I’d set it up with Theresa Easton to go play with her letterpress printing gear again. I didn’t have so much as a plan as I did have a word: PLOT.
I rocked up with a number of different subtracts to play with and just wanted to explore what I mean when I use the word, PLOT.
We set up the printing plate with the word PLOT repeated in different type fonts. We arranged them into a neat A5 sized piece and then let the inking commence.
I played with different coloured inks, directions of papers, different papers and got myself into a meditative rhythm.
It was so much fun and I’m so grateful to Theresa to allowing me to play in her studio for free.
I had the pleasure of gathering with the WOC Azadi again in Sheffield today.
We gathered to share ideas around how to plot/plotting our healings, our liberation together.
Visual journaling was on hand to capture our thoughts, feelings, plans and plots.
It was such a nurturing and nourishing space in nature. It was a gathering of hope and aspirations.
It was an honour to be part of the day retreat. Ideas for The Plot of Our Repair came about from a reading is Saidiya Hartman’s essay , The Plot of her Undoing (2020).
The plot of her undoing begins with his dominion. It begins in the fifteenth century with a papal bull, with a philosopher at his desk, pen in hand, as he sorts the world into categories of genus and species. It begins with a bill of sale, with a story in the newspaper that enumerates her crimes, with a note appended to the file: she answers questions easily, but appears stupid; it begins with a wanted poster that reduces the history of her life to a single word-condemned.
And then towards the end of this essay there is a switch. A turn to explore how we can undoing the plot of her undoing. How we can move against the forces aiming to ruin/ control/ oppress the black/brown woman.
The undoing of the plot proceeds by stealth. It is almost never recognized as anything at all and certainly never as significant.
…
It begins with the earth under her feet. It begins with all of them gathered at the river and ready to strike, with all of them assembled in the squatter city, with all of them getting ready to be free in the clearing.
The undoing of the plot begins with her runaway tongue, with her outstretched hands, with songs shared across the unfree territory and the occupied lands, with the pledges of love that propel struggle, with the vision that this bitter earth may not be what it seems.
The undoing of the plot, the plot developing towards our repair was started before us. We stand on the shoulders of our ancestors. We continue this journey, this plotting together. Today makes me feel that we have already won.
I love colour. Colour brings me a lot of joy. Red is usually my go to. Brown used to be my nemesis. But through use and practice I have learned to work well with brown now.
But purple is still a stumbling block. I’m not sure what it is with purple. It’s a regal colour, a symbol of power. But it just doesn’t do it for me.
It might be its sense of power that might be just too much for me. Too powerful.
Anyway, I was determined to worked into the colour purple today. Different shades of purple, to build up some layers, working it toward a pink palette. This sat better with me, for me. Made it easier on the eye and heart to be with purple.
Laying down the colour field, the piece felt flat and incomplete. Adding black and white lines worked for me. Gave me something to hang a feeling on.
I was brought up on the Eurovision Contest. We would gather together at my mum’s with food and drink, and sing along to every song even though we didn’t know the words.
It was an occasion of celebration and fun. We laughed and cried, argued and commiserated.
Whenever I think of Eurovision, I automatically think of my mum. But I can no longer hold Eurovision close to my heart. I cannot continue to support this institution any longer as it has become co-opted by Isreal.
Within hours of Russian invading the Ukraine in 2022, it was banned from Eurovision. Why hasn’t the same happened to Israel?
We have to ask the question what is happening behind the scenes? Especially when last year Israel received the biggest support from the public vote when we know that the genocide in Gaza is not supported by the majority?
Nemo, who won Eurovision in 2024, probably the last time I watched Eurovision, has returned their trophy in protest at Israel’s inclusion. As well as the 1994 winner Charlie McGettigan(from Ireland) returned their trophy in protest too.
There is something rotten in Eurovision.
There is no music that can cover up the atrocities that are happening to the Palestinians. No amount of music can justify a genocide. There is no stage that should platform genocide and apartheid.
Spain, Slovenia, Iceland, Ireland and the Netherlands are boycotting this year’s Eurovision because they cannot continue to ignore the genocide in Gaza.
