Playing with pano.
If You Go Down to The Woods Today
Page 11 of 24
Carbon Dating II
In the words of Vinnie Jones: it’s been emotional.
Over the last 54 days I have been mapping my emotions each day, using orange for positive, green for neutral and blue for negative. At the beginning, I was going to use different shades of each colour but I soon realised that this would over-complicate things. I also realised that I needed to put some rules into place: I started each line from the dated contour line, drew for two minutes, trying to explore as much of the sheet as possible to achieve an even distribution of mark-making, and finished the line off the page. I wanted to make it so that theoretically I can pick any day and trace the line which represents it. I drew each line at the end of the day, and took a photo. Unfortunately, sometimes it wasn’t light enough and so I had to take photos including a number of days’ worth of lines, so instead of having 54 photos, I’ve only got 46 which has resulted in a sudden surge in orange lines towards the end – maybe I was enjoying the positive. They are not the best photos – the lighting is all over the place. Next time I do something like this I will try and make them consistent, although I do quite like the movement it creates.
What have I learnt from this exercise? Had I not done it and you had asked me what the last 2 months have been like for me, I would have said that they have been difficult, and that for the most part I have felt negative emotions such as sadness, grief, stress, frustration and anxiety. However, looking at the end result I can see that this isn’t actually the case; I can see that there are more orange lines than green, which in turn outnumber the blue. This must mean that I feel negative emotions more strongly than positive ones, and this results in my perception of life being somewhat skewed. The map reflects this, in that, whilst they are few in number, the blue lines jump out at me from the rest. I think the technical term is the negativity bias. I don’t think that I would have had the same result had I represented my daily emotions diagrammatically in a chart – it matters that each day is individually represented. Maybe there is another way of doing it – I’m just not a mathematician!
I found the exercise to be a positive one; the act of drawing a line each day not only meant that I was making, but it also allowed me to reflect on the day as I drew – a form of visual journaling. I enjoyed the process of it and whilst it can be said that the resultant map is interesting, what it reveals also became apparent during the process itself; as the map was becoming each time I engaged with it, so I was becoming.
As ever, I’m not sure how I can develop this, if at all. Or maybe, there’s no need. Today was the last day. I think I will miss doing it, so I might just continue.
Forget-me-nots
It’s a long time since I last had a pet, and this may not be anything new, but there’s a business out there, maybe more than one, which is supplying veterinary surgeries with packets of forget-me-not seeds to send to customers whose pets have died. Since Monty died we’ve received cards of condolence from our regular vets and the specialist practice, both enclosing identical packets of seeds.
I will sow the seeds and hopefully next year green shoots will emerge from the earth, but with my gardening skills, I don’t hold out much hope.
I appreciate the thought, if it was indeed a thought, and not just a gesture generated automatically by an impersonal process. The cards contained messages from staff I didn’t even know were involved in Monty’s care; general messages of sympathy for our loss, except for one, which stood out because it described him as having been such a character. No sooner had Monty’s heart stopped beating than the vet’s hand was on my shoulder, followed by “I’m sorry for your loss”. Similarly, from the veterinary nurse who had assisted, with an added hug, whose eyes failed to show any sign of recognition a couple of days later when I went into the surgery to speak to her about our other dog.
I’ve decided that I don’t like the phrase; it’s trite and it doesn’t make the pain any easier to bear. In fact, I don’t think that I’m a fan of euphemisms generally, particularly, the idea of passing or passing away. Where to? My father died, my mother died, my dog died. That’s it. They didn’t go anywhere, I didn’t lose them, and there’s no chance of finding them again, and reuniting.
That’s not to say that I don’t believe in something else. Maybe I believe in the law of the conservation of energy: it can neither be created nor destroyed.
Now, where are those forget-me-nots?
Wayfinding
I think that I’m finally getting some clarity. Or maybe I’m seeing connections and signs where perhaps there aren’t any, but it seems to make sense, in my head anyway. In my second tutorial, Jonathan commented that he had a sense that it was all leading to something (the first sign).
So far during this course, trite as it may be (although Jonathan has assured me that it is essentially what art is about), I have been concerned with understanding myself and my place in the world as a practising artist. I’ve been working from memories, guiding me like a compass on my exploration, probably slightly off kilter, as well as my day to day life, thoughts and feelings. I have been trying to concentrate on the process as opposed to the result (a sign), experimenting along the way, and producing very few finished pieces of work. I did feel uneasy about the lack of finalised output, but no longer. I’ve been on a dérive (our session on Guy Debord being another sign).
