Where Do We Go? Where Do We Go Now?

Apparently, Guns N’ Roses didn’t know how to end their most successful song, Sweet Child O Mine. Whilst in the recording studio, Axl Rose reputedly started singing, ‘Where do we go? Where do we go now?’ And the rest is history and, in my humble opinion, probably the best bit of the song.

So a moment of inspired creativity can come from a total lack of direction and confusion. Here’s hoping…

I’m resolved to wallowing in the myre of confusion. There’s not much point in fighting it; I can’t understand everything. The latest book we read in my book club was Michael Ondaatje’s Coming Through Slaughter. I’ve never read a book like it. It deals with the mental decline and eventual death of the New Orleans cornet player, Buddy Bolden, who is considered to be the father of jazz. I didn’t understand what was going on half of the time, who was talking, and to whom. It jumped around all over the place. There aren’t any chapters as such, just three parts, no speech marks and paragraphs end at odd points on the page and continue on the next – visually it is striking. It is a book to be read, not to be listened to; its format echoes the improvisation and syncopation of jazz music. Once I had decided that perhaps I wasn’t supposed to understand it and just went along with it, reading each phrase and word in its own right, looking at the patterns, and the sounds of the words, a bit like reading a poem (after all, Ondaatje is a poet), I got a lot more out of it.

So this is how I intend to move forward. And it’s just as well, because try as I might to keep up with the constant flow of information being offered up by Paul in the Low Res etching workshop, I just couldn’t. I started taking notes, but just gave up in the end and surrendered myself up to not understanding anything and just enjoying being along for the ride.

It kicked off with Paul showing us what we could have gone home with, had we the requisite skills. There were some impressive prints which demonstrated the versatility of printmaking which I hadn’t really fully appreciated until now.

We started off by putting down a hard ground on a zinc plate and then we had about 20 minutes to create the image using a selection of Paul’s tools. What to do? I had a quick look on my phone and chose Schiele’s Small Tree in Late Autumn.

This is the plate once the hard ground had been removed and it had been cleaned followed by the printed images, using aquatint on the last one.

How do I feel about them? Pretty good bearing in mind I only had 20 minutes to create the plate and I had very little idea what I was supposed to be doing most of the time. Will I do it again? I don’t know – it’s very process driven, and whilst I love the excitement and anticipation of the big reveal, I’m more of an instant gratification kind of person. That’s not to say that I’ve ruled out etching altogether, it’s just that I would need a greater understanding of the different and quite complicated steps involved to do it any justice, and that’s just not compatible with the ‘new me’ at the moment.

It’s All Part Of The Process

I’ve been doing quite a bit of thinking this week.

The first time, as a result of our weekly session, unprofessional v professional. We considered all that is implicit in the terms professional and unprofessional, and then read and discussed an article ‘How to be an Unprofessional Artist’ by Andrew Berardini, 23 March 2016, MOMUS.

I came away from the session feeling confused, and no longer having a clear sense of direction. My aims in my Study Statement are designed to help me fulfil my aspiration of becoming a practising professional artist. I’m now questioning what I even mean when I use the term ‘professional’. If it means losing creative autonomy, losing the love of creating because it has become an expectation or much worse, a chore; having to repeatedly make things because they are popular or asked for, then, no, I don’t think that’s what I want. But what is the alternative, just to carry on as I am now, making art for me and leave it at that – be a hobbyist like my mother said; be an amateur? I don’t think that’s what I want either. That’s not why I’m here.

Maybe when I get there, if I ever do, the answer will become clear. Perhaps the best course of action is to aspire to be a practising artist for the time being, making more time for creating. There’s no point trying to run before I can even walk.

I then spent some time reflecting on the cyanotypes I made, and all the possible further paths that I could go down. I started thinking about processes and re-processing. How you can take a painting, for example, take a photo of it, digitally alter that photo, incorporate other elements, say, by way of collage, print it out, print on top of it, paint on it, photograph it, keep changing it, keep re-processing it.

It then occurred to me that I’m just one big walking process made up innumerable smaller processes – breathing, talking, thinking, digesting, and on and on. Not just that, but that life is a process with all its constituent processes. Growing, having children, loving, caring, grieving, healing, dying are all processes by which we are, ourselves, processed.

So, I think that I’ve reached a point where I’m thinking about the reprocessing of art and the reprocessing of me. It’s probably because I’ve been thinking a lot about process recently, writing the word goodness knows how many times in Doing Lines, and reading ‘Ultra-Processed People’ by Chris van Tulleken. But it does occur to me that I have led most of my life too focused on the product, and not really living in the process.

Something for me to think about.

Dialogue IV – I’m So Over It

I’ve had enough of this side quest (©️Rebecca). I regret the day that I started it. Have I enjoyed any part of it? Maybe the beginning, the anticipation, the thinking about it. But when it comes to the process, it has been a monumental headache, from the execution to the photographing.

