Page 114 of The Examiner

Clients make ropey decisions the whole time. But they’re paying. I vote we do what they say.

Jem Badhuri

I vote you keep your oar out of a project you haven’t done anything for. Don’t even know why you’re still in this message group.

Ludya Parak

If they don’t want binaural sound, they don’t want it. Way back, I said a collective sound experience is more appropriate to their brief, not an individual one.

Jem Badhuri’s Doodle Diary, 25 April 2024:

I’m fuming and it’s affecting my judgement. I’ve been working on that head for weeks, and now Mae says she doesn’t want the binaural soundscape. To them it doesn’t matter. To me, it does. Shape matters. It’s shaped like a very specific piece of equipment, and it won’t make any sense if we don’t use that equipment in our installation. No one else cares. Grrrr!

I must calm down, but of course Ludya is delighted. I could hear in her voice how pleased she was. I hadn’t planned to lose my temper, but sometimes it’s necessary for other people to see how much you care. Anyway, after I’d told Mae exactly what I thought of her feedback, I headed for the storeroom to recover. I like the storeroom. The smell of the art materials, paint, resin, varnish, paper, wood. Very calming.

As I got to the door I stopped dead in the corridor. Someone was in there. You just know, don’t you? I froze instinctively, but I wasn’t afraid. I wanted to listen … who was it? Had one of them snuck away to the storeroom to rummage through the shelves while their colleagues crawled all over our installation with their stupid ideas and tone-deaf opinions? Or was it Griff, Tony or Rita? A BA student looking for supplies?

I edged round the corner. They were at the far end and must have had their back to me, because they didn’t stop searching. It was a girl from the development team. Jessica. I was introduced to her in quick succession with all the others and got a whiff of her fruity perfume. As she moved past me to shake Jonathan’s hand, somewhere I registered that her shoes didn’t make any sound as she walked. Was she intending to sneak off and look for something? The old radio that the sourcing team brought back from Somerset? Gela said it had woodworm and was disposed of, but what if that wasn’t true?

I slipped back out of the room and down the corridor, stood by the water cooler and gathered my thoughts. Is that why so many of them came today? So we wouldn’t be able to keep track of them? Who are they all anyway?

I’m going to write this here, because no one else will see it. I’m not going to mention it in my final essay, that’s for sure. I’m here to get an MA, and that’s what I intend to walk out of this place with. However, a few things have got me thinking about the people on this course. Chief among them: what I discovered during my visit to the Danners Gallery that I haven’t dared write down until now.

Doodle message group [Private] Jem and Jonathan, 25 April 2024:

Jem Badhuri

Hi Jonathan. I want to apologise.

Jonathan Danners

OK. Well, we all feel passionately about our work. Mae will understand that, I’m sure. The key is to move forward, fulfil our creative ambitions, but also meet the client’s needs and expectations.

Jem Badhuri

I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t mention something sooner. When I left the studio to calm down, I found someone snooping around the storeroom.

Jonathan Danners

Rita or a student from one of the other studios?

Jem Badhuri

It was Jessica from the RD8 development team. Could she have been looking for the radio? The one Gela said had woodworm?

Jonathan Danners

The radio was returned to RD8. Gela mentioned it.

Jem Badhuri

But people lie. They lie about all sorts of strange things.

Jem Badhuri’s Doodle Diary, 25 April 2024:

Dad and I wandered innocently into the foyer and I was struck by the acoustics. There was a muffled feel to it. The sort of atmosphere that would make a good background space for a sharp, crisp soundscape. I must mention that to Jonathan when I get the chance – the Danners Gallery could be my first-ever paying client.

Dad was in a good mood after his meeting, but taking him to an art gallery is like taking a dog shopping. It will follow you, walk when you walk, stop when you stop, but it has no interest in its surroundings. He paces after me, making acidic comments about the pieces on display. ‘I could do that if I had paper and paint, but I wouldn’t bother’ is a favourite of his. ‘Your work is better than that’ is a favourite of mine, although I wish he wouldn’t have that tone when he says it, as if even Jem, of all people, can do better.