1-2-1 Reflections.
Towards the end of November I had another 1-2-1 with Jonathan ahead of the submission for our Unit 2 assessment, to touch on how things are going, where I am at, and thoughts around progress and what comes next. I always find these conversations really helpful. They act as valuable markers, giving me space to collect my thoughts around what I am working on, join the dots, or uncover things that I may not have noticed in the day-to-day of my practice.
It is also interesting to reflect during and after these conversations and realise how far I have come in what feels like a relatively short space of time. Even though we are already well past the halfway mark of this master’s, and it feels like the end of June is going to come around in no time at all, it also feels like we have only just begun. There are so many new things opening up and being discovered all the time that it often feels as though there isn’t enough time to do everything I want to do, or even to capture and document the various thoughts and ideas that come to mind.
What I do feel is beginning to emerge is a sense of direction, a direction of travel towards a goal of sorts. Not a goal that I will reach during this course, or perhaps even in my lifetime, but simply knowing the direction I want to move in, the course I want to follow, and the meaning beginning to sit behind that, helps to give strength and momentum to my practice. It feels like a guiding thread running through everything that I am doing.
At the start of this course I felt very fractured, with a diminished sense of self or voice. There were different versions of me for work, family, home, friends, education, and everything else, with these different “masks” fighting with each other. I wasn’t sure which version was the “true” me, or what combination of them made up who I was. Now, it feels as though I am beginning to reclaim those pieces of myself and bring them together to form a version of me that feels whole. Not fragmented or diminished, but connected, strong, and confident. It is within that coming together that this sense of direction seems to be forming.
What I am also beginning to notice more clearly in my practice is the presence of multiple layers, and different types of conflict operating simultaneously, from the physical to the mental and everything in between. I am currently going through the assessment process for ADHD and autism, with my full assessment booked for mid-January. These two potential elements of my brain are, on paper, often seen as being in conflict with one another, yet I believe that this tension is integral to both the work I am able to produce and the research that underpins my practice.
There is also physical conflict within my body, living with scoliosis, fibromyalgia, and hypermobility. These conditions often work against each other, and yet somehow they also find a way to coexist, allowing me to continue moving through life, adapting and growing. Beyond the personal, there are wider conflicts present in the landscapes I am drawn to. Wild, raw environments that appear inhospitable on the surface, yet support vast and diverse flora and fauna, and have sustained communities for generations.
While I may not be able to find answers to these conflicts, or offer resolution, I want my practice to hold these layers and explore how contrast and opposition might coexist in some form of harmony. The fractured parts of myself being fused together. Challenges and points of friction feel essential to this, and I want to lean into them more, particularly through my material choices. This includes working with surfaces and processes that resist the ink itself, such as primers that naturally repel it, creating tension between what is placed on the canvas and how it behaves.
As we move into the final phase of this master’s, it feels important to think about what I need to continue feeding into my practice, both during the remainder of the course and beyond it. I need to consider the wider context I am creating within, and how I might build or find a creative community to lean on once the structure of the course falls away. That might mean seeking out existing spaces, or contributing to the creation of something new.
Being out in nature remains integral to my practice, even if that simply takes the form of gardening and weeding. It is about creating mental space, noticing texture and layers, and absorbing the world around me. When I feel creatively stuck, being outside, particularly in the hills, helps me reset and reconnect. Being intentional about spending time in these spaces feels essential, not just to move past creative block, but to continue growing, both within my practice and beyond it.
I want to set myself the challenge of holding a solo exhibition after I have graduated, not only to give myself something to work towards, but to continue pushing myself beyond my comfort zone. It also feels like an important step in growing and maintaining a creative community around me once the course has come to an end.