I realise a few things may be influencing my feelings about it. I keep getting reminder emails that the submission deadline is approaching – like I don’t know. Also, my daughter phoned me up yesterday morning in a crisis during an online exam – she was having IT issues. She had already contacted the helpdesk and taken screenshots, so my only advice was that she could only do what she could and not to stress, they must have procedures for this sort of thing. A couple of hours later she was feeling better, whilst I was still feeling the effects of all her stress, and trying to work out how on earth I was going to take a photo of a reflective surface. That, and the fact that some of the glue had managed to escape from under the cut-outs, and the realisation that I had fixed the die on the wrong way round.

Anyway, this morning it wasn’t raining for a change, so I took it outside. I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to convey its reflective qualities without including a reflection which then looks like it’s part of the work. Well, following my own advice, I can only do what I can do.

I feel like it’s been a shambles and that I’ve been amateurishly stumbling from one thing to another. The process hasn’t been the experience I thought that it would be. Because I had no expectations, I thought that there would be no stress – instead I’ve experienced confusion and frustration, and it has taken just as much out of me as other years, just in a different way. The only difference is, if it doesn’t get anywhere, I really don’t think I care at this point.

But every experience is a useful one. So what have I learnt?

  • Mirrored acrylic has an amazing quality of turning into a super static magnetic for all manner of minute particles floating around in the air and so is impossible to get clean.
  • Whilst deadlines can assist in making decision making and getting on with it, a lack of time reduces options, options which may have been the better course to follow. I should have had the image screen printed – it would have avoided so many issues – but I just didn’t leave myself enough time.
  • I’m not neat, and I don’t do small and fiddly.
  • I’ve tried something different – maybe next time I’ll enjoy it.
  • I can submit work which I don’t like and which contains what I know to be obvious errors.
  • I’m going to do mirrors again, sometime – they will not defeat me.
  • The process of exploration and experimentation is not just about serendipity and happy accidents or things that just don’t work, it can provoke feelings of confusion, frustration and it’s just not that easy.

But for the moment, I’m so over it.

We’re So Excited

No, not the Pointer Sisters. My second tutorial with Jonathan this morning.

I’ve had some additional thoughts whilst writing this up and put them in brackets in italics as a reminder to me – they didn’t form part of our discussion.

He asked me whether I feel that I have been productive.

I told him about something my husband had read out to me from his Facebook feed last night on the basis that he thought it was relevant to me: “ambition without action turns into anxiety”.

In terms of posting on my blog and thinking and having ideas, yes. In terms of actual physical output, no. But that doesn’t really concern me as I feel that I am about to enter a different phase; up until now I have been collecting ideas and inspiration. I’ve done enough now, although the process of collecting will always continue. I tend to have periods of inactivity, of thinking and pondering, followed by intense periods of activity.

We talked about the exhibitions that I’ve visited and written about in my blog; my thoughts and takes on the artists and work I have seen, which he found interesting.

I mentioned entering the Summer Exhibition as a way to make myself make and how I’m viewing it as an experiment. In previous years I have spent a lot of time and emotional energy in creating work which has then been rejected, but still I enter every year – it is almost a masochistic ritual. This year I’m not investing the same amount of energy, although it’s turning out that my time has been taken up with problem-solving, rather than emotional input anyway. It will be interesting to see whether the feeling of rejection stings as much. Theoretically it should, because a work which I create in 5 minutes should still have the same value to me as a work which takes me 5 years to create.

*(How to value work? Time spent? Size? Type of material used? Obviously, there’s a break even point, but beyond that?)*

This feeds into my concern about the extent to which I can take credit for a work in which others have had an input, or in which chance has played a major part. I mentioned the possibility of having to engage the services of a professional printer to screen print on a mirror and referred to the Phyllida Barlow video in yesterday’s session; I saw an exhibition of Barlow’s work last year at Hauser + Wirth and watched the accompanying video documentary in which she had technicians assisting her. I also mentioned artists such as Damien Hirst who have a team of people who help make their work. I tell myself that it is enough that it is my idea, or that I created the particular circumstances in which chance created something. It is a mantra I keep repeating to myself, and I think that I am starting to accept it.

Jonathan advised that it’s absolutely ok to have others involved in the making. He mentioned master printmakers to whom artists would look to print their images and his augmented reality project in Cornwall in which he had to enlist help with the more complex coding he couldn’t do himself. These others don’t necessarily have to be acknowledged on the label (although he did acknowledge his) – it is enough that they are acknowledged in the process and the work itself. In fact, printmakers would often supply a certificate in an edition print to confirm that they had destroyed the plate, their input being acknowledged that way.

We then went onto to discuss readymades. I mentioned that I’d had an idea for the Summer Exhibition (which in the end wouldn’t have worked because it would require having to be regularly recharged) of using an old rotary telephone with a message on it from me inviting the viewing public to leave their own messages. Donald had mentioned in the session last week about mobile phones no longer being used for their initial primary purpose of calling people but as a messaging tool. I have researched sourcing an old one and getting a sound board fitted etc, but then discovered that the wedding industry has actually already produced one. I thought that I could possibly use this idea for the interim show; the fact that it is a space which is open to the public for a prolonged period of time seems to me to be a resource which shouldn’t be wasted – I could use the phone as a way to collect research data and then use that to inform my work. Jonathan commented that it is interesting that I have thought about the space and what it offers as a potential for interactivity. A student in one of the past interim shows had a work which was made by the public writing on postcards on the subject of grief and loss – there were the odd few on which children had drawn pictures, and that’s the issue with interactive exhibits. Usually in a gallery setting there is a line across which the public cannot cross; once the public are encouraged to cross it by an interactive piece, they are without any guidance as to how they should behave. He referred to an interactive exhibition where many of the exhibits had elements which had been damaged by the public, although not maliciously, even whilst the exhibition was being invigilated. I would probably need to think about maybe just having it there for the opening night, which would give me the opportunity to engage with people.

