SNU. Back to the nitty gritty and practical. Because my photographs were provoking deep and difficult emotions and i was struggling to keep my mind steady i decided to take a side step to making moulds out of objects. Remembering how to make plaster moulds was part of the brief i had set myself anyway and i wanted to find a way to make a mould of a paint tube so that i could compare the end product with the 3d printed painted tube and i'd hoped to make a slush wax paint tube that could be a bronze in the end. I also wanted to find out what kind of object worked in a silicone mould and then how the materials that could be cast in the moulds acted within the moulds. Similarly with plaster moulds. Also i was aware that i needed to press on with work for my ASU2 module but that my path to the work i wanted to make for that required me to build up a body of knowledge in preparation. That body formed part of my SNU practice. 
So to start i took in pebbles, shells, a square stone (that i had/have several ideas for), a paint tube (not my granny's cool LINO ink one), a single doll's shoe (red, with cinderella written small on the the heel-sole as part of the design), and a red aeroplane from a stencil kit that i had as a child. The links to my childhood are obvious with the latter two objects but they also link to flight, and foot prints, and walking in somebody else's shoes ergo empathy, sympathy and compassion, and fairy tales, and journeys, and work i have made previously. 
Work i have made previously also got picked as a thread that connected my SNU to ASU2. My creative process is a kind of mapping of ideas, a piece of work that comes out of the map acts as way marker and may be returned to as whim or pull moves me. My creative story threads are rarely completed they just get to a place where a stop can be taken. 
It was part of my wanting to know what the 3d print could and couldn't do that led me to take in two models i'd made at different, much earlier points in my life, to see if they could be printed. One i had made at school, at about age 13, it is two figures kneeling one with an arm around the other. It was just before i gave up art at school. There are points in our lives when we make decisions that lead our lives one way or another and there is no way of knowing how things would have gone if a different decision had been made. I gave this model to my granny for christmas that year, i was proud of it, its a grown child's art i could be embarrassed about now but it said something i needed to say. My grandparents had it in their sitting room for years and it gave me a boost to see it when we visited  Later after both my grandparents had died and their house was cleared i went up into their loft space for one last time. There on a window sill in the otherwise empty room was my model. I picked it up and took it home. It would have been rubble when the new owners knocked the house down to make space for their new home. The other model was a madonna, a mother and child, made in my early twenties when i was a young single mum. It is part of a set of three models, Gabriel, Joseph, and Mary with baby Jesus. It got knocked off the piano and broke in half at some point but you know what you value by whether you keep and or fix it when it gets broken. Again the broken things links ASU2 and SNU but at this point the theme is just emerging so it may become clearer later in the write up. 
The two 3d models came out well from the printer but because i love to see the process i had asked if the scaffolding and base could be left rather than removed. This was because print size means more or less scaffolding and the shape of a thing dictates the need for scaffolding. I found this fascinating because the scaffolding changed the objects. Also because the models were made from figures the scaffolding seemed to relate to social fabric, support systems, the way the earth holds us, how much we ask of the earth. It is also part of a build up of the invisible framework of knowledge that is what my SNU project has been about building. With the printmaking what makes a good image using ready made images to help my eyes learn to discern, why 3d how do i build a thing that rests steady on a surface, height is a factor, also the reach from the centre as much as the reach from our own centre, physical, emotional or mental, changes our balance and may create a need to reach out for help or support. 
At this point i went back to the counsellor i knew from my BA because sometimes leaning in towards safety can save a lot of trouble. I knew i was struggling but also that with the right support i would be able to define what part of my struggle belonged to me and what did not, to see my errors but also to let others carry their errors. This is more related to my ASU2 theme but all work is part of the movement that forms the sequence. Perhaps i am thinking too much for a short MA module but for me the emotional back story is an important part of the making process.
Starting the SNU module i was working with two threads,  perhaps i could say they were coming in at 90 degrees, right angles; North travelling South to the centre, printmaking, image-making, work in 2d, and East travelling West again coming to centre, my life story with Jon as a part of it guiding the thread but not dictating its line. The ASU2 and the SNU mould making and 3d work could perhaps be South going North and The Stations of the Cross, or any story that isn't mine, West to East. I don't really know if i am making myself clear with this flat compass graphic but my point is that all the work is tied together, coming to me or out of me but not as a linear torch beam but more as a round or sphere. 
