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One of Many

Extracts from a piece of creative writing by Joe PB. Illustrations made collaboratively be myself and my sister Annie.

Rain. Lots of it; I can hardly see 10 yards in front of me. It is tapping against the hood of my jacket. Sounds like someone has pressed play on one of those tracks that supposedly help you sleep, like the sea, or the wind, or the rainforest. Glasgow’s rain is a little less exotic, admittedly, but it seems to have the same kind of effect – calming, meditative, distracting oneself from one’s thoughts. I am in my own world, the world of my hood.

He found a gap where the bottom of the fence had been broken off, and crawled through, the jagged steel scratching him on the way. It felt strange on the other side, different, and the side Joshua had just come from now felt distant. Walking towards the warehouse, Joshua noticed marks on the wet concrete ground beneath his feet. They were words, although he could only make out some of the letters, as the puddles were covering most of them. Joshua set about trying to work out what they were, what they said, but to no avail.

Sam’s thing, she said, was a chance for people to meet and, with no pressure, talk about personal issues with mental illness they might be having; trying to encourage those attending to engage in drawing together, playing music and singing together, stuff like that. Loneliness’ll kill you, she told me. 

We got off the train and I was in unfamiliar territory. It felt like we’d walked out into nowhere, there was fuck all to see, lots of closed down buildings and warehouses. I actually felt a little on edge. This way, pal, Sam said, and she was off again, and I was again chasing her. We turned a few corners and got to an area that had the same empty feeling about it, but I saw now where we were going. There were signs all along the fence saying ‘ANYONE WELCOME’, ‘ARTS, CRAFTS AND MUSIC FOR EVERYONE’, ‘TOGETHER IS BETTER’, ‘FIGHT THE CUTS AND PLAY WITH US’, and more. Sam turned to me and said, this is where I work every night. We do more specific events targeted at, like, those with mental health issues, or for women who’ve been abused, or for refugees and asylum seekers learning English, and anything in between. But some nights we focus on just getting people together, offering a space for people to enjoy themselves; or if they need help, or a place to sleep, we try and offer them that too.

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beyond proud of everyone who contributed to the closing event on Thursday. Workshops, music and poetry made the space alive. 

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Link to Reflection Post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/170S4HOx-PLEUDLk0zlhu3qkY8rEhVe_EuvLaB5PwS3g/edit?usp=sharing

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Plaster 'bone' from the exhibition that didn't make its way into the photos. It is sculpted from the cast of Nicks hand where the alginate wasn't covering all of it. You can see the texture of his skin on the middle bit and colouring from the clay walls in the buldges. Creepy.

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Me and Bethan performed a walk about act at the club night RITE last week. I was a housewife who had put her head in the oven, she was a goose I was trying to cook. The oven is on wheels and when invited to put your head in it, you are confronted with a bright light box with the words ‘you have a feather loose’. We did lots of dancing and chasing. Had a spatula that people could ‘tenderise’ the goose with and glitter salt and pepper to season her with.  

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What do you do with 28 bricks that need shifting when there’s not a skip for miles around?

Big thank you to the kind PCSO for all your support xoxo

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Photos from our exhibition at Fred Aldous

Archiving the mysterious disappearance of rough-sleepers in Manchester. As our leaders refused to see them, they ceased to exist. We are left with a hole in the heart of our city and an insight to how wealth and poverty are created in tandem.

Was wonderful to see people stopping to look and take photos as I was setting up. Around 30 pieces of propaganda were taken in 2 days and many more people stopped to read. My fave was the tour guide who pointed us out to a load of tourists who probably all have better photos of the work than me :’) 

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link to Lines of Enquiry post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mUetx81S7ZRaqDyvLrOBBhcvOfYNHhZzfcFIDUmi_8U/edit?usp=sharing

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Glazing the ceramic head. 

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Bread and Roses

Happy Mayday! If you want to know more about why we celebrate International Workers Day today, and why the rose is a socialist symbol you should read my pamphlet.

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Lino Prints for the cover of the pamphlet I’m making on the socialist history of the rose. Made 15 of them and sold out in a day! 

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Casting Nick’s hand in alginate. This will be another homeless our leaders choose to ignore and explain into nothing. His piece of writing that will be displayed as part of the work is coming along well. I’m enjoying editing and seeing how it develops.

Despite doing pretty well at  making air holes at each of his fingers while not being able to see where they are, the plaster still couldn’t make it all the way up to the tips. So I sculpted some filler plaster on the tips and it’s stuck perfectly.

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Went to the exhibition space to test out how Paul’s leg looks in the window. I like it! Have now stuffed the shoe and fixed it to a metal bracket so he can support himself without being propped up.

Getting excited for the show after printing flyers...

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London, Paris, Berlin

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Key Post 1 : Research

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GBD_79LJhhYGbKCWA1ce-1vUzj-pIrriUPhuPLi1flM/edit?usp=sharing

Link to google doc

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Gavin Turk create bronze casts of figures in sleeping bags, bin bags and other trash. 

The softness of a sleeping bag realistically represented in bronze creates a kind of double take. You doubt your perception and feel uncanny. I think this is how you should feel when trying to comprehend the unjust fact of homelessness. These sculptures show objects that have no stability or permanent home (homeless people, their belongings, and trash). But the materials give them and immovability and weight. This jarring hardness speaks of resistance and reminds me of Manchester’s homeless occupation in 2015 when people refused to be invisible and vulnerable and held public spaces with tents.

Looks especially strange in a gallery I can’t quite put my finger on what that makes me feel. When on the street they would easily be passed by without thought... 

http://gavinturk.com/

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Yorkshire Sculpture Park and Hepworth Visit

At the Hepworth we saw Anthony Mccall’s light installation. Absolutely incredible and fun to play in. He describes drawing as time based medium. This rings especially true as he took a year out of making in order to research the science of light and shapes. It changed how I saw Barbara Hepworth’s works, especially as she is so concerned with physical (time based) processes. 

The thing that struck me from Alfredo Jaar’s exhibition at YSA was the video installation telling the story of Kevin Carter - the photographer who took this highly controversial photo of a child and a waiting vulture. Carter was a white South African who avoided his army conscription and began to document the horrors of apartheid and violence within the black population. He traveled documenting indescribable suffering across the world. It was in Sudan that he took this infamous picture. He watched the girl trying to crawl to safety for 10 minuets, waiting for the vulture to spread it’s wings for the camera, before taking the photo. He then chased the vulture away but left the girl. There was public outrage at the photo - why didn’t the photographer do anything? I can remember studying the ethics of this photo in my R.E lessons. At 33 Kevin Carter Killed himself. The installation marks this moment with a  startling flash of light. 

Alfredo Jaar’s exhibition will stay with me. As it did while we explored the sculpture park. A very special moment was singing in James Turrell’s Deer Shelter.