Hope and Despair In A Changing World


Can we look bad things face on and still retain our sense of hope? Are Hope and despair opposites after all? Does the news breed despair or hope? Can an artistic response to negative news give us a sense of action which lights the flame of hope? Read on for more on our Warrington and Liverpool journey into hope and despair.

Just started work on the Warrington strand of the topic "Hope and despair in a changing world" . I'm looking forwards to working with mental health organisation "Creative Remedies" to explore current news stories. To help us get our teeth into the project I've create a series of chat cards which are inspired by national, global and local news.

There are also a few blank cards which participants can choose to note a piece of personal news to share with the group or keep to them self as inspiration.
The workshop will  respond to the thoughts and needs of those who will be there. I like to go to a workshop with a number of tools which will help us all get to know each other chat about news and connections and get inspired. I've got a few exercises up my sleeve which will use the cards but we might find it easy to chat without. I'll also be taking the LILIWACC work created so far to talk about. The second workshop will teach all the practical skills needed to create individual crocheted circles on chosen topics. Third workshop will be a chance to bring in pieces they have created and work as a group to join it all in.

7th February 2018


My first visit to Warrington could have been split by the tea break into titles hope and despair. Bus, late but arrived at last. Upstairs front seat.  Unfurling my box of tricks across the ledge, avoiding the butter and crumbs left by past passengers. The  bus provided a studio room with a view and a few fellow passengers to be amused.
The bus to Warrington takes a rambling route. The extra time gives time to hatch a plan. Changing Lives in Warrington (CLIW) first. A quick visit to chase up e mails and crochet for half an hour. Then other indoor spaces. The bus station and a news paper last. A loose and flexible plan.  Choose a spot and if its proving interesting stay put, if not move on. I'm not looking for high footfall just places where all sorts of people go. Places where conversations can be had and I can watch the world go by. Sometimes meaningful and deep conversations sometimes throw away chit chat. Diverse. Places where people might feel comfortable to learn the basics of crochet. Sometimes places you wouldn't expect  me to be, places where my presence challenges a convention. CLIW seems too quiet at first.



I set up, get treated to a brew by Emma who runs The Craft Rooms with her husband. Its relaxing there. Surrounded by crafts I enjoyed listening to the 80's radio station. I get too comfortable and the few people who come in avoid my eye. Perhaps they don't want to get enmeshed or are being respectful of my quiet craft. So I stashed my yarn in my pocket and walked and crocheted. Along the way I encounter a lady called Mrs Cable. Appropriate. I start with "Cold Today". We went on to re-learn how to make a crocheted circle together. She liked the idea but thinks she might struggle with the conceptual part. She has help on hand. her daughter studied art and her gran daughter is good with ideas. Maybe they will do it together. As she left she told me the news of attacks on the gay emblem, the rainbow flag. She has some rainbow yarn. Maybe that would be an idea. Turns out the conceptual leap needed wasn't so wide after all. I taught Emma to make a circle and she kindly took my photo.

A lady came in who crochets for charity. Crocheting pays for card making materials, the cards sell and she gives that money to the charity.  Another lady who teaches classes visits too. I teach a volunteer called Andrew to create a circle. I assure him that its all fingers and thumbs at first but it soon comes with practise. He takes a hook and yarn and says that he will keep on trying. Before I know it 2 hours have past. A good and positive morning. I was late to meet my Mum for dinner. She was forgiving and we went to the old fashioned department store for dinner. We talked the usual family talk. She gave me some fake vampire fangs and jewellery made from fossilised dinosaur poo. I got a bit carried away talking politics. We finished and walk to the museum. We found a quiet spot.

 I set up and reminded my mum how to crochet and then how to make a circle.  Full circle,it was my mum who taught me to knit as a child.

Mum's circle went through  a nipple look alike phase, then begins to look like a mans bits. She created a handle and we decided that its a bag to keep marbles in, save her loosing them.

