Travel up North go back in time
Sun shines bright behind a blind
Food and sleep give way to
Tenderness between old friends
You talk a lot and my ears overload
Rest by a drum machine instead
In Leeds I see your origin
A gothic wave began here too
You have a madness which you control
There is a trust from so long ago
Were some moments when I wasn’t sure
Through your hate you push a nerve
To create, share words
With your voice, beats and tones
Every time I made a wish on a birthday cake, a dandelion husk or any other wish-inducing childhood phenomena, I predominantly wished for my Mum to be happier. I wanted her to stop being angry and seemingly the biggest source of family upset. I wanted it bad and I did not only wish her death on her, which whilst salient in my mind’s eye, was reserved for her least forgivable moments. It was easy to imagine her dead, but I did not know what her being happy would look like. There appeared to be too many things wrong.
This time right now I have left wide open. I am taking time. I am in therapy and it’s kicking in. I am inbetween projects/events and I am holding off commitments for now as I want to feel my own rhythm to find out where I am next putting my feet down. I am listening and reconnecting. I am life modelling and just that, no frills. There is space for emotions to come up, and I feel a bit vulnerable sometimes because I don’t have much that is fun and cool going on to talk about. It’s ok; I love the simplicity and time with friends.
@ the anger: unfinished business is all. An awareness of energies/programming which I want to bring to the table. Some of us were brought up thinking that we deserve the best and maybe more. Others, that we don’t; so we don’t expect so much or tend to get it. I have realised which camp I have been in for the most part so I want to reprogramme, and in the case of some friendships/relationships, it is time to reveal old patterns which aren’t benefitting everyone.
In writing I can express myself more freely; some friendships feel like family, and face to face is hard to say (all) the truth. Especially when in close quarters for too long, confrontation seemed an awkward imposition on someone else’s space. I don’t always shy from direct verbal, but there is a time and a place.
I recently spent a week like this at the Slade
Yesterday was disabling. Unsent angry letters! It worked though because by the end of the day the anger was gone.
Today was melancholy and introspection, treading softly, taking care.
What a difference – I know where I’d rather be. The morning felt delicate, tender; the evening light, beaming.
I really didn’t know how long it would take to diffuse the anger; it was so dominating, it felt like it might stay a while. I think the answer was in allowing it to take over me, not blocking it. It didn’t feel like a choice, but at some other juncture I think it was.
It started with writing rationally, cataloguing. When that was through and sending would obviously not yield constructive results, I moved on to harm wishing. I was consumed by righteous rage and this revealed something profound (to me). Whilst imagining awful accidents befalling the person in question, I reasoned to myself that that is the only way I could imagine them coming to a transformation whereby they may acquire enough humanity that we may get on again.
To clarify: this wasn’t considered or premeditated visualisation. It was in-the-moment-blind-and-going-nowhere rage.
As I reasoned however, I remembered a childhood preoccupation. As a small girl with an angry, unloving Mother; I used to wish she was dead. And I would picture her dead and buried in our garden. I even imagined her rotting bones.
I was not surprised when as a teenager I was told she had gotten a degenerative disease – MS. The thing is now, I associate that condition and disability with my Mum becoming a more decent human being with whom I have a reasonable relationship. Dependence on others changed her outlook, made her humble.
So when I momentarily wish ill on people messing with me now… I ultimately mean them good!
Melodramatic pose I am currently doing for sculpture; this is called an ecorche – (underwiring and) basic bone structure, muscles, no skin
My sister and I are looking after Mum while Dad is taking a rare and much needed break. I am floored once again by what Dad lives with. I am moved by love too.
Mum asks that one of us sleeps in her bed with her, basically because she feels safer like that. This is my call and though the closeness feels right, my sleep is interrupted for her noisy breathing. I do also feel grateful for the intimacy between us now which never there was before.
In the morning lots of energy is needed for all the processes of getting up, and most of that is Rebecca and I getting Mum up. Before breakfast is done I need a nap and we haven’t got ourselves organised yet.
The best part is the conversations that would never otherwise happen. We had hoped to take a bold trip out into Central London as we have done before, but that was without taking into consideration the extra mileage of doing everything else for Mum too. Usually a daytrip works when Dad and a carer have done the first part of the day for us. We are rethinking plans as I write.
Last night Mum dreamt she walked on the planets Mars and Venus, as she was in her 20s. Remarkable – she always dreams of being mobile and young, sometimes walking in outlandish places like the bottom of the ocean. She said she had thought of Botticelli’s painting ‘Venus and Mars’ yesterday.
Rebecca brought us tea in bed before the rigmarole begun. Mum mentioned her lack of confidence in life resulting in her getting few jobs and not having friends. After moving from East Berlin she didn’t really settle here. I remarked that she might have overlooked at least one type of confidence she didn’t lack, which was with men. She was beautiful and was rarely without a boyfriend, sometimes several. To hear her relating her past put fresh light on my own life patterns. I have been working on unpicking them to make positive changes, and I wonder how much more may I do.
