Regrets

I’ve spent the last few days chained to my laptop copying and pasting most of my 195 blog posts (now plus one!) into a word document. Am I regretting my decision to make a book out of my blog? No, because it feels like it’s ticking a big box somewhere inside of me – it’s keeping my chimp happy – I’m making something that evidences the last two years. It will leave me free to experiment with something else.

That said, I have already reminded myself that I have never made a book before and so the process is very much an experiment, and that I should have no expectations as to the result.

I have formulated a plan though. The book is going to be in A5 format as that avoids the need to deal with things like columns. I’m going to print it in a series of booklets – signatures – of 5 sheets of A4 which equates to 20 pages. These will then be stitched together – I’m currently thinking no more than 10 in a single volume and then covered with a hardback cover. I am thinking that I may use some canvas that I have knocking around which I could paint, draw, print and stitch onto. Alternatively, I could try sheer fabric, cotton or linen. I’ll need to experiment. Even the end papers could be pieces in themselves.

I have already formatted and printed off a couple of signatures. It’s definitely going to run to more than a single volume, so I think that I’ll format and print off the first 10 signatures and make a single book just to see how it goes, rather than spending time formatting and printing out all of the blog.

Thus far the process has revealed a couple of things. Firstly, I need to be mindful that future posts will have to be included, so it may be an idea to limit posts going forward – but who am I kidding? Secondly, in carrying out the exercise I have relived the past two years and it has been helpful to note ideas that I have had along the way and which I could develop in the future, as well as discovering some draft posts which I didn’t publish, perhaps because I wasn’t quite ready. This is an example of part of one which was on the subject of perfectionism:

‘But old habits die hard and when my mother became ill I couldn’t process it on an emotional level and so I became the best carer that I could be, which now I regret because at times it meant that I wasn’t the best daughter that I could have been. To this day I can’t understand why, when she said she fancied a gin and tonic, I told her that she couldn’t have it because she was taking morphine. She was dying, what did it matter? It is one of my biggest regrets. And when she didn’t eat one of the many offerings I had made for her, it was because I was a failure, because I wasn’t able to find that one thing that she would want to eat.

I had the same thought this evening as Monty, the dog, only had a few little bits of meat which he had been quite happily eating yesterday. What am I doing wrong? What is it that he wants that I’m not offering him?

And, of course, the answer is nothing. I can only do what I can do in the circumstances. If he was hungry he would eat. If my mother had been hungry she would have eaten. Even if they did eat, it’s not really enough to make any significant difference. I’m not responsible for them not eating. There is nothing that I can do on a practical level anymore to avoid having to deal with the inevitable outcome.

Reflecting II

I suppose that it’s only natural to pause and reflect on the fact that there are only 10 weeks left: 10 more Tuesday sessions with everyone, 1 more tutorial. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling as if time is slipping through my fingers like sand, that it seems like a blink of an eye since we started, temporally that is because I know that I have undergone enormous change in the interim. When I think back to the session in which we had to introduce ourselves and our work, I find it difficult to reconcile myself to the person I was back then. I now see, think and make differently.

I feel sad.

But all good things must come to an end. I’m trying to subdue that part of me that is panicking that I haven’t made the most out of the last 2 years. But I know that I have; what I’m feeling is the knowledge that there is so much more that I want to try and to experiment with, and that this is not the end, but the next step. So mingled with the melancholy is a flicker of excitement at what the future may bring.

Threads

Whilst I was in London I went to the Hayward Gallery to see Chiharu Shiota’s Threads of Life.

It was captivating. It wasn’t just the scale, the sheer amount and complexity of the thread, or its immersive effect, it was also the effect it had on what is viewed through it. I stood in front of the dress in the cabinet for ages. The fragmentation of the image of the dress through the threads gives it an almost spectral presence. I was also fascinated by how the threads were stapled to the wall, and woven in between each other, casting shadows which create further depth.

I watched some footage of her working when I got back, and looked at some of her drawings. They remind me of Do Ho Suh. Having used thread recently, I can see myself using it more in the future. I even like the effect of it in the photos, which are only 2D images.

Rejection

This time last year I was feeling like I had an awful lot to process as a result of the Low Res, and that I couldn’t really get on with very much until I had done so. This year I don’t have the luxury of time. The ‘end’ of the course is nigh. I really need to make the most of what time is left.