She will buy some hooks and maybe encourage my Dad to have a go. My Dad finds himself unwell and sitting more than usual. Maybe, we muse, they could both create a circle to explain their current condition. She takes the bag home. No doubt it will re-appear in the future as a prop for some practical joke or other. Mischief is hereditary.
I changed position to the downstairs cafe area and talked to one of the curators. The project may be of interest to others so she takes two leaflets. One she will laminate.  I'm coming to realise that all the repeated faceless e mails don't have a patch of being here just doing. A Polish member of gallery staff came by. "What is this you are doing? What is the English word?" he asked. I tell him and he returns the favour and tells me it in polish. I mispronounced it a few times before he gave up on the venture. He told me how his mother used to knit it and his grandmother too. He looked nostalgic. He apologised for his English and I tried to make him feel better. "It's not as bad as my polish. " I say. "Well yes...this is true." he said.

My last stop was where hope and despair did a curious dance.


In the library I met a man who looked and behaved street worn. He shook my hand and recited 5 beautiful poems. He spoke them like a seasoned professional with such perfect rhythm. Part of a collection he wrote. 40 poems curated by his daughter those five kept in his head. His daughter keeps the photocopies of his hand written works. He moves around too much to keep them himself and he won't write any more. It was just something he did once. His friend came in and the poet left to use the computers. The friend stayed to talk. He is 3 months out of prison and homeless. He tells of the involved plans he has had to kill himself with a shot gun and string. He told me of the recent time when he was saved from jumping in front of a train by a police officer. He told me of his frustrations with family and housing and he mentioned drink more than once. I could see in the corner of my eye a chap reading the paper. His eyes rolled from time to time. Perhaps he found the guy lowly, weak and scummy. Thought me to be a gullible bleeding heart. Perhaps he just wanted more quiet.  From my time working in a hostel and other difficult places I'm better at hearing hard stories. Its now in the re-telling that I shed a tear. Too many people with artistry giving up on sideways creative thoughts. Too many people, lives so desolate. No hope. Thinking that an early death between train and track is the best option.

9th February 2018 

Warrington once more.  I  stayed in indoor spaces but everywhere was cold. The bus station was icy and  the shopping centre seemed to be having trouble with its heating. The persuasive sound for the day was the click click of walking stick on concrete.

The shopping centre has titled the benches "Customer recharging points". I took up residency at one such point. I set up my sign. Pulled out my yarn and started to crochet. An older lady sat down beside me.  I commented on the cold and we began to talk. She asked what I am doing and we considered some news stories together. Was Enoch Powell a racist?  She kindly took a photo of me as she left. Her Chronic Pulminary Disorder had left her breathless and in need of recharging. Now she is ready for the bus ride home.

I found some warmth, a brew and a wool shop in a smaller precinct. The wool shop was previously on the towns market, in place there for 30 years. A remodelling of the market had meant a move to this new shop. Quieter and not the same but trade slowly picking back up. I stared at the yarns and the lady asked me what I am making. For makers this question is a great opener;  as good as small talk about the weather is to most Brits. I explained that I needed a colour and texture of wool which represents the way the system treats us as we become adults. She humours me.

Alongside my table in the cafe was some kind of a community support office. People sat in a line outside the window, waiting their turn. As one person went in another replaced them. It seemed that there are lots of people who needed this help. I heard snippets of conversation. The name Brighthouse came up more than once. I asked a waiting lady to take my picture and she kindly obliged. These street sessions don't follow my usual style of community engagement.  I don't approach people. I want a more balanced relationship where people approach me if they really want to. I try to create clues that talking with me would be OK. The sign is the biggest. An open attitude is another. The invite to take a photo is most direct. I find that if I stay in one place for a while the curiosity gets the better of some people eventually. If nobody talks its not the end of my world. As I wait I watch, listen and muse. I'm interested in the idea of a flanuer. Looking it up I find it defined as "a man who saunters around observing society." There is a whole other essay to be written about the modern flanuer.

