June 26, 2017 § 85 Comments
For I am human. (A radical statement to some.)
And I am capable of every human emotion.
Even as I wake some days I am surprised to find this as truth. For I am othered in the collective consciousness which envelops us all.
I have for all of my years, until the last, swallowed my othering whole, so that I did not know myself as myself at all.
Confronted with myself – I found myself a stranger all the more.
But as time eeks out its knowingness I no longer falter, for I find that I am myself (of course I am) and always was that self buried under a false persona.
Stepping out from under it was like tearing off my shadow.
A false persona melded onto a true heart? Yes – I think so. Yes.
A not unsmall quake of tectonic plates.
Now settling. Becoming.
All humans wear a social mask.
All humans tire of one another.
All humans seek solitude.
My humanness is not other – it is a parallelogram of your humanness.
A mirror in which to see yourself (at times).
A mirror which defines our also separations (like a walk or a swim).
Don’t be shocked or surprised.
(And I say to parents.
My existence doesn’t threaten your child, or replace their value.)
I am both mother and babe.
And there is space for all of us.
For we are human.
June 16, 2017 § 1 Comment
I take the entire inspiration for this post from a conversation with my friends and colleagues at ACAT in Berkeley, Brent White, Tanya Coffield and Laura Harrison.
Autistic leadership is both pioneering and not new. Paradoxes are what we do well, and while cultural advances and moves towards social justice bring forth a new cohort of autistic people who seek to lead in their respective fields, autistics have been quietly leading since the dawn of time.
Well, what we can say for sure is that autistics (including self-diagnosed) are now openly assuming leadership because we have to. The very justice we seek in social terms demands it and shapes it in a glorious (if somewhat gear crunching) symbiosis with the aforementioned cultural advancements. Though on all fronts we still have a long way to go.
And here is the rub, we recognise that autistic leadership is required, but we don’t yet know the shape and form it must take because we’re forging it right now on the anvils of our souls.
If that sounds melodramatic consider this; I’m often moved to use the canary in the cage analogy for my own work and those of other autistics I know. As a people we are vulnerable to environmental hazards – as leaders this can be magnified because we must process an extraordinary volume of fast flowing information and translate experience (both frankly energy-zapping in a way that can shut autistics right down) while carrying on responsibly as leadership demands.
We also carry trauma (a particular issue for us all but often complicated by late diagnosis), and can be ‘trigger magnets’, not only regarding our own histories but also that of others in our care. How to hold it all, and survive overwhelm and overload are in many senses not only about developing models but also about intense personal growth (insight based investigations on a virtually doctorate level and of the kind your average allistic would probably have no need for in the workplace). The workload can be incredible and almost impossible to log let alone recompense.
Yet as I suggest above, our leadership is not new. Not. One. Bit. It has simply not been recognised for what it is, or it has perhaps rather been sidelined and appropriated into the mainstream. We have and often continue to lead quietly and even unknowingly, while others seem to make the noise and get the attention. I bet it was ever thus.
But the point is that as a people we shouldn’t be lead by those who don’t fully understand us (a wider societal and historical problem that the individual must wrestle with in the workplace), also that autistic leadership should be acknowledged for what it is – the generator of so much that is good for the whole population and not just autistic people.
Perhaps the main impediment to autistic leadership is not that we must design it in our own image from first principles (though this is true as all existing visible models are allistic) – it is rather that we are not yet believed in as leaders.
This is what has to change in a wider sense, so that we can be freed to make our leadership models and create the support networks to sustain them.
I read so often about executive function for autistics, and the devastating impact of exposure to what I am beginning to call environmental hazards (the sensory world and allistic – socially embedded – expectation). Some autistic readers may feel that ideas about leadership might as well be beamed from the moon for all it has to do with their autistic reality. I have those days too and it’s hard not to admit defeat.
So I acknowledge my privilege while asserting that this is a hard and lengthy struggle for us all. Also that leadership comes in so many forms and can be so varied in scale. Recognition of what we do, on what ever level this may be, could be the start.
Self recognition may have to come first. Seeing others could be the inspiration, which is why I make myself visible. This is certainly how I began my journey with a trip to see my friends and mentors Brent White and Tanya Coffield back in 2015.
