While the ink is still wet

Books and rain: two of my pleasures

biancawinter — Mon, 13 May 2013 20:35:32 +0000

I like walking in the rain for a simple reason: I like the sensation of droplets colliding with my skin, like tiny wet kisses. Rain can’t be drawn or bought; it just is. But if I were to tell you a story about it, I would say that my pointy noise and rather cacklsome laugh as a child provoked the nickname ‘witch’. Walking in the rain, as any believer of fiction will know, means I can’t possibly be a witch: I don’t melt.

Books (though only catastrophically in the rain) are another great pleasure. Through books I learn, travel, see, and feel. The turn of a phrase can be devastating, exhilirating, alientating, incarcerating, intoxicating, liberating… in books I discover my many selves, and (in the fleeting moment of reading) understand them. I inhabit words – climbing inside sentences to find a link to and other heart, another mind. Words consume me, too – they swallow me up, gnaw on me, make me sick, feverish, aroused, defeated, awake. Reading is a physiological endeavour, the words acting as jump lead between the battery of my mind and the spark of my body. Writers, though mainly pairs of words themselves, make me: with Sarah Hall I’m carnal; with Carol Shields I long; with Jon McGregor I become the beauty of silence; in Siri Hustvedt’s hands I am the future self I desire; at Nick Walker’s hands I’m witty and sexy; Pratchett makes me corrupt; Tolkien induces hope for another time; Hornby weaves me into pop culture; Atwood makes me float above the surface of my life; and Auster buries me in the sadistic satisfaction of self-reflection. The price of a paperback is one thing, but what’s the price of a compulsion for words?

I send you this cadmium red

biancawinter — Tue, 07 May 2013 06:12:31 +0000

Artists deal in layers of abstraction – an idea manifest is, by necessity, one step away from pure thought, and an audience, in exercising their own faculties, instigate yet another level of remove. John Christie and John Berger, in their epistolary exchange, come to realise that “aesthetics are better practised than discussed… Colour, and our need of colour, is everywhere.”

I send you this cadmium red is inherently a many layered thing. A collection of letters is the source material for this provocative musing on the power of colour, which lift from the page as they are spoken aloud, melding with a soundscape that echoes the shifting tone of the exchange. The words describe colours and artefacts that subsequently become the pages of a book, replete with images of the letters themselves. But the interpretation of I send you this cadmium red produced by Paul Bennun removes the audience from the physical fact of the letters exchanged and instead offers a rich and personal access to the sentiment by allowing the words, the quality of the voice, the canvas of sounds to draw the colours. Averting our gaze from colour, line and form, allows the colours to be felt rather than seen; imagined, and therefore created.

I send you this cadmium red is a testament to the deep and compelling power of sound, encouraging the listener themselves to ‘practice aesthetics’.

OPEN for business

biancawinter — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 08:00:50 +0000

Permit me to be bold: I think we should get together. I want to explore your mind, touch your handiwork and feel your passion. I want to find the gaps between us and to ignite a fire with all the oxygen in that space, so that when the fire dies we are drawn together as in a vacuum. Together we can make something magical.

Today I took another step inside the chamber of learning, with the glorious aid of a cloreclaw buddy, and I found something perplexing: I found the right people. It’s a complex notion, but there are a few things I know. I know that I want to have deep, creative and productive relationships with a variety of people. I know that I want to solve a problem imaginatively. I know that I want to bring together a powerhouse of creative talent for a collective endeavour. In short, I want to be part of a creative community, one that’s made up of the right people.

The tricky thing, of course, is that for something to be right, it must meet a particular criteria, which suggests judgement and selection. I find the idea of ‘building’ a community deeply problematic (communities work well when the constituents are self selecting) and counter intuitive (the rallying point should be a problem, not a person). All that adds up to a considerable challenge: is it possible to create a call to action without owning the problem?

I’m trying to break old habits of facilitation and coordination in order to make way for collaboration. That means learning how to embrace difference, lose control and trust the process. Crucially, it means trying to understand others, and the only way to do that is to be open. So here’s my declaration: I’m now open for business (and I’ll revel in potential and wilful misinterpretation)!

The Shift

biancawinter — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 06:18:13 +0000

Attending the Clore course with seventeen talented and inspiring individuals made for a rich experience. I was fascinated by the varied responses to our speakers and workshop topics, and thrilled to be challenged and stretched by such a thoughtful group. Our divergent approaches made collective responses really stand out, and I noticed a group shift over the course of the week from asking how an experience could be applied to our own situations to asking what an experience made us think about our own situations (a subtle but significant difference).

This shift was no doubt influenced by a lesson on listening, lead by Deb Barnard. Deb introduced five levels of listening: the ‘me now’ and ‘just like me’ crude levels of listening made me recall many an excruciating experience, but it was the third level that had an impact on the group as a whole, the ‘what you should do is…’ response that belittles the speaker. Many of our collective had been on the end of this (probably) well meant but useless advice, and a few more (myself included) confessed to being the advice giver. It was a bit of a wake-up call.

Until then I had found many exchanges with friends really confusing, wondering why they wanted to talk to me about their problems if they didn’t really want to hear my advice. It hadn’t occurred to me that some people need to talk aloud to think (I find talking aloud really inhibits my thinking!) nor that being listened to actively is such a rarity.

What’s wrong with liberally and swiftly dishing out advice is the same thing that’s wrong with asking how someone else’s learning can apply to our own situation: it might not be a good fit. Our ability to solve a problem is likely in direct proportion to the amount of information we have about the problem, and the outcomes of solutions that have been tried before. Deb’s session hinged on the premise that each of us have the resources we need to make a difference and the result I observed in the group was a collective responsibility to explore a problem fully, without jumping to action. Quite a shift for a bunch of doers!

