The 4 O'Clock Whistle issue 10 by 4 O'clock Whistle

Issue 10 // April 2016

Gender and Experience

Art (listed by artist)

cover art: self-induced domestica, jessie donaldson

WARNING: Some of the writing in this publication deals with some heavy subjects

Now almost 130 years old, Freedom Press is a newspaper, bookshop, and publisher in London, England. Located in London’s East End, Freedom Press’ newspaper moved in 2014 from a printed publication to a purely digital format. In May of 2014 I talked with Andy Meinke of Freedom Press about its history, as well as its future, and about his advice on independent publishing for people organizing similar endeavors here. Conor: What is Freedom Press? Andy: Freedom Press is Britain’s oldest Anarchist newspaper and bookshop. It was founded in 1886, as a paper, by someone called Charlotte 2

Wilson, with the help of Peter Kropotkin – a famous Russian anarchist – who became lead writer for the paper in its early years, and it’s gone through a number of iterations since then. It got raided in both world wars for being against them, and it had a little hiatus in the early 1930’s before being revived with a lot of interest in Anarchism in the Spanish Civil War, and it’s gone on ever since. We’re now based here in 84 B Whitechapel High Street in the East End of London, where we’ve been since 1969, and we’ve managed to last here through two fascist firebomb attacks and obviously lots of changes. The big change that’s happening now is that we’re

giving up the old subscription paper copy of the paper and moving online, which is in some ways sad, but it’s moved with the times. What we also have is a rickety old building which also has offices for a number of other radical organizations: the Advisory Service to Squatters, Corporate Watch (who investigate corporate wrongdoings), London Coalition Against Poverty (which is an action group for poor people), and also a couple of actual Anarchist organizations, the Solidarity Federation (which is a Syndicalist grouping), and the Anarchist Federation (which is a broader British Anarchist group). We have meetings and talks also in the shop and we have meeting room upstairs, and

obviously we also publish books – not a great deal; we try to bring out one or two a year, either keeping wellknown Anarchist Classics available at a cheap price and occasionally things that are topical in the movement in recent years. So the last one of those I suppose we did was Beating the Fascists which went through the activities of the anti-fascist militancy between 1970 and about 2000. Conor: I understand there was a firebomb attack… Andy: It’s first of February 2013 – is the last one, the one before that was in 1993.

that it wasn’t any disaffected Anarchists because they’re all in bed at that time. The police have done some investigations of it but they haven’t found [anything]. We got phoned up by the Guardian Newspaper, which is one of Britain’s biggest left leaning – but not very radical – newspapers the day after and they said ‘who do you think has done it?’ and I said ‘well it’s probably our political enemies the Liberal Democrats’ and they said ‘whoa, I don’t think we can publish that, it might be libellous.’ It’s obviously the far right – it’s just the only people it can be.

‘…basically someone smashed in one of the windows [of the bookshop], poured a load of petrol in and set fire to it, at a very early hour of the morning…. So we can be pretty sure that it wasn’t any disaffected Anarchists because they’re all in bed at that time.’ So with the last one basically someone smashed in one of the windows [of the bookshop], poured a load of petrol in and set fire to it, at a very early hour of the morning – about quarter to six. So we can be pretty sure

Conor: …. What does it mean to be an Anarchist today? Andy: It means working towards a non-hierarchical society based on freedom and co-operation. It involves quite a few other things that

we would take as axiomatic with that. For example protecting the environment, the abolition of patriarchy, and challenging other forms of oppression. But as an overall thing it will create, hopefully, a moneyless society in which people get what they need and not what they can afford, and people will be in a position of equality with each other, rather than having authority based on their luck of birth or other rather manipulative crookery. What it means in the practical sense now is challenging oppression where it occurs and trying to help people to self-organize. The big difference between Anarchism and the socialist left is that we don’t believe that we can put a government in that can do things for people – people have to learn to mobilize for themselves to take control of their own lives.... God that was pompous, but there you go…. As well as all that it’s quite a good thing to be in for your own personal development. It’s actually helping people on a daily basis, because as well as selling books we have people come in here for legal advice after they’ve been 3

arrested, we organize legal observers on demonstrations and cause support, and there’s a very concrete basis to what Freedom does – it’s not just spouting ideas…

seem to get with immigrant communities, as they come, mainly because housing in the area is still cheap and people are poor.

Conor: There’s a long history, particularly of more radical leftism and Anarchism, in the East End of London… it strikes me as you’re quite integrated with the local area as well.

