The view from over there

One day....

An excellent article highlighting just what hard work a relationship is.
I particularly enjoyed the descriptions. I am clearly Explorer trapped with Director. Not a great combo really
Fisher, a women's cult figure and an anthropologist, has long argued that falling in love – and falling out of love – is part of our evolutionary biology, and that humans are programmed not for lifelong monogamy but for serial monogamy. (In stretches of four years, to be exact, approximately the time it takes to get one kid safely through infancy.) Why Him? Why Her? explains the hormonal forces that trigger humans to be romantically attracted to some people and not to others (a phenomenon also documented in the animal world). Fisher posits that each of us gets dosed in the womb with different levels of hormones that impel us toward one of four basic personality types:
The Explorer – the libidinous, creative adventurer who acts "on the spur of the moment". Operative neurochemical: dopamine.
The Builder – the much calmer person who has "traditional values". The Builder also "would rather have loyal friends than interesting friends", enjoys routines and places a high priority on taking care of his or her possessions. Operative neurotransmitter: serotonin.
The Director – the "analytical and logical" thinker who enjoys a good argument. The Director wants to discover all the features of his or her new camera or computer. Operative hormone: testosterone.
The Negotiator – the touchy-feely communicator who imagines "both wonderful and horrible things happening" to him- or herself. Operative hormone: oestrogen, then oxytocin.
Fisher reviewed personality data from 39,913 members of Chemistry.com. Explorers made up 26% of the sample, Builders 28.6%, Directors 16.3%, Negotiators 29.1%. While Explorers tend to be attracted to Explorers, and Builders tend to be attracted to Builders, Directors are attracted to Negotiators and vice versa.

This holiday was very positive in that I got time to think about what I want in life. Right now I am juggling many balls in the air, career, motherhood, creative energy, the desire to travel etc But there will come a time when I hope to retire and although you could argue that planning for that time is like wishing your life away, seeing my mother stumble into retirement somewhat reluctantly makes me realise that yes, I may get run over by a bus tomorrow but the statistics suggest otherwise and so I have begun to plan.

It was always assumed that I would use my retirement fund to pay off the house but after reflecting for most of the summer as well as reading the above I feel vindicated by my decision. I will in fact use the money to travel. What is the point of a large house when I would be happier staying in some smaller ones. It is the view I desire not the trappings of size and space. I am currently compiling a list of places to stay, not just visit, but actually stay a while. Places like Lake Como or the French Riviera, as well as places in Britain such as Anglesey, Suffolk or the South West of Scotland. It is the view I crave and increasingly the desire to paint the view and it is the dream of that view that will have to sustain me for at least another decade.

And of Emin? Well curiously he spends the whole of his waking hours planning for when he can stop work, and has done since he started work, to the point that he does not really live, so much as exist at present. His dream is to rotate living in Berlin with his house in Cyprus, interestingly if not tellingly, despite needing urgent assurances that we are a couple for life, not ONCE did he ask what I wanted. That ladies and gentlemen is what is at the root of our problem we neither share a common goal nor I the desire to share it. It may work out fine, I hope in a way we can muddle through but I am very determined to get to live the dream.

image from here

one coat two coat

And so to shopping, refreshed and refuelled by a most delicious brunch at Cafe Anglais where we dined on Smoked Haddock Monte Carlo washed down with Elderflower and white wine spritzers.
Mother had long hankered after a visit to the new shopping mall at Shepherds Bush. Having watched it rise from very inauspicious beginnings it opened with much promise of luxury and a wholly new retail experience.
The reality rarely quite matches up to the hype and sadly this was very much a case in point. Too much glitz and not enough to interest. Bluewater does it so much better. It felt quite empty, many shops seem to have but a sprinkling of customers. I was shocked that there was no John Lewis, No Muji, no Jigsaw or Kew, it felt a bit like a ghost town until we found Zara, which of course was heaving, Without my favourite trinity of shops I did not expect to find anything, let alone two coats.
The one above looks a bit like a blanket I know, but it feels divine. It really looks lovely on and is different enough not to make me feel too mumsy, which my other one tends to do. I already have the perfect biker jacket and have a serviceable mac, all be it more Colombo than Clouseau.
I have previously posted that having trawled through the Sartorialists back catalogue, most days out and about could be made to look great with just a well cut coat and an unusual scarf mix. I have found the scarves, I have worked hard to find the cigarette ankle grazer trousers that look so good with a coat, all I needed was, well, The Coat.
I have to have a raglan shoulder as my own are very broad, this really does limit what I can even try on so I held out little hope especially without my favourite shops.

