|Posted on 22 November, 2018 at 9:55||comments (0)|
In your professional life, what is the single best thing about what you do?
It is going to sound pretty cliché, but the best thing for me is being my own boss. In simple terms this gives me freedom and responsibility, and this authority over my life is the path to happiness. For most of us we work more hours than we don’t, and so it’s really important that if you have the opportunity to choose the work that suits your needs, then surely it is a no brainer. At the beginning I found that working for others was a way for me to learn, meet people in my industry, and get paid at the same time, and so it was a very important stepping stone to get me where I am today. However, during my previous jobs after a certain amount of time I would loose interest in the repetitiveness of my role, feel generally unfulfilled day to day, and having learnt what I felt I needed to I would search for the next step in my career. It’s worth mentioning that of course this isn’t the easy route, especially in terms of making money it can be quite a strain working for yourself. After years of grafting I am starting to see my hard work paying off, and it just makes me so much happier to know that I have achieved even this much off my own back. Frankly you can’t buy happiness, you make it.
Do you have a creative hero / heroine and if so, why?
I am quite in awe of most creatives I meet who work for themselves, I know how difficult it is, and when they give off this excited energy about their work I can’t help but feed off it. There is one person who stands out for me personally and has influenced my more recent endeavours, which I would describe as ‘more me’. Charlotte De Syllas is a renowned Artist Jeweller who works with gemstone, carving it into beautiful fluid forms. I actually took a week gemstone carving class with her in 2014, (gosh I can’t believe it was that long ago), in which I persuaded her to take this class, and I am so glad I did. From when I have met her, read about her as a person and her work, seen her work in the flesh, I have always taken away this sense of contentment and passion she has for what she does. She may say I’ve got that totally wrong and it may have taken her years to feel that way, but for me it is an ongoing reminder that I don’t need to constantly be on top of everything and should take a step back from time to time and enjoy myself, otherwise what is the point of it all. Not only this, I find her work to be magnificent, it oozes this simplistic skilful manipulation of a material I hope I too can one day achieve in my own work. Check her work out at the link below.
What piece of advice do you wish you had been given at the beginning of your career?
Set out your goals every year, month, week and day, if I’m totally honest I was probably told this but only now have started to get to grips with what it actually entails. This is something I have slowly learnt to do over the years out of necessity, and I think will carry on developing as my life inevitably changes. The years before this realisation look like a complete shambles to me. I would rely on my brain to remember everything, with the odd little list here and there but nothing substantial. So now at the end of the day, week, month, and year, I can look back on my goals and see what I have achieved, what can be changed and what still needs to be done. It sounds so simple but my goals and interests can develop so frequently that the only way to keep up is to write it down!
My advice to anyone working for themselves would be to set aside a few hours or a whole day (if you can spare it), and try to get to grips with all your goals for the rest of the year, then break it into your current priorities and anything that has a deadline. I promise you, even if it doesn’t sit right with you at first, you will develop a strategy for goal keeping all of your own. In time you should find that this will deduce the crazed moments of overwhelming, help you take the wheel, and give you a better overall understanding of what you’re doing and why you’re doing it.
If you hit a creative block, what is your top tip for getting through it?
In that moment I find the best way to work through the block is by creating a massive diagram on A2 paper (or bigger if you can), then scribbling down everything on my mind, work and personal. It helps me to get to grips with what it is that is stopping me and what my goals and priorities are, getting me back on track. I don’t tend to have moments where I have nothing to do and twiddle my thumbs, but I can have moments where I don’t know which thing on my list to do and can procrastinate on tasks that should take minutes but end up taking hours, or focusing on tasks that I don’t need to do. I talk to other creatives about this problem and it is surprising how many of us suffer with this overload = procrastination block. For me this creative block is usually caused by a ‘crazed moment of overwhelming’ (as mentioned in my previous answer), and so this diagram is actually an important goal strategising moment where you often readjust or recall your goals.
And finally, for fun, if you were a shoe, what type of shoe would you be and why?
I’d probably be a Dr Martens boot; well worn (of course), practical, and chunky, all the things I like in a shoe. The history of the Dr Marten boot speaks of a creative self expression that challenges society, and I might not be the most out spoken person, but my values and creative expression is becoming more and more driven by this need have a say in conversations that really matter to me.
|Posted on 4 October, 2018 at 4:50||comments (0)|
Most people have a favourite teacher, that person who lit a spark, opened up new possibilities and has remained an influence. Mine was Miss Teagle, tall, slim, in sensible shoes and tailored suits in safe colours with discreetly patterned blouses. Her accessories were neat and her only concession to ornament was sparkling brooches. She had white hair in a Queen hairstyle (I’m talking British monarch, not Freddie Mercury, you understand). She was somewhere in her late 50s, or early sixties.
Miss Teagle taught English and at 10 years old, I was a poet manqué writing ditties about birds and dew drops and daffodils – you know the kind of thing. It was dismissed as a phase by most teachers, or even completely ignored, but not by Miss Teagle. She delighted in words; the sound of words, the look of words, the power of words, words which made you laugh, learn and think. She didn’t worry about how bad the spelling, punctuation or grammar was because what she wanted most was your imagination. We did learn how to write properly with her, but I’m not sure when it happened as she had a skill of disguising serious matters with a veneer of fun. For me, this was a huge gift because I am dyslexic, although, as this was many years ago, it wasn’t diagnosed as such. I was just someone who couldn’t learn to spell and got told off for getting my letters round the wrong way to the extent that I became frightened to write. Miss Teagle freed me from this fear, encouraging me to write with abandon and sorting out the spelling later.