Thoughts inevitably turn to the end of year show. I’m still thinking that I will take Jonathan’s advice and keep on as I am, seeing where I am at when the time comes. I’m no longer fixating on a large final piece. I will probably show a few smaller pieces of work, depending on what I have to hand. However, I keep returning to the idea that my blog is a piece in itself. Jonathan and I have previously discussed making it into a book. From what I can see, there are websites that will do this for me but there is little editorial control, and I’m not sure that farming it out to a third party would make it a developmental experience. I think that I would like to make an artefact of sorts out of the blog, and I am thinking about making a book myself. How difficult can it be? Probably, deceptively so, but I’m going to give it a go anyway.

As with last year, I received my annual rejection from the RA during the Low Res. I think that’s the seventh year in a row. My instagram feed is littered with posts by successful applicants, and more recently by unsuccessful ones. They all prove how subjective art is. One caught my attention: how the applicant is trying not to take it personally, but how it is so difficult when she is her art.

I think that I am resolved that I am not my art – it is something that I have made; it is not me, at least not the present me. Even if it is, I came to terms a long time ago with the idea that I can’t please all of the people all of the time, and so it follows that not everyone will like the art that I make.

What’s The Worst That Can Happen?

I spoke with my daughter yesterday. After a short while it became apparent that something wasn’t quite right. She eventually told me that she felt really stressed. It’s difficult when all you want to do is give someone a hug but they’re miles away. It’s her final year: she has a dissertation due in a month and she starts her last set of exams shortly afterwards. She’s in a group of three and they are conducting an experiment, but circumstances have transpired that she has been the one who has had to spend day after day on campus conducting the testing of the participants, whilst one of her group has been abroad and the other has spent half of each week at home with his parents. She feels snowed under with work. She’s waking in the early hours, and not sleeping properly.

I asked her what is the worst that can happen? I don’t graduate, she replied. And what then? I have to redo the year. Is that such a bad thing? It upsets my plan. Well, that’s life, plans often have to change. So, if the very worst case scenario is not that bad, why make yourself ill worrying about it? We also discussed how she needs to be kinder to herself. I reminded her that it’s been non-stop since her car accident last May. She lost her summer holidays to pain relief, physiotherapy and trying to process the situation she found herself in, and no sooner was she emerging from it all than she was back at uni with the onslaught of the final year. I suggested that she discuss how she’s feeling with her supervisor – if you don’t tell people you’re struggling, they won’t know. I think she felt better – she said she did.

The conversation reminded me of the day in my early thirties when I walked out of the office to go to a meeting and realised that I just couldn’t do it and so I went home. I remember how I felt that day. I had an overwhelming feeling that I just had to get away – the best way to describe it would be as a survival instinct to run. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that it was the right thing to do. I was signed off work for two weeks with ‘exhaustion’, the culmination of running an expedited trial which instead of taking a year to progress, was condensed into less than a couple of months; working incredibly long hours, every day. I coped because I was expected to cope, and like my daughter I just got on with it, reliably taking up the slack. The night before I ‘ran’, my mother had told me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer – it was the nudge that had pushed me over the edge.

I learnt two important lessons from that experience: no-one is indispensable (they managed to get by without me) and how to say ‘no’. As a consequence work became more tolerable, but not enough for me to go back after maternity leave.

Whenever I hear that a friend’s child wants to be a lawyer, my heart sinks. I still feel uncomfortable when I go back into that environment. The visit to Clifford Chance’s offices during the Low Res to see Jo Boddy’s wonderful exhibition stirred up some old feelings. But worth it to see her amazing work. It was a privilege to hear her thinking behind her process, and how she went about its making.

Freedom

I used to think that the key to getting away from product driven working practice would be to free myself up – be looser and more expressive, be out of control, go bigger.

But I’ve recently realised that this isn’t necessarily the case. Maybe I’m not looking for drama, physicality or excitement. Some of the most satisfying moments have been making with repetitive mark-making and slow movements. I don’t need to be writhing around on the floor in a puddle of paint or covering huge pieces of paper with big swooping marks to free myself up; I just need to keep my brain distracted with the process.

Wien

I found myself back in Vienna in December – my husband had a conference and I tagged along as there were quite a few galleries we hadn’t made it to on our visit last year.

Also, I specifically wanted to go and see the Judenplatz Holocaust Memorial by Rachel Whiteread. There is an interesting history behind it and in many ways it echoes the city’s past. Walking around you get the sense that a lot of the city’s architecture remained intact after the Second World War. The city was annexed by Nazi Germany in early 1938 but didn’t suffer prolonged bombardment during the war, being targeted mainly towards the latter stages, and even then it was primarily strategic targets such as the industrial areas, until the city eventually surrendered to Soviet forces. Any buildings which were affected were rebuilt in line with their historical appearance.

As I left the hotel each morning I passed a statue which had been graffitied.

