July Studio Work

Throughout July, much spare time has been devoted to experimentation and construction of items to aid the physical process of painting etc. I built some corner devices in order to stack pieces in the working position and be able to work on several at once. Previously, I had used unreliable lengths of wood to similar effect.

Shown above left is the continuing development of 163. I have been enjoying the creation of home-made paint, though have no idea of its longevity. Theoretically it will have the same properties as corporate paint, but with a greater colour strength and depth.

Yesterday, I purchased items in order to facilitate the birth of 143, a work inspired by a Jet Engine. The very early stages of an armature can be seen above right. Meanwhile, 162 continues at a regular pace, having been subjected to a number of coats of varnish.

A Friday in London

Alison and I spend a day in London after deciding to stay at a Travelodge in Ilford. Our first stop is the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, which excitingly contained a paperwork by my former University colleague Iavor Lubomirov. The show is often too crowded to appreciate individual works properly, and very much more like a shop than an exhibition. I'd just like to list what I felt were particular highlights, rather than elaborate, as the aforementioned shopping aspect really detracts from comprehending complex associations.

Ian McKeever (red Assembly Painting)
The names I jotted down were just glimpses of works that I found visually appealing. Ian McKeever seems to be the only one who, on further research, has an inspiring body of work and fascinating publication, In Praise Of Painting. The first part appears to be on the topic of light, a subject which always seems to be in my thoughts somewhere, if not altogether articulated to the point of complete understanding.

Mimmo Paladino
Sandra Blow
John Keane

In a superb Gallery VII:
Giuliano Cardella
Nicholas Carrick
Amanda Welch
Joanna Phelps
Karoly Keseru
Natasha Zavialov

Martin Honert
Wilhelm Mundt
Bill Woodrow
Gary Martin
Tatsuo Miyajima


Later, after being rained on and having lunch, we journeyed to Tate Modern. There's an informative exhibition on the comparisons between some of the world's largest cities, in which it is revealed that London is particularly small in most ways other than making money.
Also at Tate Modern, in the Level 2 Gallery, was Learn to Read, an exhibition surrounding the use of text as a visual device and its subversion - or 'miscommunication and erasure'. The use of text is beginning to seem slightly juvenile to me - a little angsty. It's not as terrible as "I am angry. I am trapped in a box and can not get out", but it leans in that general direction in places. Some of the more mature works floated my fancy, such as Graham Gillmore's 'Vull and Noid' and some by Frances Stark. Shrigley, as always, was another highlight. Photographs annotated by his characteristic felt tip pen.

Private View: Goldsmiths MA Fine Art

As a series of workshops we're running at the Galleries take a day off, our new Nikon D40 is delivered. Ian, Rule and myself take a lunchtime journey to the life drawing room to test it out whilst also having a jolly good time with Ian's tiny remote control helicopter. Results are delightful.

Rule and I return to Goldsmiths for the MA Fine Art Private View. I write now, some few weeks in the future with only very vague memories and a small pile of postcards that don't offer any particular reminders. We may or may not have discussed whether expectations rise when coming to Goldsmiths, which explains the general sense of disappointment. Alternatively, it could've been that bad. Not one to dwell on the downsides, I shall jump in with praise for the few works that tickled my boat.

Harriet Hill's giant felt trumpet tubes and Louise Brierley's oddly abstract paintings of interiors offer the only real ambition. There's a sense that Hill's tubes could either suck you into them, or excrete some awful substance. Brierley's paintings seem to describe space in a way that makes it impossible to imagine, and therefore the paintings are forced to be seen as paintings, instead of representations. Or representations of spaces that can't be imagined. This gives them a sense of power and control over the viewer, more benevolent than anything.

Robb Jamieson dresses up as Rebecca Ann Harris to tell the amusing side of September 11th in video. I'm not usually a big fan of video or performance work, but this was humorous, entertaining and well produced. I think I'd need to see it again before making any in depth comments, though the highlight was the sequence involving Jamieson, as Rebecca, (and another) dressed as the twin towers, flying a remote control plane into himself. Quite possibly a poignant metaphor as well as hilariously memorable. Jamieson seems to have a series of alter-egos committed to video, though I'm yet to see all of them.

Abram Games

We've now put up one of the exhibitions I visited in Wales a few months ago, Abram Games: Maximum Meaning, Minimum Means, in the James Hockey & Foyer Galleries, Farnham Surrey, and it opened on 23 June. If I may quote directly from the website:

"Abram Games (1914-1996) produced many of the most memorable and graphic images in wartime and post war Britain. As well as hundreds of posters Games also produced stamps, book jackets and emblems including those for the Festival of Britain and BBC Television."

