As Sara and her band head off on tour around Europe, she shared this illustration of tour essentials. It’s also a good opportunity to revisit Blood, Sweat and Fears, an article Sara wrote when on a previous tour, in which she discusses what she learned about efficient tour packing
WHO GIVES A HOOT? THE CLOSURE OF THE OWL SANCTUARY
As The Owl looks set to close once more, I took a look at the history of the iconic venue and where its closure would leave the Norwich DIY scene.
The chaos and hubbub spill out to the quiet back streets of that historic mound by the castle. Red paint, skate decks and Antifa flags adorn the walls, and a rotating crowd of faces mill around the bar inside. The air is joyous and muskily sweet with the smell of human sweat, stained beer and crust punk looming miasmic and familiar. In some way or another, I know everyone in this room.
FREELANCE STRUGGLES: #SINKTOBER
Read Part One of Freelance Struggles here.
‘Freelance Struggles’ aims to vocalise and explore the realities of working as a creative freelancer in amongst a world of ‘nine to five-ers’. By collating a diverse array of stories from a variety of creative professionals this series hopes to contextualise the working art world and give space to discuss what it really means to become your own boss.
Along with its cooler weather, cosy knit-threads and overpriced pumpkin-flavoured beverages, October’s changing of the seasons includes the the seeing in of ‘Inktober’ for online artists. The worldwide challenge originated with the artist Jake Parker, who wanted to improve his inking skills and set himself the challenge of creating a new, fully inked drawing everyday for a month. The initiative has been incredibly successful on Instagram, where users share and support other artists and encourage each other to keep up with the challenge.
My illustration, ‘Sinktober’ highlights the sinking feeling of the list that keeps growing, the unattainable aspirations and goals you set yourself and the never ending deadline. It’s the restless feeling of carrying too much in what feels like the wrong direction. It’s the friends that you do not see, the family you have not called, and the many projects you did not say no to.
Featured image by Sara Harrington. It shows a person carrying several bags full of stuff whilst towing an indignant dog – the notations identifying the stuff being carried as the person’s workload and stress
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FREELANCE STRUGGLES: ILLUSTRATOR, 6 MONTHS IN
This series aims to vocalise and explore the realities of working as a creative freelancer in a world of ‘9-5ers’. By collating a diverse array of stories from a variety of creative professionals, I hope to contextualise the working art world and give space to discuss what it really means to become your own boss.
The crisp air shocks my puffy, tired face into some form of waking existence. The dog lead wrapped twice around my arm tugs and tugs – the tiny tyrant at the end insistent on getting personal with some arbitrary, malodorous gatepost. Ignoring the hunger gnawing in the pit of my stomach, I trudge on, disgruntled dog in tow. During this morning ritual my brain races as it thinks of self-made deadlines, promotional schemes to send to art directors, and commissions I want to apply for. Each thought tugs and tugs until no answer is arrived at. With no definite plan of how to approach my working day I walk on, still in my pyjamas. My partner left for work ten minutes ago, climbing into their calamitous car and cajoling themselves into the forty-five minute commute to their day job. I am already at work.
DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME – THE APOLOGY
A series exploring women and genderqueer identities within the DIY Punk and Arts scenes. In this installment Sara Harrington depicts scenes from her own experience playing in a touring ska punk band.
DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME
CW: verbal and sexual assault
Part of a series exploring women and genderqueer identities within the DIY Punk and Arts scenes. In this installment, Sara Harrington depicts scenes from her own experience playing in a touring ska punk band.
Trumpet case in hand, I try to enter the venue as my bandmates breeze on by.
‘I’m playing actually.’
This is uttered with an embarrassed air, the knock to my ego glances across my face. Fair enough, I’ve not been in the band long.
‘Oh, who are you with? There’s no guest list.’
‘Sorry, I play trumpet in the band.’
Lifting my trumpet case, I point at it awkwardly. A nod as it’s decided that I pass all requirements necessary to gain free entry to a show I’m playing. I go to join my bandmates as we pile our gear into the backroom and start setting up for sound check.Continue Reading