I have a very big feeling about spending this quality time with Mum. It strikes me physically; I felt it growing in my belly area a day or 2 before coming here. It’s much bigger than us. It’s about love and it moves me. That she has changed so much, and her condition; she requires us to rethink ourselves makes her into a change-maker. It makes me rethink the way I live.
A few years ago faced with the imminent prospect of dying Mum told us all for the first time that she loved us. That love and openness have been growing.
Sandro Botticelli's 'Venus and Mars' depicts Mars asleep while Venus is awake and alert; meaning that love conquers war or love conquers all
I woke unready to alarm. I wanted to sleep more but did not listen. Stuck to the programme. Shower, coffee, fried egg. Grim weather and I’m not quite feeling topless… I wear decorative tights instead.
I arrive on site with a friend, but the atmosphere is less than inviting and she quickly leaves. Messy, chaotic and as a man I talk to describes it – this is the front line of Occupy. It’s rather a masculine territory and somewhat uncouth. The ground is just that – muddy ground. The sofa is muddy too. An open tent we find where people are making breakfast has the appearance of a homeless shelter because that is what it is. People who Occupy are living outdoors, camping in a public place. Some of them were rough sleepers before and bring that to the camp. It’s probably more of a home to them than previous arrangements, certainly there is community, and purpose if you care about that. Unfortunately they do not all have allegiance to a common mission to ‘be the 99% taking on the 1%’. This causes tensions and as I wait for Steve an eviction is slowly manifesting not without a struggle.
3 hours after I arrived movement is occuring; we are celebrating St George’s Day, and some of the guys dressed in improvised tunics and beholding makeshift swords are set to slay the mythical dragon. That is the several statues of dragons placed strategically around the city of London. We have leaflets to hand the public regarding the cause.
There is an awkward start to the dragon tour as one of us is a little pissed and inadvertently manages to knock down a passer-by in his enthusiasm. The others are very unimpressed particularly as police are within view. It turns out however that the man who was knocked off balance is probably more pissed than his unwitting assailant.
A few times on this trip I am unsure of my company; some are rowdy, unruly, shouting with little forethought… yet they also have a fighting spirit necessary for the front line. They are positive, jovial; they spread a message of change for the common good; connect with people, and when on form they get public support. They are active in wishing to improve their and others’ lot. This is a beautiful thing and I feel a sense of camaraderie with them.
The night before I consider they may imagine me an imposter – ‘an infiltrator’ as there are many it seems. Any significant movement challenging the bedrock of an elite’s hold on society may expect to be spied on. It is when reading about the lengths authorities have gone to to suppress and divert the Hollie Greig (Scottish woman with Downs Syndrome sexually abused as a child by men in family plus paedophile ring including key pillars of community – some pretty high up; http://www.holliedemandsjustice.org/) case in Scotland and now England that this occurs to me. Unless one is actually sleeping alongside the Occupiers in a tent, I guess there may be suspicion towards you, but I have faith this is not insurmountable.
My connection with Occupy London began last week when I walked into their site requesting to be photographed topless with ‘Reclaim Your Love’ painted on my front (http://spiritedbodies.com/2012/04/15/reclaim-your-love/). They liked my drift and collaboration seemed appropriate.
St Paul's Cathedral dome and me
St George’s Day however is drizzly, cold and with much waiting around I am resolved there will be no semi-nude action today which I have earmarked for hanging out with these guys instead. I want to get to know them and get a feel for my place amongst them if any, if I am to expose myself with them meaningfully and even help them to gain publicity. It’s a personal act which comes from within, so the weather really consolidates a need to get to grips with the whole scenario (before baring myself), which happens to include seeing it in all its murkiness.
I can tell Steve is anxious I may be put off but I respond that it’s as well to be familiar, and I understand we all have tricky days. I’d rather get to know them than wade in less aware.
St Georges slaying the dragon on Embankment
I am curious to meet the womenfolk of Occupy. One who has been there throughout the Winter and moved from St Pauls to the site in Finsbury Square tells me when she has left she will write up her experience. I would like to read that.
We traverse the City from The Royal Courts of Justice where we temporarily join up with Hollie Greig supporters and those wishing to transform the justice system, to Guildhall, Temple Church and London Bridge. I am pleased to see this day through with all its grey areas and learning curves. I have spent some time which fed my soul for being with fellow citizens to demand a fairer future for all. I stuck through ugly moments to see the brighter side of those I could have judged. Afterwards I made my way to a job and the difference in quality of energy was palpable – to be back within the mainstream (of corruption?) somehow (Moving Picture Company – a major animation studio). Not a bad job, just well, not as enlivening to be standing still to be sculpted, than actively reaching out with higher purpose.