Instead I was faced with a huge choice in COS of all places. I love their clothes, but I often thought the coats a little esoteric. They are, but when you try them on they look surprisingly good, well OK the couple with built up shoulders were a little too extreme but two really stood out.
The one above is gorgeous. I have not really thought those bracelet sleeves would ever work but they do. It has no collar, all the more room for a scarf. So faced with a choice my head ruled my heart and I bought both. My heart of course wanted the cashmere blue and grey marle cardie from Gap as well as various other similar knitwear. Spending a whole months money on coats really goes against the grain. I woke up twice in the night feeling sick at the expense. Yet I KNOW it is the right thing to do. Why try having one coat to fit both work and going out when having one slouchy and one smart makes sense, it will prolong the wear out of both of them too.
Sadly the view from here continues to be balmy. We are basking in an Indian Summer, maybe I should go and get the cashemere too!

Sunny Side Up

Paul Smith from London Fashion week, sublime colours and stripes. I loved it.

The rest of my day was not quite so sunny. This morning marching to the station I was suddenly enveloped by a HUGE spiders web. The web was so big and strong it did not break at first just crackled and then stuck to my face. My first thought was FUCK if that is how big the web is, how big is the bloody spider? Then I thought shit what if it is in my hair?

I was in public so I collected myself looked down and there it clung to my scarf, dazed and confused. I prised it off and finally coaxed it back to a shrub.

I get home tonight and Emin says to me " Did you see the size of that spiders web this morning? It was HUGE I stepped onto the road to get passed it,!"

Gee thanks Emin, thanks for taking that bullet for me....not.

Hannah Dakin

'Wax Block' series, 2007
This body of work is an exploration of childhood; revisiting locations and objects relating to a personal and cultural history. The images captured when making these journeys have then been cast in wax, combining photography and sculpture, allegorically attempting further preservation. The work also addresses the notion of the archive; the way in which it is displayed is symbolic of how some memories are propelled 'out of mind' - metaphorically putting things away in boxes.
Through this process of personal archaeology and the presentation of the work in groups of four, it is hoped that a potential for narrative has been opened up and a chance that the work may provoke the viewers own memories

These images are very beautiful. I have worked with wax a few times and it gives a wonderful depth to images, but it is a little unstable.

The view from here

I am so lazy that as Kitty has gone out to meet a friend and left her laptop on I just carried on her user area. Only for some strange reason she has 5, yes count them. 5 tool bars. It is like trying to view the page through a letter box. Why does anyone need 5 tool bars?

On Sunday I finally watched The Wrestler, what an unsettling film that is. It insidiously crawls under your skin. I keep getting flash backs. Watch the film and then look out of the window, we have it good my friends, we have it very, very good. Whilst I believe Micky Rouke is a strange and slightly damaged person he has always been mesmerising on the big screen. He holds every scene it was like rubber necking a car crash.

I whooped with delight at all the awards Little Dorrit scooped up at the Emmy’s I told you it it was bloody brilliant and I was not alone. What always tickles me is when you go to the official Emmy's website they list all the writers involved in nominated shows. The gulf between us (UK) is immense, some of our shows have just the one writer, most American productions run into double figures. Mad Men appeared to be the exception. Oh that won too. Did I tell you I was one of a lucky handful of Brits who tripped over episode 1 of series 3? Apparently it was a BIG mistake on their official website to allow this!

My timetable this year is split into week A and week B. Week A (this week) is a complete nightmare, back to back lessons with very little in the way of non-contact. Week B is a slice of heaven, loads and loads of planning time and mostly the easy peasy upper school. This second week is now my painting week.

I had to take Daisy for a check up at the skin clinic in our local hospital. 3 very l-o-n-g hours later she emerged sans a mole on her chest and an mysterious lump on her arm. This had bizarrely been caused by an insect bite that was turning into gristle. Mmmm.
Add to this heady mix a house full of poorly people. In particular Emin who is managing to turn a head cold into full blown man flu.

