Reading Time: 3 minutes

It’s been an exceptionally busy few months for me and I have barely had time to think, never mind keep up with this blog. But some amazing things have happened, as those who follow my mumblings on various social media platforms will be aware of. Next year could, provided Covid doesn’t shut everything down, begin with a flurry of activity as my BA degree project, why is there an astronaut in a field of flowers/ (2021), made it into Derby’s Quad/Format exhibition Future Focus, along with six other early career artists – offering all of us an incredible opportunity. Future Focus should open on the 29th January 2022 and runs until the end of February. There is a launch party on the 28th January, which you can book for free here. Along with that, an image from another project I made, also while finishing modules for my degree, called this family too (2020), will be included in Postcards from Europe, an exhibition produced by Shutterhub in Cambridge, which hopefully runs from the 12th January to 25th February 2022. And the first interim show of my MA is planned for February/March too, along with deadlines for essays and other supporting work. So, I might be flat out in the first few months of the year. Or else, the way things are looking, it could all disappear overnight, but it is probably best not to worry about that for the moment.

Busy or not, I have ended the year realising I really, really, really have to carve out a bit more time to actually make work. Running around, making sure kids get to school, afternoon clubs and home while I’m doing the MA, and fulfilling my part-time role, has made that almost impossible. So my new year’s resolution is to ensure at least one day a week is mine and mine alone. However, I have found time to become obsessed with an artist whose work I discovered after I felt compelled to create something (I’m not sure what), counter-intuitively perhaps, by destroying some old books, which sounds a little inside out and upside down. But it was a relief to discover another had trod that precarious path before, and the more I read about John Latham (1921 – 2006), the more I feel this is probably the right path for now. After beginning his art career as a sculptor, Latham was finally known for mainly using old books as his medium. But he also refused to be pigeon-holed and made work that confounded and, at times, upset people, especially when burning books (Skoob happenings). However, he asked similar questions to the ones I have been interested in, around power relations and education, and the avoidance and indeed destruction of dogma wherever one finds it. Like me, Latham sourced his books from second-hand bookshops, although I doubt he found a shop where they were actually being given away, as I did in 2021. Latham is more focused on connections between objects, rather than objects themselves, something I’ve also discussed in my biography. And I thoroughly enjoy the ‘unreasonable’ aspect of his work, as he queries ‘accepted systems of knowledge’ (Latham and Le Feuvre, 2016). I can’t wait to go to his old home, now a gallery, known as Flat Time House in South East London – and under the circumstances, I had better try and get on with that as quickly as possible.

This collage was a result of experimenting with old books. I may make a zine with collages such of this one. I have also been making new pages out of the detritus that I am left with after ripping up old books in experimental performances, that say very little in the usual sense.

I think that will be it from me for 2021. Happy New Year. And keep seeing art whenever you can!

Ref: Latham, J. and Le Feuvre, L. (2016) A lesson in sculpture with John Latham. Leeds: Henry Moore Institute.

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