Tag Mark-making

Summer II

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I’m now playing catch up, tying up all the loose ends from the summer, which now seems an age away.

Once I’d seen Bourgeois’ ‘Maman’ I had a wander around the rest of Tate Modern.

I don’t know what it is about this painting, but I always find myself standing in front of it. It’s a self-portrait by German artist, Christian Schad, in 1927. Having previously been influenced by Dadaism, after returning from Naples he started painting in a smooth, realistic style as part of the New Objectivity, a reaction against Expressionism. He also created Schadographs, which I may have to have a look at. Maybe I’m drawn to it because it was painted at a time of decadence in Berlin and Vienna, or because of the narcissistic symbolism, or maybe it’s just the way he’s painted that really sheer shirt.

This is by British modernist, John Tunnard in 1942. It is an abstract landscape painting of Tol Pedn near the Lizard Peninsular, where Tunnard served as a coastguard during the war. The two small chesslike objects represent the two artificial landmarks on the coast warning ships to keep away from the Runnel Stone, a dangerous reef. I like the areas of texture which contrast with the flatter paint, and the overall balance of the composition.

I particularly like the aerial view feel of this work. It is Nocturnal City, by Maliheh Afnan made in 1987 – wax, crayon, oil pastel and ink on paper. She is influenced by the written form, in particular, Persian manuscript paintings. She ‘writes’ her paintings layering materials in which she explores, memory and places. Text has appeared in some of my work, and I like the effect of scraping into the surface to make marks, something that I do a lot of instinctively.

I had a look around the Emily Kam Kngwarray exhibition: she started painting in old age and made a mind-blowing 3,000 odd works in just a few years. I enjoyed looking at the mark-making and the colours, some reminiscent of mapping.

And then I saw an actual map in Richard Long’s Cerne Abbas Walk (1975) in which the sculptor/ land artist documents a six-day walk at a well known Dorset landmark, detailing his physical interaction with the landscape. I couldn’t help but stop and spend quite a long time just looking at his 8 metre wide Norfolk Flint Circle (1990) which creates its own extraordinary landscape.

I didn’t make a note of this next work which is frustrating as I was intrigued by the holes and layers beneath.

Then it was on to Do Ho Suh’s Genesis exhibition. Lots of transparent layers, grids and threads, all of which appealed to me.

Some wonderful Giacometti’s in the Tanks, emerging from the darkness and given form by the wonderful lighting.

An accidental slip of the phone, but an interesting image.

Carbon Dating II

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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.

Trying to Move Forward

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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.

Solitude

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I feel particularly drawn to this photograph of my father. It’s solitary and contemplative, evoking a sense of vulnerability – a side which was never apparent whilst I was growing up. It makes me want to go and give him a hug. He was the world’s best hugger. Either that, or he’s watching someone doing something and he’s not that impressed – a more familiar experience.

Having missed out on visiting a couple of exhibitions on Sunday, I decided to experiment. I took a piece of A1 flipchart paper, a graphite stick and a 5B pencil and got to work. First I created multiple silhouettes of the image using the graphite stick.

I was inspired by the Richter drawings (The Rich Are Getting Richter) and used the tiles on the kitchen floor to create texture with some frottaging.

Having really liked the effect of some of the lines and marks made in my automatic drawings, I used the 5B pencil to create a wandering line, holding it at the top and twisting it from side to side in the process and then holding it on its side to create a second softer line. I like the idea of tree roots and mycorrhizas connecting and creating a support network for trees, a concept we touched on in last week’s session. The lines are connecting each figure so it’s no longer alone. They are also reminiscent of a map or a mapping out. Not sure which, but I like the effect. I like the delicacy of the lines. They also remind me of the lines in skulls at the points where the plates have fused or cracks in a surface, fault lines. I wasn’t keen on the overlap on the two figures on the right which created a hard box-like edge, so I cropped it out on the last image.

I really enjoyed doing this, particularly the lack of control of the line making and the unpredictability of the frottaging, and despite that, it does bear a resemblance to the vague image I had in my head. It ties in with the idea of shadow selves (Sniper’s Alley) and the idea of inheritance and being made up of multitudes (Bus Replacement Service). It’s definitely an approach I will develop further, but I’ll use better quality paper next time.

Marking

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We had a friend to stay at the weekend, so we took her to Jane Austen’s House which is less than half an hour away from where we live. It’s the 250th anniversary of her birth this year, and so there are lots of Austen celebrations happening to mark the occasion. She, together with her sister, Cassandra, and her mother lived in the village of Chawton, in one of the houses on the Chawton Estate, which was owned by one of her six brothers as his country residence. He had been adopted by a wealthy couple who were very distant relations, and who didn’t have a male heir.

