I guess that I have always had an affinity for damaged and discarded things, just recently this book I made several years ago found its way back to me – it went on consignment to a new gallery that ended up folding before it even got off the ground… but anyway – It was one of the few pieces of art I actually made when I was writing my Master’s, a book about falling apart, the quotes are from a book on depression, I will have to go back through my sketchbooks to find the title, I don’t remember it… Its just a simple stab binding, the pages were from a sketchbook, tea-dyed and crumples into disrepair, and dried in the airing cupboard of my flat in Newcastle.
the doctors, the demons and the fathers all begin to sound alike
but sometimes for some people the story is torn. All the bits of life’s evidence that must be sifted, digested or passed over instead fly like shrapnel
looking at this book I see I haven’t moved very far since then…
When I set of to do my Master’s degree a few years ago, I thought myself so intrepid, but the reality is that I am not really a scholar, but a suburban housewife, I was overwhelmed by the work load and by the realisation that no matter how fast I ran, I would never catch up to my tutors & professors who were so far ahead. I was lonely in a city I had never lived in, and although I got to spend a lot of time with my family back in England, I missed my husband and kids much, much more than I expected to. I did pass my degree, but the most important thing I learned in that year in Newcastle was that I wanted to have my husband and family in my life. A lesson reinforced today by the death of the wife of a friend. What makes it especially sad is that they didn’t meet until they were well into their middle years, they have had so little time with each other. So tonight I am counting my blessings with gratitude and reminding myself to slow down and live in this now, who knows how many nows we have left to us.