Emma Cocker is a writer-artist based in Sheffield and Associate Professor in Fine Art at Nottingham Trent University. Operating under the title Not Yet There, Cocker's research focuses on artistic processes and practices, and the performing of ‘thinking-in-action’ emerging therein; on models of (art) practice and subjectivity that resist the pressure of a single, stable position by remaining wilfully unresolved. Her mode of working unfolds restlessly along the threshold between writing/art, including experimental, performative and collaborative approaches. Cocker's practice involves ‘contiguous writing’ — a mode of creative-critical writing that seeks to touch upon rather than being explicitly about. Her writing has been published in Failure, 2010; Stillness in a Mobile World, 2010; Drawing a Hypothesis: Figures of Thought, 2011; Hyperdrawing: Beyond the Lines of Contemporary Art, 2012; Reading/Feeling (Affect), 2013; On Not Knowing: How Artists Think, 2013; Choreo-graphic Figures: Deviations from the Line, 2017; The Creative Critic: Writing as/about Practice, and as a solo collection, The Yes of the No, 2016.

Event: Where does thinking/making happen?

Presentation as part of an event Studio/Situation, where members of the fine art team at Nottingham Trent University were invited to respond to the question, “Where does making & thinking happen within my practice?” or else perhaps ‘Where is my studio?” Building on recent discourses examining the role of both studios and situations within contemporary art practice, the event examined different perspectives and strategies relating to where (and how) artists make and think.
As part of this presentation, I addressed the important of my own studio as a space for endless reassembly, making and unmaking, where ideas are never resolved as such but endlessly revisited and rewoven. 

I am interested in Penelopian labour (the weave and unweave of a practice) - the doing and undoing; the holding of ideas together, and their disassembly, recombination. For me, studio is where piles of books are endlessly resorted, re-stacked, a place for shuffling ideas and works. Studio thinking is unfixed, an ever-turning over; always dissolving or collapsing before it ever gets too certain or sure. Once again, I return to a quote from Luce Irigaray when I think of my own use of a studio, where the search seems less for fixed and definite 'thoughts' and 'forms', but rather for that illusive "'other meaning' which is constantly in the process of weaving itself, at the same time ceaselessly embracing words and yet casting them off to avoid becoming fixed, immobilised".