So I thought for interests sake I would put up the proposal I made that initiated the process I've been going through over the past six months, the focused meditation on love. I woke this morning thinking that maybe love resides not just in my heart but also my backbone, it is not only my desire, my pulse, but also my will and intention, my stem. I'm preparing for set up like a warrior going in to battle. I know set ups are a make or break moment. I'm excited and longing for it to be done. Here is my proposal.

Love is a Long Road

My proposal for the Cley 2017 exhibition stems from a train of thought I have been mulling over for a while. I’ve been waiting for the right site, the right moment to give my thoughts a body. This exhibition would seem to be the perfect time and place if I am selected.

My proposal is to place a line of white painted uprights (wood or bamboo) bound around with red inked-paper to repeatedly spell out love in braille. The line to continue for some  metres length. 

My preferred site would be on the beach, some way above the shore line, preferably not too far from the entrance to the beach on the side that leads to Blakeney. 

My hope is that the viewer will see in the work that love is tested, that there are breaks and hardship within any love story, that love is not only romantic, but is a universal link, a connection that keeps going and going and going, no matter what. That it marks time like a heart beat, is as essential as breath, is shown in words or gestures, is one foot in front of another.  

The use of red is related to blood, the stream that flows through all our bodies and the bodies of all other animate creatures, links limb to limb, feeds and nourishes from inside to out. Also the red thread - a popular notion in Japan that binds two people, or spirits across time immemorial so that if they find themselves parted they can be sure that one day they will find each other again. Red is about the heart and the fire that burns within the heart when love is present.

The white is for grief and innocence and spirit. Grief is the emotion associated with the metal element in chinese medicine.  The metal element holds the breath, that which maintains life within us. There is no love without grief for love will end in parting. But is parting the end of love or does true love continue still pulsing, still beating it’s gentle rhythm for ever. And who, knowing that would ever dare to love but the innocent ? I want my piece to recall that innocence, the simpleness of a hand in a hand, the courage it takes to reach out from ourselves to meet something that is other than us. 

I have produced a couple of outdoor site specific pieces for exhibition before and the challenge and joy for me is making them stable and visually interesting  and sympathetic to the environment in which they are set. This asks for ability to adapt, to yield and to push through adversity which in many ways echoes the demands of love whatever the love subject may be. And although I may have a message I want to convey to a my viewer I want my work to be spacious enough for my viewer to put themselves into the work and become a part of it. 
December 2016   

And then, just playing. I can't resist the washed up asbestos on the beach. I know it shouldn't be handled and obviously stuff I make with it is unsaleable but it's so beautiful, maybe all the more so for being unsafe.  

As a bit of an aside I've been lucky enough over the past few weeks to have been a participant in local puppet maker, Zannie Fraser's "walk a mile" sessions. On the first session she asked us to bring in a favourite piece of clothing, I chose my boots, boots that have been with me for over ten years, and walked all over the place, - 100's of miles, more likely 1000's if I tot up regular walking to and from here and there as well as more exotic roaming. Actually I have four pairs of the same boot which is a bit of a cheat, but in a sense each boot is all the other boots, in a way they are every boot, every footstep I have taken. More, maybe, on that another day.
We have now reached a stage where Zannie and her assistant are helping us to put together sketched out puppet shows, sort of puppet shows in progress which I think are to be shown in late July. We've been working together in small flexible groups which has been very nice as it takes the pressure off and means there is a richer pool of thoughts about how to illustrate the stories behind the articles of clothing. 
Anyways the last session got me thinking and so I made a small pair of boots last night just for fun. They may not be used but that doesn't really matter, for me creativity is a lot about exploring different pathways and thought streams tho many come to  dead end. 
And, as a bonus they got me thinking about Tom Thumb and his seven league boots so even if they prove un-useful for the puppet show they are a beginning point to connecting to that fairy tale. 
Here are the boots ...

Are my ramblings making sense ? What do I know about anything ? Hitting hard up against my low self esteem today. This place is familiar, an expected part of the process of exhibiting.  I'm making a piece of work about love but what do I know of love ? Do I inspire love in others ? Do others experience me as a loving person ? Am I good enough to talk of love ? 
I am feeling fearful for the work I put up, fearful that my testament to my road through love will not show what I want it to show. I want it to be my vulnerability, my fear, my hope, my pain, my insignificance. I want it to be the effort it takes for me to meet the world with an open and loving heart when feeling not-good-enough is hard-wired into my being, when I anticipate rejection every step of the way. 
I battle with crippling shyness and I am unsure of my worth. I think this isn't really obvious to those I meet on a casual basis but it's a really huge block in me that I have to face-up to daily. There are people with whom I feel loved, my children, my grandchildren, and a handful of close friends, but I do not feel sure of being loved, or even liked, I do not know if I am lovable or likeable though I try to be acceptable. Does this disqualify me from talking about love ? This lack of knowing. Does my desire to love and be loved  make me a cripple amongst those more able, more steady, more secure, more obviously sound and matched in love ? Is my love worthless ? Am I a horrible, horrible person that doesn't deserve to be loved ? 
Forgive me for exposing the thoughts that go through my head. Making this work has been and still is a journey. I want love to be all fluffy bunnies and star shine, hell who doesn't, but it isn't my experience so I am working with what I know. My feeling is that love is a mix of grit and tenderness, that it isn't an easy path but if you get the mix right you may chance upon some times that are beautiful. 

And my sticks, ready, gathered into numbered bundles and waiting to planted on the beach at Cley. 

And braile crib boards .. one of these days I'll learn how to read braille with my fingers and be ever so happy 

And these are words