Say what?!?

I have been wrong about a lot of things lately, it's as if my knowledge is diminishing. Where is it all going to? Am I getting old already? How can I plan on a career in Academia if I have no knowledge. My supervisors and art history colleagues keep telling me - "No one will know more about your groups than you by the time you finish" is that true? I question my knowledge and interpretations over and over all the time. Did they actually intend it this way, did they see political art this way, did they consider themselves political, am I reading too much into it, will I actually know everything???? My head is about to explode!

I had a very interesting conversation or discussion with two PhDs today, about what art actually is - and they were wondering if I was gonna tackle it in my thesis...seriously people that question, the 'what is art' problem, is way too generic and open ended to fit into my thesis. It is a thesis in itself - and I love that sweet 'problem', I always have. Five years ago when faced with an undergraduate dissertation I considered whether or not I could grasp it...I decided against it in the end. Not because I was scared, but because it was too big a job for an undergraduate thesis of only 15.000 words. I told myself one day I would have the courage and ambition to do it, to try to answer that question that everyone asks you as an art historian or artist. I still don't have more of an idea about it, however, I have during the coffee-break today found myself a base for my argument, somewhere to start. The creative idea and the conceptualising of that idea is the basis of all artistic endeavours - in my humble opinion. And yes I believe everyone could be an artist, yet so few will.

just a little note from the trip back home

Sitting on the train, outside my window the dark sky bleakens the landscape. The train is caught between fog and open landscape with lurking threatening clouds. Listening to Interpol, suddenly aa aha aa aha - Garbage Untouchable, 'no one is untouchable.' In some places the clouds are touching the ground, incorporating every little thing, houses, sheep, everything. The Scot next to me is talking on the phone. I continue reading Berger's Art and Revolution.
I was told today that Socialism in Britain started in a small town on the Clyde, i.e. here in Scotland. There's something working class about all Scots - it might be the fact that most Scots are!? The rich, the upper class, has always been English here - well times they are'a changing. Many might laugh at the SNP, but not me. I think it'll be good for Scotland - I say this with absolutely no knowledge of their policies (I mean are they right or left?).
We pass through a forest whist Kaizer Chiefs ask 'What did I ever give you?' I look up and we have entered a town, Stonehaven. The station looking new and polished with flowers planted in pretty little wooden barrels, but just behind the newly painted picket fence council housing rises. An elderly woman with a baby(probably her grandson/daughter) points and waves at the train as it passes by.
The fog has created a tunnel surrounding the train. Next stop Aberdeen. N.e.x.t. s.t.o.p. A.b.e.r.d.e.e.n.
A little rabit jumps into the bush, startled by the passing monster. Lynn's cousin lives around here - HELLO! If it wasn't foggy I would see the North Sea once again before I board the plane. Looking at all the field I imagine what it looked like hundreds of years ago...maybe a thick forest of giant needle trees.
It seems colder.
The suburbs of Aberdeen, children playing surrounded by grey stone houses, its all grey now in the fog. We enter the commercial area, are we there already? The harbour is right next to the station, seagulls are begging for food.
I have to get off, we've arrived.

Women In Art

Here is an example of the male view of art and art history in general - as far as I could see there are no female views of the female in here.