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…

Rain, Rain, Go Away II

It’s still raining, and a short while after I’d finished my last post, I realised something which put even more of a damper on things, just as I thought that I was making some headway – I hadn’t considered the issue of copyright.

Whilst it’s my data, the copyright in the images belongs to the maker, in this case the healthcare trust as employer of the radiographer. I did a bit of digging around and discovered that I needed to contact someone known as the Caldicott Guardian for my healthcare trust, and luckily the details were on the trust’s website. I sent off an email explaining who I am, what I’ve done and added in a bit extra about the benefits etc. Amazingly, after a couple of days I got a response:

Something to bear in mind for the future, but for now, a relief.

I’m starting to get the same feeling as last year – something that was supposed to be relatively straightforward, and into which I wasn’t going to invest too much effort, has become unexpectedly more complex and time consuming.

Rain, Rain, Go Away.

Having been distracted momentarily by my line drawing phase, I’m experiencing delayed January blues. When is it going to stop raining? It’s really difficult to get enthusiastic about much when it’s constantly dark and raining outside. Opportunities to go out for a good walk are limited, although Otto, the dog, still has to have his walks but they’re generally quite quick because, likewise, he doesn’t like the rain, and won’t go in puddles.

Nevertheless, I’m keen to keep up my recent momentum in making. One pressing concern is next week’s looming deadline for the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. Somehow, I managed to apply for two entries this year – I was intending to apply for my husband to encourage him to pick up a paintbrush again, but clearly I wasn’t wearing my thinking head that day. So I’m now setting myself for a double rejection, but it’s happened so many times now, I’m feeling quite immune. As always, there is a theme but I’m not even going to bother thinking about it this year, although I do note that they are encouraging students to enter – maybe that will improve my chances!

I had the idea during last year’s low residency to get hold of the images from my endoscopy which I’d had a month or so before. Well, I eventually got around to requesting them, but the good old NHS has sent me everything but what I actually wanted. Whilst I’m waiting to hear back from them (let’s face it they’ve probably got better things to be doing), I thought I could make use of last year’s mammogram. There’s really nothing quite like having your breasts squeezed between two rigid surfaces. Before I had my first one, a friend of mine commented that she hates having them done because the machine reminds her of the meat slicers you get on delicatessen counters. I relayed this remark to the radiographer who grimaced and squeezed her legs together. I have to say that the thought does flit across my mind in the moment. Rather ironically, because it feels less clinical than a hospital, I always choose to go to the mobile unit in Tesco’s car park. It means I can do the weekly shop afterwards – two birds, one stone, and all that.

I took all four images: right and left mediolateral oblique and right and left craniocaudal. I removed my personal info and removed some digits from my hospital number as I wanted it to be apparent that they are medical images. I then imported them into Procreate and played around with inverting and layering etc. And this is when I learnt an important lesson – whilst it’s great to experiment and try lots of different things, if you don’t make a note of it somewhere you won’t be able to recreate it. I liked the first image I made but wanted to adjust some of the transparency in some areas. So I adjusted it but couldn’t remember what I had done to create the final image. Try as I might I just couldn’t recreate it so, in the end, I decided to run with the original image. I displayed the image on my laptop screen and then took a photograph of it which incorporated some of the reflections on the screen, which I think add a bit of depth and additional interest to the image. The idea was to print it and then overdraw with pencils, charcoal etc. I experimented on a home-printed image. I became even more despondent because nothing seemed to work. I decided to fold it, scrunch it and cut it up. Then I thought, a good approach when something isn’t working is to cut it into strips and weave it. I liked the effect, and my mood lifted.

Anyway, when I got the A3 image from the printers I didn’t think it was that bad, and I couldn’t bring myself to cut it up so I just overdrew some areas adjusting tones using black, grey and silver pencils and some charcoal. I quite like how the inclusion of the straight lines and the curves suggest a graph of some sort, how it has both a geometric feel but also a natural, landscape feel, as if the line towards the centre is the waterline and beyond is a land mass, the dark area on the left almost reading as a tree. It was rolled up, so I’m going to have to flatten it and sort out proper lighting before I take a photo for submission. I actually really like it.

