November 11, 2017
I spent the morning at Windsor Contemporary Art Fair mixing with humans. It was the first time I’d been to an art event of that type at that scale. Previous experiences had been at the (equally excellent) Art On The Street in Maidenhead and similar. There was a certain amount of anxiety about going, especially as I was going on my own as part of my ongoing attempt to pretend to be an adult (I’m not, I’m absolutely terrible at it). This was my second social event in a week which was outside my normal comfort zone of hip-hop/punk gigs and stand up comedy. I have absolutely no idea how to conduct myself at these things and am generally terrified of making an enormous arse out of myself (more so than usual anyway). Against all odds I didn’t break anything or accidentally burn down the venue.
The very act of turning up nearly made me abandon the plan, there were proper parking attendants and people dressed like adults (I was wearing a Doomtree T-shirt and waterproofs). Everyone turned out to be very nice, there were a couple of friendly faces and I had to engage in my usual balancing act of trying to work out when I’ve bored the crap out of someone long enough and should leave them in peace. Trying to ascertain if I’ve outstayed my welcome in these situations is challenging, and I suspect sometimes I get it wrong and appear to just walk off halfway through a conversation.
The ART was excellent. Actually it was intimidatingly excellent, more so than any similar event I’ve been to and made me massively doubt whether I should continue to pursue any artistic output, but them I’m halfway through building a studio space at the moment so bollocks to it, I might as well continue. As well as some amazing fine art and photography there were some great examples of artists doing something entirely different Andy Finlay’s art was wonderful as was Valentina Gonzalez. Unfortunately a lack of cash and space leaves me with no opportunities to buy anything at the moment, although I would really really love one of Valentina Gonzalez’s pebble paintings (my description, not hers).
Overall the experience was a strange mix of intimidating and inspirational, I really want to get to the point where I can take part at something like this, but it’s going to be a long way in the future. Next up I’ll be going along to Art On The Street in a couple of weeks.
Here I am attempting to be a grown up:
Here’s the flyers and postcards/cards I collected.
Artists are as follows (in no specific order) and in the interests of not showing up my own lack of knowledge/offending them I’m not going to bother describing any of their art, click on them and find out:
I managed to mix with some humans without being dragged out and burnt as a witch. I’ll put that down as my achievement for the week.
Addendum: I have just remembered that this was my second outing to Windsor Racecourse, during the first one (a networking meeting at which I was selling my web development skills) the first conversation I had consisted of a woman telling me I really stood out as someone who didn’t fit in so well in that environment. She didn’t mean it as a negative but nevertheless it didn’t ease me into the situation.
October 27, 2017
I find going on holiday incredibly stressful, not because of the holiday itself but due to being self employed and fearing that at any moment the holiday peace will be shattered by a client with a planning deficit and an empathy malfunction. Last year was a little worse than normal due to an impending doctors checkup (post-holiday) to find out if there’s a problem with my eyes as a side effect of diabetes, something I have to look forward to again in a few days time. To try and decompress a little before the holiday I went for a hike in The Chiltern Hills up near Christmas Common as a mini photographic trip. Annoyingly due to lack of reception causing Google Timeline to lose me and my forgetting to take my GPS tracker with me I can’t pinpoint exactly where it was. Either way I know it was somewhere between Christmas Common and Turville Heath. I will openly admit that my love of Christmas Common is as much down to the name as to the location itself (although it is lovely), there’s no clarity on how it was named as such, Wikipedia stating that it could be down to a truce on Christmas day in 1643 during the Civil War, the Christmas family who lived locally or the coppices of Holly Trees (Wikipedia entry on Christmas Common).