Conor: You’ve talked a bit about some of the challenges you’ve faced as an independent publisher. [Is] there any advice that you would give to maybe people trying to set up a similar publishing [outlet]?

Andy: Yes, I mean we’re not the only people to have been attacked by the far right here. The English Defence League [a far right, Islamophobic, group] have tried to march through the area, basically because it’s got probably London’s biggest mosque. It’s a centre for the Muslim community and they [the English Defence League] just dislike that, so there have been big demonstrations and clashes in the area, and we’ve been part of that. It’s strange how the East End always seems to be turning up radicalism. Sort of a hundred years ago it was very much Jewish and East European immigrants, and now it’s very much immigrants from Southern Asia. But the radicalism remains a theme ... that you just

Andy: Yeah, obviously probably the situation in Canada is markedly different, and the size of the town you come from… It’s very hard to get a distribution network going, that’s a difficulty. We find now that people – even if they’re quite committed – are very much doing stuff online.… One of the reasons we had to give up the paper newspaper was that we had no one street selling it, and that was the only thing it was really useful for: to get beyond the Anarchist ghetto. What we’re going to try to do with that is bring out a free sheet that’s easier for people to distribute, but it does require an amount of commitment from people in the movement doing those things. And it’s not always nice, and on occasions – as

we’ve noted – if you do bookstalls and things you are vulnerable to attack as well, so that has to be born in mind. In terms of publishing stuff I think the interesting thing is that there is still a market for books, providing that they’re reasonably priced, and the advent of short print runs. We used to be virtually forced into doing print runs of around two thousand, which is okay if you’re doing something like Kropotkin’s Mutual Aid, [and] you know that it will sell over the next twenty five years. But now we can, with very little increase in unit cost, do print runs of around two hundred, providing we get the layout done for free by people who are willing to. And that means that we can bring out new things more regularly… and that’s proving to be more of a success. We’ve just republished a Rudolf Rocker book, [in a run of] just about two hundred that’s selling really well for us…. Freedom Press’ Website: http://freedompress.org.uk/

COFFEE AND A CIGARETTE - Sheldon Downey

Café X is the kind of place that gives you a dollar off your coffee if you bring your own mug. My barista serves gluten-free bagels, organic soups, and whatever’s trending on social media that day. I wouldn’t know how it all tastes, I’ve still never eaten it. I notice the dark green wall paper is tinged brown and yellow from all the indoor smoking as the barista hands me a coffee. X is the best kept secret in East Montreal, located on a street shady enough to deter those who’d spoil our fun. As the haze obscures faces, I return to my post, observing the open packs of cigarettes and taking stock of the regulars. John Player is taking his coffee with Québec Classics in the front of the shop; they order black coffee and donuts. Macdonald and Pall Mall are in the back, pouring whiskey into coffee from flasks they’ve tried to hide, ignoring the fact that the smell followed them on the bitter winds that whistled through the door when they came in. Primetime and Captain Black are at the counter, gripping their 8

espressos in such tight fists that I fear being in the blast zone when they inevitably shatter. And then there’s Marlboro, sitting alone in a booth. It’s a rich experience, your first Marlboro. You feel that rush the moment you breathe in, and your head starts to spin. Strangely enough, it only makes you want it more. Go deep enough and it feels like breathing. A full bodied flavor, but still rugged like the Canadian brands. My coffee’s gone cold, I’ve been here for hours. I know I should say something, but I’m incapable of crossing the grimy aisle that separates us. After a fatal drag, the decision was made, and no sooner had my feet touched the tile then I was praying for divine intervention. Praying we’d have something to say. And when I rose, Marlboro turned, offering a knowing look. In a moment we were seated, and as if by magic, we fumbled in our pockets, turned to each other and asked. “Fuck, do you have a lighter?”

- Lloyd Bonnell No matter how unfriendly the weather of the night before--rampaging rain, smothering snow, or lethal-like winds--or how ominous and disconcerting the world news at bed-time (Is Russia setting to invade all of Europe?), I usually wake up in the morning feeling significant infusions of renewal, hope, and gladness. Such experiences shape my fond anticipation of the immediate availability and potential deliciousness of the hours just ahead of me. I feel a surge of energy and drive in my welltuned and alacritous body (made so mainly by decades of brisk and concerted walking). I know this notable vigor and healthiness will serve to make all my daily activities enjoyable and fruitful--everything, from my methodical walking, to my regular household chores, to my reading of scholarly books. Another thing I do after arising from my bed is to choose suitable clothing from my systematically conceived and inspiringly extensive wardrobe. I make sure that my colors are compatible and look harmonious as well as ingratiatingly visually vibrant on me. One of my special delights of morning is my ritual of eating eggs, ham, and coffee for my breakfast. These foods have always been distinctively and 12