My husband, who had been a bit reluctant to go as he hadn’t read any Austen and thought her writing a bit girlie, enjoyed himself. She’s far from girlie, I told him: she had an ascerbic wit and was a keen observer of human nature. I picked up a fancy edition of ‘Pride & Prejudice’ in the obligatory gift shop, and told him to read the first few lines; he laughed, I laughed, Alexa laughed, Siri laughed.

I discovered two interesting facts. Firstly, that many wealthy families were heirless, and so hunted around on the peripheries of their family trees for a suitable candidate who would inherit, but on the condition that he changed his family name to that of the bequeathing couple. Sometimes there were no suitable candidates and a daughter would inherit as in the case of Elizabeth Knight who inherited her parents’ estate at Chawton and Godmersham in Kent in 1702. Because of the size of her estates she had a raft of voting rights in Parliament, but was unable to exercise them, because she was a woman. A formidable woman at that, and thought to be the inspiration for Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Pride & Prejudice.

The second fact was that markings were often made next to vulnerable areas of a house, where evil spirits could enter e.g. doorways, chimneys, windows etc. They were called witches’ marks and ranged from daisy wheels to the letters V and M, possibly signifying the Virgin Mary. There was one such mark by a fireplace at Chawton.

Talking to Cat in yesterday’s session about her recent performance, and the drawing of a pentagram, reminded me of the rich tradition of mark-making as a form of protection.

Making A Sound

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When I went to the Pallant House Gallery to see Dora Carrington recently there was another exhibition on at the same time: Maggi Hambling – ‘Nightingale Night’.

Nightingale Night VI
Nightingale Night X
Nightingale Night XIV
Nightingale Night III
Nightingale Night IV

Hambling spent a night in a woodland in Sussex in the Spring of 2023 listening to nightingales. I didn’t take photos of all of the paintings – I think I was only drawn to some of them on the day, or maybe I was tired from exploring Dora, but Iooking again at the images on the identification labels, I’m regretting not having done so.

I’ve since read an entertaining interview with Hambling about the exhibition in ROSA Magazine – I like doing further research after I’ve been to an exhibition; never before.

I’m not entirely sure what I think about it all. I’m not sure that I like the gold on the black ground, although I can absolutely understand her reasoning behind it, and I do like a bit of gold. Does she succeed in communicating the otherworldly divinity of the nightingale in the darkness? The sense of it, absolutely, but the sound of it? I’m not convinced, and I think it’s the mark-making. The swirls and definite vertical and horizontal marks are successful, I think, in representing sound; my issue is with the drip-like marks – they don’t allude to the beautiful song of a nightingale to me; it’s more akin to me having a warble and eventually running out of steam and giving up. But I think I’m being harsh, because even she admits that it’s impossible to paint the sound of a nightingale, and that what she hopes to have captured is a sense of the fleeting moment. She comments:

”…there wouldn’t be much point in painting a picture that it was possible to paint…”

It’s an interesting comment, one to think about.

It would be interesting to know whether Hambling made the paintings from memory, or whether she played a recording of nightingale song whilst she worked. I’ve assumed that it is the former because it’s about the whole experience, of being in a certain place at a certain time bearing witness to something extraordinary.

I have been carrying on with my pen doodling, some of which is unfinished – I became bored, and moved on. I also decided to give nightingales a go. The concept of representing sound in a 2-D form is really interesting – the consideration of tone, volume, intonation, rhythm etc. I’ve represented it in a linear way, thinking initially about sound waves, but it would be interesting to explore other methods of representation.

The song is so diverse and improvisational that it was very difficult to think of different mar–making to represent what I was hearing. It was an interesting exercise, and very calming listening to birdsong with my eyes closed.

I like having an inked page – I think I will go through my sketchbook and randomly ink up or paint pages. I also like trying to work with unexpected events such as the solvent stains from the gold coming through to the reverse of the page. This is, literally, just playing – it’s enables a period of convalescence.

Out Of The Blue

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Last summer I became obsessed with cyanotypes. Then there was plenty of sun. There was some sun the other day, but not much since, so I decided to make myself an exposure unit using my Speedball UV lamp and following instructions on Handprinted. I do love a bit of DIY; there’s something very satisfying about making do with something handmade which didn’t cost a fortune to buy, or require some fancy kit, or having to go to a specialist location.

I used an old printer box which was large enough to take A3 sheets, cut out a hole for the lamp to sit in, and then lined it with aluminium foil.

