their role was to stay at home, take care of their children, clean the house, do the shopping, cook, and pamper their husband. Of course, that's the way the media spins it - perhaps that's just a stereotype based on a few and isn't how the majority lived.  Still, it does make me ponder.  In response to these thoughts, I started  a sketch that plays on all of these ideas that I thought I'd share.  I'm interested in what journey this will take me. 

Figuring This Thing Out

I'm new to blogging on BlogSpot.  I'm not sure why, but I seem to be having some trouble getting the hang of it.  Maybe there's a bit of a learning curve...of course I felt like that about Facebook the first time I started using that, too.  So this blog is all about me playing around, trying to figure some things out.  It might be boring - my apologies.  I should also mention that I have been blogging on my website for a short time and if you're at all interested, you might consider checking it out as it's a more straight-forward and comprehensive series of blogging.  At least until I get this one fully up and running.  You can check it out at: http://www.bohemianpearl.com/.

In the meantime, here are some pics for you to check out. 

As you might guess I'm a bit of a nostalgia-phile (that's an erin-ism); I made this work last year - the imagery was inspired from a book of Kentucky Derby betting tickets from 1958.  Using an oil transfer process similar to that employed by Paul Klee, I was able to achieve an aged look. 

On a totally unrelated note (and because I want to play around with the many functions), here's an excerpt from one of my favorite poems.  I'll not reveal who or what...perhaps you know?

"Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.


I do not think that they will sing to me.


I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

Until next time....