acutely savory to me, and they bring to mind similar pleasures that may come my way as the breakfast of my prime choice creates a certain confidence and zest in my being. In fact, mornings for me produce a miniature snapshot of some of the good things in life in general. The change from night to morning reminds me that human life is full of new beginnings, promising growth, and vitalizing fulfillments. No matter how long I live, I will always enjoy the elation and refreshment of the hours of morning. (These observations and descriptions are made in the way that they are because I am a bachelor. If I were to awaken in the company of a partner or friend, my aims and activities of morning would be somewhat different in direction and purpose. But that is a story for another time and another venue.)

14 14

Ashley Hemmings, Space Uterus, monoprint and collage. 2015

Melissa Tremblett, Where My Heart Lies, screen print. 2012 15

Ashley Hemmings, Untitled, scan. 2014.

Megan Trotman, “Double Hibiscus Study 1 & 2”, ink. 2015

I have been picking your milk teeth From my thighs for months It seems you left them here While you were teaching yourself to be a man Whatever that means

Beach knees and salty knuckles Perpetual coffee tainted kisses I do not think I have ever known you sober Always drunk on something Like the sea breeze Or an improvised night of fucking But you never called it “fucking” Always told me we were “making love” I never told you I was afraid to say no 17

What did I learn?... -Melissa Tremblett

I learned that things don’t turn out the way you expect them to. That they don’t turn out the way you hope they would. That they don’t turn out the way you wish they would They simply turn out the way they do. You have no control over circumstances and you can only control yourself and your choices with respect to those circumstances. This was probably the best and worst experience of my life When I look back I only see the surface, the negative and depressing things. I know there was more to it than that, but the surface tends to cover everything else. When I really think I can focus on the good things like walking from camp to camp, I remember it being the most inspiring, serene, beautiful, majestic creative time. I was alone with nothing but my thoughts and the vast land. There was no sound but the wind and the creaking of trees. On the marshes, just the sound of the wind hitting my body. Those moments made all the bad times worth it; when I was alone with nature none of the other memories existed. There was no past, no future, only that moment. Under other circumstances, with other people, it would have been a completely different experience. I feel that the walk was a casualty of circumstance. I felt some people’s greed and need for experience tainted the opportunities of others. Some went without so others could have what they imagined. I’ll never know if I left when things changed, when things started to turn for the better. Maybe I left in a moment of solace, when all the energies were aligned just so. I feel that talking things out helped everyone become more in tune with each other.

But maybe people don’t change. Maybe people consciously accomodate for a short period and then slip back into the rut of their personality, the crux of who they are. Looking out for their interests. Sidelining someone else’s experience. I don’t even know where to start thinking about it. My brain shut itself off as soon as I hit solid ground. Like I was never there and two weeks hadn’t passed. Nothing had changed yet I will never be the same. Nothing is ever quiet. What is even necessary? Is everything just a luxury? I’ve never felt lazier and unproductive. I still tend to focus on negativity and feelings of deprivation; I don’t even think about how good I have it. How it takes five minutes to make breakfast. How I don’t have to strap on snowshoes and bare freezing temperatures to use the bathroom. I just go and sit on my warm toilet and wash my hands of it when I am through. When you are in the mountains you can’t just give up. I couldn’t just say I can’t do it. If I didn’t get up then I would die right where I fell. My grandmother didn’t have the option to give up. It wasn’t just a walk that could end any day when she decided she had enough. It was her life. She didn’t know there was anything other than her everyday. Nothing was too hard because her life depended on it. I don’t have anything in my life that if I chose not to do my life would depend on it. Does that make things frivolous? Should I be doing things that mean a greater deal to my life and my survival and well-being? Am I too dependent on modern conveniences that I don’t appreciate them and how much they enhance my life? Do I take all these things for granted so I can fly about trying to experience as much in one day as humanly possible, mostly for my own sake of mind and to stroke my own ego, to say that I could and I did? Why can’t I just stop, just be who I am where I am?

Why all the distractions?

