To whom this may concern:
I think i should quit
I want to quit
I am thinking of quitting
I hope i can quit
A graceful exit.
How do i quit?
This is not new.
I’ve been trying to duck out for a while. I’ve announced to numerous people over recent years that I'm done. But something usually crops up to lure me back, cash and the promise of fresh air, and I forget how much I ordinarily struggle and writhe in despair at the unsustainable nature of this profession. Distraction is usually key to me neglecting to opt out. Key to keeping going, key to exhaustion - both resulting in inevitable burn out, and break down - terms that flow so easily out of my mouth and onto the page, doing little to capture the horror and agony of being stifled in these states, something tooo many fall prey to - too often. I think (i worry) I only have myself to blame, I am perpetuating this, allowing it to happen, facilitating the dysfunctional system underpinning this weighted game of survival. I’m quite lucky really, for managing to remain gripped in this turbulence for so long.
Well no more, it’s time. I’m through with it.
I quit.
I’m trying to quit
I’m desperate to quit
I fucking quit
I oughta quit
I am going to quit
I was going to quit
I might quit
I’ve had a semi-successful run over the last 5 or 6 years as a professional artist. I haven’t worked out how to sustain my practice and a regular-job-job (it seems impossible), so I have battled on trying to make it work, as I battle on making work - trying to remain flexible, open to opportunities etc etc. At the end of February this year I flew out to Lisbon to start a 3-month internship at Hangar Artistic Research Centre. An Erasmus funded project (RIP EU) which provided flights, accommodation and a bit of cash during my time there (100E a week or thereabouts). FYI This is the kind of opportunity that presents the perfect components for total distraction. The virus was already in full force as I left, but of course it wasn’t going to affect us. 3-weeks into the internship and the onset of a national emergency, I decided it probably best to come home. Since returning to the UK I have adapted my setup, to support the centre remotely as they have transferred their programme online, and over the last week have finally managed to reclaim some of the stipend (£700) I was entitled to (which was being held by an intermediary organisation who initially seemed pretty unwilling to negotiate any support for me).
Home.
Im interested in quitting
I was thinking about quitting
I wanted to quit
Home has been a slippery surface for the last few years. Straddling working and living between birmingham and london, with short stays in Seville, Berlin, Helsinki and back. What a luxury, privilege and an absolute headache trying to pull it off. I’ve been hesitant to settle, (too indecisive) To commit to a base, and tiring easily of being in hometown birmingham (which often feels like being in a rut). And so instead, I have spread myself thinly neither here nor there. It’s been exhilarating. It’s been depleting. As a result of what’s going on, I’m currently in the sticks (autocorrect suggested - stuck - apt). My family base in rural warwickshire, it’s beautiful, remote, disconnected (accessible - on a non-corona day - by one of four daily buses. to Coventry) Far-removed from the energy and interactions I ordinarily require to feel stimulated and engaged in the worlds. I often end up here, when I'm ill, low on money and options - It's not ideal. Luckily I have a car.
I’m currently in the process of leaving my demi-home in London (dreams and desires aside, i need to be on the lookout for money, and jobs). . , and coming to terms with the fact that i’m coming back to Birmingham - for now. (on paper) I am a 37 year old, single womxn -
with little desire for normativity. At an age one might be co-joining and procreating, I am opting out - and i can’t help feeling like i’m alone in this - even more so as i am removed from people, places, energies and outfits I thrive on and identify with - outside of brum and further afield. Developing, evolving, transforming in new contexts. But instead (for now)-(at present) I am back living with my parents.
Moving to Birmingham as radical practice.
I am genuinely extremely really grateful and extremely fortunate that this is not (/no longer) a traumatic and/or triggering experience. As it can be for many. But the immediate security and assurance of this situation does not save me from the deafening screams of my inner anxious voice, begging an answer - what the fuck am i gonna do. Again, this is nothing new. Ask me that a few weeks ago, and I would have been barely able to answer. Flattened in bed, unwilling to rise, communicate or overcome the weighty burden of actual ‘depressiion’. The condition, illness, dysfunction I am forever battling with. And one of the leading contenders forrrr - reasons why i can’t do this anymore.
