I recently showed this textural abstract landscape painting in an exhibition entitled colour values (with two other artists), at the Halesworth Gallery
edgescape:sylte, mixed media on panel, 95cm x 95cm framed.
sylte, detail.a close-up of edgescape : sylte 2006... it merges from a textured, crumbled brown-bronze black into a more mellow, eroded stone-like surface... again, not applied paint, but a myriad of negative paint traces, underlying textures through the removal of layers, a process which i believe is formally called grattage...silt, when separated from mud, is quite exquisite, almost shimmering fragments of sand and other mineral traces... the marsh river valley where i live is very windswept and the roads flood frequently, mud and silt in various forms is a regular rural encounter... i was pleased with the outcome, achieving a soft gradation from brown to grey-green, but it was hell to photograph...here are some images of the painting as a work in progress, from early 2006...
04 january 2006...
16 march 2006...
25 march 2006...view more abstract paintings in this series...
perception, memory, insight
I am currently one of the selected artists exhibiting in the Suffolk Showcase at the BSE Art Gallery. The exhibition runs until 5th August 2006. Apparently, nearly 500 works were submitted from around 200 artists, around 50 of which are exhibiting in the final show. I only submitted one piece in the belief they would only show one if given a choice. The £1000 Artist Prize was awarded to an artist (name escapes me) whose most bizarre work was a video of an ant circumnavigating the rim of a large tub of peanut butter, a piece simply entitled Equator. I am not sure if I get the full message, since my interpretation of this piece is that it suggests the physical expanses of the world which we inhabit are offset by our perceptions of its boundaries - clearly an ant's world is somewhat smaller than a human one, and its persistant circling is either a feat of ant endurance, boredom, or just plain delusion. I would like to have seen the ant disappear into the peanut butter, but perhaps the (not so) shrewd editing is designed to give us the impression that this ant has no interest in the peanut butter inside, but is enjoying the rollercoaster thrill of the outer ride - an ant with an insane lust for lving life on the edge! The crunchy, oil-laden goo, which incidentally cannot be seen in the video (an empty tub methinks and the brand of the tub is Meridian yet another clue?), will no doubt provide some nourishment for the ant but it will also lead to a very sticky demise. Ah, I get it, it's about gluttony and temptation, the moral quandaries of life - but for me the bigger question looms over such conceptual work - it's interesting to watch, is it art? It poses more questions than answers, so that any evidenced artiness is actually created by me (and the other viewers) of the work in the multiple meanings and interpretations - but such is the way of all art. I wonder what the selectors saw in this piece, and what were they honouring in awarding the artist an (conditional) artist award?At the private view, I was able to have a brief but engaging conversation with one of the selectors for this show, the artist Roger Ackling. He asked if I was familiar with the work of Hamish Fulton a contemporary of his, who I initially confused with the other acclaimed artist who uses poetry in his work - Ian Hamilton-Finlay (sadly died earlier this year). It's always difficult to talk about one's own work, but I had to explain that in my work I wanted there to be a visual resonance, a time/space to aid contemplation, since their material substance can only offer glimpses of a (natural) source. I was somewhat irked that my piece of work had been bunched-up with the other so-called abstract works - there was only a 4-5 inch clearance around it. He agreed that the work needed a physical breathing space and also observed some emotional detachment in its construction, as if the work had no desire to acknowledge a physical prerequisite (hence my non-descriptive titles). I was minded to recall the words of Aldous Huxley in the The Doors of Perception, in which the author describes his acute fascination with the material folds of fabric in his clothing, rather than the wider surroundings of the room in which he conducted his mescaline experiments.Ackling, in his opening speech to the gallery gathering, talked of all art registering whether or not it had been selected for this or any other show. I am intrigued by the idea of visual things merely registering at first, perhaps taking time to surface fully, needing to be revisited at a later date, their significance only coming to light after some quiet deliberation.On the drive back from the private view at around 9.30 pm, with the sun behind me and an open view of a near clear and gently undulating road ahead, all the deserted laybys that I passed appeared very tranquil and beautiful places, drenched in the honeyed light of a descending sun, compact pockets of wilderness interlaced with the scattered remains of agricultural crops left to seed naturally and die back, microcosms of an adapted nature, each exerting themselves right up to an unforgiving and polluted highway. Only yesterday, whilst cycling near the river, I witnessed a large curl of abandoned carpet in a hedgerow, its hessian backing successfully blending into a backdrop of sun-dried hues of pale brown and beige of the faded flowerheads and wisps of long grasses. On both of these occasions, it was fated that I could do little more than observe and acknowledge - the battery of my small camera was flat, and so what resonates now is an everfading memory. Although it is conceivable I could return to these locations, I now rather like the softness of the experience - registering as thoughts and lingering as memories rather than needing to capture a full-blown, truthful and detailed image on film. Therefeore, I am listening with interest the programme The memory experience currently being aired on BBC Radio Four...
