Blog

  • First horn piece and I love it

    The thicker cast came out great after just 22 hours and was really stable.

    I put a gentle curve in it and I am pleased with the form.

    I can’t wait to glaze this in the new year.
  • The Ordinary

    In the late 19th Century in Europe, there was a shift in the role of the artist from someone who had a prescribed role making images of monarchs and religious themes, to art becoming a more socially democratic thing. Worthiness, which was originally about position and hierarchy, became more flexible and people had the opportunity to capture the ordinary. And also to shif from literal depiction into more abstract expression. 


    This tied in with the rise of socialism; a perfect example of how art exists in context are of course hugely influenced by political, economic and cultural shifts. There was, in effect, a democratization of subject. However this is paradoxical because the art world has been, and still can be, very elitist.

    The advent of photography was also a total revelation; it changed so much.

    So why would artists choose to explore the ordinary in their work? There is a lot to be said for celebrating the ordinary for being ordinary; its relational and builds connection between us. But it’s also interesting to elevate the ordinary to the extra ordinary.

    For example, Andy Goldsworthy makes extraordinary ephemeral, temporary structures employing nature and spit.




    ‘Andy Goldsworthy’s work receives accolades for its lack of manufacture. Each piece features nature unadulterated: branches, stones, leaves, and snow. It takes an effort to step back from Goldsworthy’s virtuoso performance and see beyond feats of technical skill, to realize that his art consists not in uncovering nature but in his ability to make artifice appear naturalized. While Goldsworthy is the first to clarify that he uses modern tools and machines, he as quickly emphasizes that when adhering chains of poppy petals or icicle spirals, he uses no glue: “spit” is his adhesive. And the backdrop for this work is nature—he situates his art on forest grounds or in trees or streams. Because of its association with nature or, in the case of the cairns, pre-modern culture, Goldsworthy’s work tends to be seen as a visionary transmission direct from nature itself. His ephemeral sculptures rely on an abstraction that has become so acclimated that it no longer requires any effort of vision, and the viewer does not notice it as art. Yet while nature is messy, sloppy, dirty, random, arbitrary, and overabundant, Goldsworthy creates order: meticulously selecting materials, sequence, and ultimate form. In Goldsworthy’s art nothing ever appears decrepit or gross.’

    This topic brings up the question: ‘What constitutes value or worthyness? What is worth recording?’

    Wolfgang Tillamans looks at this in his photography.


    I think that there is beauty to be found in almost everything. And there is value in honesty. Photography like this that serves as a kind of archiving of the everyday, that captures uncontrived ordinaryness, is really honest and beautiful for being so.

    Nowadays we have the freedom to choose what we depict, what we focus, on as artists. And this is a privilege. It is a privilege that everyday stuff can be celebrated and explored. I am mindes that context can still be important, for example, art that focuses on the ordinary is immediately deemed extraordinary for finding itself displayed in a museum or gallery.

    George Shaw 


    ‘George Shaw is a contemporary British artist known for his realistic depictions of banal spaces in the English suburbs. In the artist’s paintings, the presence of graffiti, litter, and architecture, creates an eerie sense of someone else being there. “For me, it was taking those clichés of epiphany and the sublime and putting them in a place where great thoughts aren’t rumored to happen,” Shaw explained. “It has been said my work is sentimental. I don’t know why sentimentality has to be a negative quality. What I look for in art are the qualities I admire or don’t admire in human beings.”’

  • Abstraction and Process

    Abstraction and Process

    I understood this theme to explore the idea that for some artists, their process in terms of visual language is integral to understanding their work. It’s another area of discussion and a consideration for making that I am fascinated by as I really really enjoy process and the making that “proceeds” art; it can be more important for me than any resulting work. 

    In a more ephemeral way, it explores fragile ideas in relation to art like truth, promise, expectation, what is fair, what has value, what and who deserves recognition and why. It really pokes at what art is, what it can be. What it’s allowed to be. I am excited about looking at and pushing these constructs and boundaries, playing with their elastic limit. 

