Immediately engaging with the text ‘An a/r/tographic métissage: Storying the self as pedagogic practice’ I found myself enjoying the invoking visuals of ‘threadscape’, imagining all the threads being woven and pulled apart to be rejoined into new colours. I’ve embroidered for many years in my fine art practice, playing with the limits of the threads and trying to recreate a TV static with my needlework, however I soon felt a pang of sorrow.
As I read on I felt drawn to each of the subjects but especially Isabelle and Sandrine, as I read through Isabelle’s feelings of confusion toward being an isolated creative and then suddenly entering the role of teacher, I realized I too have been struggling with this dual identity. Perhaps it’s just being pulled away from the romantic narrative of the ‘lonely brilliant artist, seconds away from breaking into the art-world’ to ‘regular civilian teacher, 9 to 5 wagecuck’. I enjoy teaching, but like Isabelle, this sudden departure from youthful fantasy to mature reality does leave me somewhat concerned about my embroidery thread box currently resting beneath my computer desk.
Like Sandrine, my grandmother taught me a great deal, however, she never formally taught. The things she taught me were a blend of feminism and death camp survival, essentially how to survive men, especially those above you, with or without a gun. Sandrines more accessible writing style intertwined with quotes and memories made me feel as though she was talking to me at the kitchen table as the men watch TV in the other room. There’s a beautiful symbolism to the folded blue kimono, the femininity of the kimono itself with the traditional masculine blue colouring, wonderful to own but practically impossible to wear, at least by yourself. There’s a poem waiting to be written there,
I run a bronze foundry, meaning I’m constantly teaching clients and apprentices even when I’m not in a formal educational institution like the UAL, those have been my toughest battles for sure. Educating somebody who feels as if they’ve hired you they now own you and, more specifically, own all of your time requires a blend of professionalism and performed humility. Who am I to refuse you, the artist, your request? Of course I can’t begin to understand the divine complexity of your sculpture, however, gravity won’t allow us to float a 6ft bronze horse mid-air. I understand Anish Kapor did it but you aren’t paying me Anish Kapor money.
Looking at the text as a whole I feel I have the most to reflect upon in Isabelles section, the blend of artist to teacher to bronze caster. The nurturing act of teaching does in itself create something, much like creating an embroidery or casting a sculpture. I suppose the real trick to it is creating a new fantasy to work within, a persona to hone and a good poker face.
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