Last weekend’s Open Studio event was really good.

We joined in with the Heritage Open Days programme of events and definitely benefitted from having a national platform from which to launch ourselves.

Eight artists who work on the first floor of this building https://generaloffice.co.uk (Me, Sarah Goudie, Anthony Hughes, Pete Whitehouse, Simon Meddings, Caroline Pemberton, John Brooks, Rick Sanders) held a group exhibition in the gallery and opened their studio doors to around 150 visitors. I did a rough tally of visitors to my studio and I think about half of the total visited me. Not bad. 

Sarah and I did the admin, curated and hung the exhibition, each artist contributing a few pieces of work so that visitors could get a taste, check the floor plan and visit those who interested them. It took us a day and a half to do it. I really enjoyed working with Sarah again, and having time for longer conversations, rather than the hurried “Hi! How are you?” In the hall or the kitchen. Studio time is precious, so if you’ve got an hour or two you don’t always want to spend that time jabbering on in a corridor.

It had taken me far longer than it needed to to get my studio in the state I wanted it before letting visitors in. I wanted to hide or get rid of all old work I didn’t want to talk about, and while I did have work for sale, I didn’t want it to look too much like a shop. I wanted work in progress on the table that I could pick at in between visitors when it was quiet, or to maybe continue when they were looking at the walls. An occupied artist is easier than one who is watching your every move and willing you to spend! I did sell a couple of things, which was lovely, but the things that last longer are the conversations.

I had used this occasion to put my “new” name on the wall. I feel a bit silly calling it a new name, because it is the oldest of my names. Newly exposed? Rediscovered? Readopted?

It received barely any comment. The conversations I did have were along the lines of how it was appropriate for the work, for this period of research, and how it shed light on why I was doing this work.

The most common comment from the visitors was that my studio was a calm and restorative space, a place to think and work and concentrate. Some people lingered a long time over the work, than sat at my table to talk about it. 

We talked about childhood, (mis)rememberings, how things were different then. How the sort of childhood I had would now be considered neglectful. Was it neglectful then, but we just didn’t see it that way? I think my childhood was in many ways idyllic. I was loved, and cared for, and encouraged. But my memory is that it was fairly solitary, rural, isolated from friends, despite the hard work my parents, particularly my mum, put in to making sure I could go to girl guides, join groups and see school friends that lived further away. I think I was probably ungrateful. 

I am not sure how this work will pan out, or what I will discover about myself and my family on the way. Part of me relishes the thought, but there is another, not a small part of me that is a little scared about what might reveal itself to me.

I now crave some immersion in the woods. I think I need a reconnaissance mission from now till spring, to think about how I will go about things. I am still collecting twigs and lichens and lumps of moss, strange feathers, stones, beech nuts and acorns. I am gathering them around me. Like a nest.