Purpose. Freer. Adrift.

Made a mold of the most recent sculptures, Dos Cojones and Travel. Rubber went on on thursday and jackets friday by lunchtime, not very big molds but there was purpose. No procrastination. I just got in, did it, cleared up, mopped and out again.

Usually I am sick bored by mold making and I take forever but I don’t seem to here. I knew I hated it so I just got it done. When I work here its done quicker, you start and you get to the end. Ideas like Travel seem to pop out and I can take tentative steps out of boundaries. Not carefree but it is freer. It’s not playing but it maybe less restricted, more adrift.

Maybe its not the freedom, its the intensity of being adrift, you make sculpture quickly like clutching at rafts that go by to stabilize yourself, at home you feel safe on your container ship of stuff. Of phone calls and business. Of the studio, the shelves, the boxes hidden in cupboards stuffed with separation anxiety, of memories of girls gone, me’s of yesteryear in angst written dairies held onto for what? for comfort, for having been there, for marking a page.

Am I not me, now, here. Not the angst girl of 16 in the dairy, do I need to know her, I dont really remember her, she is not me now, so much has happened since I was her, she is no longer, can I go home and throw her away so my little boat remains smaller, more agile, more adventurous.

Here I have 11 boxes, 6 buckets, 4 plinths, 2 tables and 2 easels and a trolly. A van with four wheels to put it all in. Not forgetting my gorgeous boyfriend and sometimes faithful dog. With these I am who I am now and it can be just as much.

Love is……. seeing your boyfriends shirts hanging out of your balcony window when you return home from work.

my little boat person being cast

Walk to work, wednesday

Took Molly to work today which means a 4 hour walk ( 2 hours each way ), well its supposed to be 11/4 hours acording to google but I either get distracted by taking pictures or veering by parks for Molly or I get completely lost. This time distracted on the way there and then lost on the way back, it seems my inside compass has interference in Barcelona, especially around Sant Antoni, I seem to find myself in circles, fine on a bike but after three hours walking it gets a little frustrating. Graham says its my inner girl coming out which makes me even more mad!

Molly waiting to go, watching the street from the balcony.

 Morning light

Molly having a quite moment to herself…sorry Molly

potential painting

another absolutely terrible barcelona sculpture, I am afraid the sculpture is considerably lacking here. Not in attempt but in execution. I wonder wether people notice the difference between this sort of work and mine, make s me think I dont like figurative art as there is so little of it I like, and def none here!

pop out the top of espania with thingy in the bacground

Two Balls… Dos Cojones

“Cojones is a Spanish word for denoting courage when used in the phrase “tener cojones” (equivalent to English “have the balls to”) or testicles. It is considered a curse word when used by itself as an expletive in Spanish. In English, as a loanword, it means courage, brazenness, “nerve”, “guts”, etc.”

I started out with the intention of making the piece called Dos Cojones as I always heard it as meaning big balls which I now know to be “grandes cojones’ which doesn’t sound as good as Big Balls. Anyway the piece is about what people said then ( what ever it was ) in Los Lobos when men jumped off rocks to surf in shallow water above scratchy volcanic rock, think there were boulders as well but cant see in these vids

So, in a long about way I dont know what to call it now
Cojones ( which would be rude here )( I think )or Two Balls

I like the fact they are boules ( a man’s game here ) as I wanted….want to paint them playing at some point.

note to self….people laugh in the same language

Rocío Molina

For someone who makes a performance over things, is prone to being dramatic, making things complex when really they could be taken lightly, flamenco is right up my alley.

For a northern european it seems strange to have such a gut reaction to it, but I always have, and the flamenco festival was one of the highlights of this trip I was looking forward to. We have been to one tourist flamenco place which was brilliant and small and hot and sweaty, young performers use it apparently.

This woman was another thing altogether.

She was ‘woman’ at her very finest.

She was stunningly tense, powerful, beautiful, sexy, precise, sensitive, accurate, delicate, poised, spoilt, tempestuous, shocking, clever ; a wild spinning magnificence. Sometimes a bull, sometimes a snake. She was like a musical instrument that could move. The four of them together made unbelievably complicated rhythms of stamping, slapping, clapping, clicking fingers and guitars and the singing was so full of pain and strong and loud.

JOSE ANGEL CARMONA, “CARMONA”, singing and mandola JOSE MANUEL RAMOS “EL ORUCO”, handing clap and beat 

The whole performance was so tense I had to concentrate to relax.

You can see a bit here but it doesnt give their presence, the noise they made was so much part of it which doesn’t seem to get across. To me it had so much more than any other dance I have seen as it seemed so full somehow. And, real, in a way. Obviously hours and hours of practice and experimentation but it less formal somehow, I will think this through a bit more as I am out of my knowledge base, obviously there are formal elements….any way here is some info