I selected a few photographs to experiment with; some from the family photos which I’ve been sorting out, and others which I have collected on my phone as inspirational resources, as well as some images from the experiments earlier on in this blog. I converted them all to black and white and then inverted them in Photoshop, printing them off on transparencies. I had to dust off my old printer to do this as I wasn’t sure how to do it on my husband’s printer. This took a while because between each print I had to perform a ritual of pressing certain buttons in a certain order in order to fool the printer into thinking that I was using genuine HP ink cartridges, which I wasn’t. The things you can learn on YouTube.

Ironically, the sun came out, so I did a mix of au naturel and my DIY unit.

Me

The first two prints were made using the unit, the first being over- exposed at 20 minutes, the second being just about right at 15 minutes. The last two prints I did outside in the sun, which was a bit more hit and miss because the strength of the sun was not constant as it kept disappearing behind some cloud cover. However, I do really like the effect of the visible strokes which I left when applying the solution to the paper, which was A4 300g/m2 hot pressed watercolour paper. The markings give the effect of a moving, flickering , transitory image – there, but not quite there. I put two images on the same negative transparency because I wanted to create a number of smaller images to experiment with. However, the suggestion that the images are on a roll of film is really interesting.

My mother & my brother – capturing a connection and a perfect expression of motherhood

It’s been really difficult getting some of the old photographs out of the albums; they are the sort which have sticky pages on which you position the photos, and then put a transparent film over the top. Over the years the adhesive has seized up and practically bonded to the back of the photos. I’ve tried all sorts including gentle heat, dental floss and a bendy, very sharp filleting knife.

This one of my mother and brother is a favourite, but sustained a small tear on the right. I am pleased with both images – the first one was done outside and the second in the unit, which seems to have more of a Prussian Blue hue to it although I’m not sure that there’s any rhyme or reason as to the differentiation in the blues – but I really like the movement in the second one, again giving the impression of a fleeting moment. I think that the solid areas at the top and bottom add to it, suggesting a frame from a film of a moving image.

This is a photo of the statue which sits at the bottom of my mother’s garden next to her makeshift pond made out of an old washing-up bowl. I always used to wander around the garden when I visited, stopping at the pond to see if there were any frogs around. I do like a frog – my grandmother on my father’s side used to have a rockery, and I used to spend most of my visits looking for, and trying to catch frogs. That, and hanging out in her shed and greenhouse with the tomato plants – I love the smell of tomatoes; it takes me right back.

The problem with a cyanotype is that if you leave it too long, you over-expose it, and whilst you get deep blues you lose the midtones, which is what I thought I had done with the first one, so I exposed the second one for less, but it turned out to be under-exposed – even putting it in a hydrogen peroxide bath didn’t help. Both were done outside; perhaps I should have done a straight 15 mins in the unit, but where’s the jeopardy in that?

This is a photo that I took looking up into the branches of the three trees that I like. The negative image is also really interesting, and I might do something with that at a later date. The image (last photo) is underexposed again, but has a feeling of being removed, almost as if I’m looking at it through my window (which incidentally does need a good clean). I wanted to try fabric, but could only find some thin cotton lawn. I was so disappointed – it turned out terribly. I had visions of being able to create long, flowing, billowing, wispy cyanotypes, but ended up with the image above. You can just about make out the branches.

I will need to think about this a bit more. My first thoughts are that maybe there was a coating on the fabric, so I’ve washed it; maybe the image was too detailed, but I’ve seen quite detailed images on fabric; that the structure of the fabric is not robust enough – you can get pretreated fabric which is like a sateen so I could try that; or maybe there wasn’t enough contact between the fabric and the negative. I need to take some time to reflect, and try again.

The images above were from my experiment with ink in Blot II , and from A State of Flow II . It was a useful exercise in that it confirmed to me that not everything works as a cyanotype – I much prefer the original images, particularly the ink one, as the edges between areas of flooding and blots are much more defined, and there is more of a delicacy about them. The contrast between the blue and the black ink also adds interest which is lost in the cyanotype.

So, on reflection a really useful and enjoyable exercise. The thing that I really enjoy about this process is the anticipation, and then the slow reveal as you rinse off the solution to see an image slowly emerge, or not, as the case maybe. Doing it outside as opposed to in the controlled environment of the unit adds a degree of extra excitement, but equally there is the risk of crushing disappointment when it doesn’t quite work out.