If this is a research write up maybe that is probably too baggy an idea to put forward. But how does a person whose work is driven both by feeling and making write a research report without putting the felt process in as well as the manufacture ? Later my tutor pointed me towards phenomenology and i looked up a little about this but got stopped in my tracks by the virus which broke my ability to focus on anything mentally demanding for weeks. It is something to come back to as my ability to concentrate returns. 
The next posts will be pictures of the silicon moulds and the objects and the 3d printed objects.      

Ok ... keep going. Its been a week of grief and tears but like walking in the rain its no good stopping. The pain of losing someone you love doesn't seem to get easier. Sorrow this week has manifested as a great dark weight in the centre of my chest that hurts with an insistence that cannot be denied. One step in front of another. I can hear voices saying stop making a fuss, what a fuss, silly fuss, stupid woman, let go. But also kinder voices including Jon's. I think it was him nagging me to ask for the letters. He knew what they were of course, that it was important that they came back to me. That sounds a bit mad but the dead do seem to hang about. I used to sometimes appeal to my granny for counsel, my mother's mother, who was fierce and not to be crossed but fair. And i feel my great aunt Leska as a benign presence in the background. I have one of her rosaries, red plastic beads and a metal cross made of some cheap light metal. I also have a little painting of a nun that came to me after she died. They are not things of value to anyone but me. Its how it is with things that belong to people who take up heart space. The pecuniary worth is of less matter than the moment or person that an object represents. Objects carry secrets. A thing picked up by two on a walk may be of no consequence to anyone else but could well be a port-key to another time and place for either of those two. It is how the letters i received have been this week. I haven't looked at them all but some of them take me back to his living room seeing them on the mantelpiece below which stood the two chinese figures that had come from his parents' house when his mother died. Some i can remember being attached to his fridge with magnets along with other things. Of course it means i've been occupying his house in my mind. Remembering the feel of how it was when we were together there. The stairs, the porch, the living room and kitchen, the bedrooms and bathroom and the views from all the windows and his beautiful garden, the smell of fennel on my hands, bees on the flowers and dragon flies and tadpoles, gold finches on teasels, the plants we bought together.
Enough. Enough already. Nostalgia is an addictive drug. Its a trip. It is but it isn't. I can return to a place, feel what i felt there, but it is out of body material. One of the things that Jon's death made me very aware of is that that which physically touches me has a worth that is different to that which is distant, historical or geographical. I can go back to my grandparents houses or my childhood home or any number of other places in my mind and they are real places but it is not real in the way that my body returning is real. My grandparents house was knocked down and rebuilt when they died. And Jon's house is just a 1980's end terrace housing estate house now. The place it was when it was his house and my home from home is in me. I wonder if the walls remember me and him but houses have so many occupants, our ghosts may be there, but they are also here and elsewhere. It's strange how even the living have ghosts. 
And ghosts reside within our bodies too. Ghosts of our past selves and those whose lives have touched us for better or worse. The mediocre tend to not be remembered so well only the very good and very bad. This blog is surely not reflective journal writing but it will be handed in with all the others when hand in comes. Because my work is always born out of felt experience. It is where it stems from. 
This week past we were asked to make a Pecha Kucha presentation, 20 slides 20 seconds talk per slide. I can't say i was looking forward to it, but i could see the point. I was less prepared than i would have liked but time just skids past and so it felt like an achievement just turning up and having a crack at it. And tho' i was dreading it, good things about being asked to do it, were seeing other people's presentations and being inspired, going back over the term's work and realising how much i had done and putting it together as a story, and being given feedback. My class mates seemed to like it more than my tutor who wanted more information about my process. 20 seconds isn't really long enough to explain the difference between a two part mould and a three part mould or why i needed to make both or any of the other things i learned from making those moulds and filling them with wax and setting the cast objects on cups with sprue and risers and if i'd gone into detail about that i'd have had to miss out other stuff so i went with my heart and made the story the process that i spoke about. 
