Two
The Fourth Friday in February 2024
At the end of a long week of miserable London rain I hope this finds you well, somewhere dry and warm with the hope of spring in the not too distant. Thank you for finding yourself here for the second instalment of this newsletter slash stream of consciousness. I’m not going to use the previous one as a guide for how to structure this, so forgive me if it seems less organised. I want to do my best to ensure this remains authentic without putting pressure on myself to write in a certain way. Lots has been going on since the last one so let’s get cracking.
I recently went to see Zeinab Saleh’s ART NOW show at Tate Britain, she is one of my favourite painters at the moment and her new body of work didn’t disappoint. Lyrical brushstrokes contained in the parameters of a refined colour palette result in spirited paintings which toe the line between stillness and agitation. She leaves room for pockets of quiet contemplation in the form of familiar motifs, like a rug hanging on a door, or the handle of a cupboard. This allusion to the familiar lulls us into somewhere dreamlike, not tied to any specific place or time, like a memory we think we could belong in. I highly recommend finding some time to sit on one of the benches in the room and spend time with these gentle works.
Zeinab Saleh, Early morning (2024) on show at Tate Britain
‘Over and over and over again’ on Irish flags at the Emirates, a nod to ‘B’Jesus said Paddy’ a niche Irish Arsenal song. My favourite flag at the stadium, other than the one that says ‘Class is permanent’ (unpictured).
I’ve been to a couple of Arsenal WSL (women’s super league) games at the Emirates and it’s a 10/10 experience no matter the scoreline… apart from the people who bring their six kids along (no issue here) and give you evils when you tell the ref to fuck off if a decision doesn’t go our way. Yes, I’m glad tickets are more accessible price wise, and that the atmosphere is welcoming enough that people feel comfortable bringing their kids, but the expectation that the fans aren’t going to have colourful language is just naive; it’s women’s football, not the cinema. I learnt some of my lifelong favourite swear words on North London derby day (cheers dad), it’s part of the charm.
Gripe aside, if you’re a distant football fan and have thought about going to stadium matches but have been put off by the behaviour of (some, not all) men’s football fans, tickets for women’s games at the Emirates are less than 15 quid. It’s well worth it. I am reminded of the parallels I draw between faith and football when I go to the Emirates, it fills my cup in a way nothing yet has compared to. It’s also probably the highest concentrations of lesbians in the same place in London, other than the opening of that new lesbian bar in Broadway market the other day (mental, by the way).
Speaking of lesbians and women’s football, I’ve been enjoying ‘Big Kick Energy’, a podcast created by comedians Suzi Ruffell and Maisie Adams. Suzi is new to football, enjoyed watching the lionesses win the euros (who didn’t?) and has finally grasped the offside rule, and Maisie is a diehard fan of women’s football, knows transfer stats off the top of her head and talks eloquently about the importance of the recognition of the women’s game-whilst keeping things light and accessible for listeners who might be as new to it all as Suzi. It’s hilarious, of course, and such an uplifting conversation to listen to- no elitism, no condemnation for not being an ‘expert’ in something- (think, wearing a band t-shirt and someone asking you to name 5 songs- who gives a shit if I don’t know the discography, the t-shirt was cheap and looks cool). To me it exemplifies what I love about the atmosphere of women’s games; you don’t have to prove anything to anyone in order to enjoy yourself.
I’ve been leaning on things like the football and going to shows and spending time with my loved ones in the past month. I’ve been off my antidepressants for 4 months (after nearly 10 years) and a string of back-to-back rejection emails knocked me a bit. Although I graduated in June 2023, I only really feel like I’m hitting that post-graduating wall now. Something I didn’t expect from this period of my life was the amount of rejection I would encounter and the impact it would have on my confidence and overall mental health. This is obviously a universal experience for art grads, especially in London where things can feel oversaturated, but it stills feel lonely if you let it.
3D Women! is a platform for women and non-binary artists run by legends Winnie Hall and Celeste McEvoy. On the last Wednesday of every month the group meets at SET Peckham for “How’s the Art going?” which is a friendly, low pressure support group to discuss, moan, gossip and celebrate what we’ve been up to: the good, the bad and the ugly. As well as the network they have cultivated in real life, their instagram has been an amazing resource for me in terms of getting back on the wagon and applying to open calls and opportunities again, as well as making in general. 3D interviewed Seren Metcalfe, founder of Working Class Creatives Database, and this snippet resonated with me after having similar conversations with friends.
Screenshot from the 3D Women! Instagram. Words from Seren Metcalfe.
I’ll be the first to admit I’m jealous of painters, or any practitioner with a niche, a skill they have perfected or linear sense of style in their work. Not in a self-deprecating way, but I just don’t think I’ll ever be the kind of artist (or person) who can commit to mastering something. If I’m in the studio for 3 hours I’ll go from clay to ink drawing to writing to painting and back again. I strive to be a jack of all trades because by nature my practice is homespun, usually cheap and quick. The materials I use are only ever a vessel for the idea and my ideas are always shifting, so for me it makes sense that the means in which I communicate those ideas shift too. I keep it moving to keep myself moving.
