Tag Mark-making

We’re So Excited

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

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.

Vienna Calling

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

I have just returned from an amazing 4 nights in magically festive Vienna, having had my fill of glühwein, Sachertorte and boiled beef broth (it loses something in translation!).

I’ve never been before, but will definitely be going back. Beautiful architecture, and so much to do, not least the seemingly endless supply of museums and galleries.

The Leopold and Belvedere were on my hit list as housing the greatest number of works by Klimt and Schiele. I had a nagging fear that the episode might end the same way as Michael Craig-Martin but, instead, I came away with a greater appreciation of all the details that can’t be gleaned from a photograph: the brushstrokes, the surprising thickness and coverage of the paint, sometimes leaving areas of the canvas exposed and the purity of colour. It was a revelation to get up really close and just look.

Death and Life 1910/15 , Klimt

Detail

I had always thought that Klimt applied paint quite uniformly and flat, so I was surprised to see the thickness of the paint and multi-directional brushstrokes. I like the way Klimt paints skin in all its imperfections and blotchiness, ranging from the pale and cold whiteness to the warmer, darker tones of the male figure.

Seeing ‘The Kiss’ was an interesting experience; it reminded me of when I saw the ‘Mona Lisa’ in the Louvre. Being one of Klimt’s most famous works, along with the ‘Mona Lisa’ and Van Gogh’s ‘Starry, Starry Night’, it is one of the most mass reproduced images of all time. I was underwhelmed, and I found it quite sad, as I was expecting to be bowled over by it. It was the most crowded room at the Belvedere, but what I found particularly interesting was that the crowd of people in front of it, holding up their phones and cameras, seemed totally uninterested in looking at it in any great detail – in fact they had left a sizeable gap in front of it so that they could get it in shot. This was handy as it allowed me to perform a flanking manoeuvre to get in front of it, to try and appreciate it as a work of art, as opposed to just a selfie opportunity with a celebrity. There was no point taking a photo – it was so strongly lit, and the lights reflected in the glass covering it. I grappled with my feeling of ‘numbness’ for the rest of the day, and as I was mulling it over in my mind, holding yet another mug of mulled wine in my hand, the answer came to me when I remembered John Berger’s ‘Ways of Seeing’ in which he considers the effect of reproduction:

”When the camera reproduces a painting, it destroys the uniqueness of its image. As a result its meaning changes. Or, more exactly, its meaning multiplies and fragments into many meanings … Alternatively one can forget about the quality of the reproduction and simply be reminded, when one sees the original, that it is a famous painting of which somewhere one has already seen a reproduction. But in either case the uniqueness of the original now lies in it being the original of a reproduction. It is no longer what its image shows that strikes one as unique; its first meaning is no longer to be found in what it says, but in what it is.”

By contrast, in the next room was one of my favourites, ‘Judith and the Head of Holofernes’, a depiction of a strong femme fatale, the polar opposite to ‘The Kiss’.

Judith and the Head of Holofernes, Klimt, 1901

What can I say? I love gold leaf: I’m a magpie. Despite the abundance of gold in the painting, the eye is still drawn to the figure of Judith which is thrown forward by the decorative background. She is holding the head of Holofernes, somewhat gently, which is shown half in and half out of the frame, relegating him to a secondary role in the drama which has unfolded. There are intriguingly two decapitated heads in the painting; the treatment of the choker has effectively severed Judith’s head from her body. It is an image full of female power, sexual and otherwise.

It’s easy to forget that Klimt was a master draughtsman.

His drawings are exquisite. The simple monochrome of pencil or black chalk, a quiet antidote to the noise of gold and vibrant colour.

Self-Portrait with Raised bare Shoulder, Egon Schiele, 1912

I love this self-portrait; it is so expressive, and the fluidity of the brushstrokes creates a sense of movement and vitality. It is reminiscent of the Lucian Freud self-portrait in my earlier post, “I’m Sorry, Michael…”. It is quite small but he manages to pack a lot into such a confined space, including his shoulder, which by extension includes his body. The difference in treatment between the figure itself, which is quite thinly painted, and the more heavy impasto in the background is extremely effective. It is painted on wood, which might explain the wonderful textures on the face which would have been caused by the hog bristles in the brushes, although I have read, in a book on artists’ palettes, that Schiele would often use a brush to remove paint from a canvas in order to create texture. I particularly like the simple use of sgrafitto particularly above his left eye, and to delineate the edge of the chin against the neck.