Note to self

biancawinter — Thu, 21 Mar 2013 15:24:06 +0000

I had to write a note to myself after this morning’s session, when I reverted to old habits and almost imposed my idea for resolving a situation on a fellow participant. It would have been not only crude and insensitive, but likely to be very awkward and the opposite to empowering. Trouble is, my desire to help came from the heart. It’s difficult to fight instincts that in order to care, one must act: I’m hardwired that way. We watched an inspiring TED by Barry Schwartz earlier in the week about having the wisdom to know when to break the rules in order to make a difference to someone. I really hope that I learn the wisdom of when to hold back in order to make a difference.

Sir John Tusa

biancawinter — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 23:06:30 +0000

This afternoon included the sonorous voice of Sir John Tusa, who especially impressed me with his description of himself. Unashamedly appropriating his method:

By education I am an artist
By profession I am a producer
By experience I am an instigator
By inclination I am a reader
By outlook I am an idealist

How would you describe yourself?

Jettison…

biancawinter — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 23:36:49 +0000

Officially (as denoted by me) this is a post of mourning.

I picked up ‘Leading beyond authority’ by Julia Middleton from the Clore bookshelf. It appealed because it focuses on leading outside of your designated area of authority, thinking specifically about what we can learn when we supress our tried and trusted methods because we want to make a difference. The fourth chapter deals specifically with the typical leadership traits that we need to jettison in order to get on with influencing people and transforming situations that agree outside of our control.

This afternoon, we had a fantastic session about coaching for leadership with Deb Barnard. In encouraging us to try out some coaching principles, she instructed us to banish from our minds tendencies to analyse, teach, rescue and problem-solve, in oder to conduct the coaching ‘clean’.

To round the day off, I had a thirty minute coaching session, which I’ll keep to myself for just a little while longer. The upshot, though, was that I realised just how much of an impact my self criticism has on my ability to act, and to be the fullest expression of myself possible.

So, a decision – to ensure that I make the contribution to the world that only I can. Here’s a casting off of all the things that make me an awkward fit in my own skin. Let’s mourn their passing, and then celebrate their absence:

* The idea that I can’t make friends easily
* Believing that I’m not likeable
* Doubting that I’m interesting
* Insistence that I’m awkward, particular and don’t ‘fall in’
* Consistent declarations that I am awful at public speaking
* An inability to take a compliment gracefully
* The perception that I’m unable to be influential
* A fear that people judge me as too earnest or serious

Putting something in the mix

biancawinter — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 07:21:12 +0000

I’ve been avoiding training courses for the last few years. That’s not because I don’t want to learn, but because too often I don’t – a day of pursuing a new area of knowledge or practice with strangers and tutor(s) whose style doesn’t necessarily meet mine is often disheartening and largely frustrating. So when I was asked what I wanted to get out of the Clore Emerging Leaders course, I struggled to answer. Exposing myself to an intense week-long course suddenly felt like a precarious position to be in.

Then, Sonita Alleyne arrived to give our first evening address. She was engaging, honest, down to earth, and interested in us and journey we are on. She spoke about her career and successes and used the phrase ‘putting things in the mix’ to describe her approach to life and work.

The phrase resonated with me as a tendency (one that I’m sure my friends and family find wearing) – to open things up, challenge myself, create challenges (and madcap adventures) for others, and try new things. I sometimes see this as a desperate attempt to make things stick, but maybe that’s an ungenerous reading. Perhaps it’s much more about wanting to be part of the world, recognising that both the world and I are constantly evolving? Sonita suggested that leadership can only happen around change, a view that I certainly share.

Warning: symbolism ahead

biancawinter — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 17:36:43 +0000

Whilst ‘walking and talking’ yesterday, I found this beautiful leaf skeleton. I know it’s naff to describe it as a symbol of the experience I’m having here at Craxton Wood, but I’m going to anyway (you don’t have to indulge me!)

These first few hours as a cohort have involved sharing our current situations, which include myriad organisations, varied backgrounds and countless exciting projects. This is certainly the stuff that is glossy and vibrant, like chlorophyll laden cells. As the hours tick by, we are starting to cut to the quick – to learn and understand more about how we operate and what our fundamental values are – both those apparent and those newly uncovered by our perceptive peers. This stuff is without doubt the underlying structure, the glue that holds everything else together and gives us our integrity.

Symbolism aside, 29 hours in, I certainly feel see-through. My opinion of myself is slowly unravelling, and right now, I’m riding the wave of this discomfort…

Mirror mirror

biancawinter — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 06:42:00 +0000

Right from the off, the Clore Emerging Leaders course encouraged attendees to understand the value of our peers’ experience and their perspectives. Here’s a running commentary about what’s been reflected back at me from these incredible people (analysis may follow).

SUNDAY 17 MARCH
* As a competent, capable and enthusiastic doer, how can you allow space for others to take responsibility and lead?
* How can you manage a role that steps away from delivery? Do you want to?
* How can you cultivate collaborative and cooperative relationships?

MONDAY 18 MARCH
* You’re clearly very passionate, but you don’t seem convinced that you can bring about the change you want to see. Are you?
* You’re very good at giving clear feedback.
* You ask insightful and challenging questions.
* You make a strong and credible case, but what you are asking me to do is too big a step for me to take.

THURSDAY 21 MARCH
* You are sharp.
* You clearly present a leadership style that nurtures other people.