July 22, 2009
This is a small but growing preoccupation with me, do you have any comments that could help me?
Housework is not a paid job
Why is it that keeping a home has shifted from being a valued occupation into a non job? So much is required to keep and run a house, which becomes apparent when the jobs are filled by paid employees and yet for those of us who attempt to take on the whole burden, the work becomes invisible.
We all need a home whether or not we live a nomadic or sedentary lifestyle, so who makes it home? THE PERSON WHO FITS THE ROLE BECOMES THE NURTURER, WHO NURTURES the nurturer ? If it comes down to being valued, how universally is the role accepted as one of value, is it family or friends or the wider community or is it the state who support the role? It could be none of the above.
June 23, 2009
I f the future is Global and we spend it on the internet are we having a time of isolation ahead of us. I ask this because the blog is a great way to be together but apart, a cliché should always be avoided, I admit, but they stand to save us from thinking up a new truism everytime. I am admittedly no whiz kid on the internet, each month it takes around 20mins even finding the link for this blog and remembering how I download what I write onto the blog and I try to leave out the pictures because they go on a direct route to Mars by passing my blog altogether. But its all worthwhile because this is an intriguing way of keeping in touch with, a bit like walking down the High St and bumping into a friend and saying hi!
But, only its not, I have serious doubts if anyone ever reads it, if you are reading this now then let me know, send a comment. So Im left thinking that it’s a great way of pretending that you are walking down the High St and bumping into people, Hi Jen, Hows things, was India good, Hi Reuben, what are you upto now, and Mark you are totally irrepressible love to see some of your work. No its not like that at all, I am instead talking to myself. Once people thought you a little odd, but now noone notices everyone has plugs in there ear and is whittering to someone or noone, who cares? And this blogging is like sending myself a Christmas card, noone loves me so Ill send one to me and put it on the mantelpiece and pretend they do. I do believe we are all blogging and twittering to ourselves talk talk whitter and noone is listening, Go Global??, No go local instead. Prove me wrong!
May 22, 2009
Today I begin a four day weekend as part of the Tate festival and as today is also my blogging day you are also globally internetly part of it. The day begins now even though I am still in bed, wearing glasses, extinct cup of tea beside me and the computer on my lap… here goes…… answers please, for each answer I will send you a virtual nomad (aka peg doll beautifully dressed in contemporary clothing made from found materials, because we are here and now talking about contemporary nomads, read below if you don’t know what Im talking about
Home became home at a certain moment, which I never recognised at the time. In that moment my home replaced the home I left behind when I was 18. That day, years later, what changed in the house or garden, or within my mind? Which new plant turned my home into my mother’s garden?
In the garden the hand that was mine was always visible, but one day it had my mother’s hand in it as well. (Maybe it was the daphne, that keeper of perfumed memories, that did it) not my fist daphne , but the first that flourished like my mother’s. Was ikt when I knew it was going to flourish that I knew I was also ‘at home’?
My childhood was criss crossed with nature wanderings, alone in it, a private world. It is nature and dirt-stained hands that , years later, take me back there. Where I can till my own earth, there I have a chance of recovering that sensation of being ‘at home’.
For others it is people: immediate family or a circle of loving friends that make them feel at home. In a city that is largely comprised of a mobile population, some long-term-temporary, some short-term-temporary, but few who live and die in the same place, much less with the same community, what constitutes a home?
In times gone by the name for those who moved to survive, in pursuit of pastures new, were called nomads. Groups of Gypsies ad Irish Travellers have continued a lifestyle of moving on in pursuit of income or a need to change location. These groups had a network to travel with or meet up with. Today many of us who live in cities move on also, but is there a network to support the the person in replacement of home? Today life is characterised in the west by a nuclear family, the smallest possible group outside of solitary. Under these circumstances how easy is it to be ‘at home’? What is a home, who is a nomad?
April 24, 2009
“A Weary Man’s Utopia” by Borges is a beautiful short story in which the 70-year-old writer mysteriously encounters a man from a distant future. I don’t want to say much more as it is only a couple pages long… but here are some elements of Borges’ imagined future:
“No one cares about facts anymore. They are mere points of departure for speculation and exercises in creativity. In school we are taught Doubt, and the Art of Forgetting.”
Printing has been forbidden since it is “one of the worse evils of mankind, for it tended to multiply unnecessary texts to a dizzying degree”
Although painting is most definitely well and alive in that world, the colors on the canvas are indiscernible to our eyes (interesting to note that the writer was almost completely blind by the time he wrote that story).