Despite a slow start to hanging due to some framing issues and sourcing some sparsely available materials, I think the quality of the finished exhibition is really delightful. Compared to the mess of some previous exhibitions, the whole process has been very smooth, which is extra pleasing as it's practically the first show the current galleries team have effected from start to finish. Still to complete before the announcement of 'a beautiful success': Educational Programme, including typography and poster design workshops, and a couple of expert talks.

Martin Lambie-Nairn (pictured above) said a few well chosen words at the opening and was a superb speaker. He later bought a book from me (at the discount price, of course), along with many other people. A top-notch night for merchandise sales, seeing as we'd expected to sell about £100 worth throughout the 8 weeks of the show, but took £200 at the opening alone.

Degree Shows: London

On Saturday 16 June, Rule and myself ventured to London with hopes of something exciting from either Goldsmiths or the RCA.

The Fine Art/Art History Degree Show at Goldsmiths was delightfully well executed, barring a few disappointments as I'm learning to be the norm whilst these kinds of shows reveal very little about the development of artists or their work. I was relieved to find that Chris Baker's paintings were wonderfully impressive, having previously been disheartened to hear the phrase 'geometric forms'. As discussed with Rule, I think my definition of 'geometric' in this sense may be confused with 'regular'. In essence, I feared the use of masking tape.

Previous wonderings had questioned whether the course of Fine Art with Art History would distract from practical workings whilst theoretical modules took place. However, the combination of practical and theory is present in all Fine Art single Degrees, in some form. The combination at Goldsmiths, I presume, may be slightly more cohesive and useful in providing context for the process of creating work, and I only presume because it seems to translate well to the final show.

The quality of painting exhibited for the Fine-Art-on-its-own Degree show was distressingly terrible. Or it may have been trendy, and therefore 'awesome', but I found it to be disgusting. Rule suggested that Luc Tuymans could be to blame. I'm not inclined to disagree.

Meanwhile, other forms of work were noteworthy, including a particularly delightful use of camera obscura using the vistas from the top of the 'squirly metal building'. Being so put off by the quality of painting in general, I neglected to note the artist's name and really didn't pay much attention to the rest of the show. Rule later assured me that Matthew Lake's shed construction with video and someone else's re-edited version of 'Vertigo' were of a fine calibre.

Lunch was had on the East London line between New Cross Gate and Canada Water, and included a cheese/bacon slice from Sainsbury's, later polished off with a Cornflake Cluster.

Oddly, I'd not been to the RCA before Saturday, so it was a fine treat. Tainted by the disaster of Goldsmith's Fine Art, our mindsets were somewhat negative and it wasn't until later that we realised that some of the work was particularly superb. Rule noted this realisation on the train home, whilst I have only just considered it.

James Ryan's paintings were sufficiently irregular and sombre for my liking, suggesting a landscape slipping into industry, or something similar, and were slightly reminiscent of Callum Innes's work. Simon Cunningham's 'Duck/Rabbit' stands out as a particular highlight, alongside Adam James's decision to condense a passage from the bible, using Microsoft Word's Auto Summarise feature, to two pages of the word 'Lord' repeated incessantly, and Thomas Smith's video of singing pilots. All three artists engender a comic yet gravely sincere and, I suppose, satirical atmosphere. These may well be my favourite qualities to find in an exhibition because they're genuine. There is nothing that is pure; just combinations of factors. In other words, Relational Aesthetics.

Intention

The intention is that paintings are an extension of my outlook, as it may be at the time or as it develops over a period of time. That work seems to be 'inert' is an inviting idea. The structures are large, yet manageable, imposing upon certain spaces, but never aggressive. They exist with very little purpose except that someone desires their existence. They develop as children, if somewhat wooden, or perhaps as trees described like sentient beings in a fairy tale, for instance. Starting as pieces of pre-cut timber, then combined together and slowly acquiring layers of paint and varnish and growing over an extended period of time. Grouping together as a family, or families.

Continued Construction

Quite recently I have continued construction to arrive at a stage where I can begin to reconsider the process of painting. Since previously constructing the support for 163 (shown above on the right) I have managed to put together to a similar stage the beginnings of a work called 162 (shown above left). It will consist of a pillow set into the support and surrounded by layers of off-white/yellow varnish. My pillows tend to go slightly yellow with time. I'm not sure if this is usual or just due to grease and guff rubbing off of my head. The work will look like a bed, I assume, when finished and I'm treating it as a doorway to a space less tangible than a room. I'm trying to consider and assess what happens when the work is moved from the horizontal to vertical, and decide whether it might be important. This is a regular consideration whilst I often paint when the work is flat on the ground. I find myself lacking the appropriate language, theory and group dynamic to be able to make confident choices on such matters, and wonder whether this will lend some element of vulnerability to the work, which would seem useful or appropriate, or essentially lead it to become weak and pointless. I'm happy to rely on the language of painting and process previously explored, and continue to engage with a sense of the repetitive. The repetition brings comfort, which may eventually lead to confidence. At some point, at a juncture lending itself to stagnation, I will read back over some old journals and sketchbooks to gain a perspective on my journey to this point. As I recall, it involved much repeated changing of opinions and so far seems to continue.