Who do I feel I am accountable to if I don’t make the quota? What will my punishment be if I just do what I want? What do I even want? To make people happy? So people remember me as the person who did, who could do anything, who would sacrifice for the sake of others? I don’t even know what I’m sacrificing

But does doing what I want mean that I’m going to be any happier? That I’m going to be doing something more meaningful to my life? Engage in things that my life depended on? Provide for myself? Learn to be sustainable and live off the land like my Grandmother hoped that I could? Would it be putting myself first? At what cost? Where do I draw the line between helping others and being selfless? Is chasing these wants putting other people in a disadvantaged place? Whether I realize it or not, the choices I have made affect the choices that I can make. I have made my bed. I can’t just up and leave because I have found some new meaning to life. Is that fair to the people I depend on and who depend on me? Am I being the greedy one who does what I need to do to have my experience but unknowingly taking away from someone else’s? Should I stay? Should I go? Should I go back and try to make things meet my newfound expectations, to live up to my memory of how things should have been? Never knowing if that’s how things could have been. Will I always regret leaving when I did?

Should I have stuck it out?

Would things have gotten better?

Maybe I was the problem, maybe I was the one being unrealistic and unaccommodating, wanting my experience and hoping everyone would conform to my vision It’s just a big circle of hope and resolve and regret.

I’m so...lost

Work by Mary Feltham

top, Schizophrenia, pinhole camera. 2016 bottom, Anxiety, pinhole camera. 2016 part of a series exploring representations of mental illness

Family Team 2 - Corner Brook Syrian Refugee Support Group Now Accepting Donations! This past Christmas, the Corner Brook Syrian Refugee Support Group welcomed a Syrian family of four into our community. The parish community of St. John the Evangelist Anglican Cathedral welcomed a second Syrian family in February. Now, a second committee of the Corner Brook Syrian Refugee Support Group has begun fundraising in an effort to bring in two more Syrian families to Corner Brook. This committee is working with the Association for New Canadians to bring these families here as soon as possible. We are asking for your donations to help achieve this goal. Please consider one of the following two options: 1.We have identified a specific Syrian family who are an extremely high-priority case. Do nations to bring them here to Corner Brook can be made to The Association for New Ca nadians. Please write on the cheque memo line Corner Brook 2. Please note that donations for specified families are not tax-deductible. 2.We are also fundraising to bring a non-specified Syrian family to Corner Brook. A tax-de ductible receipt will be issued in this case. Cheques can be made out to The Association for New Canadians and please write Corner Brook 3 on the memo line. **** Please send donations to: Syrian Refugee Support Group, c/o Lisa Randall, 9 Viking Place, Corner Brook, NL A2H 6K8 If you would like more information, to get involved, or to hold your own fundraising event, please contact Conor at: jcurtis@grenfell.mun.ca On behalf of Family Team 2 of the Corner Brook Syrian Refugee S upport Group, we would deeply appreciate your your assistance in supporting this important humanitarian endeavour.

25 25

Artist Interview:

Robyn Anderson - Meghan Bush Meghan: So, you’re from Corner Brook, you did your undergraduate here, and now you’re back here teaching a course [at Grenfell]. What is it about Corner Brook, or the West Coast - what brought you back to Newfoundland? 26

Robyn: Oh yea, that’s interesting. I mean, I do have family here, but Newfoundland, and even the West coast, just has this... it gets into your nooks and crannies and it calls you back right? It’s undeniable, and when I’m away, I’m constantly thinking

about Newfoundland. When I was away for my graduate degree, in Saskatoon, that was when Newfoundland imagery first started to work its way into my art. And a lot of it was familial Newfoundland imagery, but it was being away that - I mean, distance gives you perspective right. So it was that distance that kind of ended up reflecting in my work. Anyway, I wanted to come back and be able to involve it more in here. Like I said, I have family, that’s obviously a draw too. I mean, there’s a great university here that gives me the opportunity to stay in academia, which is something I’ve always been interested in because I’m interested in constantly learning. Meghan: So you’d definitely say that Newfoundland informs a lot of your work? Robyn: Yea for sure. And just, my art practice in twenty words or less is... I like to talk about how narrative is, or how people use narrative to understand their anxieties and fears, and how to relate to their anxieties and fears and how to express anxieties and fears. So you know a lot of our really traditional stories - this is a Germanic example - like Little Red Riding Hood is about how parents are afraid that their children are going to stray off the path, both morally and physically. And so there is the story,

