I am my own logo

I was dreaming.

I'd gone into the store thinking I was going to buy a shirt. STRIPES, particular stripes in particular colours. I had a good idea of what I was looking for and content to browse. A sales guy approached, and as usual, I tried to dismiss him with an "it's ok, I'm just looking". The sales guy, persistent as they are wont to be insisted to let him know what it was I was looking for.

So, stripes, shirt, ah… wait a minute and quick return with a striped wollen jacket and another sales guy. Not what I was looking for and not a shirt, but, not horrible, in fact I quite liked it and was contemplating trying it on. I liked the style until I saw the logo emblazoned on its left breast pocket.

"I'm sorry" I said, "I hate logos" and turned to continue looking for a shirt. Meanwhile the first sales guy shows me another wollen jacket, by which time I was becoming uninterested. Until… the second guy beckons me over to him, presents the first jacket again, but this time the logo had gone! He'd unpicked the stitching that had made up the logo, leaving only a few loose threads which I fussed with a little before agreeing that "yes – I'll take it".

I suppose it's the fact that you're a walking bill board for the manufacturer when you wear clothes that are no more than a canvas for their logo that I don't like. I remember a time when there were no logos, when you chose clothes because you liked them. You weren't trying to be ostentatious or allying yourself to a particular group. You could dare to be individual. You could be your own logo.

Feeling unsettled 4: Vertigo

From the outset I'm pleased to say that I don't suffer from vertigo. I have, without fear, been able to climb to the top of tall towers and look out across dizzying vistas; I have skipped close to the edges of perilous cliffs. I might say that I have balanced precariously atop a wobbly tightrope suspended high up but that would be a lie. I have however recently para-glided down from a mountain to the sea. But, having had a chat recently with a friend, he described the almost paralysing fear that comes to someone suffering from vertigo.

Unsettling – yes. He described how recently he was left almost unable to move whilst walking across London's Millenium Bridge. He was with friends, so he had support on both sides, he thought he was going to be ok. Looking forward he couldn't really see the hand rails left and right. He definitely couldn't see the drop down into the Thames from the edge. His concentration was solely on St Paul's ahead of him on the other side. But this great fear welled up in him. He was only able to slowly, almost crawling, make it across the bridge to the other side. Cold sweat and fear completely took a hold and no amount a rational persuasion was able to calm him down. For him the experience was terrifying.

So I'm beginning to understand how irrational these feelings of being unsettled are and that however bizarre the fear of something may be, it's how it manifests in a person and creates a physical reaction that's interesting.

Feeling unsettled 3: Socks, bananas and revolving doors

Having spent a great weekend in Manchester I feel prompted to share a conversation I had with some new found friends. Encouraged to research more widely my current theme, I asked what things unsettled them. And from a young guy (we'll call him Bill), came a stream of stuff that on one level was amusing, on another, presumably quite debilitating.

Bill first said that, of doors, it was the revolving kind that made him feel anxious and a little distressed. He didn't like approaching them, the fact that they were in constant motion – automatic ones in particular because they sprang into motion seemingly at will. But these revolving doors were far surpassed on the unsettled-ometer with both bananas and socks!

Even the sound of the word SOCKS made him visibly cringe and though he realised that they were an unfortunate part of everyday life, of getting dressed every day, was a chore beyond the pale. It was to do with their fluffyness, the way they stretched, the way they looked when discarded or as pairs in the drawer. These are things Bill cannot bring himself to even look at, he has to close his eyes when putting them on.

But next came bananas – squidgy, plump fruit in their own 'unnatural' yellow skins. It wasn't just the taste of the banana that he didn't like, it was the contrast of the stiffer waxy outer skin and the soft pale creamy white inside. On fruit stands, in supermarkets or in fruit bowls, bananas also made Bill feel on edge and very unsettled.

Feeling unsettled 2: Doors

I'll begin by pointing out that I don't have a phobia concerning doors. But I think as an image, and the fact that we are surrounded and use doors all the time, that if we were to concentrate and really look at single doors, that we can be unsettled by them.

In thrillers, horror stories etc the devise of the door is common. It acts as a divide from one reality to another – 'What's on the other side of the door?' If something unseen begins to open the door from the other side, the door is all that stands between you and certain terror.

Sometimes late in an evening watching the tv on your own, the door slightly ajar, the lighting/atmosphere in the room beyond, darker and different from the room you're in. How often do you look over your shoulder to reassure yourself again that you're safe?

Then there are certain doors – doors that are necessarily unsettling due to purpose. Institutional doors, prison doors, dentists doors – these doors are all there is between safety and our fears.

Have a look at the three images and ask yourself which of the three is most unsettling.

The beginning of a list

Things that unsettle us – alter our emotional state, seem connected to environments and the atmosphere they evoke.

For instance, I particularly feel ill at ease when close to (never mind being in) black water. By black I mean water that is so deep that the bottom doesn't reflect up to the surface and therefore seems bottomless. Scottish lochs in particular, because the sides of the mountains that slip into them often mean there is no beach or gradual sloping into the water, getting slowly deeper. The water is very deep, and very black from its edge. Scary.

The flip side of feeling unsettled in these environments is that on the surface everything is strangely calm and beautiful – everything is fine so long as you are not in the water.

A Good Idea

It should be the kind which stiffens and grows a skin
But the creamier kind will do.
Anyway, the Royal Albert Hall must be filled with custard.

A favourite little poem of mine by Adrian Mitchell, and as good ideas go, it's not bad at all. There's something epic and urgent about it. Urgency especially – 'MUST' – and that's the thing about ideas; it's one thing having them but something other, to follow them through.

That's where I am at the moment – a number of ideas, (probably too many ideas), but with either the lack of time or drive to make them happen.

So I'm hoping, that by writing something down, my ideas will formalise, I'll gain momentum and follow through!

Now before you get too excited, I must point out that the ideas I want to explore at the moment concern creating a possible exhibition. An exhibition of drawings and paintings… on a theme – a dark theme, maybe. One that explores the darker side of human nature, or rather a nature we all suppress, those darker thoughts that lie so close to the surface and the fears which resonate with us all. But no horror film, no blood and guts. Just an unsettling essence. Something that will communicate in a shared way leaving you unsettled.

There – that's where my idea is at the moment. Now all it needs is skin and bones and a whole lot of work making it.

I'll use this space as a jotter for ideas – I'll paste images if relavent and snippets of text if they inspire me. Who knows, this could be the way to realise a project.