piff paff pooofff
When I was small there was a magician called the Great Soprendo, who seemed to make magic in the blink of an eye and a piff paff pooofff. This is how I feel about the past few weeks.
Jam-packed weeks with so much learning and thinking and trying and testing and teasing out of ideas. I am a little overwhelmed in truth and feeling a pinch out of my depth (which is where true growth lies right?)
Here are some of my highlights in no particular order and likely little coherence:
Spending time with clare e potter. Poet. Welsh woman. Welsh speaker. Could-be-word-witch (in the very BEST possible way). Plant lover. Funny, generous - incredibly generous actually - clare is helping me understand my importance in how I see the world and the words I choose to articulate it. In my own way. Without pretension. She makes it all feel effortless and brave while challenging my ideas and introducing me to new ways of working with words + type + text. I’m a BIG fan of clare e potter.
Streamlining the studio. Taking time to make subtle changes to the work flow of my space, as suggested by Theo. A call to action. Letting go of inherited items that do no serve me well, while organising and collating those that do - paper, furniture (for type and not sitting at or on), type and the dark art of the diss.
Practising my learning so far - slowly making and kit packing for the Rhondda Arts Festival, my first taught class in almost a year in a new field of study where I am quietly learning the nuance of this heritage craft too. Mildly terrifying, but ever the teacher, the planing and prep felt like an old friend missed but not forgotten.
Walking. Always walking and looking and seeking and finding and connecting to place. Sunny pup my shadow and always companion, best park pal, best listener. Worst early riser, sometimes diva, has been known to be carried to the park.
Teaching again. Sharing skills, sharing stores, sharing ideas and meeting new folks. Seeing my learning come to life in an unfamiliar space, surrounded by incredible people, who are all so incredible at what they do. Making a mess, making charcoal - a material of time and of place I think? - and realising the ephemerality of this very moment, what is left behind and how we might honour what is retained.
Taking words and taking ideas. Taking some ideas lightly. Trying so very hard to not hold tightly. The concept of Ma and the space around and between and how this might become part of…
BOOKS! Well pamphlets actually, too few pages to be allowed to be named a book. Hand set. Hand pressed. Cut, folded and bound. Words of meaning and collective consciousness from a gaggle of people I might never see again? Carefully wrapped in sun prints made between my daughter and I from summers ago, at a time I could not dream of all of this. Transient encounters and fleeting moments. Sitting quietly on the breeze.