Aside from the importance of making notes whilst experimenting, this exercise has also taught me something about myself, which I suppose I have secretly always suspected. I started out with the idea of overdrawing the image. Initially that didn’t work, but rather than accept that I could change my thought process, and go off in a different direction, I allowed myself to press on and become despondent. My thought process was not flexible – it was a form of tunnel vision. Once I let go of it, I felt more positive.

Now for number two…

Pushing Paper

I bought ‘Pushing Paper’ in the hope that I would find its contents enlightening, but primarily because I felt drawn to the cover. The image is ‘Some Interference’ (2006) by Richard Deacon, which he made during his residency at the Oxford Centre for the Study of Gene Function. According to the book, Deacon was initially trying to represent multiple surfaces on a flat plane – the paper splitting into interconnected layers. As things developed, he realised that what he was drawing was difficult to clarify.

Something about it really appeals to me. It reminds me of the doodle type drawings I’ve been doing (On Your Marks… & Lines). Aside from Etch-A-Sketch and Spirograph, this process entertained me for hours as a child. I would draw a random enclosed shape with overlapping lines which created segments to be coloured in. It takes me right back to my childhood. Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to it. Maybe it’s because it embodies its simple process as well as having a temporal dimension – the act of drawing each individual straight line. I like the darker line which is formed around the edges of the shapes where the lines have crossed.

Well, whatever the reason, I picked up the nearest pen, a leaky biro, and had a go.

It was a very satisying exercise, despite the blobs and smears. The ‘me’ at the beginning of this course would have discarded it. Instead, the blobs and smears are all part of the process, caused by the movement of the ruler and my hand, a moment hesitating too long in one spot. Nevertheless, I’d like to repeat the exercise with a proper pen, maybe a variety of pens of different thicknesses. In the meantime, I experimented in Procreate.

Liminality

I felt a connection with this week’s visiting artist, Johanna Love. She remediates photographs and videos of car journeys.

I often make videos of car journeys, recreating those of my childhood when I sat in the back seat watching the passing landscape. My latest one was In A Flash.

The year before last, on the taxi ride from the airport to the centre of Vienna, the flat landscape gradually gave way to a looming mass of industrial buildings belching gases into the atmosphere: the scene took my breath away – it felt so out of place, intimidating, shocking. The area is called Schwechat, and is home to one of Europe’s largest inland refineries owned by OMV. In Spring last year it began producing green hydrogen, currently at a rate of up to 1,500 metric tonnes per year making an annual saving in CO2 emissions of 15,000 metric tonnes. I was back in Vienna a couple of months ago and I managed to video it from the City Airport Train.

https://youtu.be/6ZZ6BF5HOic?si=U0AiQS7Nfva_U3LI

I applied a neon filter to the first section to reflect my initial reaction of disbelief, slowly moving through monotone to reality. I particularly like the moments of transition, the overlay and monotone effect on the trees and the chimney stacks. Screenshots reveal moments when the image is neither one thing or another; moments of transience and liminality.

I’m intrigued by those moments. They inherently represent change, the process and becoming: they are what was once, what is now and what is to become. Becoming is fundamentally a state of liminality.

Something Different

The process of making the 3 minute video was interesting. I don’t like listening to myself. It sounds different to how I hear myself in my head. As we’re going to have to make another video in the near future – this time 5 minutes’ worth – I think I need to get over it.

So, here’s my first video post. I’m, not sure why, but the YouTube embed isn’t working for me at the moment.

https://youtu.be/2NtklqYTOEg?si=g9yrNvKjqhDXpKGy

A Moment

So, we’ve received our feedback and grade for Unit 2.

