I've mentioned before in my blog about being an old hand at moving. What I've not mentioned is just how many times I've undergone that process which was a lot. By the time I was 11, I had moved ten times and attended six schools (seven if you count pre-school). Everyone has experienced being the "new kid" at some point or another in their life and as such will identify with what I'm talking about here. Being the new kid on the first day was two-fold (at least) - there was the excitement of going to school and anxiety of not knowing anyone else. (Other more severe anxieties would unveil themselves later when I would realize that I was among the poorest kids in school, which automatically relegated me to a particular clique, and didn't come to school donning new clothes.) It is a very strange feeling to be a stranger on the first day of school. It's not as if I could just fall in quietly alongside the rest of the group and blend in with the crowd, quietly introducing myself to someone and asking to play with them at recess because I was always introduced. At one school I remember the teacher telling the whole class that I was new and chose someone to be my "friend" and to lead me around and show me the school. The good thing for me was she was friendly; the bad thing was she was a thief and ended up getting me into unwanted mischief later in the year. At another school I had to walk into the classroom well after they'd started in the morning, by this time aware well in advance that I'd be walking in wearing my hand-me-down clothes. Everyone stared at my as I walked down the aisle, all the way to the back, to find my seat. And since I had red hair - well, that was just a wonderfully built-in fodder for the teasing brigade. The heart-pounding and flushed face is, to this day, very much seared into my brain.
Since then I've continued to move and have been the new kid in many a new environment. I'm used to it, but still loathe it...I just have better skills to deal with it now. The "new kid syndrome" is worse at some times than at others depending on the situation and the environment. And since moving to this country, I face that scenario on nearly a daily basis. (I look forward to the day when it's a monthy, or even weekly occurance.) And yesterday, it really was like being a kid again. It was my first day in the printmaking studio known as ArtLab. I was accepted just last week and have signing on at the end of the current session (a calculated move). The first day is pretty standardly introductory, but the feeling is immense when all of the members of ArtLab are puttering away printing in all types of forms all over the place. Because I had to be given something of an orientation and had to wait for the staff to find time to do that between helping their students, I found myself just standing there with nothing to do. I put on my brave face and made small chit-chat with some people and was awkwardly in the way of others. I finally found a small space, mostly out of the way, to work in and decided to do some color studies in my sketchbook for what I hope will be my next series of work. It felt better, but still amazingly awkward. I tried to be a big girl and stay the whole time, but I kind of felt like fuck it - I'd gone through all of this before and I didn't feel I had to suffer it just for the sake of it. When I made that decision to leave early I was suddenly filled with an amazing sense of confidence and power - something I lacked in my youth - because I could call the shots and I could decide when to stay and when to leave. I know it'll get a bit easier with each time I'm there and there will eventually be a point when I am in my own creative zone, feeling good about what I'm producing and hopefully engaging in meaningful discussions, rather than topical nonsense. It just takes time. Like everything in life. "Baby steps to the bus, Gill, baby steps to the bus."
Since then I've continued to move and have been the new kid in many a new environment. I'm used to it, but still loathe it...I just have better skills to deal with it now. The "new kid syndrome" is worse at some times than at others depending on the situation and the environment. And since moving to this country, I face that scenario on nearly a daily basis. (I look forward to the day when it's a monthy, or even weekly occurance.) And yesterday, it really was like being a kid again. It was my first day in the printmaking studio known as ArtLab. I was accepted just last week and have signing on at the end of the current session (a calculated move). The first day is pretty standardly introductory, but the feeling is immense when all of the members of ArtLab are puttering away printing in all types of forms all over the place. Because I had to be given something of an orientation and had to wait for the staff to find time to do that between helping their students, I found myself just standing there with nothing to do. I put on my brave face and made small chit-chat with some people and was awkwardly in the way of others. I finally found a small space, mostly out of the way, to work in and decided to do some color studies in my sketchbook for what I hope will be my next series of work. It felt better, but still amazingly awkward. I tried to be a big girl and stay the whole time, but I kind of felt like fuck it - I'd gone through all of this before and I didn't feel I had to suffer it just for the sake of it. When I made that decision to leave early I was suddenly filled with an amazing sense of confidence and power - something I lacked in my youth - because I could call the shots and I could decide when to stay and when to leave. I know it'll get a bit easier with each time I'm there and there will eventually be a point when I am in my own creative zone, feeling good about what I'm producing and hopefully engaging in meaningful discussions, rather than topical nonsense. It just takes time. Like everything in life. "Baby steps to the bus, Gill, baby steps to the bus."
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