In the end I didn’t manage to take too many photographs, I was having trouble with my vision, which as it turns out was down to stress and headaches rather than diabetic side effects so putting the camera up to my face was just a distressing process. I did find a fantastic circular walk through some beautiful woodland full of fungus and less full of people which I’ll try and rediscover some day. Here are the shots I kept…
April 27, 2017
Long hours and seemingly endless work pressure and the last three weeks have been a blur of stress and anxiety, the anxiety never really kicking in until the stress starts to drop for a couple of hours at which point it sneaks in though a cranial back door to slap me round the metaphorical face for daring to relax. I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’M NOT FUCKING FINE. (I am fine, all is under control).
I always get trigger happy with the impulse buying at such times. With no time allowance for relaxation (wake up, work, sleep, repeat) and little opportunity to leave the house I spend the few minutes down time I have each day browsing tat on the internet. It’s a self destructive habit and I know it at the time but I do it anyway. Last week I bought Warhammer Quest: Shadows over Hammerhal (looks lovely, can’t afford it, don’t have time to play it), most of the albums of Grace Petrie (beautiful and makes my cry a lot) and a Crenova Trail Cam the trail cam caused great excitement for the family and although I do regret throwing money we don’t really have at tech we don’t need it’s already proved a great addition to our tat mountain. First night we used it in the garden we got some footage of a hedgehog we were not aware we shared a space with snuffling round the garden.
Since then we have managed to capture:
I’m enjoying trying different places to put it round the garden for best results. So far I’ve learned to not put it too low down as otherwise it gets coated in dew which doesn’t damage it (as far as I know) but does make for blurry photos, also having it too near the ground causes wind in our expertly unmown lawn to set of the motion detector.
Here’s our tiny visitor, which my child has kindly named ‘Hedgehog’.
September 10, 2016
As part of the anxiety counseling I received earlier this year I was given the gentle target of completing a creative project. The logic being sound in that two of the aspects of existence I struggle with are my lack of control over my life and my frustration at not being able to complete the creative targets I set myself. I agreed with my counselor that I would break a couple of creative projects into easy to achieve steps and try to complete just a single step on a single project each week.
At first it worked great. I managed to get the first couple of tasks on a couple of projects done and felt really positive about finally making some progress on projects I’d abandoned as hopeless. But then my self destructive procrastinator kicked in. The first tasks on the projects I’d chosen had been effectively admin: choose a location, order some materials, list out the intents, etc. As soon as the admin (easy) tasks were done, the bits I couldn’t “fail” at I just started creating new projects to work on instead. By the end of the counseling I’d accrued quite a list of projects and made no real progress on any of them. For the record I don’t put this down to the counseling it’s something I’ve always done, I caught myself doing it this afternoon, buying fishing wire and ball bearings on Amazon for a completely spurious project instead of trying to make some real progress on anything I had already started.
This doesn’t help with the anxiety, it makes it worse. A repeated mantra of the evil liar that is my depression is that of “you’ll never achieve anything, you’ll never finish anything” and sometimes even my objective self believes this. The house, my hard drive, my head are all full of bits and pieces of creative projects, ten percent, maybe twenty percent finished but no further. I fear what will happen if I finish one, but I think more than that I fear that I will never finish one.
Today I acquired a totem of impending creative failure. A while back I came up with an idea for a series of photos which required a small selection of props, I did the initial admin by working out what the props were, considered a couple of locations then procrastinated violently. The props are easy to come by and available in most hardware stores for a couple of pounds, but rather than just walk to the hardware shop and buy them I decided to ask on Facebook if anyone I knew had them to hand and could I buy them off them. I had a logic which I won’t go into here. Of course lots of people offered to help and a couple of friends had what I needed so I agreed to pick them up off them next time I saw them, considered the next step of the project done and dropped it. I never found the time to visit the friends and so never progressed. Today in a moment of hope I walked into a hardware store and bought most of the bits I need. Two of them being plastic light fittings (they cost about 70p each). I am considering them a totem, a warning. If they are still sitting untouched, unmodified and unphotographed on my workbench by the end of the year it’s a signal that I’m not sorting myself out and I really need to do something about it.
