Crit week

At about half two or three the other night, I was sitting in my studio having a cigarette break when I suddenly remembered it was crit week. I checked my computer to see what day it was and what day my crit was, and discovered I had to be there at half nine that morning.

Boy was that an adrenaline shock. And, boy, was I glad I remembered. Not showing would not have been a good look. So I toddled off to bed, fruitlessly of course, being all hyped up to paint.

However, I did make it, and make it through both days in fact, despite not sleeping the other night either. The first crit was a bit rough, a video work with a loud Pink Floyd sample repeating endlessly. It did my head in. But next up were Picabia-style mechanomorphs, which cheered me up immensely.

I ended up saying whatever came into my head during each crit, which only got me into trouble a couple of times (my mental filing system is a bit haphazard – I file things under rude jokes). And I tend to swear a lot when I get carried away.

I had a great time, and my crit in particular I found very useful for what I've to do next.

One thing that struck me was the difference in the kids a couple of years makes. Even though I did call them all fascists at a couple of points, they really impressed me. When I first went a couple of years ago, the kids were dull, sullen, and inactive. These are – or most of them are – quick, interested, and active. The second years in particular (though I got a bit confused who was what doing what when). The ones doing their own work. It was really good to see. (The inactive print studio not so much.)

With this lot, once they get their new building and administration bizzo sorted, Massey could well be a force to be reckoned with. If they want to.