Beginnings

Ah, no modelling work today (postponed for two weeks) so I spent many happy hours visiting exhibitions in local studios as part of Somerset Arts Weeks. Most inspiring.
I am so happy that I decided to 'go for it' and spend 2 years studying and practicing art, despite the perceived need to earn a living and put my previous 2-year course to good use... more bohemian poverty and a total change of direction, but one which is making my inner child intensely happy.
Last Thursday was our first day. We were told we wouldn't be doing any actual 'work' but like most communications from the college that turned out to be wrong. By the mid-morning break we were stood in front of easels and issued with compressed charcoal, brushes and pots of water and of white emulsion and invited to draw/paint a collection of apples on the tables between us. Our theme for the term was to be 'vessels', the apples were suggested as 'vessels' for seeds.
OK. Blank paper. Charcoal. Ignore all those inner messages saying 'you can't draw!' and just do it. The process is all, the product is irrelevant. So I observed where they were in relation to each other, and began making marks. The tutor remarked at some point that my apples were smaller than most people's (but that's how I saw them). Suddenly the session was at an end and we looked at what everyone else had done. Yes, mine were small. But I'd filled in the space around them and indicated the lines on the paper they lay on. I wasn't too displeased for a first attempt.
After lunch we headed upstairs for Textiles. We were straight into Batik work, containers of hot wax and interesting implements for applying it to paper, plus dyes to spread over the top and irons and newspaper to remove it after. We were a big group and it was all rather chaotic, I felt quite pushy trying to get my turn on the iron and straight into making the next sheet, but by the time she stopped us I had 4 pieces of coloured patterned paper.
OK, next part of the process was to tear up our sheets and use them to make a collage, with the morning's painting of apples as a guide... again, I was looking at pattern, how they lay in relation to each other. I liked the end product and thoroughly enjoyed the process too.
Driving home I realised that I had a manic grin all over my face. Wow - 2 years of total self-indulgence playing around like a child...
Friday was harder. First thing was ceramics, and after the initial obligatory health and safety rules and general introduction, we were each given a lump of clay and asked to make a thumb pot in the shape of a long thin cylinder. Have you ever tried it? A couple of people got the knack straight away, but most of us were struggling with the way it just kept widening out, no matter what we did. Several attempts and a coffee-break later, I finally got the idea of moulding it from within while firmly constricting the outside. Next project was another thumb pot which would be broken up and glued back together at a later session, but we all ran out of time and had to leave our half-moulded shapes on a shelf covered in cling-film.
Friday afternoon is going to be the hardest part of this term. Life drawing. You'd think after all the modelling I've done and all the tutors I've listened to, I would have a head start? All this stuff in my head - how to measure, how many heads fit into the body, etc... I completed 3 drawings in the two hour session, willow charcoal on A1 sheets, and it was SO frustrating I was almost in tears several times.
Oh well, I can only improve. And sitting for the Tuesday morning class of 16 year-olds this week was a boost to my self-esteem... I think I did better than most of them, at least.
Meanwhile my mind has been filled with the concept of Vessels, poetically, linguistically, emotionally, searching through Art journals to see what others have made of it and starting my sketchbook with words and images. Probably more words than images, more words than most student's sketch books, but hey. I'm still a poet underneath. All creative disciplines feed into each other. It's all self-expression.
Yay!

Excited

My course starts tomorrow.
Here's a quote from the Guardian and Observer guide to Drawing, given away free with the newspaper this weekend and sent to me by a friend from choir (the choir I won't be able to attend for the next year as I'm doing the course):
'In some ways we see the world around us through our language, and our ability to describe it is limited by our understanding of language. The same can be said of visual (drawing) language. Having the right language - selecting the right materials, point of view, making the right marks in response to what is seen, and learning how to organise and structure a drawing to provide the best possible outcome - is an ongoing and continuous process of achievement that develops with every drawing we make.'
I am a poet. This resonates. I am a poet because I cannot draw. I'm aiming to become a poet who draws. I will speak multiple languages. I will speak in tongues.
No expectations, then...

