Pincushion

Here’s a pincushion I made a couple of weeks ago:Pincushion

I was looking for something to send my sister in New Zealand as a birthday present. The important characteristic of presents sent to NZ is that they should be lightweight (the cost of postage is staggering). Small is a bonus. She’s fond of stitching and I know she’s admired my heron embroidery scissors in the past, so I decided to send her a pair. Then I found some nice pearl-headed pins. Then it occurred to me that she might like a pincushion, and that this would be both small and lightweight. As I was short of time, I thought I’d have a look on Etsy. Well, I used up lots of time looking through apparently endless pages of pincushions, but couldn’t find one that I liked sufficiently. So, in the end, I made one, and that’s it, pictured above. It’s four inches square. The underside, that you can’t see here, is a gorgeous purple cotton that I found as a remnant in an organic cotton shop. The button on the underside is bigger than the cream-coloured button that you see in the picture. I so enjoyed making this little item that I immediately planned some more and have got cracking on them straight away. It’s a great way of using up very small pieces of fabric that I just can’t bear to throw away.

Yesterday I had to go to Newcastle on the train, a round trip of around 6 hours, so I had plenty of time available to stitch. I actually did a few other things – read the paper, had a somewhat lengthy snooze, stared out of the window at the fabulous Northumbrian countryside…. but I also managed to finish the stitching for another pincushion and after I’ve written this blogpost I think I’ll go and assemble it. One of the fun bits is selecting the buttons. I have built up quite a collection of buttons, but never know what to do with them – well, here’s a way of using them, if only two at a time.

I know I’ve been away from the blog for a while, but I have been posting occasional photos on Instagram. I think Instagram is rather a good thing, and hope I can keep to the discipline of posting something there, even if I can’t manage to do it here.

Oops, what a long time it’s been

Oops, what a long time it’s been since I blogged. The usual reason applies, i.e. too busy at work. However, I have been doing some work on my stitching, and you can see some samples of it if you have a look at my Instagram (use the link on the home page). I’m quite enthusiastic about Instagram because it’s so easy and quick to use compared with writing a blog post. However, I don’t intend to abandon my blog, as it’s the right place to write up longer and more complex experiences and ideas.

One of the things I’ve done in my several week absence from the blog is to produce a new website for my friend and fellow stitcher Brenda Burkitt. We’ve been talking about this for ages, and finally decided to get round to doing something about it. Brenda didn’t want a blog, just a good-looking and stylish website, so I didn’t see any need to set it up in WordPress which is geared towards a blog. I recommended, therefore, setting up a site using Squarespace because I’d heard from another textile artist that it’s really pretty simple to use. So, Brenda came along one day towards the end of June with lots of images of her work and we got cracking on working out how many pages she’d want, what kind of format she’d like for presenting the images, and so on. She had quite a lot of fun playing around with the text colours. This is one of the best bits of setting up your site. She chose, in the end, a deep and lovely purple which I think works very well. Have a look at her website here.

What about Squarespace then? Weeeellll, it’s definitely easier to set up than WordPress, but it wasn’t quite as straightforward as I’d hoped. The range of designs available is pretty good, and the style is generally nice and clean and bright. I didn’t find it completely intuitive, but having said that, there are lots of tutorials available and when you have a query it can be easily answered by simply putting the query into Google. I couldn’t (still can’t for that matter) work out how to make the image on the title page smaller so that you can see the whole page without scrolling down. Another drawback is that, currently, you can’t transfer your own domain name into Squarespace. So, if I wanted a Squarespace website (which I don’t – I’m happy with this one) I’d have to register a new domain name with them.

But if you’re looking to set up a website yourself, Squarespace is definitely worth a look. I spent the best part of a day with Brenda discussing images and styles for the site, then about 4 hours on my own working on it. I even managed to persuade Brenda that she should have a photograph of herself in the ‘About’ page. She was very reluctant but went along with it. I took a couple of dozen photos of her, and there was one that was the standout best so we used that. I’m very pleased with it, and was reminded of the advice a photography tutor gave me years ago when I did City & Guilds foundation photography. He said the professionals get good pictures just by the simple process of taking loads of them and then picking the best one out of maybe 100 images. I’ve followed that advice every since and found it invariably works.