Talking to different Occupiers it is obvious that as well as shared principles, they each have personal reasons for being there, as I have mine. I look forward to the right and good spontaneous action to come.
One more thing about the difference between Occupiers who live on Occupy territory, and those who actually control the financial side of Occupy but from the comfort of solid homes… I must admit my own ignorance here. I understand there are tensions between these 2. I happen to have met with these front-line tent-site dwellers (first). They have my heart-felt support. When I first visited the St Pauls site in Autumn I was moved by their presence and dedication. Amidst chaotic elements signs of organised intelligence were strongly apparent too. I would not so far choose to have that lifestyle myself though knew I wanted to support them in ways appropriate to me. It made me feel so glad that they gave enough of a shit to be there; it brings something very human and real to London (or anywhere). It feels like they are reclaiming the soul of our city and that makes my heart sing!
As for internal or site/off-site politics we shall see. What strikes me now is the continuing optimism of these hardcore camping Occupiers; a feeling to hold on to and nourish.
My dearest friend invited me to a gathering at her house whereby her women friends may meet for the first time, and transform energy in her house which had had too many experiences with men in it which she wished to put behind her. It did exceed all her expectations and I met the loveliest of ladies there who with open hearts did connect easily sharing food and stories, advice and laughs. It was a breakthrough and my friend cried with joy to bring her life to this place of amazing uplift. I felt honoured to share in her experience and to have been with her the longest time on her life journey. We have been through shit together and seen each other in decidedly unfavourable circumstances. We fell out too at least once when working on a performance project together brought us to breaking point. A few months later after not talking, we realised we had overcome some block and were closer than ever. We reached a new level of being able to be with each other and it was a relief. Having said our worst to each other, we’d had it out, and there was no need for more upset, just gratitude for each other’s friendship. I am so proud of her now.
When are unkind words necessary?
When you run out of options, patience is exceeded. If they are not nasty for the sake of it, then some difficult but honest words may bridge a gap in time. Some things are hard to say and may only emerge in a conflict, but from there growth is possible, and if embraced can lead to greater clarity.
Following on from my Femen inspired exploits last week in Central London with my Mum, sister and boyfriend’s dog, here is the rest of the photo collection from that awesome day out – Friday 13th April 2012. By this point Steve Moore of Occupy City of London had seen us on our way… to the other side of the river.
Outside Tate Modern we found this incredible Damien Hirst sculpture. Rebecca's eye was behind the camera...
After all this time showing off on my own, Rebecca decided perhaps she would join in...
Mum being supportive on a slightly unusual day out
It was getting busy by the sculpture so we found our own patch
Dee getting restless
Sisters doing it for themselves on Millennium Bridge
It’s that in-between stage. Considering options for upcoming events, where to put our Spirited Bodies Energy. It starts to feel bureaucratic – paperwork to become a charity, applying for funding… learning how to make the correct spiel, and watching out in case some of our messages might be offensive… Hold On! What the fuck is happening? I am passionate about what I do; it’s the only reason I do it. Because it can affect people deeply in a way that I think really matters.
At our meeting Lucy brings a copy of The Sunday Times Magazine with a picture of a Femen activist on the front cover. The meeting goes well, plans are discussed but the next day what I can’t stop thinking about is radical feminist activism. I am bored, and I want to feel excited again; feel the electrical itch of anticipation when you’re not quite sure what’s going to happen next, but you just have to be there every breath, on edge, on fire.
These Ukrainian women kick ass. They get arrested, they are funded by donation and they are hot. Sex tourism is so rife where they are with so few opportunities, topless protest just makes sense. They scream and they are righteous. I would be too. They remind me of me, or of a younger me rich with vitality, only in my youth I think I lacked such purposeful direction.
I research them, check out flights to Kiev and ponder what I’d do with them. I write to them, but I know they must be inundated. What they do is theirs. What I want from them is some of their raw urgent style. I can’t think of anyone around me who would likely join me on such a quest. This may be my own, and I am bound. That my boyfriend is recovering from an operation and unable to make love with me may be the best thing to happen to me, to my drive to push me, remind me how dissatisfied I am with my situation, and with the world!
Then Friday comes and I have arranged a trip into London with my sister – we are taking Mum to St Paul’s Cathedral, it is one of her favourite places in London. The night before I wake up early with an idea. Black paint and my overcoat. I can feel the tingles! It’s like being a teenager or falling in love all over again! Yes! Life!
I am early to meet Mum and Rebecca, and decide to call in at the Finsbury Square Occupy camp in Moorgate where I reveal myself; it's my first visit to that Occupation. Willing and bemused residents aid me.
