And so the time has come to pass the baton on to the next artist. I will be a liittle sad to say goodbye to Reside but for me, I think it went some way to serve the purpose I hoped it would. It allowed me a side step in my practice, to play a little with ideas that I had wanted to explore for some time. Of course I only managed to touch on themes I wanted to examine but it's a start. The one hour one/space idea was really an attempt to use the restrictions time and location wise that I struggle with and turn them around into a positive space for possibilty. Continuing on this theme, as I said previously, I plan to take this project online at some point, back into my home/studio, with a live feed over the internet for a specified time. Should you wish to take part, or simply observe,  please join my Twitter network and any activity will be announced on there.
https://twitter.com/susanefrancis

Initially, Reside, unfunded, no space provided, may seem unattractive in comparison to other residencies. Quite the contrary. Reside is a little jewel, passed from one artist to another. In a sea of opportunies where lengthy criterias must be met, where briefs demand artists to tick every box imaginable, Reside allows the artist simply to be, or rather, Reside trusts the artist to be.

But of course Reside is specifically designed for those artists that find it difficult to take up any other residencies due to familial/financial restrictions etc. When passing this residency on I have chosen the artist Anthony Boswell to pass the baton too. Anthony's family situation, although very different from mine, is equally, if not more so, restricting, but despite this, Anthony has utilised those resources which are available to him, ie. the internet, to build up relationships and invite others into discourse and share in the development of his practice. Rather than seeing the limitations of his surroundings as a restriction, Anthony sees a never ending landscape of possibilites to wrestle with and I pass Reside over to him knowing he will treasure it. Thankyou Corinna and Karl for your support during the residency and thankyou to all who have joined with me over the last six months.

Okay, not much longer to go, the penultimate post, I knew the time would fly past but I tried not to measure Reside by dates and deadlines, just to let it be, as it were.

As I've mentioned before I wanted somehow to reach out and include others in this mini project, but was not really sure how that would occur. I knew I wanted to approach people outside of 'the art world' as it were, for want of a better word.

Last night I was due to drop in with an organisation nearby that supports people who are experiencing homelessness, helping them get life back on track. First and foremost of course, they are ordinary people like the rest of us, with a wealth of experience and skills in many different areas. We do a little art work together. I hadn't made any plans.  It was a really sunny, peaceful evening and I noticed the Methodist Hall opposite my house lying empty as the various clubs have stopped for summer break. So why not.

I met with one woman and four men there.I told them what I have done and showed them the footage in the images. We talked. We discussed what art might be. I showed them the materials, some paper and fabric - and space, lots of it.

At this stage they could have laughed, ignored me, or challenged my decision to even invite them here. Instead they began to roll the paper out. They rolled and rolled until it was entirely off the cardboard tube. They found some tables and chairs and began to construct.

They discussed, explored, made decisions, folded, constructed, laughed, argued, photgraphed and tidied up, all in an hour....and like myself, I've a feeling they thoroughly enjoyed it.


(all materials by the way, are rejected and recycled items from wall paper manufacturers etc)

With the last applications in for the forthcoming Reside residency I have an impossible task to select from many, very worthy artists. As my own residency draws to a close though I had hopes to hold another session in the King Edward Hall, open to the general public but am having difficulty booking it. If all attempts fail,  I may move the project online - more details to follow but in the meantime, relating to the playful, improvised approach of previous sessions, and pointing towards future plans, here is some wonderful footage of drawing at Swansea Metropolitan University.

A quiet Sunday afternoon saw me back again in another space. Taking nothing but a pile of books, with the King Edwards Hall hired for just one hour, I set about an exploration of the space. Belfast in the 1970's was a dichotmoy. While violence raged in city streets, I whiled away long hours in a quiet suburban neighborhood just miles away. As my mother routinely 'dozed' in the early afternoon, I was allowed to take the books down from the bookshelves and construct stepping stones, circles and 'stairs' to entertain myself. While she slept I would lay them out around the room and set out to explore, stepping from one to another.

As a young child those hours would drag. Now however an hourflashes by and you can do little that is concrete, complex or lasting in that time. In this context, I like that.

At this point I am currently reviewing applications for the next Reside artist. Six months has whizzed by and perhaps on some levels what I have achieved may seem frivilous or lacking in substance. In a way that is what I have been searching for. I have found these few experiences, these single hours in single spaces, materials pared down, no demand for an end product, extremely playful and liberating and that approach is feeding the rest of my practice. I hope not only to hold one more session in this particular space and invite others in, but as the baton is passed onto the next artist I hope to continue one hour, one space, taking it back into my home but onto the internet through live streaming, engaging directly with the audience.

I'm afraid reading has suffered somewhat this month as I was busy preparing for exhibitions but I managed to dip into the Fold by Deleuze which was largely impossible to decipher except for one moment of clarity when everything seemed to sing (I was in the hairdressers). I also managed to complete Mrs Bridge which was everything I hoped it would be.