Miss Teagle made us write poems, book reviews and stories, and every week she would read one of them out, always from a different child so that no-one was left out. It wasn’t until years later that we actually recognised how scrupulously fair she had been, making sure that everyone had their little moment in the limelight. At the time, we just knew that we all wanted to be picked, to have her praise because as she read the story, she would always point out exactly what was right about it, even if only one tiny thing, that she could highlight to us all as a positive. She used these positive points to teach us about styles and language, but probably more importantly, to encourage the writers.
We were not a class of prodigies, just normal 10 year olds who on the whole didn’t want to be at school and who were already getting used to a hierarchy where the clever ones got encouraged, the “stupid” ones got told off and the ones in the middle were overlooked. But to Miss Teagle, we were all equal, with something valuable we could talk or write about – all we needed was someone to listen and to guide us. We came out of her class with an understanding of the power of words, that if we read widely, we could learn anything we wanted and that we could open up new worlds for ourselves.
Of all the things she taught us, the most important was that she gave us the power to think and to dream, to realise that we all have potential to be creative in some shape or form and we just need some support and encouragement. Her lasting influence on me is that this is what drives me in my work with my clients.
Who was your favourite teacher? What made them special? And how might you tap into / emulate that to support your creative practice?
|Posted on 13 September, 2018 at 11:40||comments (0)|
Public speaking hasn’t always been something I found comfortable. I could do it, but I had to work at it to control my nerves.
My natural habitats are the coaching room and the tango dance floor. Those are the two places where I feel most naturally and easily “in flow”. When I am dancing, I feel energised, confident, open to possibility, ready to improvise and able to respond to whatever happens. I am not saying by any stretch of any imagination that I know it all - far from it - but it (and coaching) are the places where I am most centred. I am sure that you also have places or situations where you feel most at ease and those where you are slightly less happy.
I have a neat little trick that I am going to confide to you. As well as the extensive preparation that I do, I have adopted the habit that when I am doing any public speaking or leading workshops, I change my street shoes for tango shoes. These are not highly decorated, sparkly, brightly coloured shoes. To observers, they are neutral and could be “any old” smart shoes. But I know they are the shoes I dance in, the ones I wear when I am doing something in which I feel accomplished. It is not discernible to my audiences, but the shoes make me move in a different way, a way that makes me feel confident and ready for anything. They literally ground me and have helped me to embrace public speaking!
So, what could you take from an area where you are confident and use to give you a boost where you might need it?
|Posted on 9 August, 2018 at 6:40||comments (0)|
I was once at a conference looking at how the creative industries can deal with the cuts in arts funding, with a particular focus on theatre. We were put into small working groups and to break the ice, we were asked to tell each other about that moment, that experience which turned us on to the arts. There were some great stories about pantomimes, school dance groups, listening to music on the radio, visiting a gallery, but this was not just an idle question to get us talking. We were reminding ourselves why the arts matter.
My story was about theatre. As a child, I didn’t have a background of theatregoing, but when I moved to London as a 19 year old, this was one of the things I wanted to redress. Not having much money, I bought cheap seats in the Gods and chose musicals and comedies because I saw going to the theatre as being about enjoyment and having a good time. I still think these are pretty good reasons for going to the theatre.
One day, I decided I should branch out and go and see a drama, if only to say I had done it. I knew about and loved Shakespeare because I had studied him at school, but other than that, my dramatic knowledge was pretty scant. I didn’t quite stick a pin in the listings pages of Time Out, but I picked a play simply because I had heard of the two lead actors, the late, great Tom Bell and a pre-Gandalf Ian McKellen. The play was “Bent” by Martin Sherman at the Criterion Theatre.
“Bent” did not come in to the category of a play to enjoy. It was a harrowing piece about the persecution of homosexuals in Nazi Germany with horrific acts of violence, including one which happened off stage but with screams the memory of which can still churn my stomach, and a second half set in Dachau concentration camp. As “just” a play, it was superb; great writing, perfectly staged and with two outstanding lead performances which became my benchmark for judging great acting.
And it was much more than that.
This play moved me beyond words, stunned to the point where I distinctly remember a kind woman helping out of my seat. The experience made me read about the history of the period, about the Holocaust, about gay persecution. It made me think about intolerance, inequality and the freedom that human imagination can find in the darkest of circumstances. It made me question my own attitudes, ignorance and character. It also made me realise that a piece of theatre can have a power way beyond the two or three hours spent directly engaged with it.
The arts can inspire us, fire our imagination and enable us to express ourselves. They can connect us to others, take us out of ourselves and make us feel better about ourselves. They can make us think, help us learn, move us and delight us. This is why the arts matter to me and this is why I am committed to supporting arts practitioners through my work.
What was your moment, when were you first fired up by the arts?
Why do the arts matter to you?