Smaller pieces for sale

I wrote three posts not too long ago about making smaller pieces for sale. Before I went on my mammoth cycling trip I mounted six of them on large pieces of mountboard, enclosed a label, then wrapped the finished pieces in heavy duty florists’ cellophane. This entailed the purchase of new supplies:

  • Mountboard, obviously, but also some thinner card to tape onto the back of the pieces so that the underside of the embroidery is concealed
  • Double sided sticky tape, heavy duty so that the pieces won’t fall to bits
  • Cellophane

I did quite a bit of research on sourcing materials of the right quality. All these new supplies were quite costly, but I don’t want the presentation of these pieces to look cheap. Fortunately, I already had a mount cutter (which is what gives you the nice bevelled edge); I bought it several years ago on a whim, never knowing how useful it would turn out to be. Accurate measurement is, obviously, really important. I work with a centimetre ruler (not inches, even though when I was at school we still used imperial measurement only and it took me many years to come round to metric measurement) and I measure everything at least twice before I cut. Even with a fair bit of care, I did make the odd mistake, but I found that, as with all repetitive tasks, I got better at it the more I did.

After the cycling trip, I mounted four smaller pieces on some of the smaller offcuts of mountboard that I had left over. I’ve got plenty of mountboard left over for the next time I do this exercise. Here is one of the smaller pieces. all wrapped up: Smaller piece for sale

You’ll see that it really is quite small, but what I was aiming for was a range of items at different prices, so as to appeal (I hope) to as broad a group as possible. In total I have mounted 10 pieces and the price range is from £10 for the smallest pieces, up to a maximum of £40. These prices in no way reflect the massive amount of work involved – but see my earlier post on that topic…

I’m hoping that these will be sufficiently appealing to sell. Although, actually, I’m rather fond of some of them, so if they come winging their way back to me I might put one or two on my own walls.

Pricing

So, yes, pricing. I knew I’d have to think about this sooner or later if I hoped to sell work. Not everyone wants to sell work, of course, and I’ve never tried until now. But the Prism exhibition provides exhibitors with the opportunity to sell pieces of work in the exhibition, plus items in the exhibition shop. So I’ve had to turn my attention to the important question of ‘how much?’ It’s actually not the first time I’ve considered pricing. I’m the author of an accountancy textbook for use in universities, and I decided when planning the content of the book, some fifteen years ago, that I would include a chapter on pricing. The chapter kicks off with an economist’s  supply/demand graph – which is helpful to illustrate the selling of, say, toothpaste in a competitive market, but doesn’t have any use for the sale of one-off items such as artwork. I then go on to consider the question of how producers decide on prices and then I have a quick waltz around (this is only an introductory textbook and pricing is far from being my speciality) two approaches that I think have some relevance for what I’m talking about here: market-based pricing and cost-based pricing.

Very broadly speaking:

  • Cost-based pricing fixes the price of a product by reference to the cost of supplying it.
  • Market-based pricing fixes the price of a product by reference to what the market will bear.

I’ve seen a couple of good attempts recently to apply cost-based pricing to one-off items produced as art, but then mediated by the market-based approach. For example, recently, Helen Conway produced a detailed blog post on the subject which is full of useful thoughts and descriptions of how she does it. She sets out four basic principles (good idea, this), for example: ‘Principle no 1: I am not dependent on selling my art but I still want to price it as if I were running a full time working studio’. If you want to read the others, jump over there to Helen’s blog and take a look. She explains it all very well. Helen then applies a formula:

(Cost + hourly wage) x gallery commission = starting point

‘What? An hourly wage?’ you may be thinking. But, yes, that’s a sensible approach, especially in the light of principle no 1 above. This treats what you do like a business; obviously, it’s not the only valid approach. You may be happy never to sell and  to go to the grave as an unsung genius, leaving a house full of valuable artworks that your legatees can flog and get rich on; if so this discussion is not of great relevance to you.

The cost and gallery commission elements of the formula are relatively easy – the commission is what it is, and you should have some idea of the cost of production if you’re going to adopt a business-like footing. If you take the unsung genius approach it really doesn’t matter what you do. Or don’t do. Helen has various good ideas about how to establish an hourly wage that values your time appropriately. Realistically, I know that many artists struggling to get by, feel that they are doing well if they generate the minimum wage from their activities. But, we can dream. Helen does not, as far as I can see, include any allowance for pension costs, but I think you would need this for completeness if you were following this approach. And especially if you were planning a life-time career as an artist. (Just an accountant-like thought).

