Toatally exhausted

If you think teachers have an easy life don't bother reading any further. Yes, we have the effing holidays and yes, I have one coming up shortly.

What I find never gets any easier is marking, not the whole "oh, that's lovely dear, have a gold star" kind of crapola. No, I mean the kind of marking that will haunt you for the rest of your life, it will linger around you like a bad smell whether you give a shrug of insouciance or bravado, I promise these grades can and do hurt.

What makes it worse is that nasty little word 'subjective', not for me the clean slash of red, right or wrong, no, I have 'ifs' and 'buts' and 'well maybe'. How do you off set sheer slog against brief moments of genius? How does the latter always triumph over the former? It's so cruel that you can work your arse off in art and still only ever be judged mediocre.

So all week I have placed in rank order then judged and then rejudged and then lain awake at night wondering if I should have done more..........because when all is said and done I devised the course and I delivered it. On and on and on until I think my heart will go BANG!

I get tearful that no matter how I dress it up I teach students who will only ever be OK, it is rare to get the WOW although this year we have one even then I think is it me? Is she really WOW? Or just wow?

Last night I went for my interview for an MA at Goldsmiths, I have been accepted and really I think it will be amazing, but I had one of those ridiculous conversations with Emin that a few years ago would have reduced me to tears and had me searching for flats to leave him for. Now I really don't give a flying fuck what he thinks, this is a man who quantifies everything by either it's monetary value or it's usefulness to him. No it's not a language, no it won't earn me more money, but yes, it's all about me, and the enjoyment I get out of life and that you can't quantify.

That said I am entering the world of subjectivity myself again as we have to exhibit new work at the end of each year, but it will give me the push I need and maybe when I become rich and famous, I can laugh at him from my luxury seaside retreat! HA.

So another week disappears, I have one more Saturday up town and amazingly 4 more have been added to her term, I'm not crying, having edited my photographs I have improved immeasurably whilst spending time up town photographing on a regular basis, so I will push this envelope a little further.

One last thought, a girl in my tutor group (age 18) thought the Dalai Lama was a terrorist organisation!! How? You see what I'm up against?

Berlin... It's all about the architecture

What I absolutely love about Berlin is you can walk just about anywhere and find the most amazing Juxtaposition of modern with old, this brilliant example is the German Historical Building. I did not have time to go in but will next time we stay for longer.

The radio tower as seen reflected in the hotel bedroom window.

The government offices look beautiful reflecting the blue sky, Berlin has had temperatures consistently 10degrees higher than Istanbul this spring!

Above is the view from the gallery's 3rd floor, well worth the climb!

This is a French church built by French Huguenots who clearly brought there skills with them, unlike German Baroque this church is a triumph of understatement.

Much of what I love about Berlin as well as the architecture is the yellowness of their public transport system, which for me makes it more photogenic. I guess I would not feel the same if yellow prevailed across our TFL!

No flowers allowed

Last week was A Level exam week and I had time to mess around with the Hipstomatic app which I grow to love more each time I get used to it.

By the end of Thursday I felt unwell and after walking the dog could barely stand my legs felt like lead, I went to bed with a temperature and a small sinking feeling in my heart that history was repeating itself.
Leyla proclaimed I was burning up and after numerous attempts to sleep it off I knew the infection was back. No Emin, who was away from home working, I could not face a taxi knowing my propensity to feint or vomit, so I called an ambulance and left for hospital shaking Kitty awake to tell her I was leaving.
Same infection, different hospital, but lets face it they are all an Hieronymus Bosch like vision of hell, the flotsam and jetsam of life spilling out onto the pavement at 2am whilst I clutched an overnight bag that I convinced myself was my ticket home before the end of the night.

No such luck, I was booked in for 4 days!...4 days of my life I was to never see again, in a room of octogenarians and a wailing woman who cried loudly through clenched teeth for 3 days before they took pity on me and moved me.