We refuse to be silent when Israel’s genocidal violence soundtracks and silences Palestinian lives. When children in Israeli prisons endure beatings for humming a tune. When all that’s left of nearly every stage, studio, bookshop and university in Gaza is piles of rubble, under which slaughtered bodies still await recovery and proper burial.
As artists, we recognise our collective agency – and the power of refusal. We refuse to be silent. We refuse to be complicit. We call on others in our industry to join us. And we stand in solidarity with all principled efforts to end complicity in every industry.
No stage for genocide. #BoycottEurovision.
Consider signing the letter and standing with Palestine here.
Irish TV, RTÉ, will be broadcasting the 1996 episode A Song for Europe , Father Ted as Ireland boycotts Eurovision in protest against Israel’s inclusion.
It’s a funny episode which I won’t mind watching as Father Ted and Father Douglas perform their song My Lovely Horse. I’ll not spoil it by telling you how many points they get!
Slovenia are planning to air documentaries under the theme of Voices of Palestine.
These countries boycotting and showing their condemnation of Israel and support for Palestine is what more countries and people should be doing, and I don’t use ‘should’ lightly.
One more point, the Father Ted episode is satire. The Irish put them into Eurovision because the song was so dreadful that they hoped they wouldn’t win again so that they wouldn’t have to foot the bill for hosting the next year’s contest.
Ireland has won the contest 7 times, and back to back wins in 1992 and 1993, is said to nearly have bankrupted the country as they had to host the concert again and again.
For me this is a clear indication of Eurovision, the non disqualification of Israel, the lack of calling out the genocide all comes down to money and vested interests.
As the north-east is gripped in another cold snap, with wind and rain, in May, I’m desiring a return. A return to Faro, Portugal, where in March, I enjoyed a few days of warmth, relaxation and inspiration.
Our ability to reframe failure into something that aligns with growth is key. When I fail at my attempts to execute an idea, I now have more information and I can use that to move forward. If I allow myself to feel defeated and tell myself that I’m not very good at this, then failure becomes a toxic thought that limits me and ensures I do not grow. – Cheryl Taves
Today I am 150 days into my creative sketchbook practice. Ego speaking here, but I’m pretty proud of this achievement. It demonstrates to me that I can be consistent.
These 150 days are evidence that I can change the script. I can change the narrative from not being consistent enough in my art practice, hells bells in anything really.
I can change the narrative into something more true, more closer to my reality. I can change the narrative, I am changing the narrative toward recognising that I can be consistent.
My consistency muscle is being exercised, challenged and stretched.
With 150 days of turning up daily for my practice, I can quite rightly say, my consistency muscle has been strengthened.
At different times of my life, I was either really into drawing or gone off the boil from drawing.
Basically, if I allowed my drawings to come into contact with other people, that’s when my drawing would go off the boil. I wouldn’t do it, I’d let the practice slide because someone or other had said my drawing wasn’t very/any good.
Or they’d looked at what I’d shared and start giving me pointers on how to improve it. How to shade ‘properly’ or how to get things into ‘proportion’. Basically saying that what I was doing, instinctively and true to me, was wrong.
For large stretches of time, I didn’t allow myself to draw, to play because in comparison to others, my work just didn’t match up. Didn’t look like theirs.
And then one time, while feeling less than, while feeling the odd one out, not accepted or appreciated, I picked up a pen and started drawing again. I found solace and safety in the lines I drew.
Faces, I love drawing faces. Usually of black women. Seeing myself reflected.
I completed a 100 days of black women one time, a few years ago now and I loved where this challenge took me. It took me to a place and peace of accepting my drawings. My style, my subjects and themes, my shading and perspectives.
Fuck man, we’re all individuals, unique and no way are we supposed to or should be drawing all alike, to a certain standard or brief.
My drawings are an expression of me, and how I see/ move through this world.
I’m dealing with it. I’m embracing it. And fuck everyone else!
My works are propositions, meant to create alternate pasts and potential futures, questioning history and culture in order to provide a space for reassessing the present. – Firelei Báez
Living Wild Studios 