I went along to The Gateway which describes itself thus " The Gateway serves as a bridge between the local community, public sector and voluntary/community organisations and provides assistance, advice and guidance to cater for community needs. It provides a much needed place for people from different backgrounds to engage and interact." My encounters here deserves their own blog. It will be called something like this "Does the likely hood of being moved on relate to how much transgression usually takes place in a space." or "How much transgression can we tolerate in the interest of vibrancy?"

I ended my day at the site of my next exhibition The Gallery At Bank Quay House. I was keen to see the current exhibition but also get a brew and set up shop for half an hour. There was a band playing. Older people sat singing and joining in on instruments. It is joyous. When they finished some of them ask me what I'm up to. They are open and welcoming. Full of smiles. I talked to a gent who is a trustee for Care UK, a charity which helps refugees. He told me that it was the photo of a child washed up on a beach which led him and others to do something. Now they help hundreds of people. The art form of photography, sometimes brutal enough to create wonderful responses. My explanation  of he work allowing him to tell much more about himself than he would through a normal first encounter.
The music group chatted with a lady who was waiting for her friend to finish his Personal Independence Payments interview. He was so long that she had to move the car. As the music group left the ladies friend finally joined her. He carried a stick and struggled to sit down. It was such an ordinary conversation they had but it makes me feel sad and angry. The lady who interviewed him was  lovely he says. She was very impressed with what he could do. These interviews seem devious to me. They try very hard to be lovely but the answers they tap into their computers dictate if the person will gain support or not. Lots of people are led by good manners or pride to down play their conditions. I've heard similar stories since.  I will  make a piece about this.

10th February 2018

I wasn't really feeling up to the challenge. Woke up with chesty cough and runny nose. Both of which were duly ignored.  The date was in my diary. The plan was made so I was determined to stick to it. Crochet on the train to Manchester.

Then visit to HOME to crochet there with fellow artists and writers. The day was good but on the train ride the lurgy unfurled its tentacles and took hold.



3 days cancelled due to illness. Partly inability to do anything, partly not wanting to pass the lurgy onto people more vunerable than me. I didn't even crochet my own work. Just sat and dulled my brain with netflix serials. The lurgy was annoying as it didn't come with the usual comfy brain dulling of a cold. I felt restless of mind but incompetent of body. The inability to create made life dull. I wondered how I would have coped with life if I'd never found a creative way to pass my time. There is usually no boring time for me. When I take a long train journey I make. When I find myself alone and on the brink of lonely I make. When I am troubled I make. Sometimes I leave my troubles behind and just make sometimes my troubles inform the work and give me a sense of power over troubles. I don't make time to make I make as I do other things. I fill the gaps between and during meetings. Even if I find myself in a place with nothing to make I'll fold the paper from a beer bottle or make pictures from sugar left on a table. I recall a similar creative sole. A young lad in trouble at school and into graffiti. He was restless when we took him to a gallery but over a cup of tea he used the sugar packets to create a tiny skate park. I kept a photo of that on my phone for a long time. Perhaps it represented a common impulse. These restless souls whose inability to just sit be passive and observe gets them into trouble. I even make in my sleep. I come up with ideas and solutions in sleep. The only time I don't make is when I'm ill or stupidly tired. Somebody asked me recently "If you don't believe in God where does your comfort come from?" I concluded that comfort comes from art and creativity. I  discussed with another group how the world and its news can be a depressing thing. It can leave us despairing, powerless and with a desire to turn away. As a creative soul hope might come from the fact that we can make art about the things which trouble us. That art could go into the world and create a slow simmer or like the photo of the refugee child drowned on the beach it could create a revolution of mind, spirit and action.