Taking this rational approach, you add together all the costs of making your piece of art, then you add the total (hours spent x hourly wage), then add on the gallery’s commission, and reach a price. So then you go ahead and charge that, right? Well, no. Not so fast. As Helen says, this is a starting point only. Then, you have to think about the market for your product. Artwork is often unique (well, OK, unless you’re selling prints), and that being the case, you don’t, can’t, price it like toothpaste. A final quotation from Helen’s post before I go off on some thoughts of my own: ‘In the art world, it doesn’t work to say, these are my lifestyle needs/ wishes, I want a salary of $x to achieve that and so these are my prices, if the market does not support that price’. Quite so.

So, now, let’s think about this ‘market’ and what you’re actually aiming to sell. What do you buy when you buy a piece of art (assuming it’s not reproduced as a print or photograph) – let’s say a painting? Well, at a basic level you’re buying the object. Part of the price you pay covers the artist’s costs of canvas, stretchers, paints. But this most likely leaves a part of the price for the artist’s time. And what else? Oh, yes, the privilege of owning something that is unique, and of buying into the artist’s reputation. If you buy a Tracy Emin painting, say, only the most trivial element of the price will be accounted for by the cost of canvas etc. The extra that you pay over and above the relatively insignificant tangible elements, depends upon the artist’s reputation. In the act of buying you are simultaneously paying for her accumulated experience, reputation, the joy of owning something unique, and at the same time, you are helping marginally to boost that reputation by being a willing buyer in the market.

So where does that leave a new starter? Well, as a newbie, you don’t have any reputation. Nothing, nada, zilch. (I should say here that Helen Conway is not a new starter by any means: she was writing her blog post in the light of her forthcoming solo exhibition. She has sold work before, and has exhibited widely, so in her chosen field, she has acquired a reputation. By contrast with me, and possibly you). So what are you going to do? You’ve got a choice of approaches, which may, or may not, be encapsulated in one of the following:

  • Being meek: ‘my work isn’t worth anything much and so I should be thrilled to get twenty quid for it, disregarding the fact that it’s taken me 140 hours to make)’
  • Recovering cost at all costs: ‘that’s what it cost to produce, including an hourly wage rate that fairly reflects the value of my time, so that’s what I’m going to charge’
  • Comparison with the best: ‘my work is easily as good as X’s [established artist], so I’m going to charge the same’
  • The hobbyist: ‘I don’t actually need the money, so all that matters is the fact of selling. I’m not bothered about keeping detailed records or about comparisons with professional artists’

Well, where am I with this? I want to avoid the meek approach, as I’d like to think I value myself and what I do a little bit more highly than that. Recovering cost at all costs? To be honest, this is likely to be very difficult for anyone who produces something like hand embroidery – ‘it takes how long???’. Comparison with the best does have something to recommend it. You never know. Perhaps people will fall over themselves to buy my work and I will establish an overnight stellar reputation. But, then again, possibly not.

For me, I can see the appeal of what I’ve called the ‘hobbyist’ approach. I work hard as an accountant, and earn enough to support myself without being obliged to make any extra income from selling artwork. (The trade off, of course, is that I’m very pushed for time). But, on a broader level, is the ‘hobbyist’ approach fair? One reason why artists generally may not earn enough to keep even a modest lifestyle afloat, especially in a field dominated by hobbyists, is that too many people are taking either the meek or hobbyist approach and selling their work for crazy, tiny, prices and professional artists suffer in the comparison.

So, actually, for various reasons, I’m going to try to avoid all four approaches I set out in the bulleted list. One of my basic principles, then, is that I’m not going to sell for buttons a piece that I’ve spent many hours on. I want to value myself more highly than that. It still doesn’t get me to a figure. Cost of materials is not actually a big deal for my pieces that are going into the Prism exhibition. They measure, unframed, 20cm x 20cm so don’t require a lot of materials. But there are some quite significant other costs, e.g. the hanging fee, the commission (a modest 30% which I think is very reasonable, especially for an exhibition in London where I think commercial galleries would charge much more) and cost of framing. I think I do want the price to at least cover these, plus the cost of my going to spend a day in London to help with stewarding. That’s already accumulated quite a lot of cost. Where do market-based comparisons get me? Well, over the years I’ve bought a lot of art. I know artists, whose work I admire very much, who price their work at only modest amounts (in my view). Occasionally, I’ve been amazed that I don’t have to pay more for what I consider to be a very desirable piece.