I did Fine Art: Photography at uni and when I eventually sacked off the photography and just started doing whatever I wanted- installation, sound, painting, drawing etc, I was left to my own devices in terms of the technical foundations to these practices. In no means am I saying that you need to ‘train’ in anything to do it, be good at it, or love it, but I feel like what I know about clay, paper, paint, canvas is information I have foraged for and learnt on my own as a result of trial and error- rather than something I have an ‘education’ in.
Whilst I wouldn’t change a thing about how I arrived at this point in my practice, I am often stuck with imposter syndrome-y feelings about the methods in my work. I remind myself that I’m not an oil painter, I’m just using oil paint, and somehow that seems to help when I start holding myself to an impossible standard. Seren’s words are ones I am sure I will find myself returning to- reminding myself that I would hate to be making work in any other way. Long live the make-doers, the cheapskates and the scroungers.
I had my first show of 2024 last week, me and my darling mates got suitably pissed and I was chuffed with how the work looked. It was a new iteration of ‘The First Sorrow’, a work I made in 2022 which commemorated the loss of a childhood Arsenal shirt (it got nicked from my uni studio, still angry about it). I spent a lot of time in the studio deliberating over how to re-exhibit the work, which was something I’d never done before. I decided to cut down the structure to invite the visitors to bend or kneel in order to engage with the work. The candles and prayer cards are a nod to the votive flames that flicker in Catholic churches, the flowers were a last minute addition which compound the idea of revisiting, re-remembering on ‘The Anniversary of The First Sorrow’. I’m glad it was received as more of a functional shrine this time around compared to a work I just see as a bit awkward looking now. I think this was a good work to re-exhibit though; when I made the first one I’d only just finished my dissertation *shudder* and so I was limited by my low energy levels and the imminent need to get it finished. I feel like I did the idea more justice this year.
The First Sorrow (2022) Exhibited at Dilston Gallery, Southwark Park
‘The Anniversary of The First Sorrow’ (2024) Exhibited at 52 Cyprus Street
I am showing a painting in ‘Rites and Rituals’ which opens on Saturday the 24th of Feb from 6-9pm at the iconic Safehouse 1 on Copeland Road. I’m excited to see the show come together, and how the 25 ish artists involved interpret ideas of ritual and ceremony. The work I’m showing has been a labour of love and a vision that’s been brewing since I moved into my studio in December, it’s one of the first pieces of work I’ve had that proper eureka moment with since leaving uni. This ‘fledgling’ shape as I’ve affectionately called it is an extension of a poem I wrote last year, aptly titled- you guessed it- ‘Fledgling’. I’ve been painting over and ripping up and re-painting it since December and so it feels gratifying to have arrived at a place where I am excited to exhibit a finished version. I’m not going to put the picture of the actual piece here because I want people to see it in situ at the show, but I’ll treat you to the poem that led to the visual work instead.
Two early stages of the Fledgling painting in the studio (these are sneeze paintings- you’ll get it once you’ve read all the way to the end)
Right, here’s the poem.
You are wonder-full,
Fledgling thing.
Here, underneath the flags you have fashioned
from the dreams and prayers of your lovers.
I have stood under my own flags,
and made no sound.
Here, I sit beside you-
with you
Your silence sustains me,
Fledgling.
Your grief is borrowed
and yet it blisters your hands
and burns your chest as
you clutch it to your heart for comfort,
cursing the white-hot heat.
You are so wonder-full,
Fledgling thing,
fortified against yourself.
You love as I have loved,
weep as I have wept.
We need not speak,
dear Fledgling,
I offer you this cleft.
You hold your mother as I have held mine
and listened to your brother sing,
turned your sorrow into shrines,
you are wonder-full,
Fledgling thing.
I performed this at a poetry night recently and read it aloud for the first time, I found myself reading it quite gently and slower than I’d expected to. It’s nice to mix it up a bit sometimes and really take the time to consider things like pace and structure -rather than the usual bull in a China shop approach to writing where it all just spills out of me. This change in pace is mirrored in the process of making the paintings too, forcing myself to consider more than I usually do. Sometimes the things I make are like sneezes and other times they’re like songs, I think ‘Fledgling’ (both poem and painting) is a snotty song.
I always re-read what I’ve written at this point and think God you don’t half chat shit, but it wouldn’t be the real deal if I didn’t think that. I hope this was alright compared to the first one, if you have any comments or suggestions please swing me a message, this is still quite a scary thing to do for me, hence why I end up talking about football podcasts and complaining about stuff for comfort lol.
Before you go I have two shows in March which I’m really looking forward to:
‘INVISIBLE: VISIBLE’ at hARTSlane
17 Harts lane, SE14 5UP (behind the big TK Maxx in New Cross Gate)
Opening night Friday 15th from 5-8pm
Exhibition runs from the 15th-24th of March
‘SHOEBOX’ at AMP Gallery
1 Acorn Parade, SE15 2TZ
Opening night Thursday 14th (timings TBC)
Exhibition runs from the 14th-17th of March
It would be great to see you there, I feel really lucky to be involved in shows organised by wonderful creatives that put a lot of time and care into the work they do, so coming along on opening nights or even stopping in on a lunch break would mean a lot to me and the rest of the gorgeous artists involved.
Speak soon
With Love and thanks,
GB xx