elenahpowell

Arranging words in nice ways

In Days, Edinburgh College of Art on April 8, 2013 at 5:52 pm

Or in other words, some vague-not-really sort of poetry I suppose. I very clearly remember saying I didn’t like poetry – like I also very clearly remember saying I’d never ever ever come back to Scotland – don’t believe a word I say. Ever. It was just the poetry I’d read at that point wasn’t especially…interesting or memorable like stories were, and I didn’t think of the poetry I liked as being poetry – which is daft and hard to say how I mean. And I was absolutely awful at writing poetry in English classes. I’m secretly sort of competitive and I like being good at things, and I like writing and I was always okay at English and it annoyed me that I couldn’t write poetry, couldn’t make the words go together nicely. I think I last wrote a poem in primary school and it was about a neighbours cat getting stuck behind their radiator.

But to the point, I have a book (unsurprising) – Newspaper Blackout – which is (mostly) nonsense and scribbled out bits of newspaper, which I meant to try doing ages ago but never got round to. Turns out I can do things with other people’s words, it’s not hard like starting with blank paper is and some words just look like they’ll go together even if it is nonsense. I like nonsense. And I like colouring in.

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The artists one was from a bit about What Do Artists Do All Day, which is nice and interesting and there hasn’t been a new episode for a while, so that’s good. Top one is gouache, bottom is marker pen. It’s interesting looking at the back, and seeing what words have been left blank on that side. Doesn’t always match up. I don’t know, it’s something to pass the time. And it might make showing private things easier, less uncomfortable, because it’s not saying what it did to start with. That might defeat the point. I’m writing out bits of the accidental recording and bits of the huge writing thing from migrating and using that, feels like cheating somehow using words I didn’t write to make work. Even if what I’m writing is something I didn’t say, I heard it – or at least my voice recorder heard it – and that I don’t know…makes it okay somehow.

Top left is from the accidental recording from last week. Top right is from notes written in the middle of the night, in the dark so I have no idea if I’m reading my writing right. The bottom one I’m going to cover in patterns or something because this sketchbook isn’t very cheerful and is from migrating. I was listening to wireless nights again, I should have been writing down the nice bits but I was writing this instead. And (more excitingly, well if you ask me anyway), I was there when this was recorded, I even knew the art history answers.

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Today is Draw A Picture Of A Bird Day, so my very fat and confused looking owl and Em’s sort of fat-but-flying bird. I think she wins the bird drawing competition.

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