In my Study Statement I question whether it is actually possible to ‘find myself’. Kierkegaard thinks not, in the sense of a static and unified concept, for the self is constantly being formed not just by reflecting on the past but also by engaging with the present; it is in a state of becoming, in a state of flux, something I have said I feel on several occasions in this blog (a sign). I accept in my Study Statement that I can only hope to know myself as at a certain point in time, and that reflection is something which will have to be a continuing process. Something else I have mentioned on several occasions in this blog, to fellow course mates and to Jonathan, is that I feel like I am a different person to the one that started the course back in October last year (a sign); I have changed and I will continue to change – to become.
Recently, I’ve become interested in the subject of maps – the comment in my Unit One feedback that I seem to be engaging in a process of mapping jumped out at me (a sign). That led me to start thinking about maps and the process of mapping and map-making, experimenting with cartographic symbols and mark-making. The subject of maps is a huge one but during my research I came across the philosopher, Korzybski, the father of general semantics, a central principle of which is that the map is not the territory (rather like the image is not the thing: Magritte’s Ceci n’est pas une pipe (I used this idea with my red telephone at the Interim Show (yes, another sign)). In short, our models of the world are abstracts of reality, and do not represent it. This is a principle I’ve been trying to be more mindful of since I read about it – my map of the world is not the same as everyone else’s, so we can be in the same situation or look at the same photograph but have our own very different experiences and interpretations of it (our sessions with the photographs being another sign). Something which is blindingly obvious, but which I don’t always appreciate.
This then led to the notion that geographical maps themselves do not reflect the territory in the sense that there is abstraction and subjectivity in the production of all maps: the size of countries and borders can be manipulated for political and social ends, the purpose for which a map is intended can determine what is included and what is left out, viewpoint and projection can distort the world view.
Mercator Projection
Authagraph Projection
The Authagraph Projection is considered to be the most accurate flat representation of the world. It highlights the distortion caused by the traditional Mercator projection in terms of the size of Africa, South America and Greenland, amongst others.
I have been reading a lot about cartographic theory, a discipline which has only become a thing relatively recently. There is lots of disagreement about what a map is and the separation between the artefact of the map and the process of mapmaking and mapping. Post-representational cartographic theory does what it says on the tin – it argues that maps are not the territory but actually create the territory, are in a state of flux and are constantly changing, and theorists have moved away from the idea of a map as an artefact, but as being performative and processual, and always in a state of becoming.
Whilst working, I have been reflecting on past events and experiences, but whilst doing so I have been conscious that my recollections are probably my version of the truth; that I am my own unreliable narrator. I have been interested in memory for a while, particularly as to its probable unreliability and its potential to be manipulated. The way memories are formed and retrieved means that they are not fixed archives, but are constantly being formed and reformed with each retrieval; they are in a state of becoming.
The link between selfhood, mapping and memory is the concept of the state of becoming: ontogenesis. In my research paper I want to explore ontogenesis in the context of autobiographical artistic practice because it is the essence of what I am trying to do. In my experimentation and production of unfinished work I am engaging in the process of mapping, changing and becoming, relying on my memories which are also in a state of becoming but how can I represent this in a visual form which is also in a state of becoming? Hopefully, by the end of the research paper, I will have a better understanding as to how it can be achieved, if at all.
That’s the plan for now anyway, although I may change my mind, in my state of becoming.
The Eyes Have It
I went to see Jenny Saville’s The Anatomy of Painting at the National Portrait Gallery a few weeks ago. I went thinking that I admired her work; I came out knowing that I only liked some of it, mainly her early work. It was Michael Craig- Martin all over again.
Her canvases are huge. It made me wonder whether it is all about size. If they were smaller would they still have the same impact? If something is large do we immediately perceive it as being impressive? I always thought that large meant there was nowhere to hide, but now I’m not so sure; maybe it’s just a case of first impressions.
I love the way she paints flesh, in her earlier work that is. I look at my skin and I see those colours, usually with the advent of summer, with a sigh and a determination to keep as much of it covered up as possible, no matter the heat. I have those imprints once I have relieved myself from the claustrophobia of overly restrictive clothing. I can relate.