Chaos at College!

Yesterday was my second attempt to enrol and pay for the Art Foundation course. The first was on June 9th, when I handed in the completed form and my documentary evidence for the concessionary rate, but was told I couldn't pay until the Course Manager had contacted me.
I spent the summer waiting. In fact I was so concerned that I phoned the Art Department on several occasions to ask if the course was still running and whether I had a place on it, but no tutors were ever available to ask. Finally, last week, I had the long-awaited phone call - the Course Manager is also my Line Manager for the life model work, so after the shock of discovering that the attendance days had changed (see last post) we started to book me up for modelling. He still seemed a bit unsure about numbers and enrolment so said he'd phone me back on Monday to confirm.
I waited in all day, twiddling thumbs and unable to get down to most of the other things on my To Do list because they depended on knowing about the course... finally at 5.00pm, when I'd given up, he phoned and things began to move.
I said I'd come in and pay the next day.
Arriving at Reception it soon became apparent that the Right hand was in total ignorance of the Left hand's movements. The Receptionist was trying to field enrolments between her Receiving work and was quite obviously stressed. She found my paperwork - but I still couldn't enrol. I needed the Course Manager's signature on a seperate form to say he'd explained everything to me. She phoned through. He came over from the Art Department. Again. It was his third trip that day to sign papers. He thought he'd signed up to teach Art. He hadn't even wanted to be Course Manager in the first place - it was a 'poisoned chalice'. I commiserated. He signed. I waited my turn for the harassed Receptionist's attention again, and finally managed to pay.
Then, having driven all that way, I thought I'd use the college gym to save myself the session fee at my local one - I'm trying to get back into shape after a rather lazy year. At the Fitness Centre there were people waiting for the Receptionist...
I went to get changed. There was still no sign of him. Finally I recognised him taking a large group of new students on a tour round the facilities. When he got back to his post I asked for a locker key so I could use the gym. He looked flustered and decided to deal with the next person in the queue instead. I continued to wait patiently. It's a bad habit of mine.
'Locker key?' he said eventually. 'Follow me.'
We went to the gym, where he hunted on a high windowsill at the end, past the weight training area, and came back with a bunch of keys. The first he tried opened a locker full of someone's equipment. The next one was empty. 'Ah,' I said, 'so I come and see you when I want to get my stuff back...'
The gym was full of young men showing off, graced by the occasional short visit of sporty young women. The music was loud. Some of the cardio-vascular machines weren't working. The Receptionist noticed me struggling with a rower and came to apologise. 'We're getting it serviced next week,' he explained, 'and we're getting some new machines in too. It's hard getting things past the budget.'
I left through a lobby crammed with new students milling around in a state of confusion and high expectations. It's going to be interesting, being both a new but mature student, and a (decidedly mature) life model.

Back Again, with a New Hat

A new hat being a new role, in this case. I'm taking the plunge - about to experience life on the other side of the easel. Scary stuff, especially as my artistic training and practice ended at the age of 13 when I was told not to take Art O-level. So I'm expecting to go into this at the bottom of the class, which is not comfortable for anyone.
But I'm very excited about learning a new 'language', a new way to express myself. I used to say I'm a poet and a writer because I can't draw. Yet one thing I've discovered in my observations as a life model over the years is that it's possible to LEARN to draw - it's not innate any more than the ability to play a musical instrument.
Let me explain the plan. I'm about to start a part-time Art Foundation Diploma at the college where I work as a model, two days a week studying and probably one day a week working there. As it's so new, so scary, and will doubtless be so emotional at times, I'm going to record my progress in this blog. Who knows, I might even learn how to download photos onto my laptop and transfer them to the blog too. In fact it's something I'll have to learn if my Grants for the Arts project goes ahead, but more on that another time.
In any good story there's the Call to Adventure, which I've heeded, and then there's the Threshold Guardian (or does that bit come later?) anyway, the first Trial. And in this case it's the college Art Dept not managing to communicate effectively... hmm sounds familiar, I had this problem with them last year over the contracts.
In the prospectus the course was due to run on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. I have just discovered that at the end of last term they changed it to Thursdays and Fridays for the first year course (2nd year remains as it was). The lead tutor took all the paperwork home with him but was told that the college would contact the students. Obviously they didn't, and what's particularly frustrating is that I spent several phone calls over the summer trying to get hold of someone to tell me what was going on, but was always told the tutors were away and I'd be contacted soon.
I'm just relieved that I didn't set up a poetry course to run this Autumn. As it is, I have to cancel two jobs I'd agreed to do on Thursday mornings - and take a year's sabbatical from the community choir I've been in for nearly 18 years, as they rehearse on Thursday afternoons. So I suppose it really is a test of my commitment.
Now I just have to wait for confirmation early next week that there are enough enrolled for the course to run...

