I have been thinking I should stop my habit of collecting random images with vaguely iconic undertones; it doesn't seem to have any higher purpose. And what of my vast collection of wine corks, any use anyone? As my stockpile of pebbles with holes is nearing one hundred and thirty (yes, I counted them once), I've begun a new collection of only white ones - the striped collection was slower to grow. It is rather disappointing however, when I get home from a day at the coast with my precious new white finds only to realise there are many subtle variations of white in the natural world - so in due course attention to their arrangement will be crucial.Today, I dug out a drawing I had completed back in 2004, faint, wispy scribbles and contours on white board, encased in a white frame.
Now, it seems only natural to want to paint everything white and start all over again...Here are just a few of my found crosses...
Sublime Decay
It was back to the day job today - a day in which I had interesting conversations with two different colleagues - two who separately declared themselves not to be artists but their artistic interests and opinions were as valid as any professional artist I have met. One had visited my website and was interested in my abstract photography and complimented me on my style of writing. He then talked of taking photographs of old shed doors and the ripples in mud flats. My other colleague asked me at what point I had become interested in all things weathered and rotten(!) to which I replied it is really about decay, the sense of seeing a reflection of one's own mortality in all living and dying things - a need to seize the moment or vision, for tomorrow it be no longer be, look or feel the same.The passage of time is an elusive but relentless force, forever retreating into its past, framed only by our memories of it (perhaps helped by writings, images, objects). Time ahead, although perceptible, will still throw up an unforeseen event - prediction or foresight is not a science. Of course, sublime means something which inspires awe or wonderment, perhaps leading to a spiritual enlightenment or personal insight - and so why not the ripples in mud, evidence of other powers at work - an image which will be erased by the following day. My other colleague had taken a number of photographs of fire jugglers and the moving lights at a festival (taking the advice of sometimes shooting from the hip) and it caused me to think back to my own 'light drawings' from 2003, images which I had never thought to post here as I couldn't see any obvious connection to my other work...
I am not sure that they are at all sublime, but they cannot be captured again - like mist, rainbows or vapour trails in the sky, captivating yet intangible, a beauty seemingly devoid of actual substance. The last image displayed here was the best of many attempts to draw a star shape at night time. I think in truth, its visibility was born out of a process of decay - wisp-like forms slowly weakened, furiously burning through a phantom trail of its own making; I just enabled its geometry with a slow-exposure....
Little Star December 2003
visual distillations
I have been pondering a little on the tags abstract artist and abstract art. I dislike these terms because people have so many preconceptions - such as it's easy art! My work is not formal abstraction but visual distillations of real experiences. My work has evolved in this way due to the comparative solitude of rural living.
edgescape rubel 2007, mixed media on panel, 100cm x 100cmI recently went to a retrospective exhibition of the paintings of Howard Hodgkin at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, and his work epitomises just such abstracted experiences. Their sources may be an Indian sunset, an overheard conversation, taking afternoon tea, or seeing a picture at an exhibition. Hodgkin refers to them as representational pictures of emotional situations.There were some very large paintings and many small paintings, all hung on walls papered in gold. The small paintings were jewel-like in contrast to the background, incredibly vibrant and precious, quite exquisite. I really felt the playful flourish of his brushstrokes and I imagined the sequence of the colours applied, what kind of brush might have been used on that day, the pressure and angle of the stroke of paint as it was applied.Many of his paintings had start and end dates, so the relationship between painter and painting seems intimate, perhaps difficult at times, but hopefully resolved to Howard's satisfaction.I related to the difficulty with making paintings, falling in and out of love with a painting, trying to resolve the idea or emotion that started the relationship. No wonder Hodgkin can only bear to work on (and look at) one painting at time in his studio - you can truly only have one lover, truly, madly and deeply...
Howard Hodgkin Venice Grey Water 1988-89