Normalcy

Being in the process of buying a house, and having a second child, has of course made me very aware of the fact that I need a “proper” job to be able to pay the price of a certain lifestyle. This lifestyle is what most people seem to strive for: house, family, car etc. It seems to be the normal thing to want. I’ve never actually dreamt of having these things, except for children after the age of 25. Somehow the dream of a house came along with the family. The car I try to avoid, because it’s cheaper to take the bus, but sometimes (like today) it’s just easier to take the car. But will I be able to for example live as a freelancer when we have loan payments? Freelancing seems to be just about the only way if I want to do illustrations, and even art history teaching and research (there are no jobs at my university, and I’m quite tired of sitting around waiting for one). I’m not sure I’m ready to take any more economical risks. But then what should I do? Change careers completely?

I read an article this weekend about an aquaintance who writes poetry books every now and then. This person was praised in the article for not being like others, for not being normal, perhaps indirectly they meant the person was a true artist of some kind. Something started to bother me about the article. Are artists and poets supposed to be abnormal? Can’t a normal person be an artist? I realized I’ve been thinking about this a lot before, but sort of forgotten about having issues with it. It’s related to my own attitude towards being normal. I’ve always taken a sort of pride in not considering myself as someting other than relatively normal. And I’ve always been slightly amused and annoyed by people who seem to find themselves, or at least make themselves appear as something other than normal, as special people. But at the same time, if I’m honest, I often consider myself special too. So what am I, normal or special?

What does wanting to work creatively make a person? Is it not quite normal to want to do artistic work? Most people I know do some sort of writing, painting, thinking, sewing, decorating etc. Isn’t it just a question of having the courage to work in an area where you will be underpayed and considered outside the “job market”? Or a question of having the time to create in the evenings and nights, but this is just an option for people with no family and no need for rest. But there are “normal” jobs where you need to be creative, so it’s hardly about creativity. Is it more about choosing lifestyle? More about “living like an artist” or having a day-job. I would say that this strange artist image that’s floating about, that the artist lives like a bohemian, is slightly outdated, or it never really applied to most artists to begin with. But at the same time, creating for a living is a type of job that is hard to do a certain hour, it’s something that seeps through your whole life, not something that can be easily contained to “normal” working hours. So what I’m afraid of is: have I made a choice that makes it impossible for me to continue working with art (except sporadically as a sort of hobby)? Did I choose family, and so called normalcy, over a career in arts an research? Will I have to get a “normal” job next year when my maternity leave ends? And am I too normal to be an artist? Do I even want to be an artist?

I have a year to think about that.

Routine and change

I’ve hardly logged into WordPress the last months, too much going on. From January to a few weeks ago I’ve been nauseous and tired, gone to bed at 8 PM every night. It’s because growing a baby in your body is hard work I didn’t feel like announcing this on the web until now that I’m closing in on 20 weeks of pregnancy. The routine has been: up at 6.15, feed and dress Wilmer, drive him to kindergarten, drive to work, sit in front of computer pressing out notes for art history classes, planning courses, making power point slides, go to meetings, hold lectures, answer email, treasuring lunch in between, then drive to kindergarten, drive to store and buy food, go home and argue with Wilmer about eating at the table or having a bath or the necessity of changing his diaper (or alternatively that he tries sitting on the potty), stare at Lightning MacQueen with Wilmer while trying to read the newspaper, and then go to bed (at the same time as Wilmer). And then try to remember to give D a hug now and then.

So I’ve not been doing anything very exciting, but at the same time everything is changing fast. In september we’ll hopefully be a family of four. And now we’re planning to buy a house too. Possibly quite soon, since I think we found what we want (and can afford) yesterday. Now the only thing in my mind is what colour we could paint the walls, and that we need a bigger kitchen table, and that I need to learn how to take care of a garden. Oh, and the russian constructivism that I’m cramming for tomorrow’s lecture…

But perhaps I’ll start having an urge to write this blog a bit more. Perhaps I’ll start writing about babies and gardening instead of all those things in the categories. Besides, soon I’ll be at home again, with no employer, and no co-workers to have lunch with. But now it’s back to the constructivists and my notes, I have a very strict schedule to keep (and it seems a couple of smileys have crept into this post, it’s my frequent writing in pregnancy forums that are influencing me…)

Brain buzz break

I’m taking things a bit slow this January. And I think the darkness might be getting to me now (I mean the actual darkness of Finnish winter, not darkness in a psychological poetic sense). It’s increasingly hard to get up in the morning. And the endless trips back and forth between home, day care, work, day care, home are getting tedious (and right now the ground is covered with slush and deep brown pools of melted snow). I find myself missing my freelancing days from last year, when I returned home after leaving my son at day care, and then immersed myself in creative endavours, like making a portfolio, trying to find work, figuring out what I should be doing. So it seems I’ve already forgotten the state of panic I was in. But the working from home bit was always nice. I had my work community on the web instead. If I’m without work in October this year I’ll give the freelancing another go. Perhaps I can get a bit further a second time around.