Back to work

Happy New Year! Mine is...
Yes, dear reader, there's a lovely new man in my life, and all's going well with my family and my life in general - nothing to complain about and a lot of reasons to be happy. So, back to school and college and back to work for me. I had four different jobs last week, and two of them were new groups and new venues.
The first was on Wednesday evening, 8-9.30pm, which was not an ideal time in terms of my twelve-year old, especially as her brother was hardly home all week (he's involved in a local protest/occupation, and a new relationship). It was also very cold. I set off early in case of getting lost, but the directions were clear and I arrived at her studio (a converted shed in the garden) before any of the artists. She's a sculptor mainly, was given my number by another sculptor who I worked for last year, and it's a small group of artists who've met twice before with a male model.
Only three others out of a possible six turned up - I don't know how they managed to fit seven of them plus model into the space available, it felt crowded with four. And cold. I stood or sat over the heater the whole time. They asked if they could book me for their next session, but I had to say no - occasionally would be Ok, but not too often, for my daughter's sake.
Friday I had two jobs, a village hall group with several artists I already knew, then after wandering around the town for the best part of an hour I drove straight over to the catholic school, where they had a new class of lower Sixth to induct into the delights of the naked female form. A mixed group - seemed to be three girls and three boys, but another three boys arrived late and were sent away until the break. The experienced tutor was still working out the lesson plan, and was handing over to a novice tutor after the first fifteen minutes.
The class did not go according to plan, and there was a 'disruptive element' in the form of a gangly lad with a quiff, who objected to lots of short poses to begin (he wanted a long one), lounged around not following what was being taught, and generally had a bit of an attitude. The break went on too long, the three girls left the room and were late back, and two of the planned poses had to be dropped. But for some reason I was paid an extra fiver, so no complaints from me.
I must comment on the sheer beauty of the day on Friday too - a hoar frost round here, bright winter sunshine, loved the sunrise and all the colours of dawn, loved driving to the first job, discovering the riverside at lunchtime, and driving to the second job - except that the fog started when I got up into the hills. Coming home after I emerged from fog to find the orange setting sun bisected by thin cloud - so artistic.
This morning was another new group, in another artist's studio in a village, and the frost was thick and white but not covering the trees so noticeably. I set off early and stuck to the main road as much as possible - the route that took me along a lane bounded by hedges rather than one bounded by ditches, I know what I'd prefer if the car started to slide...
Anyway, arrived safely and early and introduced myself to the hostess artist, who is new to the area and had extensively renovated her house (two of the others came from the same village and spent some time admiring what she'd done to it, and the new spacious studio). There then followed at least fifteen minutes of trying to get easels set up and everyone ready. One artist who I've met before covered the lovely new studio floor in layers of newspaper, as she works with inks. There was a watercolourist, a returnee to life drawing, and two from another class I'd sat for - six in all. I really enjoyed working for them, they really enjoyed me as a model - and again, I was slipped an extra fiver (for staying on to cover the setting up time, and for sitting so still and producing lots of interesting poses, I think). Nice and warm, good views of frosty willows, experienced and appreciative artists, and real coffee - the best sort of job. I'm booked for another five Saturday mornings with them.
Next week I start back at the college, and hope to find out how I can use the gym there - a perk I read about in my 'terms and conditions of employment'. That'll make the short Friday morning sessions worthwhile and fill in the time before the catholic school booking - and save me money on the local gym too.

