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.

To The Manor Born

I love this time of year. The hedgerows are full of hawthorn blossom and clouds of cow parsley, there are blue carpets of bluebells in the woods, if a little threadbare by now, swathes of flowering wild garlic, crops growing in the fields and trees in full leaf.

I took my daughter back to uni in Exeter a week or so ago: a lovely drive down the A303 past Stonehenge, under the mystical big skies of Wiltshire and the rambling green fields of Somerset and Devon. On the way back I took the alternate route through Dorset along the Jurassic Coast and stopped off at Athelhampton House, a Tudor manor house I haven’t visited for a number of years with a very strong connection to Thomas Hardy. I didn’t know that Hardy was an architect before he became a writer and that he had worked on the house with his father, or even that he had lived into the early part of the 20th century. He seems to belong to a different time.

The gardens are wonderful – a house with many rooms (this seems to be a recurring theme recently).

Inside, apart from some wonderfully old glass windows which distorted the view outside,

was an exhibition of work by Arthur Neal, a painter and printmaker practising since the 1970s. He appears to vacillate between the figurative and the abstract. It would have been difficult to guess that all of the works on display were made by the same artist. I was particularly drawn to his small abstract oil paintings, his work in charcoal and his more recent prints.

The exhibition made me think. I would still like to explore charcoal and drypoint, and after that I think I’ll be done. It will be time to reflect.

The small oil paintings reminded me of a stack of small canvas boards we’ve had for ages, as yet unused. I can’t recall why we got them – I don’t generally do small. I think my husband bought them because they fit in a small pochard box he is going to use for all those landscapes sketches he’s going to paint, once he has wiped off all the dust. It wouldn’t take more than a few brush strokes to cover them. No excuse really, not to do something every day.

I have a fascination with Jackson’s Inside the sketchbook series – of looking at the sketchbooks of artists, to see how they work and think. Sketchbooks are personal spaces and it’s exciting to get to look inside, although I’m in no doubt that they choose to talk about their best ones. A recent one which springs to mind is Unga from Broken Fingaz. He talks about how working small means that you have to let go of detail. I think I’ll give it a go.

Sisters

“A sister is not a friend. Who can explain the urge to take a relationship as primal and complex as a sibling and reduce it to something as replaceable, as banal as a friend? Yet this status is used again and again to connote the highest intimacy. My mother is my best friend. My husband is my best friend. No. True sisterhood, the kind where you grew fingernails in the same womb, were pushed screaming through identical birth canals, is not the same as friendship. You don’t choose each other, and there’s no furtive period of getting to know the other. You’re part of each other, right from the start. Look at an umbilical cord – tough, sinuous, unlovely, yet essential – and compare it to a friendship bracelet of brightly woven thread. That is the difference between a sister and a friend.”

‘Blue Sisters’, by Coco Mellors

I stumbled across this passage whilst I was having a mooch in Waterstones on Saturday. It cuts right to the heart of what it is to be a sibling. I find the imagery particularly strong – the inhabited space of the womb, growth and development, umbilical cord, connection. Lots of food for thought.

‘The Two Fridas’, Frida Kahlo 1939 (oil on canvas)

On the subject of thinking, this image above has been floating around in the back of my head whilst I’ve been contemplating my role as a sibling, and as a mother, but more on the latter some other time. In this painting, Kahlo’s traditional identity is connected by an artery from her complete heart to the heart of her modern identity which has been torn apart by her divorce from Diego Rivera. I find it a very powerful image: full of pain and conflict, but, at the same time, resilience. It’s already informing some ideas for a piece of work.

I’ve been experimenting with pressing charcoal drawings onto a gelatine plate and then printing – the archival quality it produces is interesting – and also applying paint onto the plate randomly. It was all done in a bit of a rush as I suddenly thought: less thinking, more doing. I didn’t find the process satisfying: the colours are really unappealing and murky – in fact they are just varying shades of grey. I’ve been meaning to try this process for sometime now, since I saw it on a facebook reel, so I was really quite excited at the outset but I ended up feeling underwhelmed – the subtleties inherent in charcoal are totally lost. Maybe starting with a cross-section of an unlovely umbilical cord inadvertently set the tone, but my quickie self-portrait certainly expresses how I felt!

So, here’s the bad and the ugly…

Miscellany I

I’m conscious that I committed to doing an automatic drawing a day to try and change my mindset. I’m allowing myself the inclusion of exploring Procreate as well!

I particularly like the charcoal drawing. I used a piece of compressed charcoal and made swirling marks using it on its narrow edge and full on its side. I then rubbed it out and repeated it but this time playing around with the end and varying the motions. The concept of layers appeals to me (memories, past lives/ identities…) particularly the traces left behind of the first drawing and I was surprised by the range of marks I made depending on how I held the charcoal and the pressure I used. There are some delicate areas, followed by some jagged, harsh marks. Some lines appear to be faltering and hesitant whilst others have more purpose and at times are almost punctuation marks in what would otherwise be a stream of unconsciousness.