Construction

The weekend has been spent on some productive construction activity. After a disastrous bout of unconvincing customer service at Homebase on Friday (who, as a result, I shall not be using again), Saturday was spent laying the groundwork to my first work of note since leaving University approximately twelve months ago. Today, the supports have been completed to the standard pictured above and will require some kind of sealing before its inaugural coat of paint.

This latest painting is numbered 163, titled 'Do Not Obstruct', and is intended to be a 'return' to the cellular structures that had been previously explored. I'm aiming for a dark vibrant red cell in off-white/yellowed surroundings, but there are no guarantees of the future. Hopefully, it'll contain a hint of humour, but in a deadpan Paul Merton style. I once saw Paul Merton taking a tour of Tate Modern. He's very tall.

Degree Shows: RCA Sculpture, Slade BA

Our recent visit to London took in vaguely work-related tours of the RCA Sculpture Show and the Slade BA Fine Art show. Immediate impressions of both, but especially the RCA, incorporated a vast sense of ambition. I'd like to equate this sense to my impression of reality through spoken languages that have limited names for colours. Or not entirely this, but coming to notice the subtle differences between Universities, and understanding what seems like varying student attitudes. Essentially, I'd not noticed the differences between resultant exhibitions from different Universities until this point.

Particular highlights included, from the Slade, painting by Michael Armitage, Gemma Nelson and (for Rule) video work by Jack Strange. At the RCA Sculpture Show, Rule was particularly enamoured with odd kinetic/video/light based deals by Daniel Pasteiner, whilst I plumped for the carefully constructed painted brick spheres by Thomas Winstanley. Also can't ignore (literally) Jodie Carey's 'Untitled (Monument)', a giant wedding cake constructed from cast bones.

Process

"It's a moot point whether the act of making or the photographic record of it is the true "work". "
Guardian Arts

The nature of the conflict between the act of creation and the creation itself is seemingly somewhat overlooked in my experience. Questioning the importance of process over that of production was picked up at College during critique sessions in which fellow students seemed disinterested whilst I claimed that the finished work doesn't matter as much as making it. This ideal stuck unhindered until the point when I realised that the works I had completed held weight for me visually. It's worth the possibility of debate to dredge it up to be considered once again.

A painting is an artwork completed to communicate some aspect or combination of ideas, situations or moods. However, the artistic satisfaction comes from the act of creating the work, and its validity is decided by the individual participant through a period of consideration inspired by the visual connotations of the work itself. In these areas, the process forms an experience of the work, for which the work is a catalyst. The work cannot exist without the actions required to make it, and it is reduced without the experience of its participation. The experiences and processes can and do exist without the necessity for an artwork, and therefore the process is of more importance than the physical outcome.

* * *

A small portion of today has resulted in becoming aware of how often I switch off at the mention of certain references. For instance, throughout University I completely ignored anything said about Duchamps or Beuys simply because it happened so often. Today's realisation of this was caused by reading Matthew Collings in Modern Painters (June 2007) considering an essay he's writing:

"It's about Picasso in the early 1960s dissecting his own art, redoing the same format in endless repetitions as if he's asking what painting is and coming up with repetition itself as the answer. Process is the point. Perpetual agitation is the mood. There is no culminating work preceded by a series of studies, just the studies. Every picture... is the work."

I realise that I'm expecting myself to elaborate on these points but, having nothing more informative to note than that I find them inspiring, I won't. The emphasis I wanted to make was on ignoring things when they might come as some use in attempting to clarify any desired objectives in the field of painting. Perhaps it's just that Collings has a viewpoint that doesn't just reiterate everything I've ignored in the past.

The process of creating work has become, or is becoming, a series of realisations on the considerations of others. It could be possible to construct a practise from curating and editing ideas already realised by those others.

New Studio Floor

I finally managed to construct myself a suitable surface on which to build paintings. The only real problem is the storage of paintings once they're done. Or the problem of transporting them to places with space to store them. Also, next step is shelving for the collection of items affectionately known as 'junk' that occupied the space beforehand.

I'm quite excited about the possibility of making some paint this weekend, or at least experimenting with the process. Shelving should be out of the way by the end of the week, and then I'll formulate a plan to complete an incomplete work known as 139. I have a series of unresolved ideas that also may need to be explored.

