I've never worked with a group to edit photos before. Watching these films of the session I abandoned to go to This Is Manchester's Individual Making a Difference in the Community Award, laughing, I realise the group need to be given more direction. The tables need to be set out so people are not bunched together. The process of art is always a learning curve. It always starts on the surface and then like the excavation itself goes deeper. Top photo by Karen Rangeley.

Editing excavation week 3 that started on Monday the 23rd of October 2017, the final week, we are going to start in a different place. I'll surprise you. But we need to start from an engaged place. Like Blue Matthews Mason says in one of her many fabulous posts about the Reno project: people told their heartfelt stories, the memoirs, then got knee deep in shit. Why? 

And I am hell bent on this at the moment: who do the participants want to be when you leave this project? This combination of why and want should be examined before we begin week 3 edit on Thursday. Also we should look at week 1 edit and week 2 edit to engage with the narrative we are beginning to tell. I am proper excited to be waking up to all the possibilities. 

From an audience point of view too: these films would be far more exciting if the participants were excavating themselves. Not the what-we-didn’t have: but the what we can have. There could be individual pots of gold at the end of this rainbow. I am talking from experience. I didn’t envisage this project cold. I asked myself the same questions, I am guided by only what I can make possible, helped by meditation, coaching sessions, tons of self help books, and the Secret’s law of attraction which says what I think about will come about. Ain’t all this proof that this does happen. 

What I am trying to say I think is in a normal revolution ever fucker goes mad killing ever fucker.  What if a tiny pocket of people, like us, just changed their own mind-set. Then infected other oppressed mind-sets with their liberated mind-set. Not a drop of blood need be shed.

On my way to Manchester Cultural Awards tonight as a finalist in Outstanding Contribution Award, and, seperate, the Manchester People's Award. Little old me, bred in Moss Side. I mention the awards to demonstrate my point. And also they look fab on the projects CV. Good for flashing in people's faces when we need things. Laughing. And they are a fucking marker of what we have actually achieved, all joking aside. 

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Where I've Been

30 October, 2020

Another Virus Devastated My Family

12 April, 2020

Diagnosed With Borderline Personality Disorder

05 April, 2020

Everyone Was Sick Of Listening To Me

29 March, 2020

Mother's Day During The Lockdown

22 March, 2020



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