Uk Trip Blog Five: Pulp Final

Written well after my return: 16^th September 2015.

Prior to embarking on the Sheffield tour, I expressed interest in investigating the concept of working class sites as middle class tourist attractions. That is, sites of dangerous manufacture such as Kelham Island and Abbeydale transformed into safe museums for middle class consumption. In my first blog I talked about the connection between heavy drinking and dangerous work. Later on I argued that current aristocratic ‘country houses’ (huge mansions) exist as museums, not homes. With time to settle in however, I found that I was most affected by the sounds of Sheffield, and felt a strong sense of creativity developing. All the while I was subconsciously noting the presence of Jarvis Cocker throughout the city: in museum shops, on a building walls, in heritage plaques. I say sub-conscious because it wasn’t until I had returned to Bendigo and reviewed all my notes, photos, status updates and even postcards to family. He is, very literally, plastered all over the place. So it was not surprising then to put aside all the notions of museum research, and focus instead on how a working class man had become so commercialised and intrinsically part of the Sheffield consciousness.

The Leadmill in Sheffield, where Pulp played their first gig.

What has been difficult however has been readjusting to life at La Trobe, in Bendigo. I’m not entirely sure if this is caused by my time in Sheffield, or the travels I had after. Certainly it would be easy to lay the blame collectively. I felt it greatest in Hong Kong, of all places. Having finally spent some time alone in Iceland – a country similar to me in all its bright, wide, vast, windiness – finding myself in hot, dark, crowded, noisy, smelly, closed-in Honkers did my head in. But it also got me thinking properly about how Iceland affected me so strongly. Breaking it down, it was the isolation. Being alone is something I have very little access to in my home life, which impacts on my ability to think or create clearly.

Having said that, one of the first things I did when I got home was enrol in print-making night classes. I wanted to make sure the experience was translated into something tangible that came from me, not a postcard or souvenir. It’s certainly been stressful. The worry of Mum’s illness (which has only this week been cleared thank the stars!) plus some anxiety-triggering family dramas has not helped my time management or concentration. But the opportunity to express that in print-making has also helped me realise that my difficulty readjusting is just as much about returning to a crowded space where everyone wants a piece of me, as it is about my ability to be quiet. It’s all very deep and meaningful and I’m sure it will continue to reflect in my work for the remainder of the semester.