FE Show, UCCA Farnham

Not sure whether this is of much note. Rule and I visited after work on Monday 14 May and had a cup of orange juice each. Much of the work was certainly unimpressive and the display was generally shoddy, but I'm not sure whether that's what should be concentrated on. The Foundation course is mostly eight months of deciding which skills to hone in the future, rather than working on actually improving, and therefore the show works on showcasing potential. Rule and I didn't view using these terms, and were subsequently disappointed. Thinking back, there may have been a few candidates whose display suggested a tempting line of inquiry, though somewhat incomplete and unresolved. Perhaps they'll do something in the future.

Exhibition Visit: Wales

Abram Games - Aberystwyth Arts Centre
Comfort Zones - Oriel Davies

Took a work related trip to Wales to visit the above exhibitions on 23 April. By way of background, these two shows will be coming to the James Hockey & Foyer Galleries, where I work, in the near future.

First stop: Aberystwyth. It's a long way away. Abram Games was a Graphic Designer, most known for his work during the Second World War, and the exhibition showcases the development of his creativity, innovation and technical skill through 70 or so posters. Having spent a good six months researching and spending time with a lot of the designs, I was already curious to see them close up. The DVD provided an informative background to the nature of the works displayed and I found the show to be educational as a whole. The designs themselves are regularly branded as 'iconic', and one of the most intruiging aspects is how much they reveal of social history - of how the world acted at the time. For example, there's an image reminding soldiers to think about their personal hygiene that made me think about something to do with being in the army.

A few hours away in Newtown, Powys is Oriel Davies Gallery who have initiated the touring exhibition Comfort Zones, on the topic of questioning notions of 'home' and domesticity. It'll be at James Hockey & Foyer Galleries from mid November. The curatorial information we'd been reading on the show had seemed somewhat complicated and inaccessible, but the exhibition itself has a fun atmosphere and is well put together. Perhaps the most memorable and illustrative of the stated theme is Nina Saunders' collection of works that remind me of Stuart Robinson's subverted objects. Distorted furniture and animals combined. Half a fox stuffed between the cushions of a sofa-esque item. I noted a lack of particularly expressive works. The collection has a certain cold and distant overriding feel. Topics tackled in a deadpan Gilbert and George style, with subjects seemingly needing to be held at arms length in order to comment.

Exhibition Visit: Callum Innes, Modern Art Oxford

Callum Innes - Modern Art Oxford

Rule and I visited Oxford last Sunday (15 April) to see the Callum Innes show.

Before getting to the paintings, we had a quick look at some big red chests of drawers containing Raphael Vella's (not particularly) "intricate and meticulously executed drawings". I'm still trying to decide what I think of the method of display - involving the opening and closing of drawers. Essentially, I wasn't at all moved.

The viewing of Callum Innes' paintings almost took a similar route. Whilst completely engrossed in the deciphering of processes, I began to notice the absence of subject. This gave the experience an eerie quality similar to how I might imagine an empty factory with all the machines running. There was even perhaps an absence of the works' connection with itself, clarified by the five Dioxazine Violet works lined up on one wall. Although the paintings look similar and presumably use the same process and colours, they have a distinct isolation from the room and from each other. All the 'Exposed' paintings have an aggressive air, but this is muted by the aforementioned isolation, and reinforces the heavy atmosphere. I suppose it would be referred to as a kind of tension.

For me, the inspiration comes mostly from the act of painting. The works in the show seem completely immersed in themselves and in their process that the impression Innes leaves is oddly cold and mechanical. It makes the gallery setting seem a perfect location to show these paintings, despite the current climate of 'alternative spaces'.

Wimbledon

To the inaugural episode of writings.

Tonight, I am somewhat concerned with the usefulness of part-time university courses in practical based subject areas. Having very recently returned home this evening from an Open Evening at Wimbledon College of Art, I have decided to not pursue the Masters avenue for the time being.

The majority of questions regarded the format of the part-time route, and the questions themselves reveal the possible inability, and indeed unwillingness, to fully engage with the course. Examples include the question of transporting work to the College for critical analysis sessions, as part-time students don't have a studio base provided. The questioner herself revealed that her present situation (at Chelsea, no less) of being required to bring in work for discussion has resulted in her producing work smaller than she would like. The pleasure in being an artist is more a topic of having the ambition that results in work that you feel the necessity to produce. That she is willing to compromise to such an extent that her work is not what she needs to produce to satisfy her curiosity indicates that her motivation is probably not suitable for creating a dynamic course 'cohort'.

Similar examples include the lady asking whether putting together a portfolio of work from a few years ago, which isn't necessarily representative of the pathway and ambition she wishes to take, would be a disadvantage to her application. If she hasn't done any new work in the past few years, why is she applying at Masters level? Likewise with the lady who went to University for a year in the 1960s, but didn't complete her BA and who now wants to get back into artistic ventures, but finds that art schools have surprisingly changed 'an awful lot' in just 40 years.

The tutors attempted to disuade any part-time applications, but stopped disappointingly short of discounting them altogether.