It’s a statue of Karl Lueger who was mayor of Vienna from 1897 to1910. He is a divisive figure. On the one hand he turned Vienna into a modern city by implenting major infrastructure projects including extending the water supply, introducing the tram transport system, building schools and hospitals and improving welfare. On the other, he was antisemitic and founded the populist Austrian Christian Social Party. He is believed to have influenced Hitler who was living in the city at the time, and who credits him in ‘Mein Kampf’ as being the greatest ‘German’ city mayor ever. Some believe that Lueger adopted antisemitic views in order to gain office and that they did not really represent his private beliefs. Whatever the truth, he is at the centre of an ongoing and controversial debate.

In an effort to come to terms with its troubled history, just over a decade ago the city renamed its main ring road which had originally been named after Lueger, and on which sit many prominent institutions including the University of Vienna, which had campaigned for change. The move has been divisive with accusations of whitewashing the city’s difficult history. The fate of the statue appears to be uncertain. There is a plaque next to it explaining Lueger’s legacy and his antisemitic beliefs and the graffiti which expresses how people feel has been left. There were plans to tilt it by 3.5 degrees to the right to give it an air of impermanence, but according to a friend who lives in Vienna, the cost of doing so would run into millions of euros and so it has been shelved for the time being. All I can say is that if I hadn’t seen it, wondered why it was covered in graffiti and read the plaque, then I would never have known, and I would have just walked on past. Incidentally, there areas of Vienna where graffiti, or more particularly, street art, is legal and encouraged.

But going back to Rachel Whiteread. There is a war memorial outside the Albertina Musem – the memorial against war and fascism. It was heavily criticised in particular because of the bronze figure of a kneeling Jew washing the street.

The Jewish community campaigned for a separate Holocaust memorial. Rachel Whiteread was chosen and her memorial is sited in Judenplatz above the excavations of a medieval synagogue which was uncovered during its construction. It resembles a bunker. The outside is lined with library shelves turned inside out so the spines and contents of the books are hidden – the nameless library. Apparently, Whiteread specifically requested that it should not have an anti-graffiti coating applied. Just opposite is a shop selling lingerie, and, when I was there, a couple were busy taking photos of themselves eating food. All very odd and out of keeping with the sense of solemnity created by the memorial. I spent quite a long time there – it demanded it. I also tried counting the number of books – by my reckoning there are 7,682. As a cast of empty space, it’s been suggested that it is almost a counter monument.

I walked around Vienna by myself, looking and experiencing. I took some photos and videos which I’m in the process of making into a video.

Feedback

Over the last couple of months I’ve had the benefit of receiving feedback on two occasions: Peer Feedback on my 3-minute video and Assessment Feedback for Unit 2.

Peer Feedback on 3-Minute Video

The first part was Emotional Feedback following the prompts ‘I feel…’, ‘I wonder…’, and ‘I think…’.

The feedback was incredibly supportive and generous. The words and phrases which particularly stood out for me were:

Reflection

Self-exploration

Open mind

Process

Letting go

Experimental

Experimental reflecting personal journey

Vulnerability

Openness

Impulsivity

Not avoiding or seeking to escape

Honesty

Threads

Don’t shy away

The second part comprised Affirmative Feedback using the prompt, ‘What worked for me…’.

Some comments which stood out for me:

Ever changing as people

Can relate to ‘choose the process, not the result’

Bravery in genuinely stepping away from the outcome

Feeling inspiration in seeing the processing of the process

Raw sense of vulnerability and the value of being transparent especially in this day and age

Letting the contours and mapping unfold and then running with it

Presentation seeming to be part of the work

Evidencing of own becoming and the becoming of each piece of work.

I’m pleased that what I’m trying to do is coming across, that it connects with others, and that the ongoing process of understanding myself and developing is intrinsically linked to the process of making.

It’s interesting that a few of my peers have mentioned that the process and the documenting of the process could be seen as being works in themselves. I’ve previously thought about possibly producing a printed form of the blog as a piece of work in its own right. I did a bit of research but decided that it might be rather complicated and time consuming. I might take another look.

Unit 2 Feedback

I was really pleased with the feedback for Unit 2. I was even more pleased with the number of questions that were posed, that have been loitering in the back of my head for the last month or so. Weirdly, some of them anticipated thoughts that I was already mulling over.

What role does the myriad of experiments, successful or otherwise, drafts, models etc play in representing the state of becoming?

Seen as a whole they represent an ongoing process of becoming. Each one is like a version of me at that moment in time. Whilst making and engaging with materials I learn about myself and develop, and often each step builds on what has gone before and influences future work.

