@emilydriverart

Its year one at university. I'm introduced to a definition of 'art' which is expansive.

I learn that I don't need to draw and paint, I don't need to work with clay or create spaces or sculptures. Art can be something else, as well as all those things. 

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I enjoy walking and gathering up objects I find. I'm a dirty treasure hunter. A hunter and gatherer. I gather these discarded things because I feel inclined to.

 

Its year one at university and I discover that my inclination to collect is a legitimate form of art. 

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Quite quickly my collection becomes so large its problematic. I know it's problematic.

I am not allowed to store it at my university digs. I get given an official warning.

 

I use a trolley I've found and I move each object from my flat to university. About a thirty minute walk. It's strenuous hard work. But I don't mind, I've found my artistic language, this all makes sense to me.  

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I associate myself with the pile of rubbish. I'm too big, too un-ordinary to be acceptable. I haven't found a space safe enough for me to unfurl in, too occupy. To grow. I have to keep myself to a conventional size and fit in.  

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