And what’s the result of all these musings? I’m a complete unknown, I’ve lavished lots and lots of time on my pieces, I don’t want to be meek or to be a hobbyist. In the end I thought about setting a price of £300 per framed piece. Then, in a fit of appalled modesty (meek, meek), I reduced that to £250. So if I sell all three pieces, I make £750 gross, out of which comes the commission and various unavoidable costs like framing (which was £33 per piece – very reasonable indeed for a very good finish). I haven’t even started on how I priced the shop items – I might write another post on that.

So, what do you think? Any comments, views? If you sell work, how do you fix on a price? Do you recognise yourself as Meek Pricer, or a Hobbyist? Or none of the above?

Helmshore Mills Textile Museum

I meant to write about Helmshore Mills Textile Museum a while back, when we visited it in March. I have lived in Lancashire since I was a young woman and, to my shame, had never got round to visiting the museum. Some of you may know from personal experience how this happens. When I lived in central London I rarely stirred myself to visit galleries even though they were pretty much on the doorstep. These days, when it is much more difficult, I regularly go to great effort and expense to go to London.

The thing that goaded me into actually visiting Helmshore Mills was news of its imminent closure as a result of funding cuts. It was threatened with closure on 31st March 2016, so we decided one day to make the effort and just go before the opportunity disappeared, possibly forever. Well, it was enthralling and I’m so pleased I didn’t miss it. You can read about it here and here, or if you’re in the area you could go and see it as there’s now been a reprieve until September. Helmshore Mills was both a spinning and weaving mill, for both wool and cotton, at various points in its history, but latterly was a spinning mill until its closure in 1978. There is a big exhibition about the history and development of spinning and weaving and then you move upstairs to where the machines are still in place and are still working for demonstration purposes. Unfortunately, the day we went, the big spinning mule machine (see photo below) was not working, so we saw only part of the demonstration. Still, even the bit we did see helped me to understand the nature of the processes which were dirty, noisy and dangerous. The place was a death trap where people, including children in the earlier part of its history, could be crushed by machinery, lose fingers and limbs and inhale sufficient cotton lint to kill them from respiratory diseases. In order to keep the cotton sufficiently flexible the factory had to be kept humid and at a high temperature, so working conditions were distinctly unpleasant. Helmshore mill spinning mule

The machine in the picture is the spinning mule which was developed from Hargreaves’ spinning Jenny. The machine required constant attention from the workers to keep it clear of snags and problems. I won’t attempt to describe how it works – but have a look at the Wikipedia page if you’re interested, where there is a video of the machine in motion.

Having now got my act together to visit this outstanding museum I am most put out that it is quite likely to close because of lack of funding. This is a really significant part of our heritage. Indeed, given the spread of these machines around the world, it’s really a heritage site of international importance. I’ve signed a petition to try to keep it open. And I will be visiting the related Queen Street Museum in Burnley before the end of September closure date. Queen Street is the weaving museum and I’m sure it will be worth the trip.

Student Art Guide

I was having a quick look through the daily Pinterest update (for boards I follow) and my attention was grabbed by some student sketchbook images. I followed the link through to the Student Art Guide and was mightily impressed. I read some of the pages while I was having coffee, then afterwards as well, and have spent quite a bit of time on it. It’s a comprehensive website that covers topics of interest to those studying art and related disciplines (so, yes, textiles as well) at high school level. The website was founded by Amiria Gale in New Zealand, an experienced art teacher, but it has obviously grown quite a bit and now contains articles both by her and by other teachers.

I’m guessing that most of the people who read this blog are somewhat older than most high school students, but I think Student Art Guide has articles of interest to most of us, whether or not high school is a very distant memory. Much of the advice on putting a sketchbook together, for example, would be very helpful to those studying City & Guilds, and the tips on how to create excellent observational drawings could be helpful to anybody.

The examples of sketchbook work completed by high school students (A and AS level here in the UK) are both wonderful and inspiring. If you are putting together a sketchbook I urge you to have a look at these impressive pieces of work. If you have school age children who are studying art, and they don’t already know about this resource, please tell them.

Profile picture

I’ve read lots of advice about setting up websites and blogs. One piece of advice that crops up quite frequently is that it’s important to publish a profile picture so that your readers know what you look like. I set up my website over two years ago, and have managed to ignore this advice so far. However, the time has come, I think, to get over my reluctance. I spent some time this morning taking selfies with my iPad, deleting almost all of them instantly. Somewhat to my surprise, I found I actually preferred the ones where I’m looking cheerful. So I’ve selected the one I consider to be the least hideous and most cheerful and you can see it, if you so wish, on my ‘About Me’ page.