And then there’s the work which comes later, the last image being an example, at the more restrained end of the spectrum. I can’t connect with it; I think to myself, why paint such wonderfully realistic eyes and then treat the rest in the way that she has, bordering on abstract figurativism? I feel like she’s stuck on a fence; she wants to embrace the abstract approach but still wants us to know that she can paint a good eye. I find it jarring and slightly irritating, probably because it resonates with my own feelings of indecision.
Last night I was channel surfing, and came across Alan Yentob’s last interview which he made in March this year, two months before he died. I’m a great fan of his Imagine series; you can tell that he has a real interest in people. The interview is with Jenny Saville, on the eve of the opening of her Gaze exhibition at the Albertina in Vienna. It is only 10 minutes long.
During the interview, in which it rather ironically takes her an age to make eye contact with Yentob, Saville comments that she likes painting eyes; think of all the visual information and memories which go through this structure, something she has been intrigued by since she was a child. Making her heads so large allows her the freedom to experiment with the surface of the paint. From a distance there is the holistic nature of the head, but as you get closer the surface is heightened. She confirms that she is committed to figurative painting but is experimenting with how she can get realism in the face which goes beyond a simple rendering. Whilst looking at one of her large heads, she comments that there is something psychological going on in that you are convinced by the head because of the eyes – something happens in your brain that allows you to piece it together, and as you get closer to it you go on a journey. So she’s using the figurative to help the viewer make sense of the abstract?
That’s explains a lot, but I’m still not convinced by the eyes.
Trying to Move Forward
I decided to try and progress the idea of automatic map-like drawing by experimenting with charcoal. I drew a single line and then rubbed it out and repeated the process numerous times, building up layers of mark-making. I then took some coloured pencils and traced a path randomly following the marks.
I’m not sure that it takes me much further forward in developing this line of enquiry. However, I enjoyed the process and I like the different nature of the coloured lines which I made consciously by making decisions as to which of the paths of faded charcoal to follow, almost like a dérive – they have a different character to the ones I make when I draw automatically.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the course, about being half-way through and what I would like to have achieved by the time it finishes – what work I might produce by the end of it. At the moment, the concept of mapping is at the centre of it. I want to produce something which reflects all that I have learnt during the course, about myself and how I relate to the world around me. It will inevitably be an artifact, a map, of some shape or form, but I want it to reflect a process which is ongoing, that will never be complete, a piece of work in a state of flux, constantly subject to change, so there has to be some sense of impermanence, of it being unfinished. I also want to encompass the idea that memory plays a large part in the process and much like maps which are constantly being made and remade, so are the memories on which the map is based. The idea of layers and distorted imagery seem to be relevant in this respect.
I’ve thought about paper and canvas, maps being folded and rolled , but I don’t think that these offer the ability to create layers in the way that I want. I’m currently thinking that I may make a number of squares which together make up the grids of a map.
I used a pen to try and keep a marble on the paper. I like the lines which were made as a result – they have a sense of fluidity about them, much more than the lines that I have been making up until now. I’ve been meaning to experiment with the size of the dots at the intersections, to see if different sizes create a sense of perspective and three dimensionality. I don’t think that I have managed to achieve enough diversity in the sizes – it was very much an afterthought – I’ll try again another time. The image makes me think of something neural, cognitive mapping?
I took some inkjet compatible transparencies and drew some lines to see if I could create layers. Unfortunately, they are not totally clear – they have a milky appearance, probably because of the coating which allows them to be used in inkjet printers. I need to do some research to see if this is the case or whether I can source some others. Having said that, the milky film does cloud what’s underneath, making it hazy, almost like a memory that’s not quite there. Ultimately, I’m thinking that I could use layers of acrylic sheets over a background image, possibly together with milky transparencies, some can be drawn, painted and printed on, and I can also include some cyanotype images as well a negatives. I could cut holes in some layers to allow direct access to layers below. The use of reflective surfaces would also add depth.
I layered up the sheets using small magnets which not only hold them stacked together but also act as spacers between the layers. I had to add one in the middle because otherwise the sheets would sag – this won’t be a problem with rigid acrylic sheets. The magnets themselves suggest impermanence, the ability to be easily changed.
One-to-One No 1
I had my one-to-one with Janet on 20th June.
She kicked off by suggesting that I look at ‘autoethnography’ [a qualitative research method in which researchers use their personal experiences to examine and understand cultural phenomena] as well considering the Tao; an approach to life which is more of a wandering.
I should aim to have few references which are not apparently connected and find a new pathway from synthesis which is uniquely mine.
She ran through her notes.
