The fullness of time

(Looking through the Drafts folder on this blog, posts written but unfinished, unpublished, I found this had been written almost a year ago. For at least a year I've been sorting and sifting and revisiting and binning and liberating and regretting, mostly on a micro level ... all those little bits of "important" papers...)

Taking time and having time and spending time - these and similar ones are phrases that we use without thinking, and perhaps we shouldn't think about them too much - especially when pressed for time.

This morning I have a pressing task which relies on finding some information, just a name or two jotted down ... where? Not where I was sure it was (though I keep looking in that notebook, just in case I missed seeing it the first half-dozen times I checked!) - but I'm sure it's written down somewhere....

You know how it goes - self-recriminations of "I should have done this last week/last month/last year"; "I really don't have time for this today"; "this happens to me all the time!" - not very useful when you're running out of time.

Going through heaps, drawers, files, and bags and finding handwritten notes with snippets from the past brings on the meditative mood. How much time has passed since hearing this story (and who told it??): 

"There are things I don't touch - teddy bears for instance. Teddy bears are a minefield. I was at a sale in Suffolk when I saw a teddy bear literally torn apart by two bidders - one of them a vicar."

Whereas this snippet is quite recent, taken from a TED talk, the seven rules of successful artists [can't find the exact reference]:

1. work every day

2. volume (not perfection)

3. stealing from your idols

4. conscious learning

5. rest

6. seek criticism, get feedback

7. create what you love

Snippets du jour

Just one desk drawer has yielded 

- "memorable tickets" - from Art of the Stitch at the V&A, Friday 15 and Saturday 16 March 2002 (cost £56);
   -Mum's the Word at Kings Theatre Glasgow (my cousin Barbara Pollard is one of the writers and performers), also in March 2002 [and I took the sleeper to Glasgow to go see the performance];
   -and from 2001, Chelsea Flower Show - £12.00, "no babes in arms or under 5s admitted" - hmm, the price has gone up since then!

- a bundle of poems from 2002/3 (oh my, she was not a happy bunny!) - though this made me smile:

baggy maggie is gone
her bottomless bags are empty!
maggie hops skips jumps
hands free
baggageless! 

maggie was baggy;
now maggie
      IS

- a notebook from 2010, 'twixt art foundation course and starting the MA at Camberwell; it includes notes from courses on star book binding and cross structure bindings (neither of which I've done since) and these desiderata/advice -

-finding the essence as quickly as possible
-pursue to end of idea - don't let these things interfere with each other

Also, ever useful and never to hand, the drawer yielded some pads of blank, small sheets of paper - just the sort you want for jotting something down, but never have to hand. But but but ... current experience shows that it's best to write EVERYTHING in just ONE notebook... jots, scribbles, and all... consecutively on dated pages. Saves so much time when searching for the info later!!

Let us halt the digressions and get back to the title of this post, and consider "the fullness of time" - at this time, when I have little enough time to wallow in the memories that are being turned up, sifted through, recontextualised, whatever - just now seems the right time to do this. It's hard to get started, I need to trick myself into starting. It's hard to be at home, though I love my flat and its tranquility, that serenity is on the surface, there's still something troubling that makes me want to escape, to be Out Of The House. Most of all I want to escape this kind of sifting, but the fullness of time has led me to think that now might be the right time to face up to this. And gradually it gets easier, the burden gets less, the bags get emptier. The fullness of time lets you be in the moment.

"Golden Words..." for a golden anniversary (1997)

How differently I would do this now! Better bookmaking techniques; less brashness in the gold of the cover; a less "medieval" looking script ... but back then my calligraphy consisted of just the one script (since forgotten, and the hand more shaky now, alas). I hadn't yet learned the value of understatement, nor had practice produced finesse in making books.

The work that went into the object was appreciated, and Mom put it carefully away.

Poetry Thursday - Mornings Like This by Annie Dillard

(via)

"Give me time enough in this place
And I will surely make a beautiful thing"
- this is something I say to myself quite often, as a way of paying attention to where I am and spending enough time and care to take in all that it contains.

The book "Mornings Like This", containing "found poems", was sent to me in the 1990s sometime by my much-missed friend Rita, kindred spirit and writer of prize-winning short stories ... and many cards and letters, which I have still.

"So brief - our best!
...
Give me time enough in this place
And I will surely make a beautiful thing."

- the same words, a different thought altogether... about where we are, and what is missing.

"Out of the Closet" (2002)

One-sheet book, from an A4-sized piece of paper; tissue paper collage and stamping - the stamps were made with lines of PVA on wood block.

"Forest Scrumpy" (1998)

This recipe makes a much nicer drink than elderflower cordial (imho) and you also get the pleasure (imho) of picking the berries.

This book evolved within minutes in an illustration class at London College of Printing, as it was then. It was my first experience of how art could "just happen" - but of course it didn't just happen, there had been subconscious preparation: the learning that was happening on the course, my experience of making the drink and of making other books.

What was instantaneous - and fortuitous - was the scrap of yellow that seemed to need a hand on it (ie, wearing Marigolds to pick the berries rather than staining your hands). And the rest dropped into place.

