School of Creative Arts, The University of the West of England, Bristol UK
Mike Nicholson
Locus13 - A Postal Projection
22nd September - 16th November 2007
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“Neither snow, nor rain,
nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion
of their appointed rounds.”
- Unofficial motto of the US Postal service
At this time I was visiting Smith College to begin a research project funded by The University College for the Creative Arts at Epsom, where I hold a Senior Lecturer post with their Graphic Design BA (Hons) programme. In itself the project, entitled ‘Locus - A Sense of Place’, hopes to investigate the relationship between places of learning and the communities in which they sit, and the deeper, often subconscious, associations that grow within us as individuals as we experience ‘learning’ throughout our lives. These matters rose to prominence during my past few years of intensified life as a tutor, a role I neither sought out nor anticipated - but which I enjoy greatly.
As an officially-sanctioned representative of ‘learning’ I still suffer moments, sometimes even long, dark mornings of the soul (usually in November, when the First Years appear to have taken in virtually nothing of that which has occupied my every waking moment for weeks of preparation) when I question just what validates some places and events over others. . . Is what we learn in the back row of the cinema any less profound than that which is read to us - with appropriate gravitas - from a supposedly worthy book by a sanctioned teacher? And, more to the point, who the hell am I to tell anybody anything? (That line by Pink Floyd about not needing education does, however, strike me as one of the stupidest sentiments ever recorded, so I suppose I do know where my allegiances lie. . .) Of course the truth lies somewhere between, entirely subjective, and one may satisfy the heart more than the head or vice versa at different times and gain entirely equal peace.
Given that I will reach the mid-point of my ‘40’s just before this work is exhibited I think it no surprise that I am also amidst an ongoing audit of myself - though without the outlay of analyst.
Those of you familiar with my output as an maker of artists’ books since 2000 will note a dogged self-absorption that has reached a plateau (still fruitful to me, from the point of view of the words and images it evokes, and also a quietly appreciative readership who seems to forgive my limited subject) with my ‘bio auto graphic’ series of graphic novellas.
They have certainly helped me achieve a sense of being that some might perhaps envy – while by no means satisfied with every aspect of my life I am working through a kind of reflective investigation of what makes me tick – what makes me me – that has tested both my newer attraction to writing and my older facility for drawing to bracing effect.
Middle-age - though it finds me child-less, property-less and without even the ability to drive a car (all validating markers in our society to greater or lesser degrees) – allows me a peace and quiet place in my thoughts that my angry ’30-something self would have killed for.
I love and am loved, I laugh a lot and see less value in things than I once did - more value in people.
I think I see how I fit into things better than before, and certain other matters have also fallen into place and shifted into a truer perspective.
There is much to be thankful for, and finding myself in such a situation as I did in July this year - greeted with warmth by old friends and interesting strangers - only compounded that feeling.
What a lucky boy, in short, even on a thirteenth day of the month that happened to be a Friday.
Sitting down at the desk in Room 25 of The Autumn Inn on that hot, damp evening I laid out a simple matrix, intended to undermine the nonsensical hocus pocus of the unlucky number 13. On thirteen postcards I wrote and drew a continuous stream of my thoughts, laced into thirteen external sources - everything from the thirteenth item on the menu of a very nice Japanese restaurant down the road to an experiment with every thirteenth word of the thirteenth page of Kurt Vonnegut’s last book (I followed in his footsteps in visiting Smith).
It was a statement of my place and state of mind in equal parts.
Lines extended across the whole set of cards, thus rendering each as a separate entity nonsensical. Some cards filled up quicker than others and thus the thread skipped over them – but all were duly filled and the whole concluded, splendidly, back at the base of the first card as I signed off with the thirteenth letter of the alphabet – M – and a kiss.
Cast into the post at Smith itself, and with the additional test of the predictably awful UK post (strikes and mass flooding – unlucky for some) ahead of them, only one card failed to arrive. I asked that they then be posted back to me and the UWE show uses large digital prints of each to extend the pieces into another medium and out to another audience.
Original recipients could also offer a thought or two on the matter in how they decorated the envelopes that carried the cards back to me. I had asked them to complete the statement - ‘America is:’
Results were uneven, unpredictable and altogether a pleasing addition to the whole.
I sought to impose a new and entirely positive significance on a much-maligned day and date.
The cards will also be the basis of a book alongside additional connected material of an as yet unspecified nature. With a bit of luck.