Right now I’m trying to force out an essay on organizational sociology. It’s exactly the stuff I need for my thesis. But because of my current tiredness and slight lack of enthusiasm I’m really having to strain to get the text out on the key board. Every second you fight to keep your mind from straying, trying to not check your e-mail a hundred times an hour, or even worse, turning to the web. The web: that endless abyss of distraction. And at the same time I feel so bored with everything, especially my thesis subject, all the little debates and conflicts going on in the papers and around in my (real life) community. I’m also bored with web communities, with books even.

So my brain is going half speed now, which of course is necessary sometimes. I’m sure it’ll start up again in a few days or weeks. Meanwhile I do my chores in a sort of zombie-like state. Don’t get me wrong, I get things done, I’m even able to have good ideas, it’s just that the continuous buzz of multiple thought streams in my head has been turned off for a while. When you’re tired you rest. Even though the work you produce might not be the most inspired. But inspiration also needs to be absent at times.

How to make a banana-cocoa blog?

I’ve been doing as much as ever. But I don’t know what I can write about, as I now have an employer. I would like to write about my new interest in information visualization, since I’m planning a series of courses on visual literacy and visual communication. But I feel I cannot write about work. In my personal life I’m also a bit conflicted with some issues, that I don’t want to spread around on the web either. It’s nothing serious, actually it’s a rather nice thing, but I’m keeping it to myself.

I guess I could write about music, or some work of art, or post nice links. Yesterday I made some great banana-cocoa muffins, and I reflected on posting the recipe here… but that doesn’t really fit into the concept of this blog. Even though they turned out very good, and I’m quite proud of myself because I made the recipe myself (a modification of an ordinary type of muffins). So this is why posting is scarce now. My life (and job) situation is different, and I haven’t been able to modify this blog to suit my banana and cocoa thought processes.

Here’s that recipe anyway (1 dl = 100 g):

Mix 100 g butter and 1,5 dl of sugar with 4 eggs. Add 5 dl of flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda and 1 teaspoon vanillin sugar, 3 table spoons cocoa. Add 1,5 dl milk.

15 minutes in 200 degree oven.

Turned to words

Yesterday I had a small realization about what I’ve been doing these last ten years. I started out wanting to express myself visually, I went to art school etc. But then for some strange reason I turned to academia and all those ideas for paintings remained ideas only, becuase I had very little time to actually realize them. Now I notice I’ve grown into another form of expression: writing. Words just come easier than images, even though I still fantasize about paintings.

I use words in my work, I write academic text, and I write articles. I dream about writing more fiction. When I was younger I never put very much effort into writing, I just wrote. And usually the result was good compared to other kids. But I was never the writing whiz, the one people thought would become a famous writer or a journalist. My use of language was always just fine, not bad. Since then I’ve had a lot of practice, and this last year I have really put some effort into becoming a better writer. A while ago I felt that I had reached my limits, and needed to broaden them. I realized that I enjoyed this practice. I realized that I had improved. But I feel I need to become even better. There is still so much to learn. So a week ago I decided to enroll in a short class for literary writing. Nothing very prestigeous, but the teacher is a published writer. I’m looking forward to this, since I’ve never attended anything like it before. It starts in February. It’ll be interesting.

At the same time it’s a bit disturbing that I’ve lost some of the inspiration to create images. It’s hard to find a balance. But right now I feel that words are taking over. And my thesis. I really need to work on that thesis.

Paid

Incredible. I haven’t thought about blogging for a couple of weeks. I guess the blog has been serving as work community for me, since now that I have one at the university I haven’t had the need to write blog posts.

Well, today I’m happy because I got paid for all the work I’ve done since october. It all happened to appear on my account today. I could pay off my entire student loan now if I wanted to, and become debt free, but of course I have other expences to take care of. And I might be unemployed again by next fall. So I just go on like usual, with the exception of treating myself with new glasses (glasses are surprisingly expensive), a hair cut and perhaps the first facial I’ve ever had. It is Christmas soon after all.

It feels strange to be so well off. But I might add that the sum om my bank account (my earnings for 4 months) is still below the average income of a typical Finn. But at least I pass the limit for poverty now, which is by the way a ridiculous word to use in Finland when you compare to the rest of the world.

Office space/mind space

I’m moving to the art history department later this week.

I’ve been sitting in a common researchers’ room (with twelve small office spaces with shelves in between) since late April now. And I’ll be staying in the new office till June next year. It’ll feel good to be part of my own department now, but at the same time it’s a bit annoying that I constantly have to move my books, mugs, photos of Wilmer, folders, papers, computer, CDs… But now I’ll have a larger space, and perhaps I can finally start organizing myself in a more visual way, with notes and post-its and images on the walls. I’ve been yearning for the chance to spread out in a room, walk around and see the ideas in space, not only in forgotten documents in my many files and folders on the computer. I want to turn my mind inside out and be able to see thoughts with my eyes, and then perhaps my mind won’t feel so crowded and messy.

My lectures are over for this year, and it’s a bit of a relief, even though they didn’t cause that much stress to begin with: I have definitely gotten used to it now. But lecturing takes more energy than sitting and reading and writing, mulling around in that mind space. While lecturing you just hope you remember to say the important things, but there will always be something you forget.

Crawling back to the office is like coming back into a coccoon, it’s safe, calm, and you are allowed to think slowly. Lecturing requires faster thinking, and engaging socially. Even though I am a quite open and extroverted person, being social is more of a risk than solitary research and writing. Drawing back into myself in between “takes” is a relief, and I need it. I’m sure most people have both of these sides, and being compulsively drawn to either side, extrovertedness or introvertedness, might actually be a bit of a problem.

There I go again, always preaching about the importance of balance. Well, balance might not be that “important”, but I think it is the key to feeling good about yourself (i.e. being happy).

Interesting about happiness: it’s considered a bit dumb to be happy and content. But I disagree, a person can be very happy, but at the same time know that there are problems. I don’t see why a critical mind and contentedness are mutually exclusive.

Hopefully I’ll be both happy and analytical in my new office space.

On the other side: more worry

Listening to Keane again, and the words “I’ll see you on the other side…” are not as ominous as they seem, at least not in their song “Untitled 1″.

I feel like I’m on the other side now, the other side of some hectic weeks. Yesterday I listened to the student’s presentations and they had picked interesting subjects. I’m generally happy with their work, and now they’re going to write essays that I’ll be reading in a few weeks. Then we’ll see if I’ve actually managed to teach them anything. But some presentations were very promising.

Some other stressful things have come along instead. Our kindergarten is in a very old building that either needs repair, or they need to move the whole kindergarten to a new building. But they’ve been looking for a new place for twenty years! And next year the owner of the old building is raising the rent. And the organization that runs the kindergarten don’t want to spend money on reparations, or higher rent. But they seem to be unable to find another building aswell. The worst part is that there’s extensive construction going on just next door, there are bulldozers everywhere, they dig out rock from the ground, it’s dusty and noisy, and the children’s yard has been reduced in size because of a fence. Sometimes they even explode rock, and I’m starting to wonder if the old building will be stable enough. The situation is annoying, and many parents have been complaining (yesterday there was a meeting, with the children also present making Christmas decorations), and I’m starting to feel bad about leaving Wilmer there. The staff is wonderful, but the space they work in is too small and coming apart.

We’re considering changing to private day care. But Wilmer is used to the staff and the other children and I don’t want to put him through any unnecessary changes either. This morning Wilmer was very grumpy and sad, and he did not want to stay in day care at all. I think he feels that something is wrong, and that both other parents and staff, and his own parents of course are stressed about the whole situation. Especially after yesterday’s discussions. I feel a little angry about these issues being discussed with the children present yesterday (Wilmer was there with his dad, I had to teach my evening class).

This really bothers me. And finding a new kindergarten isn’t easy, there are queues to the Swedish ones, and making a change will take time. But I feel bad about the place Wilmer goes to now. For his sake I feel we need to make a change.

I’m picking Wilmer up earlier today. Since I have less work this week I want to spend more time with my son.

In practice

The art theory classes in the art school have been an interesting experience, even though they talk less than my art history students do in the sociology class. Last Monday I tried to approach the issue of an expanding definition of art by discussing transgressive art. The question of art and commercialism is also closely related to transgressive art. Art that provokes various boundaries can either be seen as trying to separate art from the market (like conceptual art), but it can also be seen as commercial (as so called shock art that draws an audience to museums, and gets attention in mainstream media).

I wanted to talk to these artist candidates (I’m calling them that since they are interested in becoming artists, but I would not yet grant them the status of artists) about how they are going to make themselves heard. Artists are often given the advice that they need to be provocative to make it in the field, that is they need to get attention. But the problem is that if everyone shouts for attention at the same time, no one will be heard, or chance will still be a major player. So how do you “make it”, “break through” or get established as an artist? How do you do this in practice? I’m sure that’s what the art students are all thinking about.

Next Monday I’m going to give them a short introduction on Bourdieu and some other sociological approaches to art, and hopefully I’ll give them ideas.

Which brings me to another aspect of these lectures, and my role as a lecturer, art historian, illustrator, but also writer. This field I’m in is full of people competing. Space is limited, or in other words, the cultural field is plagued by over supply of creative and talented people. Recently I’ve been asked a lot of advice, I’ve been talking about “making it” in this field (both the academic and the artistic), and I’ve generously given out all the help I can, I really like being able to help. But I’ve also realize that some people put a limit to the help they give to their own competition. Should I be doing this too? Should I stay secretive about the tips and tricks that I’ve learned so far? My choice has been to keep no secrets. And I think it is an ethical choice. I would want others to help me as well if I ask them questions. But sadly I’ve noticed that the answer you get is often “you have to find out for yourself”. Of course being a teacher you can’t give all you material to the students, some parts of academic studies and research you have to learn in practice, like finding information yourself, but my role then is to help people learn how to find information.

When it comes to competition I think helping others will in the end be more satisfying than elbowing people away and desperatly clinging on to the little morsels of advantage that you manage to aquire. What goes around comes around. And I don’t want to become one of those jerks that guards their position armed to the teeth. I appreciate those people who have helped me, and the people I help might one day be the people who hire me or want to work with me.

So this would be my practical advice to all those who wish to make it in arts or academia, build a social network, don’t burn any bridges. Build bridges and don’t be a parasite, as one old friend used to say.

Speaking of practice. During my long train rides I’ve been reading fantasy books again, and feeding my lust to write fiction. I have my ideas from earlier this year, and during the weekend I managed to combine them into somthing that might actually work. The aim would be to write something for young adults, but in writing I don’t think I will pay much attention to that. I’ll just write something that I want to read myself. What worries me though is that fantasy writing is not very appreciated in Swedish literature, and especially not in Finnish-Swedish literature. But on the other hand this genre has become very popular during the last 20-30 years internationally, and some of that interest has to have spread to Swedish readers, since many fantasy books have been translated, and many people also read them in English. But I’ve decided not to worry about that. I’m only going to worry about finishing the actual manuscript (and that will probably take time, since the only time I have to write is after 8 P.M, and I’m often very tired by then). If no one wants it, at least I’ve written something, and that’s all you can do.

Being present

This evening I’ve been strangely energized. The news made me cry, so I turned the TV off and spent the whole evening alone with little W (his father having gone to the movie theatre).

We messed around with play-doh, the orange, lilac, neon pink and green mixing into a rather pleasant grayish red colour. We made snakes and goblins with beards, fish and flowers. Then I chased W around with a large gym ball while he escaped on his orange plastic car (the kind you can sit on and steer and push forward with your legs). I played Let’s dance with David Bowie, Wuthering Hights with Kate Bush and finally some 60s Bob Marley. Marley being the ultimate music to cheer yourself up. We played with the trucks and the tractors, and I read all of W’s favourite books and we flipped through a toy catalogue. We pretended his yogurth and fruit puré were snowballs and he was a great scary dragon that loved melting snowballs in his mouth. Then we skipped around like bunnies. Supper and the brushing of his teeth went completely without any crankiness or tantrums.

At bed time we did the usual routine, change of diaper, tucking in, trying to find the right pillow for the night, two lullabyes from the CD-player (always the same: one from an Astrid Lindgren film and then Brahms’ classic one) and the many good nights and sleep wells. And this evening I also told him that I loved him very much.