I phoned the house to remind the girls to get up and go to school, I phoned Emin whose phone was switched off. I later managed to phone home to check the girls were home safely only for Leyla to give me a list of wants and needs to collect on my home! Home? "Leyla I'm in hospital and won't be back until Monday" She emitted a long wail, before sobbing, Kitty had no recollection of my waking her and life it seems had ticked over very nicely without me, until now, however food was needed and finally my absence was duly noticed!
I was however stuck in bed tied to a drip whilst another industrial quantity of antibiotic's were pumped into me.

I blame Emin, it started when he took us on a ridiculously long walk after I had been on my feet all day in Berlin, it's hard for him to understand that I now have a finite limit of tolerance when it comes to walking, I may seem perky enough, but my foot is agony after too long in less than appropriate footwear. 10 miles in converse trainers, yes, 10 miles in sandals, no. My sister suggested that instead of moaning I should send him a text that way he might stop and comprehend the message and thus understand, I think he had learnt a lesson, but I have lost 4 days of my life.

These peonies are from my garden, for the last 4 years I have watched them bloom, slump and die, often drenched with rain and I feel I have barely seen them, so this year I cut them and put them in water and placed them next to my bed at home, now I finally get to see them and smell them, I never knew they had such a divine scent but they do, making them even more lovely. They photograph like a dream too.

Farnley Hey

I LOVE this house and there are others on this website nearly as covetable but not quite. So if you have a cool £700,000+ knocking around perhaps you could buy it for me!

Berlin It's all about the art

UPSTAIRS BERLIN

This amazing new gallery sits right in the heart of what was east Berlin, sitting next to the river Spree it has, if you can climb the stairs, amazing views of the old church. I LOVE the way it has been designed to allow light to flood in, the windows do not open, but the wooden panels are in fact shutters that open, creating a lovely breeze, negating the need for air con. The Germans are truly awesome at designing eco' friendly buildings.

I would say that had we not stumbled on this amazing private view we would not have known it was a gallery, yes the art work should give it away but the entrance is very obscure. So we walked past the huge picture windows and saw Berlin's finest, trendiest crowd, all achingly hip and wonderfully dressed.

I know you will hate me for saying this but they are way better dressers than the French, seriously? Yes you do still see the Otto Dix dowager here and there, but younger generations including my own clearly have learnt to mix up French classic with Japanese quirk, all of Berlin in spring is a pleasure to stand and watch. Outside I realised we had stumbled over Berlin's Gallery Weekend
So pressing my nose against the window I longed to either go in or just stand outside and watch, so I went in with Leyla.

The man in white (below) I think was a well known artist as many were taking his photograph as he went outside for a cigarette, now if you look closely you may see a smaller man wearing a blue bandanna, when we went in he came up to us and introduced himself, not because of me, but Leyla, he could not get over how amazing she looked, men are often drawn to her because of her bizarrely symmetrical face and ice cold blue eyes, (his were an astonishing Paul Newman blue) he spoke to us at length about how the future of art was in her hands (god help us then!)metaphorically of course and how lovely she was and we must go to his studio where he was working with some friends.... He gave us his card and regaled us with stories about working with Joseph Beuys. He was such a great character, and I would like to say we did go, but I am pathologically shy and couldn't face turning up only for him to have forgotten all about it. Still Leyla was FULL of it!

On to my favourite and what has to be the worlds most expensive gallery ever.

THE HAMBURGER BAHNHOF

Having seen a Richard Long exhibition recently at the Tate Britain I was a bit disappointed that this exhibition was showing, but once in, WOW, it was brilliant, really amazing and perfect for the space which is for me the best space anywhere.

I was almost the first one in, hence the empty space although the eye watring price helps. The scale of Long's work is monumental. This time no Leyla to bug the hell out of me instead Emin was waiting outside since he baulked at stumping up the 12 Euros, so no pressure then! There was loads more on show so I made sure I went round everything this time. info here

SARAH MORRIS @ CAPITAIN PRTZEL GALLERY

An unexpected bonus was finding this gallery, it was not our destination but was opposite, the place that was, a place so weird I will not mention it as it was not worth the trip. This gallery was based in such a lovely building, really a wonderful space, so light and featuring my favourite architecture.