20th February 2018

Turned up to meet a new group. Poster had been passed by, groups pull was small and there were only 3 people to talk to. We were squeezed into a tiny space, told off for blocking the corridor, moved, moved back again. I felt like more of a nuisance than a help. My ego was disappointed, my funder brain started to count up the numbers. Stop. Remember. I've been trying to take each encounter be it large or small, easy or difficult in a relaxed way.  We settled in the universal binder of a brew was offered. I focused on those who had taken the time to come. We talked through the project and one of the group honestly shared her concerns. She turns away from the news finding that it gets her too angry and enpassioned. She feared that the abstract nature of the work will be too much for people to grasp. The message may be lost. She thinks the message is too important to be lost. The diagrams and interpretation won't be enough she worried. People won't bother to read it or take on the offer to think about the work.  A plan was hatched to create a video which will provide the same kind of feel people get when I explain it to them direct. Willing to give it a go. Film Maker Jason Sheppard was commissioned to help make a short film a reality.


21st February 2018

I entered a beautiful room. If art does nothing else it gets one out and about and to new places. People filter in as I set out some sample pieces and debating cards. Creative Remedies is an organisation who provide arty activities for those struggling with their mental well being. Everyone was apprehensive to different degrees. I had no idea what to expect and to be fair neither did they. Everybody was friendly. Some talk some stay quiet. It was like your average mix of very differing people meeting for the first time. Some later admitted to the challenge they had entering the room, fear of the unknown, too many people, looking stupid feeling bad. I've had low points in my life where going out, being seen seemed like too much to bare. Times where I didn't want to be ignored but feared being looked at too.Times where my moment to speak passed because I've spent so long wondering if my thoughts will be well received or not. Times when I've talked too much just to alleviate the discomfort of a potential silence. My confidence built through lots of positive experiences I sometimes forget those times. Its important to remember though as they help me understand a little.  The person in front of me isn't always being negative towards me they may be struggling to make any connections. Being here might be the biggest thing they have done all year. I have to set my own insecurities to one side and just try to be as kind as I can. So we talked of news and we tried to find a way for everybody to get involved and find a way through the tasks. At the end of the session I wondered if we had talked too much and done too little. A few sessions after a group member told me that she had enjoyed that session the most. Having studied sociology she enjoyed the chance to share views and think deeply. Looking back I see that the thinking informed the pieces people made. Instead of simple choosing a colour and texture which appealed they chose for context. Instead of always having to be neat they embraced the mistakes and made them work for the piece. I am often privileged to work with groups like this. They give much more than they receive.


22nd February 2018

A wonderful day which gave me some hope. A day spent with students and lecturers who seemed to care about the wider world and making a positive change through creative practice. We talked and it sparked my mind. Later the students self elected to come to one of three workshops. It was encouraging to find that so many of  of them choose to join me and learn to crochet. There were moments of quiet concentration, a room still but for the movement of many hands. There were times when the task became easier and people chatted. 2 hours in and I had to ask what time they expected to leave. Some wondered at how little they had done in the time but the real wonder should have been how time had flown. Time distorted by what Mihály Csíkszentmihályi called "flow", a loss of space and time. It may feel frivolous to lose time but I think sometimes it is necessary. Impatience at the wait for a train becomes time to make, time when loneliness might make the hours drag slip painlessly away.  As I get further into this project I realise that the despair might come from looking at the worlds reality face on but the ability to create art about it brings hope through affirmative action.


27th February 2018












A talk to more students.  I began with a declaration of Independence. "I am not a textile artist".  I go on to talk about  how on revealing your position as an artist people will always ask  "What do you paint?" When you explain your current yarn piece they will scramble around to define you as a textile artist. Perhaps its about security an effort to know you and what you are about. Its funny when applied to other professions. "I am an accountant" one might declare. Very few would ask what kind of numbers do you work with? So if its not about yarn or wood or paint what is it about? Mainly its about things you can't touch or hold in your hand, its about ideas, conversations, interactions and invisible structures. The medium chosen should be the best one to make these structures visible in the most sensible way.  After the talk we sat and crocheted together. A few more pieces are created. Jason Sheppard joined me to take some photos of the work and I posed for some arty photos outside. Snow clogging up the yarn as it trails across the flagged floor.