*(I need to think about this. The benefit of people using it when no-one else is around is that it would encourage a more personal response? What is the piece of work? The telephone or the messages? Does it matter if it is damaged after the first night as long as I have downloaded the messages from it? Leaving it longer will increase the number of interactions, but increase the risk of misuse.) *

Jonathan asked me what energises me. I don’t really have much energy at the moment, but maintaining my blog energises me: I enjoy doing it and it’s something that I find easy to do on a regular basis. I see it as being very important to me as both a note making tool which I can just scroll through to remind myself of what has interested me and as a record of the process. I see it as being a piece of work in its own right at the end of the course as it will embody everything about me. Jonathan mentioned that a past student had actually turned her blog into a book, which takes a lot of time to work out how to do particularly when deciding what to do about videos etc. This is actually something that I have been thinking about doing myself. Jonathan commented that the tag cloud at the moment shows ‘mother’ and ‘drawing’ as being the areas of interest. I need to go through all my past posts and make sure that I have categorised and tagged them correctly and this process itself, Jonathan observed, would be a valuable reflective exercise.

Jonathan then asked me what is a challenge. Making ‘finished’ work. I feel that I have been dipping my toes in various ponds, trying things out, experimenting but not taking things that step further. We talked about the kitchen lithography and whether I would do it again. I think I will. The DIY aspect really appeals to me in the sense that I can do it at home, and not have to go into a specialist place, with expert people, where I don’t really know what I’m doing. I mentioned that last summer I became obsessed with cyanotypes and want to revisit them. To this end I’ve googled how to make my own lightbox and have bought a UV light etc.

He asked me whether there is any particular mark-making process that I like. I am not sure at the moment, I’m still dipping my toes. On the subject of liking something, I mentioned my painting which I recently did in my oil painting class, and not liking it but enjoying the process and my subsequent quandary about thinking that I should, as an artist, embody everything that I like in other artists and their work, which I think has made me feel as if I’m in an identity crisis. I can’t be every artist that I admire, I can only be me. I love colour but I’m not a colourful person in terms of the way I dress. I don’t want to pigeon hole myself. Jonathan asked whether I felt that there is an expectation to. I have in the past in the sense that people have told me that as an artist people expect a consistency in approach, although Picasso was a painter, printmaker, ceramicist and sculptor.

I’ve also asked myself whether I should even have to like my work or if enjoying the process is enough. I think I have reached a place where I will choose the mark-making processes which I enjoy, and not worry about the result. Jonathan read my comment back to me, because this is a huge shift in perspective for me. I really think that the blog has been instrumental in this – making me put work up which ordinarily wouldn’t see the light of day. He said that he gets a real sense of everything that I’ve been doing is being directed towards a point, which is unknown as yet, and that I shouldn’t feel a pressure to produce work.

Whilst I can multi-task, I find it difficult dealing with several things which are mentally and emotionally draining at the same time. I think that once I get the study statement out of the way, I’ll feel like I can start to make. It’s not that I see the statement as a barrier to making, unlike the inertia I felt at the time of my last tutorial. It’s been incredibly helpful to focus my thoughts and set out a framework within which to operate but which allows enough room for exploration. I commented that I often go off on tangents, for example, I was looking again at the flowing water posts and thought to myself that it would be interesting to follow a river from its source to its end, and make a body of work. Jonathan said that would be an interesting project as it could involve all sorts of media, such as video. He said that it is important to make note of these ideas so that they can be revisited in the future.

As from next week I feel that things will change. It’s a bit like learning how to play a new game. You can look at the rules, but the real knowledge comes from actually playing it. I feel like I’ve been having a quick look through the rule book to get the general gist, and now I’m ready to play the game. Jonathan asked whether the interim show is helping with this. It is, definitely. Aside from the telephone, I have been thinking about cyanotypes on fabric which can be draped – I’m in the process of digitising my parents’ family photos which I’m thinking I could use – or maybe some prints. I hope to become a bit clearer on where I’m going from next week.

I told Jonathan that I feel like a different person to the one who started the course in October. I feel like me, whoever that is. I feel alive.

*(On that basis, I should have answered the question about what energises me, as being the course. I mean ‘alive’ in the sense of feeling open to new experiences, noticing so many more things, feeling whole, engaged and energised.)*

Jonathan ended by reflecting that it’s great that I’ve really put myself into the blog and that I’m letting myself get lost in the confusion. He’s looking forward to seeing what comes next, and that I should carry on as I’m doing. He’s excited. I’m excited.