"a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, action, etc."
I have never experienced one of these before, but I have found it very difficult re-engaging with praxis since the two shows I had late last year. They were in Falmouth in September and at the ViewTwo Gallery in Liverpool in November.
Compared to a really encouraging earlier run in London and home here in Bath, in these two places I sold nothing.
I'd like to forget Falmouth - wrong venue (it's no good being lined up in the next room to the home-made-craft-cuckoo-clock stall), maybe wrong time; and not enough footfall - I blame myself for not marketing it enough.
But Liverpool was different - a gallery at the top of an arts warehouse in Mathew Street; vigorous marketing by the promoter including radio interviews and a full page in the press. But I was warned that, despite the quality and integrity of the work, I'd sell nothing ("There's no money up here", the promoter said) - and he was right.
Despite all the good words and polite appreciation, I got the impression they were looking for something that directly addressed the city's maritime past and all that rock&roll. They were looking for the clues like the correct funnel markings, or the reminders of Billy Fury or the Cavern. All I had was a pile of abstract ideas about aesthetics and ruination, and the trouble is that Liverpudlians don't like people philosophising about memory and nostalgia - they just like people who get on down and do it. I was bitterly disappointed. I remember on the day I packed the stuff up into the car, the promoter offered to keep some of my paintings to see if they might sell. I was happy to dump them with him, and see the back of them all.
It was at that exact moment - in the rain on Mathew Street at 9.30am on Saturday 10th January 2015 - that I ceased to identify with being a Merseysider. I gave up all the allegiance and affection I have had for the place since leaving it as a teenager in 1971, as readily as it seems to have given me up. It cannot be a coincidence that this happens within a year of Tranmere Rovers - a team that I have followed since those days - being chucked out of the football league. There's just a vacuum.
The introspection and false starts between January and now have been unpleasant. One acquaintance asked me if I was giving up my 'hobby' - that hurt. I have bought new canvas and paint, but not used them; I have at times ceased to identify with other artists working in the same conceptual space, and have struggled to identify myself as an artist, preferring the reassuring weekly rhythms of my music and dance.
Well, that's been over four months, and now I'm bursting to get started again. A very good friend and client recently told me that, marketed in the right way, I would sell all I could paint. That's what I like -
Just watch this space and see!
Two recent works from the hiatus period:
'Global Game' 1 and 2
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