Better morning, less tired. Naoise requesting hot basmati rice for breakfast moments before having to leave for school. I fry up some rice from yesterdays dinner. He refuses to eat the rice apparently it tastes yucky.
Ran through Hardcastle Craggs, circular loop in 40 minutes. Pass no-one on outward route by stone and river. Enjoy jumping over the stepping stones, drink water from the tap at the mill. Backward route along track meet dog walkers and a woman pushing her pram.
Pick some bluebells, consider making a series of photographs of bluebells sticking out of my vulva. My studio friend is not sure about this. Some flowers are poisonous. I think bluebells would be ok. I have a little play with the green stalks and my body in front of the mirror. I decide it needs a re-think. Maybe try again another day. All these ideas. So many unrealised. The words get in the way. Over analysis. Anxiousness. Just need to do. Think less. Act. Respond to situations. Stop writing start making art.
Write notes for life drawing class which is about exploring tone. Find a beautiful Kathe Kollwitz image. The sensitivity of mark making is wonderfully fine and precise. Pencil marks gently caressing the forms of face and hand.
Continue making Visualising Birth though Art booklet for workshop on Saturday. Its really positive to collate all my research from the last six years. So much information its hard to edit.
Discuss the need to enter some work for the Project After Birth. Ten friends have sent me messages suggesting I apply. I am somewhat put off by the selection panel, maybe I am paranoid. I must not let paranoia and past experiences get in the way of future opportunities. I must not allow a someone else’s personal taste and curatorial power get in the way of my creativity and the potential sharing of my work. Everyone needs an audience. Art needs an audience to exist. To be in the world. Its hard though, its hard when you feel held back. But then really its only me that is really holding myself back.
Half way through the day, I realise that my bank card is missing. Have a panic. How will I be able to pay the life model ? My studio colleague kindly lends me some money.
Go to library and print out notes for life drawing class.
On way back in pouring rain bump into a friend loading her sewing machine into the car. At first I don’t recognise her. She has her hood up. We talk. We talk about the birth workshop, she is coming on Saturday, it will be good, just a handful of us, nice and intimate. Her hood makes me think about the language of motherhood once more. Should do something visual about my m-(other)-hood.
Collect Syd from school. Drop Syd back at home. Collect Naoise from school. Home make children dinner. Search house for rucksack and bank card. Very relieved to discover it under a pile of Patricks clean washing. PHEW.
Take Naoise to be looked after by my friend. Drop Syd off at guitar. Set up life drawing room. Teach life drawing class. Clear up after class. On way back home stop off at late night mini market and buy milk and cannot resist one bottle of cider.
Back home Naoise asleep. Glad he is sleeping, often he is still awake when I am home from evening work. More birth research work.
Argument with Patrick, all too much, fed up, angry.
Resentment. Equality does not exist. Sick. Tearful. Tired.
I live in the attic. Need to reclaim my independence. Everyone has a tipping point.