"I love you.all that red string stuff started really in manchester you know... one day walking home from the tram to our houses, there was masses of it all down that fence along old trafford and I took millions of pictures of it's journey and started to think about love and conversations... all along a piece of string...I miss you"
I've been working on this lot of drawings for ages now... from that piece of string I found four years ago... all the conversations I had with Sarah made me think about the string as love, as a conversation, as a map of a relationship, sometimes as a map of an argument, or a disagreement (the knots, the separation, the coming back together). I had a little inkling about this work about a year before it was concretized by finding this long mass of red thread stretched across a block of fence line along Old Trafford.
I am getting nervous. It's nerve wracking. A lot of thought has gone into this, a lot of fragments from here and now and then and times ago. And it's not the usual work I've done, not dark pessimistic, overly wrought and dragged out... it's more an investigation into a thought. a line. a block of colour, movement. time. Standing still. Standing with your hand in someone else's pocket, on someone else's shoulder. It's not overly romantic, it's not maudlin. It's strong, sometimes it actually looks like muscles. like blood. sometimes like semen (strange, I never saw it, it had to be pointed out).
It's come in bursts. But it has been constant, ticking over and over in my head... the what-about and how-do- I has come out and been made tangible.
scared of it. scared of the opening. nervous and excited. restless and tired.
red.thread.a.discourse.
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