I’m away on an art residency for a week. I know that sounds a bit grand - get me, on an art residency! But it’s not a course, in that we’re not tutored, although Fraser brings us all together for chats and talks to us all individually about what we’re doing.
I’ve been on about five of these now over the years. There are fifteen of us this time - we’re at a place called Cove Park on the shores of Loch Long in the West of Scotland. We all do our own thing and then we all get together for evening meals, wine and chat. I absolutely love it and the week whips by in a blink.
But you know what? When I was younger I’d have found it excruciating, the way we all get together halfway through the week for the ‘group crit’ - a discussion about each person’s work in turn. I used to be terrible at taking criticism.
Many years ago, when I worked at Just Seventeen, my friend J and I wrote a feature together. It was about kissing. Not ‘how to kiss’ - THE most-asked question sent to teen agony aunts back in the day. No, this was more of a general ‘amusing kissing facts’ type piece.
Unfortunately, our boss didn’t find it that amusing. ‘Could you re-write it a bit?’ she asked, and gave us a few helpful suggestions. Did J and I take this advice on board, and calmly re-write the feature? No, we stayed late to re-do it, crying at our desks in the otherwise empty office after everyone else had gone home. Then went out with our ridiculous wet puffy faces and drank ourselves silly in the pub.
How very mature!
Back then, I was convinced that some mild (and perfectly just) criticism meant I was useless and would probably be sacked by the end of the week.
And one of the brilliant things about growing older is you stop being like this.
Many years later I went on a short urban sketching course. Our tutor Fiona took us out and about in Glasgow - and we had to stand there drawing in public. There was no hiding away. And of course - this being Glasgow - strangers came up to us all the time. You’d see them approaching, and you’d know what was coming next.
‘Can I see what you’re doing?’
And they’d stick their nose in your sketchbook and say, ‘That’s great!’ Or, ‘Why are you drawing that chip shop? Why aren’t you up at Loch Lomond?’
And actually, whatever they said, it was okay! For me, this coincided with coming out of the very worst aspects of the menopause. For most of my friends, it’s happened something like this. You stagger through the gushing night sweats, the crippling anxiety and terrifying incandescent rages. And then you emerge though the other end, somewhat emotionally battered with weirdly dry, crunchy hair - but also blissfully unconcerned about what other people think of you.
It’s the most liberating thing.
So, I’ll say, ‘I’m on an art residency’ without a trace of embarrassment, and I won’t cringe when anyone wanders over and says, ‘Can I see what you’re sketching?’
Not even this guy.
Love,
Fiona xx
PS You can still grab my latest, The Woman Who Ran Away From Everything, for a tiddly 99p here!! As I write this it’s sitting at NUMBER 11 in the Kindle chart, which I’m thrilled about! If you’ve bought it, thank you so much xxx
Ahhh J17! Iconic!! 💗😭 I think I might’ve been writing little bits for it at the same time you were there - for Jenny (and before that, Louise?) For frontline- oh my goodness, that literally just came back to me!! I’m sure I read your feature!! Loved this. 🥰
Brilliant! Love the highland cow photo but also the criticism chat x