What is an artefact?

The dictionary says:

‘ an artefact is an object made by a human being, typically one of cultural or historical interest.’

As ppart of our course we have to design an artefact that supports our professional practice as illustrators. Commissioners might be interested in something different. Something that is eye catching. We discussed what an artefact is and came to the conclusion that it could be anything. It might be the simplest thing but if it’s buried and then dug up by an archaeologist it could become significant.

The ideas for artefacts ranged from scarves, tee shirts, books, toys, cards, games, even old game boy consoles. Very interesting.

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The Arts?

From a friends Facebook page, I think I agree with the sentiment. It’s a bit apocalyptic, but things are getting bad for artist and performer friends.

Next time there’s a lockdown, nobody is allowed to watch Netflix, Amazon Prime or any other platform.
You must NOT listen to music or read a book.
Free online concerts from the biggest stars in the world? Nope, they’re out too.
Learn an instrument? Banned
Dance Classes? No
How about listen to an audiobook? Not a chance!
The UK Government have ordained the Arts as low skilled and, therefore, of no value.
Now imagine life without them

SupportTheArts #savethearts

(copied & pasted) feel free to do the same.

In a bubble

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I’m tense all the time. My hubby went out walking today with some friends and I stayed in ostensibly to get some college work done but really I want to keep away from possible infection. I don’t like it though. I’m constantly tense. I get pains in my shoulders from holding them tight all the time. I’ve tried to book some physio because I’m getting pain from a pinched nerve in my arm and shoulder…  But there are no free appointments. Hubby says he will pay, but I’d rather trust the NHS than go private?

So the tension continues. I’ve even found myself rocking backwards and forwards to comfort myself. I don’t think I’m depressed just physically reacting to the pandemic. Stay safe everyone.

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Face

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Stern, thoughtful

Face seen in patterns,

What are you thinking?

Are you at peace

Or do you feel tragedy?

Could you be happy,

Or peaceful and calm?

Are you real

Or just captured as a sketch.

A Digital grafitti?

Spray can causing an image

Caught on computer wallpaper.

I made this thought.

I made this face

But does it describe me?

When did I become captain sensible?

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I’d like to be silly, daft, funny, have a laugh. But recently I’ve had to become, as my hubby calls me ‘ captain sensible’.

The thing is I’m his carer. I don’t like thinking about it but he has mental health issues and I have to keep a level head to keep him safe. But I don’t like it. I have to negotiate with him when he has manic ideas. I have to think through what he can do. I sometimes feel like a jailer. And yet I’m being sensible. I don’t think he should go and find a newt and put it in the pond, or buy another three bicycles to add to his collection of ten he already has. Or come home with another tree for our wooded garden. Some things are simple negotiation. Others are confusing. He buys ornaments we don’t need. He spends money in one particular shop on stuff that’s basically junk. But he’s happy. But they must see him coming… I worry about some of the things he declares he’s going to do. I won’t discuss them here. I can’t describe the anxiety he goes through every day, over things I would call trivial. I try and hold it all together and then live my life on top of that..

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Fog round my brain

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The fog around my brain

settles gently like a cloud

touching my shoulders

as if sitting on hilltops.

The grey fug tightens round my head

stopping me from thinking

and moving

tying me down to my own space.

Glued down with sticky oozes

thoughts trapped in flypaper.

Mind chilled and frozen.

Sliced into shattering slivers.

Stopped still

clock stopping

held in abeyance

until the world starts spinning

me pinned to it

like the proverbial butterfly on a wheel.

 

Hit the wrong button!

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I’d written a poem about nature and autumn. But my phone won’t save drafts of my posts. I hit the wrong key. So I’ve lost it. It no longer exists. Like summer moving into autum then onwards, the poem has gone into the aether, lost for all time. I could try rewriting it, but the sentiment is lost, the feeling has gone. I’d done some nice rhymes, but I’m not going to easily remember them.

And when we get to this time next year? The world will have moved on through space and time. We never come back to the same place. The Earth turns, spiralling around the sun, which in turn moves around the galaxy…..

Bye words, take care xxx

Jump on a train?

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Someone asked a question. If a person jumps up and down in a train carriage they land back in the same place. But if you do it on the roof you will not land in the same place. He wanted to know the reason? A lot of people replied including me. We pointed out that if the train is moving the air on the outside will be pushed aside by the train and anything on it.

I wrote ‘If you jumped on top of a train you would land on the same spot even if it was moving slowly. The reason why you might move is the air rushing around you exerts a force or pressure on you (the air inside the carriage is still). But unless you were travelling fast you wouldn’t move far… ‘.

I think it’s odd that people don’t know it. In the same way a dog who sticks its head out of a car gets its face and ears ruffled by the wind….

Busy typing gibberish

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I’m trying to type up my weekly journal for a college course I’ve started. I need critical thinking, but I don’t think I have the gene for it! My head hurts and I can’t get my head round the concept of signs and signifiers? So many different ideas, thoughts and things to consider.

So I’m taking it slowly, trying to dip my toe in after thirty or forty years doing other things. So if I’m missing from here please understand its because I have my head stuck in the vice of education and I’m hoping to love it!

Reflected

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Looking in and looking out, mirrored sky shining. The window frames flaking and peeling. Put through a mirroring filter and you find a floating tower. Could it be magic. What is art? Why is a photo? Can an image be trickery in a friendly way? Must it be cryptic.

See the world through an ant or a bees eye. See the world through the eye of a whale or a satellite.

Our vision is an average humans vision. At a cartain height, with colour vision like primates have. We don’t have slits in our pupils, or black and white vision. We don’t use echo location.

Photos are interesting to play with.