Loose Ends

I find the curating of the blog to be a rewarding process – I can identify all the ideas I’ve had, and things I was going to do, and which have been left by the wayside as I’ve gone off in another direction. I’m collecting up all the stragglers, and here they are:

I’ve been thinking about whether I should amend my Study Statement. I don’t think I will. My objective is to find my artistic voice. I am still doing that – I will find it in the process of making. Some of the elements of the statement, such as the specified topic areas and work plan aren’t really relevant anymore, as I have gone off piste, preferring the freedom. That has happened because of who I am becoming, not because the Statement is no longer relevant or needs redirecting.

La Cabina

It’s interesting how certain sensory and emotional experiences from your childhood stick with you even later on in life. I remember the smell of Camay soap in the bathroom, 4711 eau de cologne and my father’s Old Spice.

I also remember seeing lots of posters in the 70s of people, usually women, disappearing down lavatories. There is always that moment of hesitation…

I was always trying to stay up late. This was usually accomplished by offering to brush my mother’s hair. Of course, what I didn’t bargain for is the reason why there’s a watershed when it comes to TV viewing. There was Danny Kaye in ‘Five Pennies’ whose daughter ended up in an iron lung because she got polio, although I’m sure my parents told me it was because she had too many late nights hanging out in jazz clubs with her father, and didn’t get enough sleep.

But the film which has haunted me all these years is a Spanish 30 minute film – ‘La Cabina’ which was made in 1972, but must have been shown on the BBC sometime later because I think I must have seen it when I was about 8 years old. Funnily enough, it seems that a lot of people saw it ‘accidentally’ when they were of a similar age. There is very little dialogue which makes it even more disturbing. A man goes into a telephone box and can’t get out. Passersby try and help him but fail, as do the fire brigade. He’s hoisted onto the back of a lorry and taken away, and at one point he sees another man in a phone box on the back of a lorry. He ends up in a huge underground warehouse where he’s offloaded amidst hundreds of phone boxes with decaying bodies, some of which have ended their suffering by using the phone cable.

It won an International Emmy award. I wonder whether it should get an award for messing up a generation of children, along with ‘Tales of the Unexpected’ and the ‘Twilight Zone’.

Image from http://www.imdb.com

What’s In A Name?

I used Perplexity AI as an aid to narrow down areas of research for my research paper. A strange choice of name bearing in mind that to everyday people ‘perplexity’ means to be bewildered or in a state of confusion. But in tech-talk it is a measurement of how well a probability model predicts a sample. Even so, I’m still not convinced that it’s the best brand name for a product which is supposed to inform, and this is perhaps best explained by the reason it was chosen for the start-up: the domain name was affordable.

It was an interesting experience, which at times left me feeling frustrated, despite its excessive flattery. On a number of occasions, it told me what it thought I wanted to hear by making up sources and references. When I challenged it, it eventually owned up, apologised profusely and complimented me on my academic rigour. Such hallucinations are common place, apparently, as well as its inability to answer a question the same way twice.

Making Contact

In yesterday’s session we looked at ‘thick description’ as opposed to ‘thin description’. Thick description gives extra information, creates a mental image, and prompts questions. Thick description is using language to expand understanding and allows us to recognise what we bring to it, emphasising that we are the makers of our work and we are bound into it. For me, this echoes material engagement theory: as humans we make things and are, in turn, made by the things we make.

We were given a few minutes to describe what was in front of us – the part that no-one ever gets to see on our Zoom sessions. I use my daughter’s bedroom whilst she’s at uni. I wrote down:

A sea blue wall displaying the board wrapped with small, glowing lights – a showcase of scraps of paper arranged haphazardly with multi-coloured pins, some images, some reminders of future tasks. Numerous containers with an assortment of writing materials; pens and pencils standing to attention, ready for action. The white desk with its marks of ink and nail varnish – traces of past actions of my daughter. It makes me feel connected. I sit where she sat. I feel her presence.

As I was writing it, I suddenly felt emotional – I don’t know where it came from – maybe because I was thinking in a sentimental way, and that became a release valve for the stress and tiredness that I’ve been feeling. Or maybe, despite my bravado, I just really miss her.