I will face my new nemesis and destroy it, or at least modify it and take some photos, regardless of the outcome.
(I will probably still buy fishing wire and ball bearings because hey, who the hell doesn’t need those in their life).
March 17, 2016
It’s been a long year already and bought some unexpected changes, some harsh but which have over time worked out for the better. I’ve been putting off writing this for a good few weeks and that’s probably a good thing as I now have a better aspect on everything. A little distance helps the focus.
At the beginning of the year I had a checkup that came with the unpleasant news that my diabetes had become far worse over the previous year. This was particularly shocking as prior to this it had been under control to the extent I had been given the official “sod off, you don’t need our help any more” from my doctor. At the time of the checkup it was worse than when I was first diagnosed and seemingly in decline. Since then I’ve made some severe changes to my lifestyle (which was hardly excessive to start with) which will hopefully have put me back on track, I won’t know for a few months until I next see the doctor.
More importantly (to me), I have been struggling with my mental health. This is not a recent thing, it fluctuates like a wonky LFO in a cheap synth. Over the last few months the lows were getting lower and the highs were not happening, I’m actually grateful for the doctors appointment for the diabetes because it enabled me to bring it up without needing to make a specific appointment, which I wouldn’t have done. In a hilariously understated middle class manner I mentioned I sometimes felt a bit sad (translation: spend a lot of my life crying in car parks) and was there anything he could do. I’ve been referred to a counselling service and am currently doing an initial course of CBT. This is really helping. I’m in no sense ‘fixed’, nor do I expect to be but I am dealing far better with things that I have been previously, I am incredibly relieved to have started this process. At this point I’ve been diagnosed with depression and generalised anxiety, I have problems with self esteem (or would do if I had any at all). I’m getting better.
I was initially wary of mentioning my mental health online, especially on this blog which is superficially about my art and photography but I feel it’s important for a couple of reasons. Firstly, it’s had a massive impact on my life and has certainly influenced my creative output to a severe extent, predominantly by crushing it for a long time. Secondly, one of the reasons I finally spoke to my doctor was because I had seen other people publicly discussing their mental health problems and how they deal with them (among others Wil Wheaton, Rob Delaney and John Green). There is a stigma here, one I have felt deeply and they had helped give me the impetus to finally do something to try and fix my situation. While I am not quite at the level of those mentioned above I hope by openly and frankly discussing the subject I can in some small way help the discourse and possibly convince you to seek help if you need to. Seriously, feeling a bit sad on an all to regular basis? Go talk to someone. Always stressed, never sleep? Go talk to someone. Feel trapped in your own body and constantly screaming inside? Go talk to someone? Crying in your car five days a week? Go talk to someone.
It sounds so easy when you’re well “Go talk to someone” but I know it isn’t. If you are already struggling it can seem a massive scary challenge, especially if you are struggling with anxiety or social phobias. But please try, it can get easier. When I first spoke to my doctor I had all these fears about what was going to happen next. Would I be thrown out for wasting time? Would I be made to take terrifying drugs? Would I be laughed at and publicly ridiculed? None of these things happen, instead a very kind, patient and incredibly non-judgemental lady from the NHS talked to me for a while and helped me work out what would happen next. I’ve had nothing but kindness and care from the people who have been dealing with me.
I will talk more about this another time but for now I just want to say again, if you are struggling please talk to someone, it doesn’t have to be your doctor (although that’s a good starting point), just tell someone you can trust, it’s a starting point. It can get better.
There’s a lot of words there for something I was intending to get into one short paragraph, I should probably split this into two separate entries, but I’m not going to, this was intended to be an entry about photography and work/life balance and dammit it’s going to be.