Later the pages became potholders, made with applique and embroidery, but never used in the kitchen - and I still have a few of the resulting postcards -

Family history - a red hat and a lawn

April 1959

My sister's christening - the youngest of the three children, and how glamorous Mom looked in that so-1950s red hat!

We had moved "down the road" in Pitt Meadows, BC, to an uncleared site some 18 months before, into a house that was being built around us, starting with two rooms; it grew and grew for the next 10 or so years. Beyond the lawn is "the ditch" and beyond the fields across the road is "the dyke", holding back the Fraser river when it flooded, as had and would happen when the snows had been heavy and the spring runoff was great. Now there's a recreational path along the dyke - a greenway - but back then it was purely functional.

Ah, memories... but my sister still lives there, the house very different, the lawn extended. Conifers that had been planted for privacy grew large - enormous - and cast too much shade.

That lawn just over a year later, with its telephone pole, and
 trees and bushes growing in west coast rainforest conditions

Street kintsukuroi

(via)

The ancient Japanese art of pottery repair, also known as kintsugi, is brought to the streets in the work of Brooklyn artist Rachel Sussman. The technique traditionally involves the process of fixing broken pottery with a lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, resulting in an a repair that pays homage to the object’s history. On the streets, the "repair" of worn and weathered surfaces will itself eventually be worn away.

Another facet of the work is photographic "studies", the photos treated with enamel paint and metallic dust -

See more at thisiscolossal.com/2017/02/street-kintsugi-rachel-sussman/

I've written about kintsukuroi in the past (2013) - here and here - and these posts have proved very popular (thousands of hits). 

More and more we are being advised to stop buying, buying, buying and have just a few "good" things; knowing how to look after (and repair) them is part of that ethos. You can order a kintsukuroi kit online, or use a quicker method, with waterproof glue and gold paint, that gives the effect. This might not apply to mending the street outside your home, though......

Revisiting graphite

From 7 February 2012, when I was developing my "over-writing" project in the Book Arts course. It might be time to revisit it, and to use graphite more extensively and experimentally.

...

Another strand to this project is to be aware of subtle things and " meaningful accidents". For instance, using a fine pen that was running out of ink needed really hard pressure, and the paper underneath ended up covered with impressions - and the sheet of paper under that one still showed some marks - so before covering it with graphite, I used the defective pen to write another text, which bit deep into the paper. After 9B graphite had been added and polished, it became reflective and almost readable -

On the other side, a light coat of graphite on the raised texture of the writing, and denser graphite around the edges to try to pick up the fainter marks of the ghost writing -

It looks like "nothing" - and in a way, it is...

Poetry Thursday - "How to be Perfect" by Ron Padgett

This poem looks long, but it keeps you reading, right to the end.

How to Be Perfect

BY RON PADGETT

                           Everything is perfect, dear friend.
                                                  —KEROUAC

Get some sleep.

Don't give advice.

Take care of your teeth and gums.

Don't be afraid of anything beyond your control. Don't be afraid, for instance, that the building will collapse as you sleep, or that someone you love will suddenly drop dead.

Eat an orange every morning.

Be friendly. It will help make you happy.

Raise your pulse rate to 120 beats per minute for 20 straight minutes four or five times a week doing anything you enjoy.

Hope for everything. Expect nothing.

Take care of things close to home first. Straighten up your room before you save the world. Then save the world.

Know that the desire to be perfect is probably the veiled expression of another desire—to be loved, perhaps, or not to die.

Make eye contact with a tree.

Be skeptical about all opinions, but try to see some value in each of them.

Dress in a way that pleases both you and those around you.

Do not speak quickly.

Learn something every day. (Dzien dobre!)

Be nice to people before they have a chance to behave badly.

Don't stay angry about anything for more than a week, but don't forget what made you angry. Hold your anger out at arm's length and look at it, as if it were a glass ball. Then add it to your glass ball collection.

Be loyal.

Wear comfortable shoes.

Design your activities so that they show a pleasing balance

and variety.

Be kind to old people, even when they are obnoxious. When you become old, be kind to young people. Do not throw your cane at them when they call you Grandpa. They are your grandchildren!

Live with an animal.

Do not spend too much time with large groups of people.

If you need help, ask for it.

Cultivate good posture until it becomes natural.

If someone murders your child, get a shotgun and blow his head off.

Plan your day so you never have to rush.

Show your appreciation to people who do things for you, even if you have paid them, even if they do favors you don't want.

Do not waste money you could be giving to those who need it.

Expect society to be defective. Then weep when you find that it is far more defective than you imagined.

When you borrow something, return it in an even better condition.

As much as possible, use wooden objects instead of plastic or metal ones.

Look at that bird over there.

After dinner, wash the dishes.

Calm down.

Visit foreign countries, except those whose inhabitants have

expressed a desire to kill you.

Don't expect your children to love you, so they can, if they want to.

Meditate on the spiritual. Then go a little further, if you feel like it. What is out (in) there?

Sing, every once in a while.

Be on time, but if you are late do not give a detailed and lengthy excuse.