and it’s so fundamental in our society, and obviously there’s some really intense moral things going on there too. But it was because the parents were afraid, and so they created the story, and that’s where that narrative comes from. And I do the same; I create narratives that, especially with my installation works, express my anxieties. Meghan: Do you ever go out and talk to others about narratives that they’ve heard, like Newfoundland folk tales? Or is it your own Robyn: That’s really interesting, because that’s what I’ve been thinking about, because it’s definitely been a more of a general - no, not general, more of a familial - approach to narrative, and narrative in my own family, or sometimes the refusal to talk about narratives, because what that might mean for the family image. But yea, I’ve been more interested in doing some writing now about my own work that talks about how there’s a gap in my knowledge of folklore from traditional Newfoundland, especially Western Newfoundland, and how there is this larger, general Newfoundland culture that we always hear about, and that never really appealed to me. But more specific, like folk tales that radiate from a place really do interest me 27

and there’s something I can really sink my teeth into. But there’s not necessarily that cultural - that cultural narrative wasn’t necessarily something I was exposed to as a kid because of the homogenization of Newfoundland culture. The modernization - you know, there’s a total switch-over from very, communal-based. And I think part of that has to do with resettlement too. A lot of things were lost, and there’s just not as much of a willingness, or not as much of an interest, in larger areas. And I mean, Corner Brook is not large, but I like to talk about these stories or continue these stories. So I feel like there’s a gap there and that’s what I’ve been really interested in exploring lately. I’m looking at that, and I have been reading (I can’t remember the author right now) the oral folk tales of Newfoundland - do you know the one, it has two volumes? It’s amusing; the authors went around, they admit to themselves that it’s not a perfect collection or anything, because they didn’t have the funding to go to every little place, but they went to certain places and they collected folk tales from these places, and they transcribed them. And so they’re very literally transcribed they can be very hard to read, but it’s a great collection. But it’s not a collection that I can relate to personally, because I didn’t grow up with it right? So, yea, it’s an interesting disconnect, and my next installation, or one of my new installations I’ll be working on, will probably be a personal attempt to reconcile my familial narratives 28

with, greater cultural narratives and smaller community narratives, if you would. Meghan: You recently had a show at the Rotary Arts Centre right here in town, ‘Nature and Other Terrible Things’? Could you just explain a little bit about what that was about? Robyn: Yea for sure. So the piece was an extension of one of the pieces I had done for my graduation show in Saskatoon, and the gallery in Saskatoon was probably double the size of the one in Corner Brook. So there were other pieces in that show. But anyway, so I took this one piece that was quite expansive, and extended on it so there was a printmaking element that covered the floor, pieces of tuckamore and fish and feathers, couple more figures and stuff like that. But the total was just really interesting. It was actually one of the chapters for my graduate thesis, entitled ‘Nature and Other Terrible Things’, and it was shortened to just ‘Nature’ afterwords. But yea it’s just, it’s like a conditionary statement - so nature can only be as horrible as you’re willing to admit the other things are. So in ‘Nature and Other Terrible Things’, we see these creatures and they’re very grotesque in a way, and some of them are just almost only at the figure form, and some are surrealist parts of other things making up their bodies, and then they’re kind of facing off against this giant wolf creature, but its jaws are occupied by the giant tree and its

hand is laid out and it’s very gentle. And so I was really playing with uncertain spaces, and how we can be left with uncertainty. Or how uncertainty about what is good and what is bad can be formed just because we always want things to be black and white, I think - at least how I was raised. It’s human nature to want order, and to be like ‘You’re the Hans Gruber, you’re the worst, you’re a terrible person’ and ... narratives aren’t usually that way, and there’s a lot of grey area. And I use grey paper to kind of exemplify that necessity for grey area. So, you don’t know if it’s the smaller figures who are in danger, or whether it’s the wolf who is in danger because the smaller figures have weapons. And so, in this forest I create these 3D trees that come out and kind of surround you… I just wanted to be tonguein-cheek with the title, and kind of make fun of [our idea of] what’s terrible and what’s good, and is nature terrible, is nature good, it doesn’t have to be either or. Meghan: The mediums that you use, the printmaking and charcoal - how do these lend themselves to what you’re trying to talk about? Robyn: I trained mostly as a printmaker; my focus before my graduate degree was printmaking. When I completed my undergraduate degree, I didn’t know what I wanted to focus on talking about, and it took me about a year after my graduation, and I was dealing with my own struggles about