28th February 2018 
 Back with Creative Remedies for the practical session, learning to crochet and translate our ideas in colour, texture and method. The method of creating a simple circle is fairly easy to grasp, once one gets over that fingers and thumbs stage. Integrating your method in line with what you want to convey is sometimes a bit tougher. I've been conscious not to learn fancy stitches unless they are needed as its easy to apply a novel stitch just because you want to express your aptitude. This work isn't about the demonstration of skill as much as its about the demonstration of thought. I was really pleased with how the thinking from the first session translated into the pieces people intended to create. The piece which struck me the most was created by a crochet novice.  Creating a piece about the Florida shootings could have been emotionally tough and demoralising. To focus on such a grim piece of news could have acted as trigger for all sorts of upset. Red was the obvious choice for the wound. Grey for the shot and then skin tone. The choice of skin tone brought up  discussion. Maybe all the skin involved wasn't all the cartoon colour of skin toned plasters. The crocheter found it tough to co-ordinate the hook and yarn, progress was slow. The tension was variable and the stitches went in strange unpredictable directions. But the limits of his new skill became a positive as the work took on a ragged nature fitting of the piece. The slow progress and the strength of the message provoked us as a group to join in and create 16 more round wounds. One wound to represent each of the 17 people killed. The rounds were stitched together tightly. These were one set of people who knew each other to varying degrees. Now all tied together by a common horrendous act. During the course of creating the piece research was needed to see if the skin tones were all "white". Looking at the faces of those killed brought the horror and sadness. It also provoked a thought about those killed each day in ghettos. Perhaps they only appear as a statistic.  Sometimes art takes you to morbid places. Places which you might not ordinarily like to go. If you went there without art what would you do with the information? what might the feelings turn into? In my own experience and through witnessing others take on tough subjects I see that art gives us a tool to deal with tough. Firstly it gives us a kind of repository into which to place all the bad. I used to write when I was low. Sad self indulgent poems and rambling notes. I'd wet the pages with tears and when I put down the pen I always felt cleansed, better. At college I used to do angry messy paintings, tear them up, rearrange and stick them back together. It was like I'd spewed out all the anger. Secondly, what we create might go out into the world and others may benefit from seeing it. It could illicit a
change, be it tiny or large. Through this we take action on the bad. No we aren't politicians with the power to change things or superheros who can run on in and avert disaster. We are creative folks who do creative things and sometimes it might make a difference to somebody or something at sometime. As the novice
crocheter struggled with the hook and yarn he didn't know that he was inspiring me. He didn't know that his 3cm wide piece of crochet would inspire my next piece on knife crime in London. When he got out of bed that morning he probably expected to do ordinary things but in actual fact he did something extra ordinary. He brought together the group in an act of helping. He sparked my thoughts and he created a great piece of artwork.

