Poached eggs

  In the art world and related universes much is spoken of process, the strange path by which we create something. We all have our different ways but in general it is almost more important to us than the final product.Our work then goes out into the world as a mystery to all but a few. These mysteries are formed because we have hidden the process which we do for a multitude of reasons. One example is in the recording of music.I enjoy hearing the sounds of instruments themselves as it tells me that the music is human and is being made. In recording the sound though it had been decided that only the 'music' is worth hearing and not the creak of a pedal or sigh of the musician.
  By hiding the process, for whatever reason, we begin to lose connection to our possibilities of creation.We begin to feel that making an object is something done by 'others'. We lose sight of how what we do in the ordinary world is connected to more mysterious worlds. This is where the work I am doing with Imperial has relevance. I try and see the parallel world that we inhabit and try and investigate what I find. Some of these investigations are pieces of work like the Textile Body but others are more private.
   I have mentioned how I find myself doing garden surgery when planting bulbs but to understand the experience of vascular surgery for myself  I undertook a stranger process. For several weeks I had a poached egg for breakfast and each day I had to dissect the yoke out before I could eat it.Each egg was slightly different in texture and fragility and every day I would gently cut the surface membrane of the yoke and then attempt to slide my knife underneath or around it to remove it. Each day was unsuccessful but each day I learnt the feel under the knife of a delicate material which was unknowable in any other way.