HNY to all my readers

Happy New Year to everyone who reads my blog. It’s a good point at which to say thank you for reading. Production of blog posts has been somewhat sporadic of late, to say the least. Fact is, 2015 has been a very difficult year for me, and it’s been a struggle to keep up with the stitching, never mind blogging about it. I’ve referred in previous posts to on-going problems with neck pain, but have not recounted anything like the full story (fear not, I’m not about to recount it now – you’d be bored sick). Yes, the neck pain is a continuing hassle, but at least it goes away for reasonably long periods from time to time. A worse problem is the one of continuous pain in my jaw which I’ve had for the last 18 months. Thinking it was likely to be a dental problem (I get lots of those and I’m used to dentistry) I’ve had huge amounts of dental treatment during 2014 and 2015; unfortunately, none of the many procedures has alleviated the pain one tiny bit. I finally went to see a specialist in November, a maxillo-facial surgeon, and he pronounced the problem to be Atypical Facial Pain (or he said it could possibly be Atypical Neuralgia). These are chronic pain problems that take some shifting, and can plague people for very long periods. Sigh.

It’s taken me a long time to get any perspective on this problem. The fact that I can step back a bit is thanks to the medications prescribed by my GP which, since late September, have ensured with some reliability that I get a reasonable sleep for around 7 hours per night. Previously, I’d been getting by on around 4 hours per night which was making me very crabby indeed. So, thank you doctor and thank you drug companies (not something I’d often say in respect of drug companies, but credit where it’s due, I suppose). Mostly, of course, the problem and its effects are entirely negative, but I can see that feeling weak, ill and vulnerable is actually quite good for a person from time to time. I now, in retrospect, very much appreciate having had a largely pain-free life. I’m in awe of people who cope with acute and chronic pain problems. One of the textile artists I most admire is Emily Barletta and I was reminded recently of something I read about her having suffered much pain and illness from an early age. You can read an interview with her and you can see some of her marvellous artwork, if you’re not already familiar with it, via her website. Her work is wonderfully inventive, surprising, colourful and altogether delightful. If you’re not aware of it, I feel very pleased to be able to put you on to her.

I’ve finished Cochineal Dream III and will post a photo shortly. I can’t seem to take half-way decent photos with flash, and I’ve developed the habit of photographing work outside. There was a brief period of brightness this morning but I was busy doing something else so didn’t grasp the opportunity to photograph outside. And now it’s gloomy outside and will soon be getting dark (it’s 3pm here in the North of England and bad enough. I don’t know how the Scandinavians and others in latitudes even further north cope with this). And it’s rained and rained for what seems like months. The flooding here has been very bad indeed. I’ve not been personally affected because we live on higher ground, but people living near rivers have not been so fortunate.

So, more soon, I hope. Thanks for reading.

Some statistics

I keep an eye on Google Analytics to see how many people have a look at my website and blog, and to mark my recent two-year blogging anniversary I thought I’d share some statistics with you. Over the two-year period I wrote and published 144 blog posts. While this looks like a big number (or at least it does to me as I’ve written them all) this is just under 1.4 per week so nowhere near the target I set myself of publishing two posts per week. There have been gaps for illness, though, and of late I’ve mostly averaged around 2 per week. So, no more than C for effort. Although I do keep an eye on visitor numbers I’m nowhere near as assiduous about this as I used to be, and I’m less bothered if numbers are low. I get relatively few visitors at weekends, for some reason. What are you all doing, I wonder?Google Analytics logo

In total, over the two years from 21 October 2013 to 21 October 2015 I got 7343 visitors, almost exactly ten per day. I’m suspicious of this number, though. There was a spike in visitor numbers over the summer months earlier this year and a peak in the bounce rate (which is usually very low), so I think there was probably something wrong with the way Google Analytics was tracking and counting visitors. The visitor numbers have since returned to more normal levels. Disregarding the spike over the summer, there is a gradual upward trend which is pleasing. Just under 29% of my visitors are from the UK, with the US second at 22% and, surprisingly to me, Brazil third on 5.6%. Welcome, Brazilian readers! I’ve had visitors from 126 countries – isn’t that just wonderful?