The 13 Sources for the Text were:
Voiceover in ink ~ Room 25 / Autumn Inn / 13.7.07: 8.30p.m > 11.47p.m
Kurt Vonnegut word-soup remix from p.13 ‘A Man Without A Country’ (every 13th word)
Menu item No.13 from ‘Zen’ restaurant on Main Street, Northampton
Autumn Inn ~ 13 features from hotel brochure
13 Massachusetts Area Attractions (as per brochure)
‘Valley Advocate’ p.13 ~ Michael Moore interview 13th sentence
Mortimer Rare Book Room pamphlet ~ Illustration note No.13
‘Connecticon 2007 ~ 13 features from fantasy convention flyer
Web-flotsam on the first ‘Friday 13th’ movie
Title of Chapter 13 of ‘Home Town’Tracey Kidder’s non-fiction Northampton portrait
PBS Channel 13 schedule
13 dreams I had before I was 13
The 13th alphabet letter ~ ‘M’ for Michael
Locus 13 Project - The Unfinished Line – Full Cards Text Reads:
“So, the numbers voodoo hoodoo kicks in @ the Autumn Inn as clouded Massachusetts night falls.
Outside my door, sliding past the fish-eye lens of the thing, jolly families laugh heartily as they begin their week-end holidays. Unafraid of Jason Voorhees they briskly head downstairs & out into America. . . Meanwhile, the Friday 13th website has melted down & the death-worshippers are holding a ‘chat vigil’ & setting up a “blog for goodbyes”. Lord help us all. The week has been an extraordinary one for me, no bad juju at all, and I am establishing this matrix of 13-driven flavours to lay the super-stition to rest once & for all. Numbers magic, in short. . . Here goes:
“And I, all urging of this ill anarchists generation be absolutely idealistic.” Fine sentiment.
-
“High-speed wireless
access/ outdoor pool/ copy machine*/ door dead bolt/ door peep-hole/ ice
machine/ full non-smoking facility/ parking, bus/ parking, car,
outdoor/ parking lighted area/ safe-deposit box/ TV, cable/ Satellite/ 32 guest rooms & suites “
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“The Fine Arts Centre/
The Basketball Hall of Fame/ The Iron Horse/ The Eric Carle Museum of
Picture Book Art/ The Berkshires/ Historic Deerfield/ Magic
Wings/ The Paradise City Arts Festival/ Six Flags New England/ The Volleyball Hall of Fame/ Norman Rockwell Museum/ Yankee Candle Flagship
Store/ The Big E/ Eastern States Expo/”
Right now the Wommick Ministries are offering ‘the Way To Be Happy’. For a price, naturally. Would that it were that simple. As M. Moore puts it: “Maybe I’m taking the short view of this.”
There’s a final blackness out there that‘d make movie monsters pale & bogus God-squadders soil their beige slacks. Possibly.
Countering this, in another corner of the Belief Wrestling Ring, the fantasy morbidly obese have begun their play today at their ‘Connecticon 2007’ :
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Hands-on Workshops/ Guests of Honor/ Webcomics/ Anime/
Masquerade/ Artists Colony/ Dances/ RPGA events/ Miniatures/ CCG’s/
Prizes/ Giveaways/ Charity Auction.
For me I’d as easily believe in ‘Tofu Large $5.00’ or, indeed, ‘Scientific woodcut illustration from ‘Margarita Philosophica’ by Gregor Reisch (1512). . . or the veritable Doctor, who spun through the t.v morass @ 9.00p.m on the Sci-Fi Channel. Unbelievably. The culture-splicing continues apace, in fact. Some kind of final back-wash of British flavour in the mix after decades of drowning surge in the opposite direction. There’re English voice-overs on commercials, including a perky Cockney Gecko. . . The 21st century soup’s a-simmering.
In this artist’s (one-man) colony all I can do is keep the stiff upper lip area taut. Bear witness as best I can. . . Be added to ‘The Witness List’. . .
It is quiet here now, though somewhere out by Camp Crystal Lake the crash zooms may yet reveal the hockey mask that launched 10 sequels.
It could do little to increase my current, almost continuous sense of un-reality, frankly. For the 4th time I’m here in a place I dream vividly of more than any save that of my birth. My brain steeped in it since I first picked up a Marvel Comic, laughed at “The Addams Family” or lusted after the actresses on Irwin Allen’s “Land of the Giants”.
Yet I’m fully aware one has to be mindful of what one dreams. . . Outside in the dark Terrapon Adhahn terrifies for real. No comfort on PBS. The children of WWF wrestlers are dead. . .
~ go into space ~ meet Stan Lee ~ eat endless ice-cream ~ get free comics forever ~ meet ‘Dr.Who’ ~ meet ‘The Champions’ ~ be like my Dad ~ draw a Marvel Comic ~ be a superhero ~ fight monsters ~ have a big house ~ have adventures with my mum ~ go to America. . . I wished I was here. . . and I am. Dream on Elm St. To be happy & confident. . .
Thinking of you.
Ever yours, Mx/ “
© 2007 - Locus 13 Project - Mike Nicholson
Ensixteen Editions
For information on the Locus Project contact email : ladnicholson@yahoo.co.uk
and read the article in The Blue Notebook Vol.2 No.1
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