5th March 2018
I spent many days in my studio during the early days of this project. It might be worth explaining what being in my studio looks like. When weather allows it can be messy in my garage. The garage looks out onto a busy street. School children and workers walk by and commuters drive past. My street feels like a place to pass through. Its wide and busy. Drives are fairly long and divide neighbours. Even though I live here I don't really feel like I belong here.  This said my artistic garage pursuits sometimes catch the eye of a neighbour or a passer by. Most days there will be a conversation with a stranger or a acquaintance. Most days there will be a jibe from a teen or a small child who asks there parent what I'm up to. I could, as most people probably do these days, restrict my activities to the more private back garden. If the weather is warm enough I'd rather be in the garage with its public front. Its a physical place to see and be seen. It also gives me a feeling of going to another place, just outside the home. The 5th of March was cold and comfy crochet chairs were needed so you would have found me in the living room. I live with another artist. Although we each have spaces in the house to create we often gravitate to the lounge for less messy work. People wonder at the art on the lounge walls but we hardly see it. Most of the pieces have just settled there, hung to take a photo then safer to leave hung than to pack away in storage.   My lounge studio days usually begin at 9am, stop for tea and then go on into the evening. They will often be accompanied by news channels, Parliament or radio 4. By late afternoon I'm often fed up with factual TV and I'll tune into easy watching tea time tele.
I  think its important to punctuate the days and nights a little but often I forget that good advice and crochet on for 12 hours solid. Crocheting is a time consuming pastime. It consumes time in a practical way , that is, "I've been at this for 10 hours and my piece is still only this big" but also in a more mysterious way.  Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi talks of a blissful immersion through heightened focus. He called the phenomenon "Flow" and notes how in flow time slips away. Try waiting for a late bus and the minutes seems to go on forever. Try that same wait with a task of knitting or crochet and the time slips by. These kind of repetitive crafts are strange though as they allow you to be totally attentive to two things at the same time. Once you reach a certain level of practice the stitches demand a kind of sideways focus. I say sideways focus because you are still focused on the movement, the end of a round which demands a different stitch and the form the work is taking but your mind can also focus fully on something else.  If I'm knitting or crocheting just for pleasure or practical reasons my thoughts might be on the TV programme I'm watching. If I allow myself quiet my focus will often be on the person I'm creating something for.


With LILIWAAC I spend a lot of time thinking about the issue I'm creating the work about. Partly I'm being vigilant, checking that the work is still reflecting what I want it to reflect but I also think a lot about the story. During this studio day I was creating my piece about Personal Independence Payments. These payments are given to help people pay for additional care, mobility and activities they may benefit from. On one hand they sound great. Full of choice and self determination. At a glance they are a great idea. The act of crocheting an issue affords you more than a cursory thought on it. I've come to think that PIP's are flawed in some ways.  As I created I considered a half remembered story from the start of this PIP role out. An organisation who ran groups for vulnerable people told me that, rather than get centrally funded they would now have to convince each of their clients and those new to the group to pay for the service out of their PIP's. They didn't hold much hope that the group would continue. I've heard other stories about people who get PIP's and don't know how to or where to go to spend their money. Individuals aren't well versed in being service commissioners. Hell, even service commissioners get it wrong half of the time. Plus if each person spends there money in different ways how do people ever work out how to come together for common pursuit? Lets say I give you and 5 friends a tenner each to spend on whatever you want. Even though you are friends and often do things together already you can see the potential issues. One wants to go to the pub, another swimming, another wants to stay at home and save it and so on. The group fractures and you each do your individual things.  Unless you can all agree to pool your monies that tenner might end in a very lonesome activity.  Amplify this instance to a situation where the people who might benefit from a common activity don't know or speak to each other. Add in a disability be it physical or mental and I think it must be quiet isolating.   This is before the system begins to break down due to hostile policies and a austerity methodology. But don't get me started on that side of things.

Creating the PIP piece wasn't all plain sailing. I wanted the piece to represent the confusion of the system with tiny circles sewn in to represent the often isolated people. I struggled with ugly spiky yarns to create a sense of confusion. I stitched lines over the crocheting. I asked people on facebook what they thought it represented. I got back coral. It wasn't until several days later that I decided to add another material. Metal cages around each circle. They are out of kilter with the rest of the work so illicit a question; "What do those represent?" The harsh man made nature of them can't be confused with coral. They are caging something but what?

