LIFE IS A FOUNTAIN

A Level Art.

Years ago, I did an art O level. Got A for the mock (no A* around then) and then I messed up on the Real Thing, and only got an E. Which was actually a pass at the time, but I've always been annoyed about it. Another thing I've always been annoyed about is the fact that I never did any A Levels, specifically art.
And then one day, we were at the 6th form college in Ciren, checking it out for Sarah, and I thought I'd have a look at the art A level course. Predictably it's not just art any more, but is now Fine Art, Textiles or 3D/Graphics. Fine Art I thought. Definitely. Except.....the Textiles isn't actually just about fashion any more, you can make fine art with Textiles - and Amy (Bear no.2) had enjoyed her textile A level immensely, and she made some fabulous sketch books and amazingly weirdo finished pieces, involving such diverse items as chicken wire, and a rubber model of my chest…(long story).
So, I signed up for Textiles. Was entirely the wrong time of year, so I went away and thought about it for 10 months, during which many shit things happened, but I was nearly through chemo when it was time to start, Sept 2016. I had originally planned to fit it around my Tesco hours, but I have no idea what I was thinking, it’s been a humungous amount of work which I never would’ve been able to cope with, especially with my addled Chemo Brain, so I decided to have a ‘Career Break’. (They’re still asking when I’m coming back, in spite of my stock answer, ‘When Hell freezes over, hah).
It started off innocuously enough, I learned and relearned lots of fun techniques, silk painting, felt making, weaving, batik, lino cuts, printing,  trying interact with 16 year olds…………Bless them, they are an amazingly talented bunch, but I think I’ve been kind of invisible to them most of the time...
 And I also managed to make friends with my sewing machine. Kinda. Have you noticed how they always seem to develop a kind of amnesia when you’re wanting to do something?, The thread breaks, constantly. The back of your fabric consists of 50 times the amount of thread as the front bit, all of it looped and tied round various parts of your machine, so you have to break the needle to get it out. The super duper ‘Auto Threader’ does not, in fact, Auto Thread, unless you look at it through a magnifying glass to make sure the thingy has gone through the whatsit properly. But, dare I say it, we have managed to reach a kind of understanding, and it even allows me to stitch the odd thing, now and then, without having a tantrum.
The ‘Personal Investigation’ project, which took a year, had me tearing my hair out (metaphorically, it had only just regrown, and I was jolly pleased to see it again, even though it’s now 50 Shades Of Grey ) right up until the last minute. The trouble is, I am rather used to making things up as I go along, and having to plan for a final thingamabob is completely alien to me…….luckily, I pulled it together at the last minute, but I still wasn’t entirely confident of my Giant Felt Hanging Slot Canyon until Janet looked at it and said, ‘Well, I can’t fault it’.  Phew…………

And now there is The Exam. 15 hours over 3 days. And it has to be planned to the Nth degree, because once you start, there is no going back. No more practising. No more, ‘Oh fuck, this silk painting/screen print/idea is totally pants, I’m going to throw it in the bin’…

Honestly it’s freaking me out. How come this is harder than the HND I did 20 years ago???  I dimly remember a vague headache appearing at the beginning of each new project, but I’m sure I slept better thoughout………

Anyway, at least the subject matter is dear to my heart. Rock, the exam paper said, along with a few pics of chairs, and lumps of granite………And a pic of a crowd of people in front of a stage!!! It’s a No Brainer I thought, even though I hate that phrase. Since then I have been chopping up LP’s, scribbling along to many songs, and throwing various types of paint at various types of materials……
Last night, I spent several hours trying to slice through a couple of cheapo LP’s I got from the charity shop. After 2 hours, a broken hot knife (purchased specially) and a lot of swearing, I admitted defeat, and decided to just cut up some cardboard instead. I mean, who cares if I only get a C? Who needs an A*? What does it matter??

Haha, I wish 😊..........