How might these represent those thoughts, ideas and problems that are being worked through not yet resolved? How important is it to share this part of your process with your audience?

Many of the experiments produce works which are unfinished or unresolved, or which have the potential to be developed further. They evidence what doesn’t work, my decision-making, or lack of it, make me ask questions of both it and myself, lead me to dead ends and force me to change direction and think of new lines of enquiry. Some experiments result in work which I can’t take any further but which perhaps could be taken in a different direction in a different work. Does that mean that they are resolved? I need to differentiate between resolution and evidencing process. I don’t think it matters whether work is resolved or not. If it isn’t then that just reflects the way in which I remain unresolved. If the process happens to result in a resolved work then that’s ok too because that just represents a snapshot in a moment in time – I’ve already moved on to become another edition of me.

I vacillate between thinking that the work needs to evidence the process and that it doesn’t, that it’s enough that I prioritise it over the product, that when I look at the product, to me at least, the process is evidenced, that the product has embodied the process of making and consequently, my becoming. After all I could view a piece of work as unresolved and as evidencing the process, and someone could come along with their own interpretation and think the complete opposite. Also, I need to resist thinking too much about the product in terms of what I hope to achieve with it, because that risks influencing the decisions I make within the process, instead of just being in the moment, and it could give rise to an expectation which might not be met. Of course that’s all well and good in a world in which I can just experiment and see what happens. I am having tremendous difficulty in figuring out how to deal with scenarios in which I need to make specific work as an end goal.

Your primary focus on mapping in Unit 2 has both narrowed your attention and deepened the possibilities. As I read your reflections and research paper I can’t help but think of Snakes and Ladders, the Möbius Strip and the idea ‘we are the children of stars.

I feel like I’m in a game of Snakes and Ladders – no sooner have I made some progress and I’m half way up the board, then I am sliding down the snake. I was only thinking about the Möbius strip over last summer. I like anything like that – I like Escher and it forms the basis of a lot of his work. I was also fascinated by the Klein bottle, with no inside and no outside. I suppose that I am observing myself becoming as I am becoming, but there is no differentiation between either, in a process which is essentially a never ending loop.

The maps are made from doodling, you write ‘no intention, no expectation’ – how does it feel to make work with no intention, what does the lack of intention reflect in terms of confidence and agency?

It feels great. It is liberating and creates confidence. In the past, having an intention to produce a piece work created an expectation as to how that might look. The process was a means to an end, and was more often than not, unenjoyable. When things didn’t go to plan, and expectations weren’t met, it would result in me doubting my ability, chipping away at my confidence. I think that I have reached a stage where the very word ‘intention’ makes me feel nervous, like it’s a snake lurking in the undergrowth waiting to take me back to the bottom of the board. As long as I restrict the idea of intention to methods of experimentation and not as to the result I should be ok. But, in the long term, as I mention above, I wonder how sustainable this approach is.

I have previously struggled with the idea of the ‘happy accident’, of chance, of unintentionality. I’ve questioned whether I can take credit for something which happened by accident or without conscious thought or application of skill. I think that I am now more or less comfortable with the idea that I can – it was me that did what I did that caused it to happen, it was my intuitive action based on all that I have done before which led to it happening.

We are excited to see how you further develop this work, will you continue to work with automatic drawing or perhaps include more deliberate mapping and revealing of the self?

I think that there will always be an element of automatic drawing, even if it’s just as an exercise – it is the bedrock of everything that I have done so far. It was what freed me from the shackles of intention and expectation. ‘Deliberate’ is intentional. Perhaps, as long as it stays within the realm of methodology?

How might relationships, milestones, births, death, homes, struggles, goals, speculative futures be shared? Or might you map time, matter, emotions, culture, impermanence as it relates to you? What does a work that heavily references topography need to be resistant to fixity?

In my study statement I went on about how I was intending to explore my different roles and experiences etc. That intention fell by the wayside when I made the decision just to drift. I think that I’m more inclined towards exploring the emotions of relationships and events, maybe within the context of time, and how I relate to them, rather than the specifics. I don’t think that it needs to be resistant to fixity for the reasons mentioned above.

Or will you push the non-intentionality further by incorporating rules/games on what processes and materials to use?

The benefit of imposing rules is that it creates a situation in which I am forced to react against something, to think differently. It also takes away control and agency when they are imposed by others. In my Pushing Paper posts I set myself the task of responding to outlines drawn by others without much direction from me save that the line should not have a beginning or an end and that the line should overlap itself so as to create distinct areas. I have yet to complete the second set of images – when the outlines were being drawn, I asked for some rules as to how I should complete them. I think that I prefer having others set the boundaries for me rather than doing it myself. I like the idea that I am responding to others which mirrors how I am shaped by others and the world around me.