Don't be too self-critical or too self-congratulatory.

Don't think that progress exists. It doesn't.

Walk upstairs.

Do not practice cannibalism.

Imagine what you would like to see happen, and then don't do

anything to make it impossible.

Take your phone off the hook at least twice a week.

Keep your windows clean.

Extirpate all traces of personal ambitiousness.

Don't use the word extirpate too often.

Forgive your country every once in a while. If that is not possible, go to another one.

If you feel tired, rest.

Grow something.

Do not wander through train stations muttering, "We're all going to die!"

Count among your true friends people of various stations of life.

Appreciate simple pleasures, such as the pleasure of chewing, the pleasure of warm water running down your back, the pleasure of a cool breeze, the pleasure of falling asleep.

Do not exclaim, "Isn't technology wonderful!"

Learn how to stretch your muscles. Stretch them every day.

Don't be depressed about growing older. It will make you feel even older. Which is depressing.

Do one thing at a time.

If you burn your finger, put it in cold water immediately. If you bang your finger with a hammer, hold your hand in the air for twenty minutes. You will be surprised by the curative powers of coldness and gravity.

Learn how to whistle at earsplitting volume.

Be calm in a crisis. The more critical the situation, the calmer you should be.

Enjoy sex, but don't become obsessed with it. Except for brief periods in your adolescence, youth, middle age, and old age.

Contemplate everything's opposite.

If you're struck with the fear that you've swum out too far in the ocean, turn around and go back to the lifeboat.

Keep your childish self alive.

Answer letters promptly. Use attractive stamps, like the one with a tornado on it.

Cry every once in a while, but only when alone. Then appreciate how much better you feel. Don't be embarrassed about feeling better.

Do not inhale smoke.

Take a deep breath.

Do not smart off to a policeman.

Do not step off the curb until you can walk all the way across the street. From the curb you can study the pedestrians who are trapped in the middle of the crazed and roaring traffic.

Be good.

Walk down different streets.

Backwards.

Remember beauty, which exists, and truth, which does not. Notice that the idea of truth is just as powerful as the idea of beauty.

Stay out of jail.

In later life, become a mystic.

Use Colgate toothpaste in the new Tartar Control formula.

Visit friends and acquaintances in the hospital. When you feel it is time to leave, do so.

Be honest with yourself, diplomatic with others.

Do not go crazy a lot. It's a waste of time.

Read and reread great books.

Dig a hole with a shovel.

In winter, before you go to bed, humidify your bedroom.

Know that the only perfect things are a 300 game in bowling and a 27-batter, 27-out game in baseball.

Drink plenty of water. When asked what you would like to drink, say, "Water, please."

Ask "Where is the loo?" but not "Where can I urinate?"

Be kind to physical objects.

Beginning at age forty, get a complete "physical" every few years from a doctor you trust and feel comfortable with.

Don't read the newspaper more than once a year.

Learn how to say "hello," "thank you," and "chopsticks"

in Mandarin.

Belch and fart, but quietly.

Be especially cordial to foreigners.

See shadow puppet plays and imagine that you are one of the

characters. Or all of them.

Take out the trash.

Love life.

Use exact change.

When there's shooting in the street, don't go near the window.

Ron Padgett, "How to Be Perfect" from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2013 by Ron Padgett. 

Ron Padgett (poet, editor, translator; b.1942) was introduced on the BBC Radio3 programme The Verb as someone who had six decades of poetry under his belt (or words to that effect). You can hear that episode via The Verb podcast. After hearing his poem "Nothing in the Drawer" I had to look him up....

Paddy Hartley at the Maritime Museum

Paddy Hartley has been artist in residence at the National Maritime Museum since 2016. Since 2004 he has been researching and interpreting the lives of servicemen who suffered facial injuries during WW1 and who were treated by Sir Harold Gillies, a pioneer of reconstructive surgery.

The exhibition builds on his earlier work with the Gillies Archives, specifically the stories of Walter Yeo and William Vicarage, who were both injured at the Battle of Jutland in 1916.

I saw only a part of the exhibition, some of the works relating to Walter Yeo, who after surgery returned to the Navy for the rest of the war. After that he became a pub licensee and then worked in a ship-supply store. He compiled crosswords in his spare time.

Paddy works from salvaged military uniforms. The embroidery, applique and stitching included in his work acknowledges Gillies's stitching of the body during reconstructive surgeries. Patients often did embroidery or made soft toys as part of their recuperation.

Drawing Tuesday - Docklands Museum

My choice of object was a "tunnel book" (aka peepshow) of the Thames Tunnel, produced in 1827 -

 Here's a peep at the long view -

 ... and my drawing was about getting the proportions, perspective, and views through the cutout arches to work out. I learned a lot!

 Janet K persisted with the weave of the huge basket -

Jo tried several depictions of the course of the river, and was best pleased with this -

 Sue had to battle against the brightly lit floor to get the shadows as well as the cart itself -

 Carol had been outside, drawing one of the boats moored nearby -

Extracurricularly, Carol had been making felty flowerpot hangers - but preferred them turned inside out and looking rather like sea urchins -