7th March 2018
I spoke to another group of students at Hope University as part of their "Cornerstone Festival". As the work is in yarn it had been scheduled for the textile department again. I began my talk with my slide which shouted in large Impact font; 

"I AM NOT A TEXTILE ARTIST"

I apologised for shouting and went on to explain why this seems so important to say. When I was at uni doing my degree I was very taken by conceptual artists.  The notion that ideas can be the art has been a preoccupation in my practice ever since.  For two years, 2008-2010 I worked hard as an artist but made no art objects. In "Starvation Diet" I resisted food I didn't need and gave the proceeds to the charity "Practical Action". I blogged about the changes in my body, my thoughts and the growing monies saved and given to starving people.  The objects of the process could be said to be my body and in a more distant way the bodies of those helped by the charity. At the end I did produce a "Starvation Diet" T-shirt, a single book and a series of spoof posters which remained online until they needed printing. These products might look more like art but to my mind the art was at once all and none of it. I started the two years of no making with a conviction that there is too much stuff in the world and an inkling that as an artist I was adding to it. Whilst my practice is no longer as extreme as those two years of non making the legacy of that time lives on. I try to bring very little new material into my practice, taking donations of left over yarn and re purposing for example. To justify the creation of an  art object within my work it may be a means of further communication or a way to incite a process of coming together to create and think. Whilst the end result of LILIWAAC is a fairly large and impressive installation its material form is a very small part of the whole. The importance is not on it as yarn but on it as a manifestation of ideas and impressions about news stories and how they interconnect. Its more a chart than an art object. This underlying attitude alters the way it can be made. Its processes and its manifestation. Rather than looking for an aesthetic beauty (although some parts have been described as that) I'm hoping to show my reaction and interest in a news story. That might be scruffy and ugly or it may be well made and neat. My skill, or as shown in the post above the skill of others, is only of concern when the idea demands it. A lack of skill can sometimes be a positive.   I have learnt few new stitches but if new learning is needed I will seek it. New techniques learnt just for the sake of showmanship can be a distraction.  Despite the hours of crocheting I've probably got no better at the actual craft. To this work the most important thing is the integrity of the idea. In some ways this might explain why I settled on this medium for this work. Mediums such as painting requires so many decisions along the way. Once the initial decisions have been made in crafts like crochet  repetition is required.  The delegation of decision making to the start of the process allows the quiet contemplation on the ideas.  To define me by my medium is not only disgruntling to me but it can stop the conversation, be it in the viewers mind of amongst others. When we speak we use words but we also use intonation, body language, touch etc etc. The person who concentrates just on the words may miss a lot of the meaning and thought. Thus it is with this work. The medium is the simply the mechanism used to communicate.  It was carefully chosen as a medium because its traits fit and it has the ability to communicate with a new group of people.   If another medium had worked better it wouldn't be in textiles. To me sticking rigorously to one medium is like sticking to e mailing somebody when you know they respond better to a phone call. It may be easier for you to e mail but ultimately what matters is choosing the best method of communication. You might wonder "If you flit from one medium to the next how do you get good at anything?" The answer is multi faceted. Firstly as I've said above your lack of skill may give the work some unknown assets, secondly there is often a steep learning curve and thirdly if there are things you can't do there is an opportunity to seek others who can do it. This last one requires a certain re-thinking of my personal ego but it also acknowledges  that I am part of a society who can apply their skills to help. Naturally  I want to be able to demonstrate an aptitude at everything. I have struggled with a fear of failure. But I've learnt over the years that failure is an option. It can indeed provide a chance for deeper connection and let others shine.
I had a conversation after the lecture with a student who wanted to bring textiles into her painting. You might think that I would say "Go for it" but there are I think some caveats to this fluidity of medium. I tried to add paint to the LILIWAAC work but it failed and I set it aside. I think that once you have decided on a process to suit a work you need to see it through. There may be points when you consider introducing a new medium but it should be approached with caution. You may be doing it because you are bored of the process and seeking novelty. You might have reached a challenge within the medium that with a bit of perseverance you could overcome. You might have been to a lecture which inspired you and think that this artists solution could provide a solution to you too. You may have learnt a new skill and be keen to use it everywhere no matter what. You might have forgotten why you chose this medium in the first place. Here I'd advise that you stop and ask yourself if any of the above is true. It sounds a bit pretentious but once you start a work I've found that you are best to set aside yourself and commit to the integrity of the work. 
















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