Umoja

Well, initially, the lead in text here was going to read “where the ground opens up and makes you vanish”, however, due to me possibly being a bit too smart for my own good, it probably now should read:

“Have you ever had one of those moments where you actually knew where the nearest internet cafe was before you promised to do something that needs the internet”

What am I on about? Well, if I got my punctuation right on the sheet of paper I left on a desk at The Tea Factory, Liverpool, at least three people reading this should know exactly. For anyone else passing by, this post is in response to the final task set by the panel interviewing candidates for the position of Digital Content and Communications Coordinator with Liverpool Biennial.

At the end of the interview, I was asked to editorialise the interview process in the form of a blog post. I was then presented with a piece of paper on which to write. I’ve never written a blog post with pen and paper before and felt it would be difficult to complete the task satisfactorily. Should I be creative - write a Haiku? A limerick? Should I be cryptic – turn the sheet into a paper model? A plane? All these ideas came to me, but not a blog post. Not on paper. With a pen.

Truth be told, I have no idea how I can write a blog post using just pen and paper. I’ve cut and paste this paragraph several times already and if this was done on paper, I’d have been through a couple of sheafs by now. Also, my handwriting is no Swis 721 BT, but is this the reason why I felt this desire for the ground to open up and make me vanish (and write a really nice piece about my interview while it was at it). Why did I find this such challenge a struggle? I’m sure I used to know how to plan with paper and pencil…

Having considered all these completely non-blog ideas, I decided to leave a (virtual? paper?) “track back”. On the sheet of paper, after the paragraph that constituted the cause of my mental block, I wrote the following:

Track Back: Have you ever had one of those moments where…*

As you may have noticed, that is the opening line of this post. I placed a note to explain the track back led here to umoja (I wasn’t writing on ePaper) and that it may take me a bit to write the post, then high tailed it out to think about the job, the interview, the final task and how to tie this all up. I did that whilst wandering around the town, then realised I’d better get to a place where I could write these thoughts down. Thank goodness for google’s mobile applications - a quick check on their mobile map search helped me find what claims to be the oldest internet cafe in Liverpool.

So what are my thoughts? Well, first off, I can’t write a blog post on a sheet of paper. Does this mean I can’t create a blog post?

No.

In composing this entry, I have demonstrated an ability to write an actual blog post (and hopefully disguising my atrocious spelling). In a matter of minutes after composition, by clicking publish I will have allowed these words to be scrutinised by any one who passes them on the world wide web as well as the three people this post is explicitly targeting. Some one may even want to say something about these words. These words may or may not be flattering. Who knows?

In the very near future, I would like to be creating thought provoking comment for Liverpool Biennial whilst undertaking the role of Digital Content and Communications Coordinator. Luckily, the ground didn’t open up underneath me earlier, instead it inspired me to think about my blank sheet paralysis, inspired a creative response and hopefully led three people here to read this.

I had many more thoughts and ideas on the walk to the internet cafe and I hope to be able to bring these to Liverpool Biennial to help them deliver their message to a world wide audience and to foster discussion about art, its boundaries, its audience and pushing them all forward.