But… I am happy because:
· I made to the gym 4 times last week
· I have found a lovely pair of gym pants, Reebok, but don’t let that put you off, they have a perfect soft fold top with a draw string so no builders bum there then and they have draw string at the bottom of the legs thus keeping them dry when it rains.
· The weather has been a delight
· All my paperwork is up to date
· I have a ticket for the Anish Kapoor evening on Friday
· I will be dining at Café Anglais on Saturday
· I will be shopping on Saturday as it is PAY DAY

This much I now know

I have a real mixture of stuff in this room. It is a purpose built darkroom, but I am primarily teaching digital by popular demand. So this space still has all the darkroom features, sink, red light, shelves etc, but no enlarges as yet. I was disappointed that having been given no office I had to use this room which has no window. But it is a blessing in disguise as there are no distractions.

This is my notice board, and what a board it is. Photographs of me as a child, my children mixed with images from private views and exhibitions. Below, some very raw work.

If you had cupped your hand to your ear this past summer you would have heard the gentle filling in of the chip that has rested somewhat heavily on my shoulder since I first began teaching.

I have always felt that to teach is somehow not compatible with being a practising artist. The adage 'those that can't do teach' haunts most art teachers but is in fact a myth from what I have experienced. However I read an excellent book The St Ives Artists A biography of place and time by Michael Bird which shone a very bright light onto the real world of how some of my favourite artists came to be.

I learnt that many such as Patrick Heron, Ben Nicholson and Peter Lanyon were all afforded the luxury of a private income so that they could hone their skills and develop as practising artists. Many, many others however taught.; some became professors of important academic institutions such as Terry Frost. But the book reveals that those without the cushion of money struggled for recognition considerably longer than the others.

Out of art school, Anish Kapoor made furniture for Nicky Haslam, to make ends meet; and he taught art. He had very little money. “I had to say to myself, all right, I’m going to be an artist but I don’t have any dough so I’ll probably have to teach for the rest of my life. But I’ll still be an artist”

Well the rest of his life is well known, and he is about to be afforded the second retrospective in London this decade, which is a considerable achievement and reflects his talent as an artist. But I like the fact that he has not poured scorn on the teaching profession.

So I have in a very simplistic way realised that to create work that reflects a wholly personal journey it is better for me not to need or indeed want to sell the work. I refer of course to my painting. (My photography for some reason I feel the opposite about and would love to make a career out of that.)

I have realised that in fact it is far better to teach and paint than to have to paint to the orders of what others want. I have neither the talent nor the money to do otherwise and I would rather my journey was at my pace.

I was very heartened to read that Jim Ede did not begin to create kettles yard until he was in his sixties. So many amazing artists mature well into their old age and I happy to wait.

If any quote ever dispels the urban myth that Barbara Hepworth was a tyrant this one does.

Barbara Hepworth describing her working conditions whilst living at Park Hill Road Hampstead recalled that Mondrian’s and Ben’s (Nicholson) studios were most austere, but my studio was a jumble of children, rocks, sculptures, trees, importune flowers and washing.

I would however add her to the pile of those with money, as Nicholson paid for a nanny and a cook to help with the triplets. Her life was tough but many others had it tougher.

I do not want all this to sound impossibly smug, but small steps help my sanity and get me through the weekends! Yes, I must be the only blogger who is happier at work than at home.

Freddie Timms

I do not normally buy House and Garden but when I saw these paintings I had to had to have it. The are buy an Australian artist called Freddie Timms and they are just spectacular. My favourite is the last one.

I could not find much about him so being lazy I scanned the pages instead. How about the apartment for a bit of lifestyle envy?

I am having so many problems trying to post you would not believe it. We have tiny intermittent breaks in the wireless connection that mean it is impossible to load images. On top of that I have to wait till Kitty is in bed then I have to type in the pitch black, since her lap top is attached to a monitor. Hence the misspelt header on the last post.

I know I take a lot for granted, but this week has been ridiculous, we are soon to enter the next decade of this millennium and we have to endure conditions of the last century in terms of Internet access. Emin, Crown Prince of IT is so utterly crap (yes I do hope you read this) that with all his supposed knowledge he has to have 30 feet of cable draped across the house so He can get a continuous connection. It is times like these I hate him more than ever. Nothing like a bit of harboured resentment for a harmonious household!