I am not sure if it was this week or last week that we had a lecture in which it was suggested we go back to our manifestos and remember why we started out MA. It's good sometimes to go back to why. I've been disaffected this term. I did have a hiccup a month or so back but the disaffection has hung about for too long. I need to remember how lucky i am to be studying what a gift it is that i'm giving myself. I am too uptight at the moment, irritable and not nice to be with. It could be my projects' subject matter both of which have been problematic. I am currently being nailed to the cross for my ASU 2 Stations of the Cross project which clearly is not great. And having spent the past couple of weeks focusing on my teenage self i seem to have picked up some of her post punk "fuck you" attitude. Not very helpful when trying to conform to learning outcomes. It could also be a desperate need to play make, to make for pure pleasure and it may be that i have to let go a little of trying and just let what needs to come come. It's been inspiring to be in the print workshops with the first year BA students working on etching plates. Being with so many people working on one project producing such different work reminds me that there are many ways to get to a place, be that place a finished etching plate, the top of a mountain or the end of a long rainy walk with a heavy pack or heavy heart. 

My blog as my reflective journal continues. I have had a week of ups and downs, not a roller coaster but a bumpy sea. On Monday i finally with quite a lot of help from Jess got my copper plates photo etched and ready for printing. Jess is amazing. I see how she holds every student that comes into her studio, how each of us is given the time that we need and the help. She meets every project it seems with respect and kindness. Actually the technicians at NUA are pretty much all great. Generous with their guidance, sensible to where we need help and to where help is not needed and their best help is to stand back or nudge us to think and do for ourselves. They are the lynchpins, the angels, the quiet heroes. We learn from the technicians in a way that we cannot learn from our tutors who, having the job of holding a mass of students in their care, are not able to engage in the same hands on way. 
So with the plates etched I was able to move on with them. And while i'm praising Jess i'm going to mention that she'd also let me talk about ideas i am considering for my SNU project, and given encouragement, being able to give voice to an informed listener counts for a lot when a thought thread is young within the body.  On Monday afternoon, after the plates were etched, i began to make test prints using strong black and bone black. There are six black intaglio inks on the studio shelves and although they are similar they are not the same. My intention after last term was to have a look at these and so it made sense to print the two plates in each of the blacks so that i could see and feel the difference. Feel ? Yes feel, because each ink moves a little differently, and sits on the plate a little differently too. I know it might seem dull to make the same print over and over again but coming from a textiles background testing the materials i use is a key part of my creative practice. It serves as a bedrock, i know that leaving the university at the end of this MA my printmaking will still be rudimentary but i hope that my understanding at base level will pass muster and be a ground that allows me to keep going. 
By Wednesday when we had our first taught session i was feeling good about the new term, two etching plates made and six inks tested on each plate throwing up interesting information, two projects (ASU & SNU) that seemed to be calling to each other albeit across a fairly wide divide but both live and kicking and feeling good to go. 
But then comes the mood drop, the academic part of this course confuses me. I did less well in my RIPU last term (RIPU stands for "Research Into Practice Unit" i think). Part of that stemmed from my not knowing what was being asked of us until a very few weeks before our hand in. I think it may be that i am not good at learning with the teaching method, it seems like the module is coming in bite size mouthfuls but i feel like i'm tasting blind and not sure what i'm supposed to do with the new taste. Or perhaps a better analogy would be that it feels like being shown around a city by someone who knows the territory but not really taking in the way to here or there and so feeling lost. I will have to sharpen my senses and get with it and know to ask for help sooner rather than later if i am still struggling with knowing what the SNU brief is asking for.   
It is disconcerting tho' as i thought i had a handle on what i needed to do and was following a clear path but both the lecture and seminar confused me, leaving me feeling sad, and stupid, and frustrated with myself, and mentally petrified. Useful things that came out of the seminar session for me were the notion of an elevator pitch and the double diamond. And we discussed the learning outcomes that we are assessed by, boxes that need ticking, hoops that need jumping through. I am not so good at jumping through hoops but in her ASU lecture Marie Brennan, the MA course leader, spoke of learning outcomes as the skeleton and i liked that metaphor, it felt like something i could get a handle on ... "the knee bone connected to the thigh bone" and so on. 
The ASU lecture and seminar were generally less disconcerting. It was nice to meet more formally all the first year MA Fine Art part-timers. And Desmond sensibly asked us to draw in and map our creative vision/focus in silence for ten minutes before it was put out to be seen, met and spoken about. A lot of my creative process is done in this way. In silence and unseen i will think through an idea, testing it and pushing it, researching and assessing, before i feel ready to give it visible presence. I was thankful to be given that space to move in a class setting. 