Today is not two weeks ago, and fortunately I have been in receipt of another distraction. An HMRC self-employment grant to compensate for 3-months lost earnings.
Great, is this a redundancy?
They did the math for me - avg salary 9K a year, divide by twelve, (X) three, magic to 80% = £1978. Loaded. I’ve got money. It’s gonna be okay
(NO IT IS NOT). The problem is - the future. In all seriousness, what the fuck am i going to do. The arts sector is sure to ________ mush (isn’t it?), the places I (pick up low-paid casual) work are also seemingly crumbling, and after having attempted to apply for a handful of humiliating jobs (and having being obviously rejected), i'm beginning to realise that the last 6 years of my professional artistic career have turned me into an angsty, unemployable monster. Anyway I shan’t dwell too much, it’s the process of dwelling that facilitates the onset of doom and despair. Lockdown (multiplied by) 3-months = time, space + opportunity to dwell. the result: optimum depression take-over.
I quit in person
I quit next week
I quit yesterday
I sadly quit
I gladly quit
At the end of last year I was miraculously awarded some DYCP money from the A C E tombola - thanks so much, I had a great time, was inspired, expanded my horizons and felt like whatever it is I am trying to achieve, might be achievable (but i fear that was just delusion). I was lucky to get out of the country (admittedly taking to air travel way more often than is acceptable) + (before the norm of social-restriction came into place) and signed up to a number of festivals, programmes and events across Europe. Ironically (or not, everything is shrouded in a cruel irony right now isn’t it) the main focus of my work was on audiences - ways of expanding and connecting, through alternative modes of togetherness. The final stage of my DYCP was bound up in collaborative studio time, and that is where I have fallen over. Myself and invited collaborators within this research phase, are now on hold, and I am trying desperately to not turn this research into another trite covid response (but maybe it needs to be). I was already picking apart ideas around access, exclusivity and visibility. Poking at things that prohibit connection and engagement for a range of folks - thinking how to sustain practice and networks across localities, whilst resources deplete, energies wain, and things seem to be relentlessly stripped away. This is obviously even more pertinent now.
Two of these DYCP collaborative pairings have, however, continued to stay on the back burner, simmering lightly, remaining steamy and pertinent. Over the last year or so I have been evolving a remote collaborative practice with Bek Berger, working together on a project that is unified by a fabric portal. Together we have been wrapping, rolling and draping a large orange-to-blue gradient piece of fabric, thinking how this becomes a point of contact in the absence of face-to-face opportunity. Our work together has previously joined up in Riga, Helsinki and Berlin, through projects and explorations that create openings in contemporary performance practice, inviting people in who might not ordinarily cross the arts threshold. Another artist with whom I have been teasing apart issues to do with access and presence is Toni Lewis. We too have been separated by a range of circumstances making it unfeasible to work together body-to-body as yet. Over the last 18-months WhatsApp has been our studio, in which we have layered threads and exchanged voices, sharing concerns and doubts surrounding the capitalist ideology to perform & produce (particularly at present). Our unrelenting concerns orientate around decentralising London as a cultural focal-point, problematising Birmingham’s existing artistic strongholds, and advocating passionately for the elusive outsiders.
