Procrastination, whilst being far from the artist’s best friend, is often their close companion. Why is it so hard to begin something creative? In the past (and probably in the future too), I have been daunted by a blank page. A pristine sheet of paper, that I am in danger of ruining as soon as I start to make a mark on its surface!
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| Rebecca Farkas, Holding hands, charcoal on paper, 2024 |
I often move around my days with an idea buzzing around in my head for weeks, months, even years, without getting started. It is somehow easier to live like this, with something nagging at me each day, than to commit it to real life, to pull it out of my brain and into a physical form.
I know it is partly the fear of making mistakes, but I also understand that mistakes are how we learn. A while ago, I was speaking to my mentor, Philippa Lawrence, about being unhappy with the tightness and control of my drawings and she suggested that I make them much larger. This simple experiment was very freeing for me, and I somehow lost the highly controlled edge to the way I was drawing when I increased the size. A switch flicked in my mind, and I thought that it was quite likely that going so much larger with my drawings wouldn’t work, so I relaxed about the whole thing and stopped being hesitant. I even used some expensive paper that’s been in my drawer for years, being saved for something ‘special’, and I didn’t mind if I messed it up! It made me realise how much I limit myself sometimes, through worrying unnecessarily. Incidentally, the drawings turned out well.
For several years, I have been thinking about making some art about my childhood memories of growing up on the circus, and I have been putting myself off doing this. When I was undertaking my research year (supported by Arts Council England’s Developing Your Creative Practice funding), I spoke to several curators about my fear of making something irredeemably naff and tacky, because I have seen plenty of awful circus-based art, writing and TV/film over the years (there is plenty of good stuff too, but I wasn’t thinking much about that). Things I’ve seen have made me cringe with embarrassment at the portrayal of circus people and life. The response from the different curators was positive, "But you know that, so you won’t make something like that."
This took a while to accept, but finally percolated into my consciousness properly last winter and led me to putting a call out on social media for a map of the UK and Ireland to work from. I was lucky to have some maps donated by Amber from Pentabus Theatre, who was clearing things out due to an office move. I collected the maps and pinned one that showed the British Isles to my studio wall. Here before me was a guide to the places that we had travelled on tour, and I began to create a ‘mind map’ of memories, and to write down things I recalled that were connected to each town and city.
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| Dad and me on the circus in 1974 |
Some are very strong memories, and I can remember what the place we visited looked like, the weather and what we did there. Other towns are just names on a map: I know that I’ve been there, but I don’t recall a thing. My Dad says that when you’re on the circus there are only ever three places in your mind; this place, the last place and the next place, and this is very true. I found that, when I was on tour, I would quickly forget the places we’d visited earlier in the season, unless something had happened that stood out.
My memories are prompting drawings as I ease into the project. It’s a much bigger endeavour than I anticipated, and the artwork I envisaged is not a single thing to make, but a body of work with many parts to it. I think that there may be a point when I need to find a partner gallery to work with to apply for some funding, but for now I am writing and drawing until I discover the wider shape of the project.
Prompted by my map, and the encouragement of friends from my local Book Club, I am writing a memoir of growing up on the circus at the same time as developing a body of artwork. It’s going to take a while as it is a big undertaking, but I feel excited and energised, rather than daunted. The procrastination about starting is over for now, but I’m sure I’ll find more pockets of it along the way. I have to accept is as a companion of my creativity and to know that sometimes I am just not ready to start, so I have to wait a little bit longer.
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