- It has strong potential particularly its exploratory stance and willingness to probe instability
- There is a compelling central enquiry into mapping as a dynamic, active process
- Its strength is the questions it raises rather than its answers
I need to:
- Work towards refining the focus
- Tighten the language and clarify the relationship between the concepts eg what’s the relationship between Kierkegaard and Grayson Perry? Map/mapping, reality/memory
- The title is too long and general – need to specify the argumentative focus – although the title can come at the end
- Personal voice in the opening paragraph is authentic but need to transition more clearly into the critical voice – set down where I’m coming from to start to see it as a critical analysis of where I’m coming from rather than a ‘hello’
- Define what I mean by autobiographical mapping
- Consider the difference between mapping the self and representing the self.
- Consider psychogeography and subjective cartography – artistic tradition sits at the intersection of these terms
- Dodge & Kitchin – ontogenesis – links to autobiographical process lived and relived through memory
- Look at Carol Tills – a geographer
- Memory is VITAL ie alive
- Consider adding another disciplinary depth – so far have art, cartography, philosophy – inter-disciplinary is good. Have breadth, now need depth.
- Instability of memory related to instability of maps
- Good concepts and thoughtful reflection
- Need to read more in order to narrow down the focus and more rigorous integration of theory and artistic examples
- Philosophers don’t know much about material dimensions – when making something it gives information to you. Am I being me?
- Paul Ricoeur, Henri Bergeron
Hand Map
In the accident, a 2 inch piece of glass managed to find its way into my daughter’s thumb via the underside of her wrist (luckily missing her artery) severing the main nerve and two tendons in her dominant right hand. Fortunately, she was taken to Salisbury Hospital, the regional centre for plastics. We make the 2 hour round trip every week for dressing changes and physiotherapy. Every week I take a photograph of her wound, mapping its healing, but also so that she can look at it when we get back home – she can’t look at her hand in the moment. It’s important that she reconnects her brain to her hand otherwise the hand map in her brain will be lost, as will any chance of recovering as much sensation as possible. Whilst some of the physio has been physical exercises to rehabilitate movement in the tendons, the majority of it is brain training: visualisation and mirroring exercises, analysing touch and sensation, using the good hand to teach the injured hand how things feel, teaching the brain the new language with which the hand is trying to communicate.
So, we decided that we would make something. I’ve been meaning to try out some tetrapak printing for a while. The process of incising seemed appropriate. I feel some responsibility – if I hadn’t suggested that she leave earlier, perhaps it wouldn’t have happened. The act of sewing, holding things together, helping things to heal.
I like that the wound is the subject, that the hand is suggested by the embossing. I debated whether to add more detail, more variety of tone but for once went with the less is more option. I used ordinary cotton thread but we decided that the colour wasn’t right so we went for embroidery thread – a brighter blue. As I was sewing I knew that it was too thick, that I should have separated it, but I just kept going. I knew it was wrong; she said it was wrong because now she couldn’t see the wound – I had obliterated the very thing that we were supposed to be embracing. I tried a couple more times until we decided that it was right. By then the holes were quite large but that in itself doesn’t matter – it reinforces the idea that often we have to endure further harm or pain in order to heal.
Leave The Party Whilst You’re Still Having Fun
My mother always used to tell me to leave the party whilst I was still having fun.
Fortunately, we were able to make sure that Monty left the party whilst he was still having some fun. And, as I was sitting there in the garden with the sun on my back, stroking him as his heart stopped beating and his last breaths left his body, I thought to myself, not for the first time, why can’t we do this for people?
My mother would have wanted to have had the choice to leave the party while she was still having fun, but she couldn’t, and so she turned to face the corner and disengaged from the party until the bitter end.
I don’t think that I am afraid of death. But I am petrified as to the manner of it. Best to go quickly without warning. If that’s not possible, then I’d like the choice to leave the party whilst I’m still having fun. Who knows? When the time comes to face it, I may decide, what the hell, let’s party until dawn, mine sweep all the half empty glasses and wake up with the mother of all hangovers face down in a puddle of who knows what. But at least it will have been my choice.
Catching Some Rays II
I had a look at a couple of my pinhole cameras to see if I had any results after a day and a bit – patience isn’t one of my virtues.
I scanned the photographic paper and converted the images from negative to positive in Photoshop, experimenting with colour and B&W. I’m quite pleased with the results, and have put out a few more pinholes with a view to leaving them for varying lengths of time. One thing I did learn is that South is not where I thought it was.
Kate McCalmont-Woods 