Under Contract...

OK, I did sign the new contract which arrived through the post on Friday.
I'd had a phone message from the college telling me about the pay rise, a direct result of my letter, and saying that a new contract was on its way, with the hope that I would reconsider my position. It was from a woman - the name was unfamiliar, so I thought it might be the Art Department secretary. But when I went in to work on Friday the tutor wrinkled his face - 'name sounds familiar, not someone from our office though. Think she's from Finance?'
Oh. So still no recognition from the Art Department itself. The tutor seemed very happy that I was returning next term, and understood that a two-hour session was hardly worth my while, what with the travelling time and the petrol. He said he'd confer with another tutor to see if they could give me more hours together.
The work that session was dynamic - they had to draw a series of movements. The first was from curled up on the mattress to outstretched, still kneeling. It did get a bit repetitive after ten minutes, and my calves were starting to ache, strangely. The next was standing - a twist on one side, around the front with one arm going over my head to a twist on the other side. And the third series was walking towards a chair, sitting down, and getting up again facing another direction. Slowly, with pauses.
On returning home I phoned the number I'd been given. It was for the Head of Human Resources (there's a poem in that job title, I'm sure), so I asked her a few relevant questions, like when might I actually be paid, how much it would be per month, and was the Local Government Pension Plan transferable between jobs...
I also complained a bit about the lack of communication from the Art Department, and how I had no idea who my line manager was, if I was indeed supposed to have one. Maybe that will filter back through the system.
I've never had a contract before. I've certainly never paid into a pension plan. I'm wondering what's happening to me. Is this part of becoming a Real Adult? Of Taking Responsibility For My Financial Future?
Meanwhile my oldest daughter phoned to tell me about her latest likely promotion - from part-time manager in January to full-time manager two months later. On 34k a year. And she's 23.
I invested in my children, not in banks. And now I'm trying to follow in my daughter's footsteps, slowly, and many miles behind. In my own inimitable bohemian fashion, of course...

Work is Cancelled Today

Hey great news! Work today is cancelled...
I was supposed to be doing six hours for Adult Learning and Leisure in a town about an hour away, leaving at 9am to get back around 5pm, and out again to teach the last session of my poetry course soon after 6pm - this is after being out from 11am-10pm yesterday. So I was relieved to take a call on my mobile yesterday lunchtime from the tutor, apologising for the late cancellation due to outbreaks of flu among participants.
All I need now is a call from the college begging me to stay at the higher rate - or a cheque from them for 60 hours at the higher rate, and thanks for my sterling efforts... or snow...
Everywhere else in England gets snow. We have more grey rain.
I spoke to one of the other models for the college last Thursday evening and he told me the rate had gone up to something over £9/hour. I went in to work the next morning and the tutor told me that was a direct result of my letter. But no-one's bothered to contact me yet, despite a request via the secretary for the Head of Art to phone me that afternoon. I'm still debating as to whether it's best for me to contact them and find out what's going on, but on a point of principle I'm not going to. Yes, dear Reader, I can be a stubborn cow when I'm in the mood.
The private school work ended last Thursday morning and I was paid for the month. Most of it went on paying the mobile mechanic for rescuing me with a new battery when the car wouldn't start last week, and on paying for my portion of the videoing we've done for our poetry set (to be on youtube or googlevideo soonish). The remainder I blew on some early (for me) xmas shopping.
I do have a booking for another private school next term - Friday afternoons at the very friendly Catholic boarding school. £20 per session cash in hand, personal contact and thanks.
I'm aware that I have to start cutting down on the amount of modelling I do, and increasing the amount of creative, academic and 'professional' work. Adjusting the balance. So I'm still not sure if I want to go back to the college. But I DO want to be paid for the work I've already done at the higher rate, of course!
Meanwhile hoping to hear of success in poetry and short story comps, and needing to send off more submissions. And write my essay, and think about my 'placement' for next year, etc.
OK, work's not really cancelled. I'm just doing different work, that's all.