    Richard Long’s text pieces are a good way to further consider the theme of process.

    “In the Cloud describes the moment Long walked over Ben Macdui, the tallest peak in the Cairngorms, and records how much time the artist spent enveloped in cloud. Another text work, A Cloudless Walk 1996 (Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, Edinburgh), describes a walk determined by the length of time the artist walked until he reached a cloud.

    The textual description of the walk provided by In the Cloud avoids mentioning extraneous details or using verbose language. Long has stated that ‘A text is a description, or story, of a work in the landscape. It is the simplest and most elegant way to present a particular idea, which could be a walk, or a sculpture, or both’ (cited in Tufnell 2007, p.45). The artist’s first text work was made in 1969 for the seminal exhibition of conceptual art When Attitudes Become Form: Live in Your Head at the Kunsthalle Bern (see Wallis 2009, p.47). That work, called A Walking Tour in the Berner Oberland: When Attitudes Become Form (whereabouts unknown), consisted of a text that included the first half of the work’s title proceeded by the artist’s name and the dates on which the ‘walking tour’ took place. In the same way as In the Cloud, this early work recorded a walk in pared-down and impersonal language. This use of language is characteristic of conceptualism, but for Long it is essential that the idea presented in the text has been executed, whereas other conceptual artists who make text-based work, such as Lawrence Weiner, privilege the idea over the possible realisation of an action. Regarding the use of text in his work, Long has commented:

    ‘One of the reasons why I started making text works is because it gave me another possibility, not using the camera or not necessarily making a sculpture. I can use words and they can give me different possibilities than I would get from using a camera. So, taking photographs does a certain type of job, records one moment, makes an image. And words do a different job. They can usually record the whole idea of a walk. They have a different function, sometimes a more complete function.’ (Cited in Tufnell 2007, p.69.)”

    How do we know he even did the walk? Would it matter if he hadn’t walked at all? Would this text piece still have value? Is it art and why?
    Process is an interesting thing to consider as an artist because it hits lots of ideas around professionalism and work ethic. Some folk get annoyed that artists, like Damien Hirst, would employ other people to make their work for them. They find it inauthentic, like cheating. I personally feel like as long as the artist, whoever they are, is being acknowledged and credited, it’s all fair and dandy. It’s collaboration.
    A type of making process that I naturally relate to is action or gestural painting. 

    “Gestural’ is a term employed to characterise the technique of applying paint with bold, sweeping brush strokes in a free and expressive manner.
    The term ‘gestural’ initially emerged to describe the painting style of abstract expressionist artists like Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, Franz Kline, Robert Motherwell, Hans Hofmann, and others, often referred to as ‘action painters.’ In Pollock’s case, he might use a dried brush, a stick, or even pour paint directly from a can, creating a sense that the artist physically acted out their inner impulses.
    The idea was that the viewer could perceive something of the artist’s emotions or state of mind through the resulting paint marks. De Kooning explained that he painted in this manner to continually infuse his work with various elements, such as drama, anger, pain, and love, allowing the viewer to interpret these emotions or ideas through their own eyes.
    This approach to painting draws its origins from expressionism and automatism, notably the work of Joan Miró. In his 1970 history of abstract expressionism, Irvine Sandler distinguished two branches within the movement: the ‘gesture painters’ and the ‘colour field’ painters.”
    A gestural painter that I adore is Franz Kline, the American painter from the New York School.

      
    Henry H II, 1959-60     
    West Brand, 1960   
    “It is widely believed that Kline’s most recognizable style derived from a suggestion made to him by his friend and creative influence, Willem de Kooning. De Kooning’s wife Elaine gave a romanticized account of the event, claiming that, in 1948, de Kooning advised an artistically frustrated Kline to project a sketch onto the wall of his studio, using a Bell–Opticon projector. Kline described the projection as such:
    “A four by five inch black drawing of a rocking chair…loomed in gigantic black strokes which eradicated any image, the strokes expanding as entities in themselves, unrelated to any entity but that of their own existence.”

