05 October 2011
my love affair with words
Its not really a secret that I love words.
I write here on the blog but in reality, its barely scratching the surface. I've got notebooks and journals and papers covered in scribbles and marching sentences. I daydream of owning an old typewriter:
I've been writing since I was a teenager. At first it was a way to get out of my own head (since I was quite shy and spent most of my time there anyway) but it grew into a shadow, a part that couldn't be separated.
A few years ago it went into overdrive during a particularly stressful period in my life. It was the only act of creating I could manage. The studio was barren during that time, anything that came out of it was forced and felt foreign but the words? The words never failed, they spilled out and pulled me away from the places I didn't want to be.
Now its become a ritual. Almost every project grows from some part of my journal, from an essay that can be manic or tidy or just random. Its the point that all things begin.
I was asked recently if I teach this - this way of creating artwork out of writing first. Its an interesting thought, I don't know how I'd give that to people but its been kicking around in my head now for a couple of weeks in a rather annoyingly insistent way.
For now I'm tucking the idea away but not out of sight. It might sound a little loony but I'm already planning projects for next year and this could be an interesting one to try to work out.