I spot an auspicious sign by the pavement. Dee, my boyfriend's dog, is great for extra fond-inducing smiles, though I am trying to be serious here. A lovely French protester takes the shot.
Steve Moore from the Occupy camp accompanies me to St Paul's to visit his old home. It's his first time back since eviction; nostalgic memories. He knows the place inside out and is well suited to finding good shots.
I adopt classic Femen pose, without their traditional flowers and ribbons (symbol of unmarried women?) but with the addition of a beagle! (I am on walking duty this week.) Also my slogan is not a negative. I live in Britain and my prospects aren’t so glum. The council helps with my rent and the Arts Council may help with my feminist arts cause to help others. Besides I’ve read spiritual books which say embracing the positive is far more powerful than complaining or stressing what is wrong, which may encourage more of the same.
Females of the family
Steve takes us to the best view of the dome; a roof terrace of a shopping centre. He has many stories from his St Paul's experience; he was a bailiff before he joined Occupy and his expertise proved pretty canny during proceedings: http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/paul-davey/the-faces-of-occupy-steph_b_1412524.html?ref=fb&src=sp&comm_ref=false#sb=2912968,b=facebook
I pose inside a sculpture
On the way to the bridge
On the Millenium Bridge
Looking through the images I think I may have forgotten the ‘shameless exhibitionist’ tag, I definitely got a buzz from this! In fact Rebecca who took a lot of the pictures sent me so many, I shall do another post. We had a positive response from public unsurprisingly, and even the security guard at the shopping centre who had to invent an excuse about the dog to get rid of us was fairly polite. The family day-of-action was a success!
“It’ll be ok, I told myself that morning, I’m sure Esther will reassure us, tell us what to do, she’ll make it all work.
by Brian McKenzie; www.bdmckenzie.blogspot.com
Then there was train trouble at King’s Cross and I ended up rushing in after they’d all started. So in the end my preparation was getting undressed and walking into a roomful of people! Bizarrely it felt perfectly normal. Not embarrassing. Not awkward. Not even chilly. It seemed incredibly normal to stand around unburdened by clothes. In dreams when I am naked, I have always been mildly apologetic rather than humiliated – it reminded me of that. Only no need to apologise because nakedness was exactly what was expected. I highly recommend the experience to anybody prepared to try a little thought experiment, know you are alive by doing something a little unnerving or just yearning for two hours without chores, text messages, responsibilities or objectives. Therapeutic, communal yet individual.”
Thank you Catherine!
by Francis Wardale, "I like quick sketching, I've done sessions where I've got a model to do 100 different poses and I'm quite likely at my Life Drawing group if I've got spare time at the end to do drawings of the whole room - model and artists"; www.franciswardale.com
by Charles Patey, "It is very rare that one gets the opportunity to draw multiple models."
Feedback answers from Gil Limor who both modelled and photographed
a) Did it live up to your expectations?
Spirited Bodies 5 certainly did live up to my expectations, and in some ways exceeded them as well. It was lovely being a homogenous part of the group. I was somewhat unsure of my capability to hold a pose for 30 minutes, so I certainly surprised myself by doing so. I think that having so many fellow models with me made the task of holding a pose much easier, feeling that we were all supporting each other in a very bonding way. I love the way that we all bonded from the start and felt totally comfortable with each other. I was pleased to have the opportunity to meet some of the other models in advance.
From an artistic point of view, I was also very pleased. The evening was a form of testing ground for me, so I came with a very open mind and was not expecting too much. However, the results were far better than I anticipated, and as I go through the numerous shots, I am finding more and more details that I would love to work on and refine on future occasions. I did have some expectation shortfalls, but these were almost exclusively related to technical things such as camera settings, backdrops and lighting.
b) Was anything lacking?
I would say that the space was a bit awkward to work in, but this did not seriously impede the artists’ work. I was amazed to see how 30 artists managed to squeeze their way into the space, but still have a good area to work in. More time before and after the artists’ sessions would have been nice; time for us models to meet and chat, get to know each other, time to set up a few well thought out tableaux – the table worked, but I felt that with a bit more time, we could have been really creative with the space and with each other, and possibly planned in advance what scenes we would like to create for our artists.
From a photographic point of view, time was very limited. I would have loved a couple of hours to really think out the set carefully, have around 30 minutes or so before models arrive to experiment with lighting and camera settings, and have the luxury to work with the models over the course of a very chilled and relaxed day.
In no particular order: Wonderful people to create art with and collaborate with, new friendships, new artistic ideas, the confidence that I can hold a pose for at least 30 minutes, some lovely photographic works, a better understanding of how to best utilise awkward space for a nude tableau featuring 14 models, the satisfaction that many artists were able to benefit from my contribution, the experience of building trust with first-time models, it was an invaluable experience all around and I learned loads from it.
Here are a couple of Gil’s nude abstracts:
