First update 25/10/12

Alright, the situation is this: Due to circumstances beyond my control I find myself at home and out of uni and the studio for a month. Although I could take this as a month off, I absolutely refuse to do that and it is my intention to continue working, which in theory shouldn't be too problematic as I am currently working predominantly with film.

Issues that I am likely to encounter however are of environment, which is less than pleasant at the moment. Making work about being in a place, or having access to a thing bigger than yourself that is away and separate from anything else is hampered by being at 'HOME' - whether 'home' be a good or bad thing - because it represents everything opposite to freedom or unpedictability. 'HOME' is comfort, discomfort, enclosure, tension, anxiety, apathy, contentment, self-involvement. Home is death to creativity and inspiration. Home is just death.

So a line must be drawn between being at 'home' and being a working artist. Before I left my tutor said that the trap to avoid is that of being a 'carer' which is the position I am shortly to be in, and though at the time I kind of understood what he meant, being here has made it crystal clear. I can care for somebody, and be this thing, and be domestic, however it is of equal if not greater importance that I continue to push myself, to be inquisitive, hard-working, hard-thinking, active, angry and powerful. Resignation will kill me.

I think it is more important than it ever is in the studio that I am consistently and regularly COLLECTING, PRODUCING and RECORDING. I must be more creative and productive now than I ever have been. As I write this it sounds like a selfish position to be coming from. Maybe it is but I also think it's necessary. I'm not sure if this is everyone's position, or just mine, but I am constantly and consistently being told that I am something, always being TOLD, being TOLD. I am talked about as troublesome child, and a nuisance, and irrational. And everybody accepts that I am this thing. And I'm not, and I'm the only one that knows it, and if I stop working even that won't matter because I will begin to be absorbed into this thing that is 'home' and I don't belong here anymore. This is death. I'm frightened.

None of this really makes sense, but that probably just makes it an apt introduction to the weeks to come. Everything is fucked up.