Edgescape #19 - mixed media on panel
Curiouser and curiouser!
I've just sent an email to a student in art and design, in reply to the following questions. It is apparently to help with her visual research journal (perhaps that is how she found mine). I've received a few emails like this from time to time and I thank her curiosity or interest in my work for helping to add a new entry to my journal...Why do you choose to work in mixed media?I am not sure it's always a conscious choice to use mixed media, it's more intuitive than that, based on what seems right at the time. However, I am very concerned with the physical presence and tactile qualities of materials and the creative possibilities contained thererin. I did my Masters Degree in printmaking and learnt how to grind pigments for ink, pulp paper and use chemicals to alter the physical surfaces of things. I began to enjoy more the experimenting with raw materials (copper, wood, paper, etc) than merely visualising finished images for prints, which could be made by knowledge of a particular process. In my degree show, I did a series of cast paper reliefs on the thirty-six longest rivers of the world and constructed very large composite prints from contour lines of maps using deeply bitten copper and etched linoleum - even then the theme in my work was to do with the topography of the landscape. I still use a lot of basic printmaking methods in my work, such as transfer, surface engraving and monoprinting but these tend to be embedded within the layers of the finished work. Sometimes I am uneasy with calling them paintings since I rarely use a brush!How does your photography link to your paintings?Photography is often (but not always) more immediate in terms of realising an interesting image than painting. On some occasions I have been back to a location at particular times to take more photographs so that I get the image I want - light plays a big part. Whilst they are standalone images they do influence my other work to a degree - as ongoing visual references. Photography definitely provides a clearer narrative (its a real situation not reconstructed), but mixed media has a unique visual language of its own - a strong physical presence through the combination of media used - straight photography sometimes lacks these more emotive and visceral qualities. I do not consider my photographs to be artworks in themselves since they are so easily arrived at - but they do provide a complementary glimpse into my artistic concerns. A big influence on me has been the work of the Boyle family - their painted constructions are breathtaking, living photographs in 3D, if that makes sense. I would absolutely love to get a glimpse into their working methods! However, in my paintings (as mentioned above) the materials seem to take control, and so none of them are a direct copy or facsimile of a location, though of course I could not paint them without having first observed some object or detail in the landscape.Why do you title many of your paintings edgescape with a number but the photographs have different titles?It's a word I made up (though it may already exist!) - edge refers to locations or places which are marginal, peripheral, and to the physical edges of materials (even a simple line has two edges), scape signifies the lie of the land (as in original meaning/origin of landscape). Together they seemed to sum up my feeling of being both an observer of something real and yet also to do with the visual perception (and memories) of such subject matter and the finished artwork. As mentioned above, although derived from landscape, something changes in the translation from looking through to making so that I end up with something which only hints at its origin, which could also be perceived afresh when pictorial logic is removed (ie, a representational image). I also didn't want the works to be misinterpreted, rather they are very open to interpretation (to illicit a more intuitive or abstract response). So, the numbering system began - they link in many ways - in timescale usually (date started or completed) but also it helps to see them as an ongoing series. I've often felt duty bound to add a subtitle but these usually refer to the influence or use of a particular material in the making of it (as in Sylte for silt). Leonardo Da Vinci said in his Treatise on Painting, to look at the mud on walls, ashes from a fire, for here you will see beautiful new things - pretty advanced thinking for the time, but he was a scientist of sorts too. Regarding the photographs, as mentioned above, they're real, truthful, so the title is merely descriptive and are not intended to influence any reading or interpretation of the image.Which artists have inspired you and why?Da Vinci, as mentioned above for starters. Rothko was one of the first modern artist's work I saw in the flesh at the tender age of seventeen - I was astounded that pure colour could generate so much contemplation! Pollock too at this time since I really connected with the physical making of the work and the heartache behind it - not everyone gets it of course, but I think it's quite lyrical in essence. Over the years, I have been inspired by the work of many artists but perhaps more recently I would definitely say late Constable and Turner for their abandonment of formality, Schwitters, Tapies, Burri for their unconventional or unorthodox use of materials, Twombly for sublimely poetic works which have a genuine, unadulterated touch of hand, and now Anselm Kiefer - whose work is brutal and visually arresting but also quite intriguing and beautiful to look at on a formal level, despite the quite deeply moving subject matter. I suppose I must also thank Picasso for using collage in his Cubist painting period - prior to this, painting had very much followed a trajectory of pictorial illusion.Thanks for your questions - it's been good to sit down and answer one by one - I almost feel like a student again too - validating my work to my tutors!P.s Anyone reading this, feel free to email similar (or different) questions. They make for easy journal entries!