Do you remember playing? Real make-believe, fantasy-filled play? I do. I am the eldest Grandchild, and on my Fathers side of the family I had not only my Brother, but two young cousins to bully into playing with me in my fantasy land. Despite never having any true-blue friends in school, I took to organising my brother and cousins into acting out plays that I'd fashioned in my imagination. I'd get them all to dress up and perform. Parading my ideas in front of my parents, my aunts, uncles and Grandparents.
A precocious child, I took to commanding the other children in the family; with my own twisted idea of fairness. I remember arguments with my own parents, that my Brother and I were to go to bed at the same time, except that wasn't fair in my mind. When I was my Brothers age I had been expected to go to bed earlier.
I don't tell him, because my family is weird and we rarely talk about what it is we're feeling, but I'm glad my Brother is my Brother. He has become my greatest ally in recent years. In our younger years we'd fight tooth and nail, but as adults we band together when faced with activities. I'm grateful, especially when two of my four cousins are at university studying far more academic degrees than I did; and have also probably never come home and vomited down themselves from too much alcohol.
I may have got a lot of things wrong at times, but I've enjoyed myself without being malicious to anyone. I'm sure I have enough relatives that at least one is embarrassed by me. I'd love to say I don't actually care, but I'm bothered enough to mention it.
I miss playing, and immersing myself into fantasy. As an adult it doesn't seem to matter how much I try to immerse myself in other worlds; there is always something stopping me from really letting go.
If we were all the same they'd never be any point in voicing thoughts or feelings because the person next to us would be feeling exactly the same. I write to connect, I don't want to offer advice or 'life lessons', I want to, and do, write about wading through the knee-deep shit and floating on clouds. There's no learning to love yourself more here because sometimes I believe that you don't have to like yourself a whole lot to achieve. If you don't like yourself there is always a chance that you're going to berate yourself to do better and be better. Ergo, achieving. I don't expect you to agree, but that's how my mind works.
I want to document being an artist, I want to document the inspiration and the life I lead for no other reason than I can. Some of you may find this interesting, some of you may not. Although I realise any talk of creating art, or seeing art has been absent of late. I'm struggling with self doubt and malaise and a change in medication which has left me feeling incredibly stupid. I'm struggling to string sentences together and I'm sure my spelling and grammar has gone even further south; I'm so sorry Granddad, for bastardising the beautiful English language. Anyone else would probably shut the hell up but I'm attempting to keep my brain moving; and less the stupefying effects.
I want to write well, but I don't want any of this to sound romantic; its really not. My hands feel heavy, (knees weak, palms sweaty!), and I feel like I've gone pint for pint with best friends. I am stuck in that moment where I'm sinking beer four and my legs are fuzzy. It's an interesting space to inhabit. Except it's not when I've always prided myself on some type of intelligence and it's out of reach. There's no raw-ness to my emotions, I'm in a bubble and in my minds eye I can see myself in this bubble rolling down a pinterest-worthy, vsco filtered hill, bouncing and giggling. Not exactly a prime place to create art.
Saturday I'm going to Rock House to view a friends exhibition. Bridget Riley is exhibiting at the De La Warr, so I'm going to see that. There is also the degree-show opening on Friday (tomorrow). Next week I'm full of hope of finding solace in art; see what those other artists in the town are doing. Make friends, make connections, build a network. There will also be free wine, because it's art and there is always free wine; and this time I won't get too drunk and vomit down myself.
Links worth clicking: