On Tuesday this week we transported our precious artworks from the Wolverhampton School of Art to Walsall Art Gallery. On paper, this was quite an irritating task. It meant that I had to go into Wolverhampton just to move my pieces from one spot, to another, then into a lift, then out of a lift, and then on to a van. There isn’t much creativity in that.
It was therefor a surprise to be felled the strength of the emotional punch that the day delivered. Seeing my things in the van, covered in bubble wrap, and leaving me, and then seeing my empty studio space, bereft of my things and my words, hit me hard.
The hit was a delayed one though. I cried when I got home. I will miss the Wolverhampton School of Art, I can’t tell you how much. I will miss the tutors. I will miss the friends. I will miss the slow days, the fast days, the lady in Starbucks, the ring road, the lift and the staircase. More than anything else, I will miss that staircase. I’m so sad to leave.