This post is for you. xx
June 15, 2017 § Leave a comment
¡Buenos Días Dictador!
Eight new postmemory paintings by Sonia Boué
Sonia Boué is an Anglo-Spanish multiform artist. Her practice is concerned with a legacy of exile, leading to a growing body of work which relates to the Spanish Civil War, 1936-1939.
In 2015 she was recognised by researchers at Tate Britain as a singular voice responding to this history within a British context. Subsequently Sonia featured in a film made by Tate Britain entitled, Felicia Browne: Unofficial War Artist, and in 2016 she received an Arts Council grant for Through An Artist’s Eye, a collaborative project about the life and work of Felicia Browne (who was the only British female combatant and the first British volunteer to die in action in the Civil War).
“Since 2013, my work has centred on a buried family history relating to the Spanish Civil War.
My childhood and adolescence spanned the final decade and half of the Franco dictatorship, yet the Civil War was never mentioned. This history was silenced for almost 40 years, and subject to a “pact of forgetting” when democracy was negotiated in Spain, following Franco’s death in 1975.
Unbeknownst to me Spain had been navigating an open wound.
My father and my grandparents had been involuntarily separated in 1939, and my father remained exiled in England until his death in 1989.
My practice is now concerned with this inherited memory and the need to confront this history through my work.”
About Buenos Días Dictador
Sonia Boué has created a series of new works about growing up with the invisible shadow of dictatorship. In them she explores the the duality of her childhood, drawing on an immersive painting practice. Through it (and the other branches of her multiform work) Sonia seeks to recover aspects of historic memory (memoria histórica), previously erased by political suppression.
With Buenos Días Dictador, Boué’s previous focus on the narrative histories of the Retirada (Republican retreat from Spain), and British involvement in the Civil War, has shifted to her own memory sites – the return journeys to Spain from England in the 1960s and 1970s.
Her painted responses are conjured scenes (dreamscapes) in which collaged figures plot an upbringing spent shuttling between Birmingham and Barcelona to visit her grandparents. Through these works she examines the fabric of daily life anew.
“The dictator was everywhere, silently and invisibly setting the preconditions of our lives.”
The spirit of these works is nostalgic yet confrontational, employing a juxtaposition of painted and collaged elements as a means of articulating the unspoken. Buenos Días Dictador, forms a visual essay which tweaks at the invisibility cloak of Franco’s rule to ask a serious question; how can we live the life domestic in the face of violent rupture, exile and dictatorship?
In these enigmatic new works the dictator is everywhere and yet nowhere to be seen. Cut-out figures from the period (borrowed from sewing pattern illustrations) are transplanted to imprecise geographical locations. Buenos Días Dictador, is a series of haunting dreamscapes conjuring a surreal and dissonant atmosphere.
Please share with colleagues and organisations where the visual arts, and subjects of Spanish Civil War, postmemory, displacement, and exile are of interest.
Contact Sonia for artist talks, conference papers and performances.
These works are also available for exhibition (8/ 50 x60 cms mixed media on linen).
June 5, 2017 § 11 Comments
Selfie, taken at Oxford train station while texting Rhi, drinking flat white coffee and squinting at the camera in bright warm sunlight. By the time the train arrived ten minutes later a sudden cold wind had brought on numb fingers.
Occasionally I read autistic blogs and the writing feels remote. Slowly I’m identifying a difficulty in matching words to experience. Meltdowns have been one such area of disconnect, but today, as I prepared to make an overnight journey, words and experience coalesced to bring a new understanding.
A brief essay on words (skip if you just want to read about the meltdown)
I mean words – what are they and where do they come from? I’ve previously described how writing feels like plucking words from the sky. I sense them rather than understand them in a precise manner. Sometimes I get the ‘right word’ but often I don’t, and I have to keep fishing in the clouds. Words are tricksy like that.
Blog posts often appear as shapes, but today I began with a strong impression of words flapping pleasingly this way and that, like washing on a line just above my head. And I wished I could press my face into a crisp bundle of newly washed and dried words, then lay them out in a straight line for the reader. Ta-daa! SO much brain work would be saved by such means.