The second image I am treating as an automatic pastel drawing – I randomly chose colours and effects from the Procreate menu and I think the result is interesting, although I miss the haptics and the smell of the real thing as well as the tactile relationship between the medium and support. I’m not sure that I would use it going forward, except maybe as a tool to experiment with, although I have previously decreed that collage is just not my bag – how times change! I might use it if I decided to go down a graphic flat colour route (as in the third image) and digital collage is something I will definitely explore further – no bits on the floor and no need to glue – what’s not to like? I’ve been thinking about how I could incorporate digital collage into a mixed media piece of work – perhaps a giclée print onto a canvas, sealed with medium and then oil paint?

There are lots of thoughts chasing themselves around my head – I’ve been ignoring them in the hope that as and when I consciously acknowledge them they may have already got themselves into some kind of order. Just doing what I’m doing at the moment seems to be creating even more possibilities and permutations which is exciting.

I can sense that I’m feeling a lot more relaxed about making my experimental work ‘public’. I really look forward to starting the day by just letting my hand wander across the page – it’s the only time when there’s no expectation on me to achieve anything – renewing the buildings insurance, fixing the E20 error message on the washing machine – just a moment when I’m at one…

“Ever Tried. Ever Failed…

No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” (Samuel Beckett)

I hadn’t come across this quote until my daughter went to secondary school, where the headmistress used it as her mantra in her quest to produce strong, independent young women who would leave school ready to deal with whatever complexities the world threw at them. It was used to encourage the girls to go beyond their comfort zone in trying new things and not to be put off by the risk of failure – “feel the fear and do it anyway” was another one of her favourites!

There are many inspirational quotations dealing with the concept of failure such as:

“Try and fail, but don’t fail to try” – John Quincy Adams

“Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without losing your enthusiasm” – attributed to Winston Churchill

That’s all very well, but they don’t deal with how we should actually process the feeling of failure, and this is something we touched on in our online session this afternoon. The problem of dealing with failure is that the ego gets in the way. Strategies to overcome the ego include sharing stories (this allows others to learn from the failure without actually experiencing it); over-acceptance of the failure (that is actively taking it and collaborating with it to make an alternative outcome); and distancing the failure (for example, by using the third person when reflecting on it). The last strategy is particularly effective as it allows you to view the failure and the person who failed objectively giving rise to feelings of empathy.

So, our task for next week is to take a risk and do something in our art practice which might not work out!

For the first part of today’s session we finished our short introductions. I had been feeling ok about it, but towards the end I felt quite overwhelmed by emotion – maybe it was because I had mentioned my constant feeling that time is ticking by at quite a rate, or maybe it was the sudden realisation that it is only now that I have made the time to do something that I have always really wanted to do. Either way it came from nowhere and left me feeling quite out of sorts for some time afterwards. Even more reason to carpe diem!

Below is today’s automatic drawing in which I used a thin and a thick piece of willow charcoal, holding a piece in each hand moving at the same time. I then used a sanguine and black conte pastel on top. It’s not as dynamic as the previous drawing and seems a bit contained – maybe because I was using both hands at the same time – I’ve never been able to do the head pat/ tummy rub thing. Next time I think I will stick with charcoal, but maybe build up some layers, and also begin from a different starting point.

Trying Not To Overthink It

Guilty as charged: I have form for overthinking, overworking, not knowing when to stop and basically bludgeoning a piece until there is no life left in it. My problem is that I have an expectation of how it should be. It’s not even as if I enjoy the process – it makes me frustrated, stressed, and downhearted to the point of threatening to pack it all in. So, to put an end to this way of working I need to adopt a new approach; create a new habit but one which opens up possibilities, as opposed to closing them down. Admittedly, I have already begun to experiment more recently, but it needs to become second nature.

There’s a lot to be said for drawing exercises; I’m a particular fan of continuous line drawing but the drawback (excuse the pun) is that I’m still drawing something, I’m just not allowing myself to draw it as accurately as I might otherwise want to, and so there is still an expectation as to how it should look.

Sometime ago, I watched a documentary about Maggi Hambling. She gets up at 5am every morning and with a cup of coffee and cigarette in hand, she starts her day by making a drawing – she doesn’t like the term sketch – using an ink dropper and, in this particular instance, with her eyes closed. It is a form of automatic drawing, a concept embraced by the surrealists and latterly by the abstract expressionists, which involves the artist making marks without any conscious control.

I think this is for me!

There are numerous possibilities: pencil, charcoal, ink, paint, collage, eyes open, eyes closed, different ways of holding, holding more than one, dominant hand, non-dominant hand and the list goes on.

So this is the first of my daily automatic drawings:

I used a charcoal pencil in my dominant hand and, with my eyes open, I just let it wander over the page without any conscious thought or control. Maintaining the same pressure and manner of mark-making started to become a bit tedious so I almost unconsciously varied the pressure and the way I made the marks, holding the pencil higher up so that there was less control from my hand, rocking it backwards and forwards in my hand, holding it perpendicular to the page and then on its side. It was a sensory experience in that I was aware of the feel and the sound of it: the sound of the charcoal on the paper and the squeaking and stuttering of it on the upward stroke creating broken lines, as opposed to the smooth downward marks. I then randomly smudged and blended some areas.

There are some quite interesting passages and if this is my subconscious expressing itself then I might have cause for concern! All in all, I’m pleased with what I produced because I enjoyed the process – instead of being mindful, it was mindless – and I hope that if I do this often enough I might just free myself up.