The feedback, the most important bit, is incredibly helpful, and has lots of questions for me to continue to think about. Once I’ve finished ruminating, I will discuss it in more detail. In general terms it mirrored my feelings that I have made significant progress over the past few months. I think this was the reason why I felt the way I did when I saw that I had been given the same grade as for Unit 1. I felt disappointed. I told myself that the grade itself doesn’t matter; what matters is the process, not the result. I should be happy with the knowledge that I have made progress, and developed within the process. That is, after all, my mantra: I choose the process, not the result.

So why is there still a part of me that cares about the grade? I spent quite a while talking to myself, trying to resolve it, and in the end the answer I reached is this: whilst I am all about the process, it does not mean that the result does not matter at all, it is just that I care more about the process.

Since Ambivalence, I have reflected further, and I think that it is either a case of wanting the product to reflect the process (which I didn’t think the grade did), or that there will always be a part of me that is invested in the product; I just need to learn to live with it and allow it to be heard, but not to dominate as it has done in the past.

And so, I listened to it, and asked what else I could have done. A typo. All’s well that ends well.

Ambivalence

In A Test of Memory I question my paradoxical nature.

Is it an undesirable trait because it displays a lack of consistency and predictability? Does it make me an unknown quantity, fickle, unreliable, or even hypocritical? And specifically, in terms of the art world, how does this relate to the need to establish a defined and consistent style for commercial success and gallery representation, in creating a brand? I asked Perplexity AI what it thought.

In a nutshell, it’s not the paradox which is the issue but being unable to accept it. Embracing paradox is linked with greater creativity, psychological growth and is a realistic way of understanding selfhood in a complex world. It is the basis of dialectical thinking: two truths which seem to conflict but which both accurately describe you or your situation e.g. being independent but needing connection.

According to Kierkegaard, the self is essentially a tension between different poles and the process of becoming is learning to live with the contradiction rather than to abolish it. In fact, problems arise when the paradox turns into a chronic self-contradiction that seems unresolvable, which is often tied to perfectionism or all-or-nothing thinking. It creates a state of ambivalence. As long as I genuinely value and am honest about my paradoxical nature, then I am not a hypocrite or lacking in integrity. I need to accept both parts of myself and embrace the tension the paradox creates; to ‘develop the container large enough to hold it’.

In terms of the art world, whilst a paradoxical nature is an asset for making art, it is not for selling it. It does not fulfil the desire for consistency, recognition and stability. So, what is the answer?

  • Distinguish between practice (paradox) and brand (the curated external interface). Curate consistently eg strategise the release of work; lead with one voice whilst nurturing the other.
  • Be like Gerhard Richter, developing separate and opposing lines of enquiry which never merge – be distinctly one thing, then the other, do not mix them and become a muddy average.
  • Have a consistent conceptual narrative – make the paradox the subject matter itself
  • The Trojan Horse is an extension of the first bullet point: pick a lane and develop it and once you have a foothold introduce the other, pivoting under the guise of evolution.
  • Most importantly, don’t suppress the shadow side, and keep feeding it.

That all makes sense. So, how do I feel about it all now? A bit better, I think…

Reflecting on Reflecting

It has been a busy few weeks: the print sale, Research Paper, blog curation and 3-minute video.

Making the video was quite challenging. I started by selecting all of the images that I wanted to include and then I decided what to say. It was far too long. So I decided to change tack and think about what I wanted to say and then choose the images which best demonstrated the narrative. It was a good exercise in distilling everything down into a short space of time; of focussing the mind on what is important.

After such a spate of activity I would usually reward myself with a bit of a rest, but funnily enough I don’t feel like that – I feel energised, and with a sense of purpose. In my Unit 1 Feedback I was advised that I would broaden in scope and then narrow back down, and I think that this last unit has brought about some clarity for me, not necessarily in terms of the breadth of my practice but in terms of its future development. I’m feeling positive and I’m looking forward to tying up some loose ends and producing work which encompasses what I have discovered so far and which is not necessarily finished, but more resolved than it has been up until now.