I like numbers, especially simple ones, and I find statistics really quite interesting. I wish I were good at maths, though. Recently, while I’ve been stitching I’ve been listening to old BBC Radio 4 broadcasts, and have been very taken with Marcus du Sautoy’s ‘A brief history of mathematics’. There are ten brief programmes of 15 minutes each where MduS explains the work of one or more famous mathematicians. Usually, he loses me pretty early on in the broadcast as regards understanding the maths. It’s not that he’s bad at explaining, but rather that this stuff is so inherently complicated. I remember slogging through geometry, including 3 dimensional objects when I was a girl, but I really can’t begin to understand what he’s on about when he explains objects in multiple dimensions. I understood what he was saying about Gauss and statistics because I’ve done stats courses and I can cope with the jargon. But most of it’s way, way above me.

I love listening to the radio or to stories while I’m stitching. More and more, it’s been music on Radio 3 (the BBC’s classical music channel), but there’s not much to beat a really good story.  I may squeeze a bit of stitching in towards the end of today, but for the moment I cannot procrastinate any longer and must get on with some work.

Writing my artist’s statement

Yes, well, I suppose sooner or later I was going to have to engage in writing an artist’s statement. I’ll preface my remarks in this post to point out that I’m no stranger to writing. Not only do I blog (fairly) frequently which is good writing practice, but also I write for hard cash and have had a lot of experience in writing for publication. However, I’m definitely not a creative writer. Don’t look out for the novel any time soon.

But the artist’s statement presents a unique challenge. Earlier this year, I found that if I wanted to apply for membership of Prism, I would have to get my head down and put some serious thought into a plausible statement. Needs must, and so I gritted my teeth and got on with it. I expect you understand the problem: so much of what is written about art, often by artists themselves, is incomprehensible garbage (to put it mildly).  Faced with a challenging piece of art, you may find that the artist’s statement, far from elucidating the work, serves only to obscure it still further.

There is an amusing artist statement generator which I’ve just completed as a bit of a jape. The Market-O-Matic 1.0 (Fine Arts Version) invites you to add your name and a few choice adjectives to a standard list provide, click on the ‘Crank out the Crap’ button and sit back to enjoy the results of your complete lack of effort. However, this cynical approach, while good for a laugh, really won’t do. How, then, to proceed?

Before attempting to write the statement, I did a fair bit of reading around the subject of artists’ statements. There’s a useful guide on textileartist.org, a website I’ve praised previously. Joe, of Joe and Sam, who write many of the articles, has come up with a ten-point list to help the aspiring artist to write ‘a great artist statement’. (‘Great’ would be, obviously, great, but I’m really looking for adequate at this stage…). Number 3 on the list is: ‘You do NEED an artist statement’. This struck a chord with me, as I had until this point assumed that artists’ statements were a pain in the butt and you only needed one because somebody else said you needed one. Number 4 on the list emphasises the usefulness of the artist’s statement in answering questions. They say: ‘The artist statement serves as a de facto answer to common questions about your body of work, as a whole or in a series, and it allows for more in depth conversation about your concepts’. Useful advice further down the list includes a strong recommendation not to bore your audience with jargon, to keep the statement short and to avoid showing off. All this seemed very sensible, so I set to work.

And you know what? It was a surprisingly useful exercise and I’m pleased I did it. I was only ever going to undertake it with a metaphorical shotgun to my head, but when forced to the point I derived some benefit from it. It made me really think hard about what I was doing, and why, and it’s helped me to discover a focus and direction in what I’m creating that I didn’t have before. I did keep it short, at 220 words which includes a list of artists who have influenced me, and quite a bit of it was factual, explaining the range of materials I use. It wasn’t easy to write, and it went through several versions before I had something I could consider satisfactory. Another key point is that it’s for one point in time only. As Joe, on textileartist.org explains: ‘It’s a good idea to constantly revise your [artist statement] to ensure it appropriately represents you as you now!’. I’ve not revised it since I wrote it, about five months ago, but I do take it out from time to time and I think about the extent to which it’s true, and how I might change it. It helped me a lot to realise that a statement doesn’t have to be the last word on what you’re doing. It’s flexible, aimed at a moving target.

So, I suppose, I’m a convert to the cause. Who’d have thought? What I still have an issue with, and it’s one I’ll discuss in a later post, is the whole problematic business of describing myself as an artist in the first place…. as ever, watch this space.