I've made a mistake. (or Harry potter and the dangers of social expectation)

So it turns out I'm a terrible teacher. Now that I've tried, which in all fairness is the only way to know for sure, I feel like it should have been apparent in my dread of home schooling and my general distain of  basic questions but hey, maybe that's how you kill your darlings. In all honesty, I can't really tell if it was my darling or someone else's.. Some parts of it definitely was! But the format involved so much conforming that it drained the soul out of it. Perhaps it was, like so often, praise for an ability I "should" have rather than one I actually possess. I do think testing the ice was entirely worth it though. Even if I fell throug

Or maybe it's more like taking the wrong turn off the highway? I just have to find my way through the woods back onto the main road to find the one I was supposed to take..

A mind of different eras

 It helps me focus.. the history and the acting classes. Sometimes I feel like I'm swimming in a sea of ideas, nearly drowning, and all I have to float on is a wooden door ( you know what I'm talking about.). Then in comes the structure of limitation. and sometimes that's good. Sometimes limits create a focus. A starting point that I wouldn't otherwise see in this vast ocean of ideas. Basically, my course work is my equivalent of an overcrowded life boat (yes, I'm sticking with this). 

And this morning, as I walked through my beloved house, I thought..actually..it's fine that it's divided. And maybe they don't all need to exist publicly. Not yet anyway. I can be a child of the medieval, of a an 18th century mind and a 17th century sensuality and have a wartime approach to my kitchen. But I am publicly distinctly Victorian.  That's where I know who I am and I'm most at home... So maybe that's where to start. Maybe you knew that all along. Travel..that I can do later.

Besides, I think I'd make an excellent, though unconventional, schoolmistress!

Never have I ever

It occurred to me today, about 5 seconds before the words rolled out of my mouth, that I have never made anything moving. Everything I've ever made has been in an eternal freeze frame state. I like the abandonedness of it, like I like stillives or curiosity cabinets, things that seem to change even though it's perfectly still because of a changed perspective as you find more things the longer you look at it.. I feel like I've perfected that to exhaustion. I want to make the picture come alive. And since I am pretty sure I have no readers (who even reads blogs anymore, it's all hashtags and swift swipes now) I am now hijacking my own blog for a ballfence/progresdiary. 

It's a rough draft. It'll make sense eventually. 

Maybe.

So, what is it I'm going to do? 

Basically, I will set up my photo scenes, as I did with my storytelling photo series, but instead of a photo I will make a little video. It wont be long. 5, 10 minutes maybe.. It will tell a story that starts with something small but significant from a specific period in time. That's how I will start. And from then I will travel to different times and see what there is to find. 

First, I need to find my tickets.

The most fun and frustrating part so far has been to build my "home" scenery. At first I tried to make it as a school room, because in a way it is, but I am not a really a teacher and the rain dripped onto the desk. I felt it was a sign. Then I tried my sewing room... but it is dark and scattered, like an old library for fabric and costumes. And where would I work if I need to keep it tidy! I've now put it in my orangery (yes, I know how it sounds but it's a real word). Because it's getting cold I'm not using it as much and that also makes it suitably chilly for my home-year, 1888. You think that is random, it is not (nor is it because of the murders, although I am quite the fan of a mystery) but that's a later story. As a timetraveller though I will have collected objects from other times as souvenirs so it will be a little...eccentric. I think I'll also place some of  what the youth calls "easter eggs" to see who can find them.

Lastly..I need to decide if I will make my first story about tickets..or hatpins.

to be continued  

The Easiest Part

My Victorians of Cambridge project..

I am trying to focus on one picture at a time, not get scattered and lost in my wave of ideas, keep my mind from straying. Admittedly not my strongest side. But, research and to some extent time pressure keeps me there..
The next picture/s I will do are the market place ones. I have many willing subjects for this one! I'm looking into the world of market sellers of the 1880's. My main characters are set already. I have an apple seller, a gypsy and a rag-lady. Possibly a flower girl.
Because I have more of a purpose this time, I want to tell a story as well as show pictures, it helps to know as much as possible about their lives. This is why I turned down the opportunity to do a citywide project involving shops and other commercial bits..I want to do things well, not profitable. I like my little Mill road way, my slightly shabby artistic corner. I want to see people as they are. Ironically.

Luckily there are lots of pictures out there helping me get an idea of market life in late Victorian times!

The story continues...

And in my dreams

I will always find

my way back 

to you.

The Hardest Part

"No..! That is just it, this is not my first time. It doesn't seem to matter how far I go or how many years pass, it follows me. All it takes is someone to ask 'How much do I owe you?' and I'm back to..absolutely nothing.." 

*swipes the whole glass of wine*

I see all these people now, with their selfies and hashtags on mental health, speaking out... Inspirational posts about how you are responsible for your own happiness and little steps make a long way.

This is not one of those posts. 

Because there is no inspiration, only tragedy, in making it all on your own. And even though I think a beautiful story, if told well, enriches life far more than some luke warm truth.. Tragedy was always best raw.

The hardest thing about everything I do is that it is unnecessary and because of that, unwanted. Why would anyone pay me to do things that are merely pretty.. Because that's all I ever was, right? Entertaining.. Lying, probably. When no one cared for the truth. Putting a veil over peoples eyes to con them into thinking for one moment they were happy. So everytime someone asks me how much? I feel like they are asking me to cut my self open and spell it out with my intestines because I don't actually think it is worth anything and I hate the reminder. No one ever really thought it was, don't lie to me, I can tell..! Like I'd rather cut off my hands than put a price on my work, on momentary happiness essentially. That will never change. How can I possibly know how badly they want it..? 

It is the best thing though...to watch as people feel. That's why I love to do it. To affect, to change how people feel. To create something we all wish was real.. Like an addict I crave the expression on their faces. It is the one thing I know how to do, why could you not let me have that, why, why did you have to make it evil and dirty, why, you made it now fucking look at it! I will have it, it is all that I am, it is what makes me me, it is what I live and breath, it is the only thing that's always been just me. 

To me it is necessary. I do this in the hope that one day the world will seem so amazing that no one will ever want to go back to ordinary, I can not do this alone.. And don't tell me you didn't notice the shine fading when it was gone...

 "I's just the maths, darling, it ruins it all"

..and from nowhere I'm pulled out of it, into the light. Maybe I do not have to make my own way, maybe this story hasn't yet ended. And what beauty didn't start with tragedy after all..?

*take a deep breath*

 

"She once said when I cry like in the movies. Vulnerability and defiance at the same time."

Yes. I still remember..