Or will you choose to disrupt or misuse tools and materials intentionally? Like your abstract sticker experiments!

Those who have skills in the areas into which I’ve strayed would probably argue that I’m already misusing tools and materials. I like discovering things by accident, of finding another use for something which wasn’t intended.

You might find Miska Henner’s work interesting.

I will have a more detailed look at his work.

From your tutorial with Jonathan, you conclude that you will take a mixed medium approach. We are intrigued by how you might incorporate the various experiments and skills you have developed towards Unit 3. Perhaps this is also a time to consider what aspects of your practice no longer serve you?

I’m now thinking that I’ve inadvertently labelled myself. Mixed media, multi-disciplinary? I like the idea of mixed media because I’m drawn the idea of re-processing and remediating, but I still want to be able just to make a drawing or a painting if I want to.

You and me, both, although I already find myself linking back to things that I have done in the past.

I’m not sure – I almost wrote off linocut but luckily decided to give it another go recently, but in a way that worked for me at this time. I think that perhaps I won’t need to make a conscious decision, it will just happen naturally – after all there are several experiments that I haven’t repeated or developed – gelplate printing and kitchen lithography, tetrapak etc. But there might come a time when I decide to approach them from a different angle.

From your daily walks and their photographic experiments to the topological references to the parsemage and bubble experiments, to the line drawings, we are struck by how often pattern repetition appears in your practice. It brings to mind Richard Long’s ‘A Line made By Walking’, 1967. Why might repetition appears repeatedly in your work? How does this relate to your thoughts on intentionality?

I think that there is repetition in my work because I’m in a recursive, iterative loop – I progress up a ladder and come down a snake, then go up a ladder a bit further than before and come down a snake etc. I’m building layers of iterations as well as some form of connection, maybe in the same way that becoming is influenced to a certain extent by what was before and what is to come.

As you move away from figuration what is found between the figurative shapes, or fragments of these shapes – what happens when you zoom in on the negative spaces that are created? How might these be reused?

Whilst I think that I am moving away from the figurative, I think that it is likely that it may still feature in my work when it is the only method to express what I want to say. I need to give some more thought to negative space.

These are my thoughts for the time being. They may well change. I’m conscious that they contain contradictions. I think that the long and the short of it is that I simply don’t know at the moment how my research will play out in practice. It is theoretical and is bound to have practical limitations and to create puzzles to be solved. I feel as If I need to write myself some kind of a manifesto to order my thoughts and to try and address the practical implications.

Rain, Rain, Go Away III.

I was looking at Google Maps on my phone following directions to a restaurant. I sensed my husband, who was standing beside me, step off the curb to cross the road, so I stepped off too. His arm suddenly shot out and brought me to a halt as a bus went past us. My attention had been elsewhere and I had instinctively followed him. He just hadn’t been looking properly.

People walking along looking at their phones, not where they’re going, who they are about to bump into, or what’s going on around them, videoing events rather than experiencing the moment.

I recently took this photo of East Beach in West Bay.

We’ve spent a lot of time over the last 20 years or so on this part of the south coast, between Weymouth and Lyme Regis. The cliffs are made of sandstone which is undercut by the sea and in recent years the incidence of rockfalls and landslips has increased to at least two a year – a woman walking on the beach was killed in one in 2012. The extent of the coastal erosion is evidenced by the regular closures and rerouting of the South West Coastal path. Yet despite the large yellow warning signs on the beaches, there always seems to be someone either standing near the edge of the cliffs or sitting close to their base, if not directly under them.

I suppose that I’m interested in the sense of a general lack of awareness, which often comes about by seeing life through a lens rather thna living in the moment.

Anyway, I experimented by inverting the photo. My plan is to digitally collage some figures into it, all using a camera in some way, as I am in my shadow. Then I think that I will create a landslip in the cliffs on the right, probably using paint – I was interested in Johanna Love’s reference to Richter’s painted photographs.

After adding some figures in Procreate:

It was difficult getting the scale of the figures right and still being able to make them out, but it’s the best that I can do. Also, Procreate has desaturated the colours – from what I can tell it’s because it uses a different colour profile, but I think that I prefer the blue as it reminds me of a cyanotype. So I’ve had it printed onto satin photo paper, halfway between A3 and A2.

I needed to think about how the paint might behave on the photo paper. After some research I decided to spray the print with varnish to protect the ink from the next layer of gloss medium. I then painted on top.

I’m feeling ambivalent about the result.

Not much else to say really, so moving on…