Last week in the Tate I saw 160 cm Line Tattooed on 4 People El Gallo Arte Contemporáneo. Salamanca, Spain. December 2000 and I really stirred up some emotions. The last time I saw that piece was on 20 June 2013, the only reason I remember the date so well was because it was the Thursday on UNISON National Delegate Conference and I decided to return to education on that day.

I was visiting Liverpool for the first time with a couple of officers from UNISON Brighton and Hove Unitary. I was going through a pretty rubbish time and I am embarrassed to admit that I broke down in front of some of the other delegates. Someone asked me what I was planning to do with my life and it all came out.

After half an hour, I calmed down and decided to go for a walk to the nearby Tate and I saw this piece. I was going through a break-up of a long-term relationship; it impacted my confidence so much that I had handed in my resignation two months before in a fit of rage. I had cut all ties to most of my friends and activist networks. I was staying with a friend and struggling to find a job because I had no paperwork with my name on at the current address. Everything previously had been in a joint name with my ex-partner and to make a clear break for me I removed myself from all accounts.

But earlier that year I had started getting visibly tattooed. I had a handful of previous tattoos but they were on body parts most people didn’t see. I’m not a confrontational person so I put of getting visible tattoos because I cannot deal with people making comments on my body. Being visibly tattooed makes that happen more frequently. It angers me the BS people come out with like did you think about your tattoos or were they impulsive? Actually, I considered my first tattoo for six years before I got it done. Why? Um, my body so my choice. They’ll look ugly when you get older. We’ll all look uglier because the media has an obsession with youth being the only attractiveness there is. You’ll regret it. I regret more that I let the opinions of others sway my body decisions for half my life.

So, as you can see, being tattooed came hand-in-hand with body confidence for me. I really felt like I was reclaiming my physical space.

When I saw 160 cm Line Tattooed on 4 People El Gallo Arte Contemporáneo. Salamanca, Spain. December 2000 a multitude of rapid-fire questions went through my mind. Each question sparking two more questions. To the point of where I had scribbled a small essay in the back of my notebook. Questions about consent, whether it was informed consent, whether it was enthusiastic consent, whether the permanence of the tattoo impacted my feelings, whether actions with temporary or permanent physical outcomes should be treated differently, did I feel that the making of art mitigated the actions? And so on.

I decided that maybe an art history degree would be the way to go – interdisciplinary, encompasses my interests, transferable skills and all that jazz.

A few months later I made a last minute application to City College Brighton to do an Access course. I was interviewed over the phone a fortnight before the start date. I had just secured a job so I had to hand in my notice. For that reason I missed the first couple of weeks of the course.

Things went well for a while. But then the financial troubles started. I was entitled to JSA but my advisor thought that I was not fully available for work because I was studying. It’s a hard place to be in as I was actually looking for work but I couldn’t find anywhere that would be flexible enough. I didn’t want to miss seminars. I had dozens of job interviews with places looking part-time staff but when I said I had other commitments I became less favourable. I even remember having an interview in my old workplace and my old manager interviewed me! The job had negotiable hours but when I was being interviewed it became clear that negotiable hours were every morning. When I explained that I had a different definition of negotiable they said it would be negotiable for the right person. I have to admit that hearing that from someone who knew I would be able to do the role made me lose all hope.

So that’s when I discovered Brighton Loft and the poem below fills you in on what happened from there.

https://twitter.com/ninabrighton/status/775964659983659008

The reason why I am reflecting on this time is being it feels like it has returned. I am unable to balance everything at the moment. I am exhausted. Right now, the only thing I care about is getting a job. But that takes time – time that I should be devoting to studying. I don’t even know why I am continuing with studying, I have got to the point in my life that a dream job would happily be exchanged for security. I know in a few months or years my mind will change and I’ll wish I was working in a museum, and I’ll be sad that I’m not being mentally challenged. I feel bad that I’m sounding like a broken record, trust me.

I just need to get through this. And remind myself why I’m here in the first place.