Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Mary Oliver (American poet)

 Art.

Art is where to start.

I am currently studying art at staffordshire university, where i am a second year student.

My studio practice is based on the relationship with my estranged father.

This is from a previous personal blog I have written, I hope it gives some insight into the relationship that I have with my dad:

Summer 2007.

My dad is a BAD man, you now those ones your not supposed to take sweeties from or speak to, that’s him* so just before I left stoke at the beginning of the summer, he phoned me and said your going to Australia, you should come to New Zealand I’ll pay for you etc, etc , and my reaction was no.
why should I he means nothing to me.
so I told him, sorry I’m really busy, don’t think ill have time.I got a message back saying I’m disappointed but maybe next time.

Yeah he really fought for it.

So I came to Oz, and am having a really good time, when , as usual, my conscious was like, Siobhan, he’s your dad, Siobhan when are you going to get this chance again, blah, blah blah, if I was a psychopath I could block out these guilt feelings but I’m not and I couldn’t.

So I kept thinking I should go and see him its only right, I should , but my mum hates him, she really hates him and with good reason.
so I made a compromise with myself, if he contacts me in time, and says that he’s going to come here, then I cant stop him can I ?

But as usual he didn’t he knew I was here for three months and not a peep until the last week before I come home!

So I feel so guilty etc but I’m so angry with him.
He thinks the reason I haven’t been to see him is because my mum has told me I can’t. Well she didn’t, she just made it clear, she would strongly prefer if didn’t.

When he e-mailed me I told my mum and ended up having a huge row with her, that didn’t want to have. and every time he’s brought up, I learn something else I don’t want to know, about how he cheated on her, about how he beat her, et c etc more detail every time, you know.
I feel fucking dreadful because I love my mum infinitely more than my dad.

But.

(There’s always a but)

He may be what he is … but he’s my dad.

I’m part of him. I’m made form him. I have his name.

Therefore I can’t help loving him, because only your dad can give you that love – I think.
unless you have a step dad, who has been there since you were tiny.

my mum is married to a man who I know ultimately would be there for me.
but he’s not my dad although he does try to treat me like a daughter, sometimes I just feel like excess baggage though.
I don’t know.

I’m furious, but sad.

I hate feeling like this because there are never any real answers to these questions.
as if I have to make a decision myself.

maybe its just part of growing up.

god.

I wish I was a kid again

 this is a photogrpah of me and my dad.

Aren’t we cute?! The text above the image refers to something else entirely though. My grandma margaret (my dads mum) died about 5 yeards ago. I’d never seen my dad cry before then, not that i remember anyway.

So he was crying, my brother Jospeh was crying and I was also crying. My dad picked me up and put me on his knee and hugged me.

I dont know how to explain that feeling. It was as if id never been hugged before, and i remember thinking this is why i miss you. My mum and i are pretty much the same height and weight so she physically cant embrace me the same way.

my dad the big strong giant.

This is a video of me talking about my work, it is in two parts, here is the first part:

and here is the second part:

I dont really know where to start with this, im not sure how to expalin my work really. anyway,