It’s almost ironic that I was asked to post it tonight – on the day when I really, really wanted to move away from writing all about myself. Well, I guess if I write down my own experience ofCatweazle Club I might attempt to explain its uniqueness.
There is a lot of background information to this story, but to cut it short let me only tell you that about 4 years ago I have separated from someone who actually asked me to come to the UK with him and who is the dad of my son. Now, as a result of the separation I have spent about a year at home with my at the time one year old son spending my evenings on activist blogging and building of my personal blogger brand on-line. I have however put aside most of my artistic activities and I have not moved out apart from few occasions related to work or social media events. I was alone, though not really isolated. Happy to live and work in the quiet little town of Wantage with an amazingly happy little boy. Yet, I felt really, really lost. Let’s face it – my entire plan of a happy family, new life in England and new job in social media marketing have failed. I was on my own, not really in position to discover anything, pretty much restricted by my at the time vague job position.
Few of my close friends encouraged me to continue my photo exhibitions and I think it was my only artistic activity at the time, I have to admit though that exhibiting photography can be pretty isolating – people do not even talk to the artist! One of my friends thought a bit more about my feelings at the time and decided to introduce me to Catweazle Club…
I will not tell you what Catweazle is about. It means various things to many people. To me, the first time I went there I felt I was at home: in the place I was trying to establish between my own four walls, failed and re-discovered elsewhere. Why? I am not sure. Sometimes it’s the warmth of the place. Sometimes its unpredictability – so close to my own nature. Or maybe the contrast between the fast, noisy and messy life I was living and trying to clear my thoughts and feelings, games we play and lies we tell and this almost hilarious reality of Catweazle Club performances. The truth we forget to speak of:
Today my life is different. Better. Happier. Today I know that what I thought of Catweazle Club at the time really applies to the entire Oxford – openness, variety of life philosophies, painful honesty, art and clear value of relationships. And I go back to Catweazle Club with the same feeling of warmth and almost addictive need to hear, feel, experience more of it – more of people, their stories, their small mistakes and huge achievements, in this ordinary, weekly dosis of Oxford magic.
Today I am writing again.
There, it was supposed to be your story, and yet I hope it still is.