Testing -123

How different one day can be. At the start of my first performance at 2pm I felt relaxed if a little lonely,  as far as I could see I was the only one in the gallery. I'm committed to performing whatever happens so got on with it. However a little sea of faces emerged from the entrance after the second song. They had been there all along, Sonny the angelic gallery assistant and the very special Cannon Hill Art School film crew. I performed he the song 'Home' a few times for the camera and even more people poured in. A well known and admired female artist came to see me and we chatted about a possible collaboration, members of the Art School also came to watch and chat. Families and individuals from all nations chatted to me after the second show too and I could have sold plenty of albums if it was ready! later on I was invited to play in the Arena Bar. It was noisy in there and I thought nobody was listening, but I am committed to performing so I just got on with it. It was less of a surprise this time when several people approached me after to thank me for singing, I reached them through the clatter somehow and I believe in trusting in that more than ever now. I could never, ever have believed this time would come for the songs from 'Winter of Desire' when I wrote them, tired and broken in a women's rehab in North London - on a borrowed guitar. ' Walk in faith and not by sight'? Oh go on then x

Body Clocked

Tuesday and Wednesdays performances at the Cannon Hill Art School Exhibition were equally special experiences. The inspiration behind the discipline of performing everyday at the gallery, is partly to to see if I can bring my body into a space consistently – what ever is occurring within it (my body). We all have to turn up to life everyday for something, but singing and performing create a special and acute self awareness. There were times at the beginning of my career when at best I maybe had to cancel a gig, at worst lost out on major opportunity, because I couldn’t face the world and the world never knew why, that my body just wouldn’t let me perform. Nervousness made me crave carbohydrates, having a life meant having late nights, I had allergies that made my eyes swell, I had various illnesses and all of this can show (I think).  I have improved over time but my shyness can still make me inconsistent and I am a women that experiences women’s things etc. It intrigues me to see if I can overcome whatever the body is ‘feeling’ over a period of six weeks and know more deeply that it isn’t just ‘fearing’  – ie giving in too easily to fear. If I sing from the right place I’m out of my body anyway, but I can’t always remember that. So far so good. 

Play and Display

Last night I watched people looking closely at my heart and my legs and my feather, the wing fallen, all without knowing I was there standing behind them. They had to get close to the images to make their own story. I had to get closer to the truth to make mine. I'm having to learn to remain still and be seen, both on the walls of e gallery and next to the people I love. Would anybody believe me if I told them there was tangible exchange as my photographs were being observed by new eyes at kissing distance. This process of allowing seemed to initiate me, as though some force of good was glad of my having done my part and rewarded me with a new sense of presence. Rachel was in the room. It was fun too.

Early Late Comer

I woke up at 5.30 this morning which is too early really. It is the preview of 'Winter of Desire'  tonight with the Cannon Hill Art School Collective, presented by MAC Birmingham and I want to be fresh and perky.  I began making this work a decade ago after having an experience of major disorientation and added photo and film to accompany the songs more recently.  Because I was saved from the experience that inspired 'Winter of Desire' by essentially identifying with and being understood by others who had, had similar, I was able to make ART or rather something beautiful out of something potentially tragic. Since that time I have been passionate about inspiring others to pull through or grow through into their most magikal selves. Often the ones that carry the most insight are the ones that are crushed by it. But you can never know enough about another person to make instruction useful, so I decided the highest service I can give is to share my experience. Is it too late? No it's right on time.

Write me sometime

My blog has been calling out to me. I often feel guilty for something and not turning up for my writing hurts the worst. Why do I put on hold the things I love the most? Am I afraid that being satisfied will lead me to an intimacy I am unqualified for. A Hare Krishna once told me I was addicted to striving. But it was at a time when I visited their temple in Soho Square because it was the only vegetarian restaurant  I knew in London.  They would attempt a conversion each time, sending over a different devotee to suit. An ex bass player from a rock band one day, a young girl far from home on another. They told me I would be more at peace if I devoted my life to Krishna. I asked them how my life would be different. They said I would dissolve my identity into the Vedas and scriptures and sing one song only instead of many, but that I would have to sing it all day everyday for the rest of my life to have a chance of never being born again. Also I would be invited to work in the kitchen from 4.am and convert to celibacy. I invited them to perform at my party instead, which they did and seemed to enjoy very much. So here I am continuing with my identity six months into returning home to Birmingham to live. Several gigs, one music and art exhibition, and a huddle of new friends later. Living the question is still working for me.

I love Birmingham

January 5th 2015 - Tomorrow I will be sending out my first picture postcard from Birmingham, England, UK. My home town! It is of the colourful barges on the Great 18th Century Gas Street basin. I am writing to a friend, musician and film maker based in New York to let them know of my new mooring and it reads......'L'Ancre est le symbole de L'espoir' (next to a doodle of an Anchor) What is it with me and water. This time it is to immerse myself in the depths of my own and my families history. My early years, my rivers of tears (canals actually). To learn to stay buoyed while trawling the true undertow. It was time! So good to have sailed back home.'