On the whole I admire Sarah Morris but rarely engage with her work, we use her a lot at school because the students find her very accessible, however downstairs a video was showing called Points on a Line and it was just one of the best videos I have ever seen, very, very beautifully shot and really inspiring.

I will leave this post here now and show you some more later in the week.

The view from here

EVERYWHERE you look bloody roadworks, right across town the sound of tarmac being kanga'd up by men in high vis' vests scratching their balls and lounging around watching the one man who controls the digger.

Testing another ap' yes I am addicted, bothered?

Warehouse, a shop I avoid, does have a deliciously celebratory window.

This huntin', shootin', fishin' shop is somewhere around St James Street, love the whole old world charm thing going on.

Camden passage delights, the shops here are soooo lovely, I will really miss this place when Leyla finishes Saturday school.

Just before Easter I had collected Leyla and promised her an ice cream, not easy to find round here but I did spy a shop selling frozen yogurt, she bought a tub at an eye watering £4.50 but enjoyed it so much that when I forgot to bring home her Friday treat last week I foolishly promised her another.

Back we went, and this time she loaded up, promising to share.... Well you just know that wasn't going to happen, I took two mouthfuls before she threw a big fat strop and declared that I was eating all of it and there was barely a mouthful left for her. I can promise you there was plenty, luckily after the 5oth mouthful she got brain freeze so there is some justice in the world! But I then though £5.00 is a ridiculous amount of money for some yogurt and fruit, you can buy a book for that, so I declared it would be the last.

Today I will buy a lottery ticket and when I win I will fulfil a small dream by going to live in Istanbul, that way Leyla gets to polish her Turkish and Emin can work on his house during the week flying back for the weekend for good food and fine conversation.

I will document the underbelly of the city self publishing the outcome to rave reviews and creating an iconic best seller....no? I did say when I win!

STOP

I have to stop, seriously stop. Stop buying clothes, this is not some fatuous post either about 'oh naughty me I can't close my wardrobe door', no it is way deeper than that, it's about using clothes to plaster over the cracks in my life and I guess I am starting to notice as my life slowly moves to a slightly more comfortable place, maybe.
It started on Saturday, I have been so good and I have loved London so much over these past few Saturdays so why the breakdown? Whilst in Berlin we stayed 500m from COS but not once did I go in because I knew the exchange rate was so poor it would not be worth it, so instead I enjoyed Berlin, my intention was to visit galleries in London on Saturday but instead caught the first bus I could to COS, like a fly to shit, I just have no self control. I tried on everything and stood there and I realised I have all of it, in one guise or another, so why, why was I standing there shrouded once more in black?
I have an addiction, but to what? To an image of what I wish I was? But I already have it so why was I buying more? I would like to say I had the self control to walk away but I was so smitten by a drapey cardie I succumbed. Then onto Miss Selfridge to return a dress for Kitty, I spy a pair of shorts, I want them ,I need them, and then I think but when the hell would I ever wear them? When? for 2 weeks a year in Cornwall, so I walk away.
Top Shop I see a necklace, I love it, I want it, but it has a cheap catch and it is £60 effing pounds so I leave it.
I go to Uniqlo and try on another 8 dresses none of them fit but I do buy a cardie to wear with the the myriad of dresses I already have since the 10 long cardies I have don't look right. And I realise that all I'm seriously unhinged and I have to STOP.

Oh, and these, but they are SO lovely....Now I know you can wash them they are a god send and these grey ones have black trimmings so I may just get away with them for work.
But that's it no more, not forever but for a while, not because it's wasting my money, which it is and not because I have enough which I do. No, I have to stop because I have better things to do with my life than chase another bloody black tunic dress. I failed to go to a single gallery, I wasted the whole day to scratch an itch that was barely there at all and afterwards I felt stupid and shallow.
All this came to me yesterday when I went to the open house weekend in Dulwich, I have to focus on the here and now, the place I live and my work, and stop shopping.