I’m sorry, i quit
I’m not sorry i quit
I can’t quit
Make it quit
I can quit
During lockdown - I have been resisting the insidious expectation to be productive, responsive, constructive - giving to the arts yet more of my time for free, churning out tedious, guilt-inducing content to spew all over your feeds. I’m not sure we need that much art ordinarily, certainly not now. I would say I have done nothing, but I’ve actually been doing quite a lot of stuff and when I am not ill (depressed - engulfed in a twisted joke), I am actually in a regular (10-hour sleep-a-night) routine. I’ve been doing stuff that, although inextricably linked to my ‘practice-profession’, I actually have enjoyed doing. Because another contributing factor to the ‘quit’ cause is that I don't particularly enjoy large parts of the art making process - or at least the rounding off and revealing. I thrive when getting ideas together, devising actions with people from shared pots of enthusiasm, but when it comes to the execution of work I am often so crippled by panic, self-doubt, and at a push - shame - that it winds up being a toxic and consuming process. It’s too much. Making professional art work and subjecting myself to intense thought-process and critique, actually makes me ill.
I will quit
I am quitting
I have quit
I quit
So rather than doing work-work, I have been doing things like sewing. Fashioning things - from start to finish - it started with masks (obvs) using some prints from my studio and turning them into something useful (FINALLY), progressing on to items i might actually wear. Repetitive threads, looping, fastening, joining things together, cladding myself with new garments. I have been teaching myself to DJ<(mix,beat-match,pressplay) because i love repetition (there, more loops), pure joy. On a more ‘official’ level, in early lockdown I had the fortune to grab a spot on a deep-listening course, led by Alex De Little - trainee deep-listening practitioner, with the school of ‘pauline oliveros deep listening’. For 7-weeks, my Monday-evening listening-class was an absolute lifeline. 2-hour zoom involving Taoist face washes, listening meditations, movement provocations and dream journaling with strangers - it all felt so honest, intimate, genuine, meaningful, care-full. The kind of ‘distraction’ that I actually do need and want right now. I thrive in these situations in which I am connecting with new people, listening and knowing more about practice - or whatever it is people do with their time. Another participant in our listening class, instructed a sound exchange, facilitating a group of international people to engage in a foldable sound process - it has been great. I am so grateful for this interesting opening. I don't want to ruin all these wonderful processes by turning them into professional practice. Killing them off with pressure and angst and uncertainty. I want these to remain things of joy and salvation. I don’t want to subject them to the devastating crush of professional-art-isation.
Thanks, i quit
Faithfully, i quit
Sincerely i quit
I’m looking forward to quitting
I genuinely quit
I DID CONSIDER a rant about the multiple other things that are seemingly going wrong right now. But these aren’t issues exclusive to this situation. These things - usually costly to remedy - seem to be bashing at me constantly, chipping away at my fading resilience. I won't itemise things applied for, rejections and lost work (the as yet unknown hand-to-mouth style opps) - many have suffered in different ways and sadly I know I am absolutely not in the worst predicament here. So far I have benefitted from a government grant, ACE emergency funding and was lucky to be selected for a collaborative digital commission with Coventry City of Culture. I also have a meagre amount of universal credit to fall back on.
I must quit
I suppose i will quit
I politely quit
I’m not sure whether to quit
So where does that leave me - you - us. Asking questions at the worst time (or is it the perfect time?) as rickety stilts are being kicked away and an already precarious situation (being a professional artist) seems probably to become impossible. Let’s see how long this lasts. I’m remembering how much I need space and time, and energy to connect with creative processes, to experiment, challenge and provoke. I need to be able to converse and exchange with others who share resonant ideas and energies, so we can collectively learn and resist. I fear the spaces and opportunities to do so, already scarce, will become scarcer and I am afraid of losing connection and momentum. I need to know that when money comes in, it is not merely a reprieve and a moment to gulp a lung full of air before plunging back in to the next desperate struggle. I want to get on with things that feel worthy of time and energy, sharing value and sustaining meaningful connections with networks, with friends, with allies - infusing, trickling, opening, presenting slow reveals, gentle suggestions, careful attention, soft pokes).
Dont tell ace i want to quit
Dont tell a-n i want to quit
Dont tell hmrc i want to quit.
Dont tell nawm i want to quit
Now i feel ashamed that i want to quit.
In earnest, ekw.