My work process is intuitive, i work with my senses, i wonder if my process is a little primitive, i think education asks me to be more cultured and sophisticated, it feels alien but will up my game if i can take with me the primitive part and not lose it in the process of being civilised. Raised not razed. I suppose it's a need to maintain the poetry whilst building skills. 
On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday i spent time on the print studio computers as well as attending taught sessions. The computers are definitely civilised machinery, i struggle with even the basics but i am using photographic images for my SNU project and i need to know how to scan them and fiddle with them to get them to a point where they can be used to make prints so working with the computers are a must. Under Jess' guidance i have made eight images to be screen-printed in CMYK in half tone and diffusion dither (i think i've got those names right). Eight images is one for each colour, in each setting (?). All the same picture but to be printed on top of each other to make two whole prints, one in diffusion dither and one in half tone, each in four colours CMYK (cyan, magenta, yellow & black). That is my next week's project and will probably take up the week after too. It is going to fry my brain i think but will hopefully be exciting and will lead me to knowing better how colours blend and also how to register a print which is one of my personal MA learning outcomes. 
I intend to alleviate the head-stretching screen printing with gentler work printing from and playing with etching plates and mono printing and hopefully some mould making and casting in the 3d studio too. Whoosh the time, i know, will fly by. 
Lastly to cap the week off nicely on an up i received this morning an email from Sarah Cannell the Raveningham Sculpture Trail curator saying that i have again been chosen to be one of her artists on the trail. This is a lovely way to start a weekend as Sarah is a joy to work with and the sculpture trail has been one of the highlights of my year in all the years i've been a participant.  

Grief. Grief is a cruel place. There is no hiding. There is nowhere to hide. I have no skin. I cannot face out the world. I can only be me, raw in pain. I am "sans vetements" - excuse me, I don't speak french and I don't know how to put the hat on the e but those words are the ones that came to me.  My being, my belonging is gone. 
How do I reach out from this awful space. It is so huge. So unlike anything I have ever known before. I am alone here. I am alone and I don't know how to move on. I don't know how to move, period. I am fixed in this terrible solitude. I have reached into my solitude before, solitude can be ok, can be a sanctuary, but now it is deep loneliness. Deep knowing that here in life there is no-one who will understand the world as I do. 
Maybe we all carry this grief in us. Maybe it sits in us waiting. Waiting to meet us. Waiting it's moment. It lurks in the shadows. And we look away. Refuse to acknowledge it's existence. Paint over, wall up, shut down in order to protect ourselves. 
What do I do now ? What do I do now that it exists within my body, something I cannot deny, something I can neither repress or express. I am locked into stand-still. And yet the world moves on. And asks that I move on too. 
I am letting deadlines pass, this, that and the other, submitting a proposal for an exhibition doesn't guarantee you a place in that exhibition, but not submitting guarantees that you will not be in it. I know that what I have to do now is draw in to my studio practice, make the work I need to make without care for how it is received by audience or witness. It is a test of my resolve because it is easier to give the world what the world seems to want to see. Clap-clap, well done, oh yes, this is pretty, this is good, this is accomplished, mathematically sensible, technically excellent, creates order, or shocks only in ways that we understand and accept shock. 
I can't fall back into technical brilliance, I'm not technically brilliant, if I could, life might be simpler. My primary medium is thought and feelings, from those base points I attempt to make work that makes visible that which I'm thinking and feeling in order to offer a window into my being. At the moment my mind and heart are blown away and my thoughts and  feelings far out and beyond. I can't draw them to order they will do what they will, go where they will, be what they are. 
Slowly I am reconnecting with my workspace, it is, I know, where I will make sense of where I am, but I am bringing in to that space something bigger than me and it's daunting. I will be fighting my demons I'm sure and that's scary but what else can I do, where else can I turn, this is my battle to stay good for my family and there is no one but me that can fight that battle. Death is stood at my back at the moment and I'm having to force my face to look at those I love here, to let myself plant hope in my future, and joy. I think I'm not unusual in living this space. I think it is probably common to anyone who has loved and lost to death. But, it sure as hell is not comfortable or cosy.