But words are both like objects to me and frustratingly abstract. It’s a paradox which can frankly hold recognition in abeyance. How do you match experience to words when they are nothing like experience? Since diagnosis a year and two months ago, I’ve had to take it on trust that meltdowns are part of my experience too.
So what do I experience?
In childhood ‘tantrums’ – were memorable. I gained infamy for my meltdowns, and earned the nick name ‘the earthquake’. But throwing myself around didn’t stand out so much when I was small – fast forward to my late teens and no-one outside my family would have recognised the former earthquake me as me.
Fast forward again to 2017. You’re so calm! people tend to say to me.
As I gradually learn more about myself I see that I do, of course, experience meltdown as a sudden crashing in of functional capacity.
It’s just that I learned to do it quietly – off camera. I never knew just why it should be so hard to get ready to get dressed sometimes, or simply pack for a short stay away from home? The reasons have eluded me until today. Texting my autistic friends revealed to me something I had never known before. My sensory issues are REAL and relatively common for autistics. Alterations in sensory perception can make the texture of almost any fabric an irritant. I can go through an entire wardrobe and find almost nothing my skin can tolerate once in a state of sensory deregulation.
And now that I have made this connection I see that while having a shower can be one of my favourite things, the after effects can be devastating in terms of sensory regulation, depending on air pressure and the temperature in the room. Changes in tolerance can be rapid allowing little time to catch up and react. Often such changes will be entirely unpredictable but at least a pattern is emerging.
I challenge anyone to try getting dressed when showering sets the entire surface of your skin crawling, and the soles of your feet morph from neutral to achy with a side order of grit between your toes. There are no socks on this planet that are right under such conditions. Even the trainers you’ve been wearing for months so that they follow the exact contours of your feet feel lumpy, off balance and just plain WRONG. Go on. Get dressed then. No?
Add little extra pressure – like having to get dressed and catch a train when a minor heatwave just dissolved into a classic British all the weathers in one day – with alternating sunshine and showers. That’ll be the reason you’re a raw nerve by the way, but you’ll find it hard to explain even to yourself how stressful adjusting to contrasting weather conditions can be. No matter! The train won’t wait…
And you can’t casually fling overnight stuff into a bag and go. Hell no! You’ll need a suitcase of options (wot but you’re only going for one night! a helpful relative might say to spur you on.) You’ll feel close to defeat. Oh, and you’re still not dressed. But come on, think about today’s and tomorrow’s clothes while the ache in your bones and the ants on your skin gnaw at your dwindling ability to focus. Your brain registers that you can’t possibly know what to wear tomorrow as this could surely happen all over again.
Okay – can you pull it all together? Want to scream yet?
I’ve been here so many times before – not being able to dress myself (what!?) when sensory circumstances conspire – is a thing I’ve lived with for a lifetime. But at last I begin to discern a pattern – this happens in certain weathers and/or when I have to plan for being away from base camp.
I now see that such crisis’ are the direct result of unreasonable pressures. It’s genuinely impossible to get dressed and pack clothing to accommodate an autistic sensory system while experiencing acute sensory deregulation!
A body which can’t automatically access self-regulation relies on its owner to drive on manual. This forms part of the extra work many autistics must carry out all day every day – many of us without realising it. Daily we micro-manage our bodies with our careful routines and intricate strategies. Time away from base camp requires planning and portable equipment. Acute sensory deregulation and the promise of variable conditions create a perfect storm and blocks functional capacity.
Who knew that this was so? Certainly no-one ever told me. I’ve had to work it out with a little help from my friends.
The relief is incredible! Having autistic friends means I can swap notes and indulge in the kind of sisterly conversation that can stop a potential meltdown in its tracks.
Tomorrow we all meet up in ‘real time’. Yes indeed – we were all getting ready for a train ride to Birmingham to provide feedback on an art space from an autistic perspective.
It’s taken me so long to write this post that at the time of publishing the meeting is done and dusted and we’ve gone our separate ways. But we’re all bound for the same destination. Decompression central here we come!