Moving forwards, I was intending to experiment with toning some of the smaller images of me with tea, coffee, wine etc, but I actually like the last couple as they are, so I will keep them as finished. I’m thinking about how I could use multiple exposures to create layers, and also thinking about manipulating the source image a bit more in Photoshop and printing from the original image rather than reversing etc. I’m not sure whether I’ll get straight to it, or do something else in the meantime – sometimes I go hell for leather with something and then exhaust it, or myself, or become disenchanted with it. I don’t want to get too far down a rabbit hole, so maybe I should leave a bit of space before going back to it, to allow for some more subconscious reflection. I suppose the clue was in the opening sentence: “Last summer I became obsessed with cyanotypes”, and I haven’t done it since.

Resisting The Urge

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It’s been difficult, but I’ve been managing to stop myself from altering things after the event. To leave things undone with elements which really jar with me, which are clearly wrong and which look awful, and to post them anyway. I think that it’s starting to make a difference as to how I work – if I can get into the habit of showing the worst of it, the imperfect, work which I’d much rather never see the light of day, and preferably end up in the bin, I hope that I will be able to engage fully with the process, and not worry about the result.

The mantras I’ve adopted so far:

  • I will choose the mark-making processes which I enjoy, and not worry about the result
  • I choose the process, not the result
  • I don’t have to like what I make, and I don’t have to make what I like

So, we’ve been continuing with the subject of figures in my weekly oil painting class. We had a model today. I certainly haven’t done her justice, and just don’t get me onto the subject of faces. We had to do a few warm up drawings, starting with continuous line – always difficult to get things in the right place – and then just normal sketching, a couple of minutes each. I used an oil pastel – I like that it’s a commitment, and can’t be rubbed out. There’s nowhere to hide, mistakes remain visible – the new me. Then an hour painting.

What to say? I’ve realised that since I’ve been posting my ‘Undones’ (seems a more positive word than failures), no matter how unhappy I am with the result, I can always find something that I like, if I look hard enough. It has just dawned on me, that I probably wouldn’t notice these elements if I was happy with the end result if, indeed, they managed to survive the perfecting process. There’s always some beauty, no matter the ugliness.

I think that I’ve unintentionally transferred my feelings of being weighed down onto the model. The dress looks so heavy; although it was velvet. I think I’ve managed to capture the sense of velvet. I’m trying to avoid using any blending in my paintings at the moment – I’m working on keeping my brushstrokes defined and with a sense of movement – I think I’ve achieved this. The figure is generally good and I particularly like the neck.

I’ve just been watching Sky Arts LAOTY, and now Gareth Reid is now giving a masterclass on drawing faces – I could definitely do with watching this.

Doing Lines

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Following my tutorial with Jonathan, I decided to test the theory that if you say something to yourself enough times, you’ll start to believe it. So, I’ve been doing lines. To be honest I didn’t have to do lines as a punishment at school: I was a conformist.

We make marks everyday in one way or another. An obvious one is our handwriting. I learnt handwriting at school in the same way as every other child, in the book with the lines which indicated where the top and bottom of your letters should go, and the line in the middle indicating the height of the small letters. Once we had mastered the basics, we were allowed to go free range, first with a pencil, and then with a pen, as a reward for continued neatness, and perfection. Those were the days when everyone was taught to write with their right hand; left-handedness was not tolerated. But the need to express ourselves in how we write the words, not just with the words we choose, will always out.

Our handwriting reveals things about us, from the tilt, the size, the pressure, the failure to close our loops. I’ve never had consistent handwriting. It changes depending on my mood. I wonder what that says about me. Maybe I’ve never found a style which says to me: yes, this is you. And maybe that’s the point – I’m forever changing. Or maybe I just haven’t found my mark-making processes. It doesn’t really bother me, but at times I do feel jealous of the beautifully formed letters of others. I think – yes, you’ve got it together; you know who you are.

Doing Lines I

I like that the redaction is scruffy and that there are jagged edges. When I was doing it I wasn’t aware how scruffy it was because I was doing it against a white background, and so it just looked like the redacted words were disappearing. Surprisingly, I didn’t even have the urge to tidy it up once it revealed itself to me. As I was going through the words trying to make different phrases each time, there was a section in the middle which became a bit negative. It’s quite difficult to find different phrases from the same words in the same order. Phrases like ‘I worry about not making’, ‘Is it enough that I enjoy the process’ and ‘I worry about not making the mark’ started to pop up.

Doing Lines II

Well, I’ve written the words that many times, that if they haven’t sunk in by now, they never will.

It seems to have all been about words recently. What are words worth? That’s what the Tom Tom Club asked in their rather bizarre new wave hit from the early eighties, Wordy Rappinghood. You have to be of a certain age to remember this one. I rather like the artwork.

We’re So Excited

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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.