As an after thought, and watching the video above, I couldn't help but remember the Poem for Marie by Seamus Heaney which begins, 'Love, I will perfect for you the child , who diligently potters in my brain....', written for his wife, recalling childhood constructions, not really related to my undertaking, but beautiful none the less

Seamus Heany Poenm: Digging

While installing this work above, the artist Jane Ponsford dropped in for a chat and we discussed the significance of the role the space often plays in my work.

Many days have passed since I wrote the last entry but Reside continues to languish,constantly, at the back of my mind. It's been interesting to note, like the physical spaces,  community halls and church halls which sit quietly, patient and empty between events, no one's home yet everyone's space, Reside seems to occupy this territory in my head, waiting, as it were, always available for use.

In the last few days I have been reading the book Theanyspacewhatever, which accompanies the significant exhibition of the same name at the Guggenheim some years ago. (I believe theanyspacewhatever is drawn from a Deleuzian term – some of you will now be waking up while some may prefer to go and make a cup of tea.)

One such element of the project involved the Wrong Gallery, a glass door, indistinguishable from those on either side on a New York street, a shallow space 'easy to miss, easy to forget', operating initially through improvisation, publicised through word-of-mouth and with an ongoing relay of selected artists invited to respond as they wished. Before long Frieze got hold of it and ultimately a replica was placed in a wall of the Tate Modern. The Wrong Gallery became right and in the process lost it's soul in an almost Faustian manner.

It made me reflect on hiring the village/church halls. I had now and then, considered gathering this material and exhibiting it in a Gallery space, no doubt to be received and commented on by those who frequent such a context. That is after all, the right thing to do isnt it, exposure in a respected space, comments from knowledgeable sources? but that holds little interest for me at the moment.

Village halls exist on another platform altogether. They are seemingly neutral zones given identity by those that inhabit them. They are entirely free of the oppressive weight of context galleries carry with them. I hope in a little while, to open my time there and invite people in. If the 'wrong' people come... so much the better.


Reading material recently ( I eventually finished the Dickens)
has included of course,

Theanyspacewhatever Nancy Spector, published by the Guggenheim

Asterios Polp - by David Mazzucchelli

and about to start

Mrs Bridge by Evan S. Connell

On another note entirely, I belong to what is considered the more cerebral book club of the village  established by the extremely learned vicar's wife and an ex- publisher, ( I fear I may have been invited to add a rougher edge to the conversation). It is a sober but enlightening event which I've come to treasure, but now (you can never, by the way, ask to join these groups, potential members being discussed behind closed doors and then covertly invited),  I have also accepted an invitation to the hard drinking, tough talking, rival village book club, a decidedly more raucous event with a distinctly later finish time. I have already been plied with cava and debriefed  for information and am beginning to feel likethe village doubleagent.

Looking back at Corinna's blog for inspiration I realised that what I can contribute at the moment is painfully thin in comparison. Although I have three shows approaching, all of which require site-specific work, I want to set this residency aside in my mind as a space for other things to happen.

Finding time for anything other than washing, cooking and ferrying children back and forward from one place to another however seems impossible at times. But I'm not here to moan. This is how it is, this is the time I have and this is why I'm the priveledged recipient of the Reside Residency and not spending six months in Durham cathedral or suchlke.

On a dreary wet Monday morning I carried camera, ladders, tripod etc over to the Methodist Church Hall where I had booked the space for one hour only. Unlike the village Hall there were no reams of paperwork to complete, no deposits to be paid, just a visit to the home of Mr Moody, head of the family that almost entirely make up The Methodist congregation, seven pounds handed over,hastily scribbled receipt and the details filled in in the logbook entitled 'Art Art' ( he had asked me twice what I wanted to use it for, not quite understanding the first time, and in some confusion decided to put both answers down.)

And so on Monday I found the old Methodist Chruch Hall open and empty awaiting 'art art'. Somehow I didn't feel the same about this space, no compulsion to move around and somehow explore the size and physicality of it. In contrast the Methodist Church Hall was full of detail, from the names of all the Sunday school teachers preserved in stone, to the worn pews, faded posters and flag rigged up by the scouts for renditions of the national anthem.

And so this time it seemed inappropriate to do anything other than photograph. Some of the images are below

I particularly liked the random items left behind by the various groups who regularly use the hall.

...and so where does all this lead me?

Well, so far I have a number of images, recordings etc that I would like to plough into during the summer holidays when committments ease off a little. I have another space I want to explore though, but as I have just slammed that in last minute as a proposal for a curatorial opportunity I will wait before I talk more about it. Save to say though that I would like to shape these places more  into territory for interaction of some sort.

As I said, Corrina is shaming me into fleshing out this post a little. I can't say that I fill my life with literature and films etc as there really is little time to do other than keep my head above water. I can share her diabetic testing routine though, not on a cat but on myself. Rare train journeys and music lessons however do permit me a little reading and recently this has consisted of;

The Contingent Object of Contemporary Art  by  Martha Buskirk
and on a lighter note

'Our Mutual Friend' by Charles Dickens

- his last and extremely weighty novel, (only in the practical sense), perhaps his most deliciously detailed account of Victorian hiigh and low society, and literally laugh out loud hilarious at more points than I can mention