Well Hung

I finally took a moment to hang the chalkboard we bought for the kitchen.

This Is My Life

There is nothing like biking to your neighborhood produce shop in the sun to come home and prepare a dinner of Dhal, Curried chicken and potatoes, Bhindi Bhaji, and bay leaf soaked rice. We cooked curry in a wok while listening to MC Hammer in a flat in England.

We also discovered magnetic poetry stuck to the side of our refrigerator and have since begun tormenting one another with it.

Our first poem sprung forth from the eating of tarts and discussing being an interracial household.



"You are whit(e)y. I, pariah. Tantamount torment! We know ennui. Usurp my Treacle."

And today we picked up the Russian print from 1927 and hung it in our otherwsie empty living room!


This is my life.

Growed Up

Today I bought a bike. My flatmate and I rode around Victoria park for hours enjoying the sunshine and the inevitable feeling of freedom that comes with having control over your means of transportation.

We then rode along the canal back home, and around our neighborhood. All in all I'm guessing we rode more than five miles today! Go team!

Then, a few hours later, in the cafe/vintage shop that is quick becoming our new favorite haunt I found an amazing piece of vintage art from the 20s. And seeing how much we loved it, the owner (who seems oddly fascinated with the fact that we are two girls originating in two of England's bastard children countries, living in London) cut the price in half for us. We had to say yes. With our birthdays only a week apart, and upcoming, we decided to call it Our Birthday Gift to ourselves.

We bought art. And ghetto bikes. I'm an adult. And a little hipster biker chick.

New Flat, New Outlook

I am typing to you now from my phone, laying on my new queen size bed in my new flat!

I am the happiest I have felt in..... god, I think forever. This is the happiest I have ever been for this extended a period of time. I'm broke, our boiler is broken and we've had to take cold showers, we're half unpacked, I'm exhausted.... and I am having the time of my life.

Happy

I just got back to the dorms after seeing our new flat for the first time since we did the initial viewing. We both worried that it had somehow improved in our memories- that it had become bigger and brighter. But actually, we were right. It is big and bright and we cannot believe how happy we are to be moving tomorrow morning!

It isn't high spec, and it isn't anything fancy, but for two artists who want to have both a home and good place to work, it is perfect.

Moving Day Approacheth!

Yesterday we signed the contracts and they handed us some keys, and all of a sudden we realized that the new flat is OURS! How did that happen?! We move tomorrow morning, first thing.

Can you believe it? Someone actually made the mistake of thinking I was a responsible adult who can be trusted with an apartment.

Celebrate

I find myself at home with a sudden head cold (no, it's not swine flu, for the last god damn time people!) and sitting in bed with little to do but drink tea and bemoan the fact that I'm not out celebrating right now.

So what do I have to celebrate, you ask?

Today my flatmate and I learned that our application for a flat in Hoxton was accepted! And not only that, but we both decided that we hated the student dorms so much that we opted to move out sooner than we originally planned. Instead of September 5th we are now moving in to our new place on August 10th. Yes, I am mere days away from a double bed, a bath tub, a real kitchen, and a living room. Can you believe it? I still don't. I am still skeptical, and sure that something will go wrong. It is too good to be true.

I've lived in a lot of different apartments, but I have always rented a room in someone else's flat. It didn't seem right to leave my stuff in the rest of the house, interrupting their routines and habits. But now? Now I can create my own living habits and my stuff can be anywhere! I can do logical things like make a place for my DVDs in the living room! I can leave my sketchbook and paints on the table without fear of being in someone's way. This is huge for me, you see. I finally get to occupy the space I have and make it my own.

Secondly, and in some ways more importantly, I would like to formally announce that I have decided to leave Central Saint Martins School of Shit and Bollocks.

This, I believe, warrants a drink. A toast, even. Raise your glasses if you will to the end of an era and beginning of another, far better one.

When I found out that Evil Tutor failed my latex project (despite telling me it was good all the way through the process) I made up my mind that I would not be returning to that awful sham they call a university, regardless of whether they wanted me to repeat 1st year or move on to 2nd year.

Words cannot describe how incredibly happy I am to be free of that place.

For the first time in years I feel inspired, eager to learn. Eager to make my own way, to go out into the world and absorb information. I want to do everything, create everything, experience everything. I feel free. I have no solid plan, just a good solid feel for the direction I want to head in. And that is liberating.

Of course I can't deny that CSM is a good name to have on your degree. Those three letters will open a lot of doors for a designer. Though, point of interest, I have come to realize that it will also close doors.

In making the decision to leave the school, I came across an interesting phenomenon in the design world. Being able to say "I graduated from St Martins" is great, but there is a certain respect I get when I say that I studied at St Martins only to realize that the reputation wasn't justified, and chose to leave. Funny, that.

In case I haven't made it painfully clear, this is not a school that will teach you anything, least of all actual, technical skills. Now I know that we all love the idea of simply drawing out a pretty sketch and handing it to someone else to make, but frankly that is bullshit. You need to follow through. True artists of any kind need to understand their materials, their craft, their process.... and often those things will inform and change their design. Half the stress/fun is in the process of trying to make one of your designs and seeing how it changes and becomes better.

The reason I got my internship with my awesome design mentor is not because I went to CSM, but because I studied at a technical fashion school and have a background in theatre and performance. I even said in my initial letter to her that "despite hailing from St Martins, I have not yet had my love for design or theatricality beaten out of me." She knew exactly what I meant.

My point is simply that there is something to be said for knowing how to make things. Any things. Whatever sort of things you want to make. And if you want to learn to make things, then St Martins is not the place to be.


So raise one more glass to the end of St Martins. And give Evil Tutor the finger for me, will you?

In the meantime I am looking into community college classes while I consider other universities. And should I decide to attend another uni, I have decided that the classes I take will not be in fashion.

I need a break.

But I also have a good solid foundation in fashion now, and it's time to start expanding outwards. In order to do this I am devoting four or five days a week to my internship to learn as much as possible from the designers I work for. And when I begin taking classes again, I want to learn to work with other materials so I can incorporate them into my designs- plastic, wood, metal, etc. I want to work in anything besides fabric and learn anything except fashion.

More shoe making and design courses are already queued up (more on that later), and from these classes I have also developed a rather subversive plan regarding my future shoe designs. See, a friend of mine at CSM asked if I was planning on continuing to learn how to make shoes, and if so, would I design and make the shoes for her final show at St Martins. I of course said yes! See, this way I get to have my final 3rd year show at St Martins by putting my shoes in the show, right under the nose of Evil Tutor and all those other fuckers who told me I was shit. BWAHAHAHAHA <---evil laughter and mustache stroking

Hell, if you've managed to read this far I think you deserve one more drink. Raise your glass one more time to the closing of a miserable year at an all-consuming, pretentious, and useless school, and the end of a year living in a moldy, tiny, uncomfortable dorm room.


Cheers.

Early Hunting

For the past two days, despite all my homework and stress, I have suddenly become obsessed with apartment hunting. I'm toying with the idea of living alone. Might be too lonely, might be a nice change.

I could live by myself in San Francisco, no problem. But I worried for a while that living alone in London would just highlight how lonely this city can be. But I can safely say that sometimes I want to be lonely. I would love to come home to my own little place after a full day of working around other people.

But financially, that might not be in the cards. So for now, I'll keep myself busy dreaming and searching every rental agency website I can find.