We went on to think about our own contact zones, and how we are influenced or changed by the contact, and how it impacts our work and the reason we make it. This discussion generated a whole host of different ideas. For me, it is about how they make me feel; I am influenced by contact zones that generate an interest, prod me and provoke a response from me, and I often put myself in zones which make me feel uncomfortable and challenge me, that take me out of my comfort contact zone. I am not sure that if my contact zones made me feel completely at peace and in equilibrium, with nothing to respond to or process, I would even feel the need to make art.

There’s No Time Like The Present

For a post-mortem.

Well, I’ve submitted my research paper.

How do I feel about it? I’m pleased with how it turned out and I found it to be a rewarding experience – it has certainly made me think a lot more, and has been incisively relevant for my work.

This morning was a bit stressful as the broadband was playing up and I had some last minute changes to make and quite a few references to double check. It didn’t help that I was constantly switching between laptop and iPad because my laptop is so old that it turns out that it no longer supports the latest browsers. As a result, it was submitted a few minutes past the deadline, which has really disappointed me. Even more so, that when I’d taken a break and had another look, I saw a few incomplete references and other errors in the paper. Word blindness.

Previously, I have completed work with time enough left to review at my leisure, and so I’m wondering what went wrong this time. I certainly planned to have it completed with time to spare, and it’s not like I haven’t had since the Spring to do it.

On reflection:

  • I struggled for ages to think of a subject – I kicked the proverbial can down the road.
  • it took me a long time to work out how I could encompass the areas in which I’m interested – self, memory, mapping, and materials – into a cohesive and comprehensive research question.
  • maybe the scope of it was too much – it encompassed philosophy, psychology, cartography and cognitive archaeology. There was a lot to research to extrapolate relevant concepts. Whilst Perplexity helped refine searches, I still had to read all the sources eg material engagement theory was developed over a period of a couple of decades, through numerous published papers, and a lot of the sources were heavy and difficult reading, my aged brain not being able to digest and assimilate a vast amount of information anymore
  • I can’t multi-think the way I used to. I can only focus on one demanding mental load at a time otherwise I feel overwhelmed and can’t function
  • I didn’t appreciate the amount of work that was still to do after my last session with Janet. I was so relieved that my second draft had legs that I think I took my foot off the pedal and let other things get in the way, although I did make some work.
  • I think that I anticipated being able to really crack on in the last month but various things got in the way of this, feeling under the weather with one thing after another, and the print sale. I spent so much more time and mental bandwidth on that than I anticipated, but, it was a valuable learning experience.

This really does sound like a roll call of excuses, but at the end of the day, what’s done is done, and all I can do is try not to repeat the same mistakes in the future.

Now for the video and blog curation…

A Light Bulb Moment, Or Is It?

In last week’s session we thought about ideas.

Where do my ideas come from?

From my lived experience; my past, my present, my interactions with the world and the people in it, a moment in time, what I read, hear, see, feel, smell and taste.

What do they look like?

A network or web where they interconnect, or wait to be connected.

What kind of a web is it?

A spider’s web. Some ideas are fleeting and wispy and drift away, whilst others are more robust and have some form.

Other’s ideas are like seeds which grow over time (akin to Bateson’s ecology of the mind in which, like organisms, ideas grow and flourish whilst others become extinct) which need to be cared for and nurtured, or a breeze or mist, pre-existing ideas waiting to be received.

Maybe the source of the idea depends on what interests you at any point in time. I’m interested in my experience of living in the world, and so I don’t think that my ideas pre-exist because they are bespoke to my unique lived experience. Often they are triggered by something, a reaction to something, and so they don’t often come to me out of the blue. They are a combination of everything and anything, but at their very basic I believe that they are a matter of neuroscience; the complex neural interactions between knowledge, memory, emotions, and experience, all being broken down and continuously recombined in infinitesimal permutations, consciously and subconsciously in dreams, flow states, and acts of automatism.

Just because they are bespoke to me doesn’t necessarily mean that they are original. Gompertz doesn’t think that originality in a completely pure form actually exists and that all ideas are additional links in an existing chain (Part One: Think Like An Artist). There are numerous quotes from creatives who have built on the ideas of others: Newton and the shoulders of giants; Jobs and stealing great ideas; Twain who said that all ideas are secondhand, consciously or unconsciously drawn from a million outside sources.