Short break? Here’s a picture of a horse:
One of the biggest causes of woe (as has been chronicled here before) is my work/life balance and the anxiety that comes with it. As I’ve been discovering over the last few weeks this is a difficult and complex relationship which isn’t going to be fixed overnight. Back in January I had this plan (which I’ve since abandoned as bullshit) to work double shifts for a couple of weeks at a time then take an entire day off to go exploring and be alone with my thoughts. The idea being I would get a proper work free, responsibility free break. This was my first attempt.
I planned in advance where to go, Scott had told me about a bit of particularly beautiful forest in the Chilterns (near Turville) where he takes some amazing photographs. Scott even sorted me a map which I left at home because I’m a dick. Because I’m slightly less of a dick I had roughly memorised the route.
I set out at 8am at the starting point (outside St. Mary’s Church in Turville) then immediately panicked because I had my first telephone appointment with my mental health supporter at 9am and there was no phone signal. So I drove round for an hour and eventually made my way halfway home to a car park in Henley which had reasonable signal.
10am tried again. Annoyingly I’d missed the best sunlight and the beautiful frost which had covered the hills had mostly melted away. I did not give up. I followed my route saw some amazing scenery and the first proper moments of calm in a long time. I saw few people but those I happened upon were without fail friendly and welcoming.
After a while it became clear I had got lost. Mostly because I had been walking the circumference of the same field for 30 minutes and had no clue which way I should be going. After explaining this to a disinterested horse (see above) I had a bit of a panic. Initial feeling was to give up, find a car park to cry in then go home. Instead I opted to follow footpaths at random to see where they took me. This was infinitely better than crying in car parks, I strongly recommend it as a course of action.
It was a good day. I checked my email more than is sensible, I checked my voicemail more than is necessary, I thought about work more than I wanted, but I didn’t give in, I didn’t go back to work halfway through the day, I didn’t take any work calls, I took some reasonable photos and I found some personal space. I need to make this part of my regular existence but that’s a battle I still need to fight.
Things I learned:
Here’s some of my favourites:
March 5, 2015
I went back to Checkendon on a grey, drizzly day. Not what I’d hoped given how long I’d been meaning to find time to return. It’s not that far from where I live, but it’s just far enough to be a little too far to drop in just to trek across a field to see if a sculpture is still there.
Last year ended badly. Work had been going downhill at an increasing velocity and was starting to veer out of control. A combination of unfortunate circumstances and direct unpleasantness left me rinsed out and with self-worth in negative figures. January looked bleak, January always looks bleak, I needed to do something positive before complete disintegration.
One of my more insidious mental wrongs is the feeling that I need to be given permission to enjoy myself. I’ll think of something nice to do and rather than do it I put it off until work is good and bills are paid and the garden is tidy and the car is serviced and a thousand other things which have no connection or bearing on the situation. I want a grown up to tell me I’m allowed to go out and play, but I’m the grown up now and I don’t feel qualified. As an antidote to the horrors I planned to make a list of the local, and less local places I’d been wanting to take an hour or so out to go and photograph, book half a day off every couple of weeks to go and spend some time alone with a camera.
I didn’t quite have the mental momentum to actually book any time off, but as a middle ground whenever I travel to a meeting, I check my list and see if any of the locations are in the region. As it happened a few days later I had a meeting in Reading, which isn’t actually that close to Checkendon but it was in roughly the right direction so I took the opportunity to drive out there afterwards. I had no luck, driving around lost for a while I gave up and went home. Fortunately, my previous set of photos had been Geotagged so I dug one out and programmed the details into the sat-nav for the next opportunity.
The next opportunity came a couple of weeks later when visiting a friend in Oxfordshire, Checkendon was just a short detour from my route home, I set out from Wallingford in bright sunshine, which quickly gave way to clouds, then rain, then hail. I considered quitting and going home, but I give in too easily so I persevered. As I turned onto the B-Road into Checkendon I immediately recognised the high verge on the right and spotted the sculpture staring sadly across the field to my left. Being constantly afraid of being told off for parking where I shouldn’t I drove about half a mile down the road to find somewhere safe to leave the car.
