When to let the story out

The yucca, in her fathers house, by Fay Ballard

On Thursday morning I wandered through Chapel Market in Islington, past the vegetable and fresh fish stalls and others selling phone cases and earrings to get to a small art gallery called White Conduit Projects on the corner of White Conduit Street.

Outside I met Fay who you may remember from Fay’s Yucca Plant, it’s a beautiful story about a pot plant she bought for her father back in 1976. The plant, fed weekly with a bottle of Baby Bio by her father, grows enormous becoming a monster - filling a room, reaching for the window, spreading across his writing table. When her father, the writer J.G Ballard dies in 2009, she rescues the plant, determined to keep it, not to let it go or die: “I see the yucca as my father.”

I am here because Fay has a exhibition at the gallery called ‘Where Have They Gone?’ She says:

I’m interested in the imagination’s invention of grieving rituals and eternal worlds beyond this one after we die. I’m an atheist, and always return to the facts; we are matter, made of the universe: carbon, oxygen, nitrogen and iron, which were formed primarily within the stars. But how do we come to terms with the death of a loved one and with our own finite lives and what coping strategies do our imaginations provide?

Within moments of meeting outside we are deep in a conversation about creativity. How do the conscious and the subconscious work together in the process? How do we ring fence time for that process? How do we know when we are ready to let a piece of work, a story, go out into the world.

The latter is relevant to me. I have recorded the most beautiful story as told to me by Sam who has been uncovering it for almost a year now. We began recording in a graveyard and then moved to a house and then a garden, unravelling a story about people and plants. I love this story. For the conversation part I brought Sam together with a very special person who has had a passion for the plant in question since he was 16. He is now 81 and his passion seems undiminished.

However the only way to record the conversation was over a recording app - it’s a bit like Zoom but normally much better quality. I always hold my breath when I set up these calls, the wifi signal can be weak, the technology a little temperamental but nine times out of ten it all works fine and I breathe out! But this time it wasn’t all fine and though the recording is audible, I confess I am frustrated knowing it could be better. There’s a saying that ‘perfection is the enemy of good’. But standing outside with Fay waiting for the gallery to open, I tell her of my dilemma, a beautiful story that I don’t want to let go off yet because of that poor recording quality. And her reaction is immediate - “Don’t!”

Suddenly the gallery shutters begin to open with the arrival of a diminutive Japanese lady, Yuki Miyake, who has curated the exhibition. If you are in London I would highly recommend this exhibition, the work is thoughtful and beautiful. If you do go - my personal favourite is ‘Brief Life: Mostly Chance’. Yuki offers us green tea, Fay tells us about the work. A friend of hers pops in, a documentary film maker and then an artist and curator who she has long admired also appears and for the next 40 minutes there is the most wonderful conversation about the work, about curation, about creativity.

I’m only here because a friend heard about the podcast from a work colleague and contacted me about Fay and her yucca story, saying you must talk to her. I was curious and curiosity leads to conversation which leads to connection.

So watch this space re the next episode - it may not emerge on Tuesday. The documentary maker suggested I might be able to improve the audio quality and he’s right. I have contacted a couple of old BBC friends to see if I can ask someone about that. BBC studio managers were ‘the best’ when it came to working with audio, perhaps someone can work some magic. And if not I am going to trust to the story, that it wants to be told and hope that we can re-record that conversation. In the meantime I will leave you with a small taster, recorded in the graveyard. If this has arrived in your inbox as my weekly blogpost you will just have to click on ‘view original post’ to hear the recording.

Have a lovely weekend

Sally

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