We then considered Brian Eno’s concept of the ‘scenius’ (a creative co-operative of intelligence) and the articulation of the ideas of the scenius by an individual who is then held up by society as being a genius. On reflection, I think that he is right to the extent that the genius is just the tip of the scenius iceberg, but that both should be equally celebrated, and the attribution of the idea should be shared. It’s not enough to have an idea – it needs to be acted upon and often this involves elements of risk, courage and persistence.

Undoubtedly, collective recognition encourages greater sharing of ideas and increased creativity. In this respect, the existence of a scientific scenius goes some way to explaining why two different people can come up with same idea at the same time eg Bell and Gray, who both came up with same idea of the telephone. But, the idea didn’t come from nowhere – the circumstances at the time were demanding a solution to an existing problem, and the latest scientific developments and knowledge in the field, which were needed to devise the solution, were already widely known and shared amongst the scientific community, to the extent that Gray and Bell had detailed knowledge of each other’s work. So really, it was just a matter of time before someone came up with it. Maybe to that extent, it could be said that the idea was in the ether waiting to be received by someone who was attuned and had the requisite knowledge to implement it.

Prints

I’ve decided that I would like to make physical prints for the Editions Sale, if possible, and I have resolved to do a linocut, on the basis that I don’t have an etching press at home, and I probably won’t be able to make it in to CSM this month. I also want it to be something which is relevant to, and an extension of, my recent work.

I’ve not much experience of linocutting, but this is a good opportunity to try and improve my skills. I’ve been experimenting with some of the mapping imagery that I’ve been exploring over the last few months.

Originally I thought about the line drawing I did and how form can emerge from lines. I used my father’s silhouette from Solitude to experiment.

The lines are all over the place as I did them freehand (how does Bridget Riley manage?) and there were a few errors. In the top half I experimented with rounded curves, whilst in the bottom half the lines are flatter.

I tried drawing out how it might work but in the end I decided that it would just be too difficult, and gave up.

I then looked at the contouring and the automatic drawing that I have incorporated into some of my recent work. I used a group of three figures, composition yet to be decided, and red and blue as the colour choice for the time being. I created multiple layers in Procreate which then allowed me to play around with possible combinations.

I like the red and blue contoured background with the figures standing in front of the straight white lines (last two images), maybe using gold leaf or even metallic ink (which would be cheaper) to add some additional interest. I’ve also put the darker figure in the background so that it gives the feeling of being in the shadows, even though, technically, lighter figures are supposed to recede, which in this case they don’t seem to because of the background.

So I’m sorted, apart from the fact that it will need to be a reduction linocut, something which I haven’t done before, put off by the suspicion that my brain doesn’t work in a reductive way, but there’s nothing like a challenge. Maybe I need a Plan B, just in case.

Water

For the last couple of weeks we’ve been continuing to explore Turner in my painting class. The subject is water and stormy weather. As before, we’ve been applying thin layers of paint and sansador with a rag, and then applying several layers of glazing.

We started with a couple of small studies.

I used a limited palette of mineral colours – ultramarine blue, cadmium yellow light, burnt umber, alizarin crimson and titanium white. I’m not keen on it, it jars with me, in fact, I really don’t like it, but it meets the brief.

I much prefer this one – to me, it’s less figurative, although as soon as you put in a horizontal it automatically reads as a seascape. A post-Turner palette of cerulean blue, Prussian blue, phthalocyanine turquoise, cadmium free yellow, winsor violet and titanium white.

Then starting with an acrylic ground of a yellow grey, applied thickly and roughly so that definite brushstrokes are visible, I used the same limited palette of mineral pigments as in the first study.

It all started to become a bit twee, for want of a better word, so I blurred the horizon, and tried to break it all up, knocked it back and accentuated the sweeping brushstrokes in the ground using an ultramarine glaze. I feel better about it, but in retrospect maybe I should have done away with the horizon completely, as Turner tended to do, or maybe the horizon allows it some space? I think I need to put it away and reflect on it at a later date.

I’m conflicted; over the last year, I have found that I have been moving away from figurative work, particularly in terms of art that I like to look at, perhaps in an attempt to free myself. I’ve always taken the view that I attend these weekly classes because I like to explore different directions, and that there is no point just turning up and making what I want to make each week regardless. I try my best to complete the task, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult. Maybe this is a lesson for the future – of not always being able to make the work which I want to make.