A Song for Wimbledon School of Art:
Part of the Order of Things
Songwriting commission (2021)
Songwriting commission (2021)
I was commissioned to write a song to mark the closing of Fine Art department at Wimbledon.
Writing this song, as an alumnus of PTBM at Wimbledon myself, I was reminded of all the ways that it supported me, inspired me, and helped me find myself – all the intangible ways that I didn’t see at the time. I don’t think you realise how much a place has changed you until years after. It’s worth reinforcing the importance of spaces like Wimbledon.
As one staff member said*, there’s “…an ethos of gentleness here, where people can feel confident to make a creative fool of themselves and build something genuine and original from that glorious mess”.
The things that I remember most vividly from my time studying here are little moments, fragments: interactions with friends during lunch time, being in a studio surrounded by people making stuff, the outrageous (definitely not risked assessed!) things that people did. One example of many: watching someone in my class build a wrestling ring and then wrestle… a chair, whilst another student played the role of referee, and heavy metal music played out of a massive PA system. Wimbledon slowly, quietly, gave me permission to make what I wanted. And ultimately built my confidence to start making music (I entered here as a painter, and left a musician!)
The refrain of the song comes directly from a story another alumnus* told me about the wood-work technician going above and beyond to restore his grandfather’s wooden plane. “It’s all part of the order of things” was what the technician said when they handed the plane back to the student. Quite a whimsical remark on the surface but, as the student said themselves, with a subtext that he didn’t get at the time… a slight bitterness perhaps? Now, as an educator, I have seen behind the curtain of HE in the UK – the student satisfaction surveys, budgets, all the seemingly necessary, quantifiable things that appear antithetical to creative practice. Yet, this hasn’t dimmed the knowledge of the magical, messy space that Wimbledon carved out, and the vital possibility within it. These things co-exist. I am sad that Fine Art at Wimbledon is ending, and I rejoice in the multiple ways it will continue.
*This was Jennet Thomas
*This was Richard Whitby
Writing this song, as an alumnus of PTBM at Wimbledon myself, I was reminded of all the ways that it supported me, inspired me, and helped me find myself – all the intangible ways that I didn’t see at the time. I don’t think you realise how much a place has changed you until years after. It’s worth reinforcing the importance of spaces like Wimbledon.
As one staff member said*, there’s “…an ethos of gentleness here, where people can feel confident to make a creative fool of themselves and build something genuine and original from that glorious mess”.
The things that I remember most vividly from my time studying here are little moments, fragments: interactions with friends during lunch time, being in a studio surrounded by people making stuff, the outrageous (definitely not risked assessed!) things that people did. One example of many: watching someone in my class build a wrestling ring and then wrestle… a chair, whilst another student played the role of referee, and heavy metal music played out of a massive PA system. Wimbledon slowly, quietly, gave me permission to make what I wanted. And ultimately built my confidence to start making music (I entered here as a painter, and left a musician!)
The refrain of the song comes directly from a story another alumnus* told me about the wood-work technician going above and beyond to restore his grandfather’s wooden plane. “It’s all part of the order of things” was what the technician said when they handed the plane back to the student. Quite a whimsical remark on the surface but, as the student said themselves, with a subtext that he didn’t get at the time… a slight bitterness perhaps? Now, as an educator, I have seen behind the curtain of HE in the UK – the student satisfaction surveys, budgets, all the seemingly necessary, quantifiable things that appear antithetical to creative practice. Yet, this hasn’t dimmed the knowledge of the magical, messy space that Wimbledon carved out, and the vital possibility within it. These things co-exist. I am sad that Fine Art at Wimbledon is ending, and I rejoice in the multiple ways it will continue.
*This was Jennet Thomas
*This was Richard Whitby