The land the sculpture sits on is, I believe, private land. It’s clearly used quite heavily by the local youth for somewhere to loiter as there’s beer cans and litter scattered all around the base of the sculpture and piled up in front of the barn which seems to be deflating in slow motion, most of the roof now sitting on the ground. My anxieties vacillated between being told to “get off my land” and being mugged by drunk teenagers. My intention had been to take my time and try and get some really good shots but constant drizzle and restlessness sent me away sooner than I would have liked. Still getting to grips with the 7D, out of practice and with an unforgiving sky most of the shots are flat and lifeless, but a few of the close-ups give a good feeling for the stark solitude of it all. I will return.
I trekked back to the car feeling more positive, spotting some of the first snowdrops of winter making a cautious foray through the tangled hedges of Checkendon.
Snowdrops and solitude.
The sculpture in question is The Nuba Survival, which has thrown me slightly as I always believed it was called the Nuba Embrace. It was created by the English sculptor John Buckley. It’s in a field in Checkendon beside a collapsing barn. It’s emotive and thoughtful aided greatly by it’s odd location.
If you know of any other artworks in unexpected locations (preferable in the South East, UK) please let me know and I’ll try and visit them.
January 6, 2015
It’s amazing how you can completely forget about something fairly serious, not think about it for years and then have it suddenly reappear in your brain with absolutely no warning and not in the most delightful of manners.
Alexander was given a kite for Christmas, which is pretty cool. It’s a tiny little thing, not much bigger than a sheet of A4 and I was dubious as to whether it would actually fly. As a child I’d regularly badgered my parents into buying me cheap kites, I recently found a He-Man kite in mum’s attic (I will dig it out for entertainment value soon), and I never had any success getting them off the ground. My own ineptitude may have coloured my view of kites as a whole.
The tiny child was desperate to give it a go, mostly because it has a picture of a rocket on it which makes it doubly exciting. We took him out to Pinkneys Green (the local recognised area to fly kites) and tried it out. It went up in the air on the first go and Alexander managed to keep a tight hold on it with no problems. He really loved it, absolute joy on his tiny face, it was ace to see my little boy getting so much out of something I’d never managed to do. He started to get cold hands and Karen asked me to take control of the kite while she sorted out his mittens. I grabbed the handle, looked up at the kite and immediately started to freak out. I managed to keep it together for about a minute and had to ask Karen to take over.
I’ve no idea what caused it, I’m torn between it being a responsibility thing (letting go would have lost the kite and upset Alexander) or some sort of agoraphobia. The feeling was exactly the same as one I used to suffer from quite seriously about eight to ten years ago. I used to find it incredibly difficult to be out in wide open spaces. Crossing a big field could be a challenge, looking up at tall buildings used to freak me out horribly but the worst of all was big indoor areas, generally theatres or shopping centres. Walking through the upstairs of the Oracle in Reading used to make me feel incredibly uncomfortable, even the relatively small shopping centre in Maidenhead caused problems, I couldn’t walk directly across the open area in the middle, having to skirt the edges. The worst case was a big shopping centre in Southampton, I was unaware of quite how big the open area in the middle was (what’s that even called?) and nearly completely lost it. I don’t remember exactly what happened, I expect Karen carefully led me away (she was one of very few people who knew about the issue).
We’re still going kite flying. Child enjoyed it far too much to abandon it as a family activity, I’m either going to have to adjust or we’ll work round it. I no longer have panic attacks in shopping centres, although I have no memory of how I made it stop, hopefully I can do the same again. I do know that last time the panic attacks started it was triggered by an unpleasant work situation, I have a similar situation at the moment which hopefully will be resolved soon and I can try and get my mental state back in the right direction.
I am Bob. This is my blog. It is an outlet and a substitute for real life. It contains my art, photography, illustration and thoughts on mental health (I deal with anxiety on a pretty much constant basis).
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