anxiety and [needed] a bit of a break when I came to it. And I didn’t leave the house for weeks at a time, and went through a really difficult time, and I’ve realized that the appeal for printmaking was that there’s a couple things going on. There’s a ritual to it; there’s a reliability. I mean, there are certain things that will pop up and surprise you, and you have to deal with, but there is enough to deal with that you can get that sense of self-confidence that you’ve accomplished something. There’s the repetitive nature of it - anxiety in itself is ... a repetitive process, because it’s like this single terrible thought that is probably not true. Most of the times it’s not true, sometimes it is, sometimes you’re gonna be attacked by a bear but you know, a lot of the times you’re not! It’s going through your mind over and over and over again, I mean make yourself sick about it. So anyway, printmaking is this repetitive process, and one of the projects I did when I was figuring this out about repetition and narrative and anxiety and how all these things kind of fit together, ... I took a photograph of myself and made a tiny version of me with the photograph, and then I made a litho of it and I printed it one hundred and forty times. And the matrix broke down after a while - I didn’t gum it; I only gummed it twice. Because I wanted the matrix to break down [to show]... that breaking down of people, because of repetitive, negative thought. And so, I cut them all out and I pinned 29

them to the wall and it was how I learned about figuring out about that. And actually, in my graduate degree I fell back in love with drawing, which was strange because I hadn’t drawn since my undergraduate here. But then I went back and there was this professor who was like ‘just draw what you love!’, and I was like ‘what? nobody’s ever told me to draw what I love, calm down now!’. So I was like, yea, work big, and there’s a cathartic release when you work that big. Like ... my hands get covered in dirt, and it’s a cathartic release because you get covered in dirt and you don’t have to worry about getting dirty because you’re already dirty. Which is another area that I’m working on in my research: our kind of fear of [dirtiness] - because my studio would become filthy, and people would come in and they would be like ‘Oh my God I can’t touch anything’, and they would be picking their feet off the ground so that the bottom of their shoes aren’t getting charcoal on them. It’s pretty funny. Even charcoal, as long as you’re not breathing it in all day every day, it’s pretty innate, it’s not like you’re gonna get sick from getting it in your mouth. And so long as you don’t draw it into your clothes, you can probably wash it out, things like that. So I’m also looking at people’s fear of dirt, and how they don’t like to touch it.

Meghan: Have you ever had a really intriguing response to a show you’ve done, or to some work of yours? Robyn: When I do the installation pieces, everyone’s kind of, it depends on how I install it, everybody’s reaction is kind of different. There’s some people, especially with the ‘Nature and Other Terrible Things’ piece, there are some people who walk around the trees and aren’t afraid to venture into the woods, and there are others who stay back and aren’t interested in exploring it. I’m always surprised at how off-put people are by my work, because I don’t find them particularly scary, I think they’re darker, more like whimsical than anything else, but I’m always surprised that people will say that they’re scary. Meghan: Do kids have any certain kind of reaction? Robyn: Kids tend to like it more, and I think they’re not trained to be so off put by surreal things, like maybe their concept of the uncanny valley is a little different than ours. Meghan: What would you describe as your biggest personal hurdle as an artist? Robyn: I actually think I’m insanely insecure. And I think it takes a very secure person to put their artwork up on display constantly. And I’ve definitely gained confidence, but every time it’s so nerve wracking. I mean, if they would give me funding and I could be in a studio and

Meghan: Would you have any advice, or just thoughts or observations that you would offer to a beginning artist? Robyn: Oh I’ve been thinking about this! I broke it down into two things: just show up - and you don’t even have to try when you show up - just show up, and produce artwork. And it doesn’t even have to be good artwork, but if you keep producing it and eventually it’s gotta go somewhere. What else is it gonna do? You’re not gonna revert backwards, I mean… Those would be my two major points. I was thinking about that earlier, or before, I can’t remember why. I guess it had to do with teaching, and what I would tell my students if I had to tell them something about being an artist - just show up, and keep producing. Eventually stuff will happen. never see daylight, and nobody would ever see me, that would be my heaven. And I would never have to show my artwork to anyone. Because you have to validate it, and obviously not everyone’s gonna love everything you do. But when you’re taking a chance and putting yourself out there, it can be difficult. I wasn’t sure how my installation would be received, because you don’t see a lot of installation art around here. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just made paintings. That’s probably my personal hurdle. 31

get involved!

The 4 O’clock Whistle is The Bay of Islands’ Free and Independent Magazine. We are a consensus-based grassroots media platform offering an avenue for the people of Corner Brook – the vibrant worker/student community – to publish their ideas, creative or constructive or both, to the larger community. We encourage people to become citizen journalists and report current issues in the Bay of Islands and the greater community of Newfoundland and Labrador. We serve the people, rich and poor, student and worker, old and young. We are striving to help build a community of communication. We accept submissions of articles, poems, prose, essay, art, or anything else you might like to publish.

33 33