  • Horn cast test piece

    It came out of the mould easily but the cast wasn’t thick enough to survive the manipulation of putting a curve into it without cracking.
    It’s still a pleasing form and I like the folds although it does remind me a bit of the wizened sorting hat in Harry Potter. Not exactly the aesthetic I was striving for.
    I used this test piece to explore the pieces limits structurally/ play around with how I can manipulate it better next time round.
    A part of the issue was that the cast was much drier at the top than the bottom, which made it tricky to shape cohesively without cracking/ compromising it’s integrity.
    I poured another much thicker cast and will take it out when it’s wetter tomorrow. I will stuff the next cast with newspaper before I/ as I bend it in the hope that this supports the structure while it dries.
    I will think on what I can lay it on too to support the shape as it dries. Maybe I can just nestle it in the actual horn, propped up.
    This whole experience was really teaching, I’ve learnt a lot about the pragmatics of working with ceramics and slip casting. Lots of error learning. Lots of knowledge gained, which is positive. 
    Onwards.

  • Glaze tests

    All my earthenware tests survived bisque firing and so I gladly had lots of pieces to experiment with.
    I enjoyed playing with some of the different glazes/ combinations available; I felt like an alchemical ceramic wizard! 

    I was diligent about my note taking throughout the process so I can replicate anything I love on main piece once the tests are fired. I used a combination of earthenware glazes and oxidisation compounds: ilmenite, silicon carbide and iron fillings.
    Ilmenite will produce some speckled browning texture. I experimented with a combination of mixing it with glazes and sprinkling it on the pieces.
    Silicon carbide will produce gas in the kiln, creating a bubbly surface texture.




    Notes for test pieces:

    Can’t wait to see how they come out.

  • Creative confidence wobble

    I had a wobble about creating a controversial piece of art for exhibition; the kneeler. I’ve put a lot of consideration and heart into the kneeler particularly because it’s talking about complicated loaded stuff. Even for me, it feels like a lot to hold, and I]m pretty broad minded and robust.


    I feel really grateful because I had a helpful impromptu chat today about it all with Liz and Tom. 


    This exhibition is a huge opportunity and I really want to use that platform; the issues I’m referencing need talking about. Indeed not talking about them is a part of how the harms perpetuate. 
    We agreed that the phrasing I’ve chosen is subtle and ambiguous enough to be pre-watershed and appropriate for the gallery context, but that it was still powerful, interestingly nuanced and will have impact. 

    As in, might piss some people off. But all political art is inevitably going to piss someone off.
    And if people get offended, good. I’m not making art to be polite. I’m making art because I want to and can, it is my drive and joy and privilege to do so. I’m making art informed by my past and current context because I’m not sure there’s anything else I can do with it all. I have things I want to explore, to play with and offer up for interaction and examination. Being an artist gives me the platform to do and say these things that otherwise might be constricted or be perceived differently; as in, she’s fucking mad. 

    So I’m going to be brave, trust myself and let my creative instincts run. Context is all and on reflection I think I am just feeling emotionally sensitive due to a personal family issue rearing it’s head this week, and that this transferred into my confidence about the piece. 
  • Cross stitch design

    I made this design using Microsoft Paint after setting the canvas to the dimensions needed; 21cm x 31cm inside the border with 15cm outside to cover the sides of the stool cushion. I love how it’s come out. It looks, at first glance, like a traditional kneeler.
    I used this cushion image as inspiration for the border pattern.

    I need to get this printed onto 12 count canvas asap so I can get stitching. I unfortunately cannot use the textile studios sublimation printer as it’s run out of ink so I will have to look at the other option I researched to get it printed this week. It feels so good to get moving on this.