One Week in Norfolk (Little Bits and Bobs)

Before I set off I had very mixed expectations. Was warned I might catch crabs...

One week in Norfolk actually turned out to be just what I needed:

...Elderly people in Fakenham. Rolf Harris in Holt. Bad signal all week. Missing my iphone. Forgetting my pyjamas. Cow giving birth outside the cottage. Falling in love with old Hunstanton. Having a strop in Norwich. Lovely art shops. Rummaging in charity shops. Lots and lots of flies. Miles of greenhouses. Flint. Tesco. More Tesco. God bless globalisation. Getting my car wedged in a tight bend. The roads. Satellite navigation telling constant lies. Nonexistent road signs. Not catching crabs. Man snorting milk in Norwich. Park and ride. Never quite finding Henry Moore. Escaping. Watching a cow being milked. Running round and round the same block because the village only had one block. Listening to Midlake. Cromer. Drinking tea out of a flask. Daily strop because my bag was too heavy. My dad carrying my bag. Buying my dad’s Christmas present. Ice cream every day. Sainsbury Visual Arts Centre. Good pub. Good vegetarian food. Caravans. Vomit comet. Picnics. Feeling calm. Listening to Bright Eyes (not rabbits). Banging my head every night. Low beams. Backache from pushing daughter’s bike. Charlie and Lola. Kite flying. Kite not flying. Sandcastles. Sand in my camera. Rather happy. Pockets full of shells. Smiling at people. People smiling back. Pretty houses. Contemplating moving here (might be late for school). Forever feeding the ducks. Parking tickets. Having a beautiful easel bought for me. Cromer again. Steps to the beach. Sandy feet. Cooking for my mum and dad. Sleeping a bit better. wanting to stay for a bit longer...

Greenhouses

I find greenhouses intriguing, funny little places. I like them dilapidated, flakey and with a history. I like the thought that great things have been grown there. That seeds have been persuaded into life. Nurtured. I like the thought of people tending, watering, picking, potting. I like the smell, the stuffiness, the slightly mouldy pong. The tiny, little possibility that the tentative experiment might go wrong. That the growing might not stop...

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Holocaust Project with Projections...

Still working on it... will update with more detail later...

Six Students on a Service Bus (Uneven Geographies)

Following three thwarted attempts. I finally made it to the 'Uneven Geographies' exhibition at the Nottingham contemporary. I was accompanied by six A level students (came on the public sevice bus from Ollerton. A whole other story in its own right.) It was a research trip for the students. I have set them the theme 'globalisation' for their unit 3 studies. We have lots and lots of work to do on what globalisation actually means. But this trip was a chance for them to experience actual, challenging, contemporary artworks (hopefully with aim of inspiring them!) AND to do some drawing and photography in Nottingham along the same theme.

Am starting to grow rather fond of this new gallery (it's in Nottingham- the city I belong in, but am sadly not currently in). Have seen every exhibition so far and have always left wanting to talk about what I've seen. Such a good sign... I really enjoyed this one. It challenged me. Am still mulling over what I saw. Really loved the photography by Bruno Serralongue. Anti-journalism. The opposite side of the media. I found that the photos worked so well because of the sheer number of them. Which, to me, represented the vastness of the images we are bombarded with from the media. A gallery assistant approached me whilst I was looking at them and explained how they could be compared with the work by George Osodi, which was more contrived, classical and composed. I wouldn't necessarily have noticed this left to my own devices.

Haunting video installation... The enormous sound of tiny movements will stay with me for a while. I think. Can still hear it now. Some of the works reminded me of my 'Holocaust Project', especially the piece about poverty and the world's three richest men. I can't remember the name or the artist, but essentially the number 3 had been printed onto A1(?) paper 600,000,000 times to represent the number of people living below a certain level of poverty. I had been grappling with ways of showing emormous numbers in relation to the six million Jews killed during the holocaust. This was quite breathtaking... still need to work on this concept... a bit... but was motivating to see it done...

A little bit in love with the Nottingham Contemporary.