I posted this in my blog post dated 1st August, and have been thinking about it since…

“Things have a special place in human cognitive life and evolution. We think “with” and “through” things, not simply “about” things. In that sense, things occupy the middle space in between what are usually referred to as mind and matter. Material-engagement theory provides a way to describe and study that middle space where brain, body, and culture are conflated.”

(From abstract of Thinking as “Thinging”: Psychology With Things by Lambros Malafouris 2019)

I need to do the thinking about it while I am handling the materials: twigs, fabric, paper, a variety of things that make marks, but most of all pencils and dippy scratchy pen nibs, alongside a selection of “modern” fine point pens. I might also have to get out some children’s clothes from my collection of vintage items. A gingham dress, a pair of itchy woollen shorts… The vintage of these clothes is important. They need to be from the mid – late sixties. (Natural fibres please) They have to be the sort of clothes I would have worn as a child. The feel of the fabric, the colour palette, the smell of them… all these things play a role in the evocation of new ideas. The twigs I have collected also are “better” if they’ve come from particular places, particular trees. The materials I use are also free from plastics… preferably non-acrylic inks or watercolour. The paper is good quality watercolour paper, currently chopped and recycled from older work. Although I have a fine selection of the dippy pens, I prefer the wooden handles. All of these factors put me in the right mental space. I do love a set of rules to work with!

I think this is why, when introduced to new materials, the work always changes somehow. It might be slight and subtle but there is a definite shift.

These rules then, build my rituals. My way of working follows a similar pattern every studio work day.

In recent weeks, prompted by the hot weather, I have arrived earlier at the studio, a couple of occasions before 9:00. Upon arrival, fill the kettle while I still have my coat on, or if lacking coat, I dump my bags on the floor. Then attend to the kettle before I do anything else. 

While the kettle boils, organise myself, hang up bags and coat, take lunch out and put in kitchen fridge if necessary. Decide what needs to be on the table, and set it out “nicely” by which I mean spaced carefully, with attention to the perpendiculars. This includes books, previously completed work, work to be done and the tools and materials required.

Make the tea.
Look at all the things and decide what to do.

In the making, the neatness disappears, and I make a mess, stuff gets chucked across the floor to dry, or thrown in the general direction of the bin. 

At lunch time I might put the stuff in the bin and collect stuff into a pile, or I might just clear a spot on the opposite side of the table to eat. I have a seersucker tablecloth, to keep the work out of the food and the food out of the work. As I type this it does sound a bit much. Over lunch I might watch something, or listen to a podcast. This might be art related, such as something from Ceri Hand’s archive, or it might be an episode of Death in Paradise. This listening might continue, depending on what I am working on. (Death in Paradise is good because it doesn’t require close attention) 

Sometimes I have a video call with Stuart or Kate, in which I might carry on working, especially with Stuart as we are both likely to be sat hand-sewing, and it’s good to have company when the path of the work has already been decided and we are just doing, not thinking… although it could be argued we are Thinging!

Mid afternoon I will have more tea, or heat up in the microwave the one I was too distracted to drink earlier. Then I start to wind down, clear up, and wash up. I either leave at 4 ish, or stay later to miss traffic. I’m only five minutes from home, but I hate it when it takes half an hour! Although, another little ritual, somewhat wasteful now I think about it… is if I am in a particular train of thought and want to think some more, I will drive the long way home, taking in about a mile or so of countryside. Now I have drawn my own attention to this I might have to stop. 

Sometimes I bring home hand sewing to do in the evening. Or sometimes I have a separate pile of “home sewing”.

My practice is full of things and habits… repetitive behaviours that aren’t strictly rituals. A ritual might be something that brings us together with others in my community, or is symbolic to me in some way. This doesn’t have to be religious, but can be cultural. So now I find myself thinking how these habits can become ritualistic… invite others to join in, or to assign meaning for myself. Wikipedia suggests that this repetitive behaviour should bring about some sort of change, internal or external, either in the community or the individual. I would say that I have happened upon these habits and actions to put me in the studio state of mind, they prepare me for work, they settle my mind ready for a deeper sort of thought.