The description next to this piece was interesting in that it described Schiele’s connection with his own body as both a fusion and a dissociation, in the context of the main theme of Viennese Modernism ie the individual becomes a dividual – something that can be divided.

The Embrace, 1917, Egon Schiele

This painting is so impactful. It’s approximately 1.5m by 1m. It shows Schiele with his wife, Edith Harms, in a loving and tender embrace. Unlike a lot of his work, this does not, to me at least, have any sexual or erotic overtones. There is a sense of completeness, in that Schiele depicts himself physically emaciated as he envelops and buries his head in the hair of his wife, almost blending into one, in an act of nourishing love. It’s even more poignant to think that this is one of his last works, as they both died within days of each other a few years later in the flu epidemic of 1918-20. He was only 28.

Both Schiele and Klimt were ahead of their time; they were disruptors. Schiele was akin to Sid Vicious and the punk movement, and Klimt founded the Viennese Secession, breaking away from the constraints of the Künstlerhaus. In today’s art world there is no prescribed way of doing things, no longer any art movements or – isms against which to rebel; artists have never been freer to express themselves in whatever way they wish, so I wonder how it is possible for an artist to stand out; how to make a difference in a world of differences.

Poets And Lovers, And A Side Of Bacon

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

Well, I made it through without a tear. It might have been the sheer number of people which meant that it was impossible to stand and contemplate too deeply, or the audio commentary going on in my ear which distracted me. The ‘Poets and Lovers’ exhibition at the National Gallery was a cornucopia of Van Gogh brilliance, although I was left wondering why it didn’t include some of the Van Goghs I had seen in other galleries, such as the self-portrait with bandaged ear at the Courtauld, but then I don’t have the faintest idea about curation. That said, it didn’t detract from the luscious visual delights on offer, many of which I hadn’t come across before.

What struck me more than anything was the direct correlation between how he drew and how he painted. The range and quality of mark-making was phenomenal. Whilst up close, the brushstrokes and colour palette made me virtually tachycardial, it was standing in the centre of each of the rooms which gave the most rewarding experience.

The only moment when I almost cracked, was when I found myself in front of the Sunflowers from the National Gallery and the Philadelphia Museum of Art: he painted his Sunflower series to decorate his guest room in anticipation of Gaugin’s visit to Arles, in an effort to impress Gaugin, who he greatly admired, almost to the point of obsession. Van Gogh’s sensitivity and vulnerability weren’t a good match for Gaugin who, by some accounts, was aggressive and egocentric, which served only to reinforce Van Gogh’s insecurities. It all made me blink a bit quicker. I have to declare my bias – I’m not a fan of Gaugin for various reasons, not least because he abandoned his wife and five children to go off and indulge his predilection for young girls.

The day was rounded off by a trip to the Colony Room Green, a replica, as near as dammit, of the bohemian Soho legend that was the Colony Room Club which closed down in 2008 after 60 years, and which was the creation of the queen of Soho, Muriel Belcher – apparently, you knew you were in if she called you the ‘C’ word. It was the favourite haunt of creatives such as Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud, John Craxton, Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, Dylan Thomas, John Deakin, Frank Auerbach, Michael Andrews, Giacometti, and the list goes on. My husband was particularly keen to visit as he’s reading Darren Coffield’s ‘Tales from the Colony Room’.

‘ Francis Bacon was very fashion-conscious and always immaculately dressed. One afternoon Francis walked in, annoyed and pulling his collar. – “What’s wrong, Francis?” – “Harrods, I’m never going back there again.” He’d attended a special night for select clients and bought lots of clothes, but when he’d got back home he’d decided he didn’t like any of them. “I bought so many suits and shirts and threw the lot in the dustbin.” You’d never seen the club empty so quickly. The next day everyone was up the club parading around in their new suits and shirts from Francis’ dustbin.’

Colony Room I, Michael Andrews, 1962

It’s very small and down some stairs underneath Ziggy Green, 4 Heddon Street, a side street off Regent Street. It’s reminiscent of a dive bar/ speakeasy.

It was great meeting Liam, the house jazz pianist and chatting to Tim, the barman who explained that it’s not trying to be a re-creation of the original, but somewhere to come and meet an eclectic mix of people. Despite what he said, I couldn’t help but feel that I had stepped back in time, waiting for the door to open and for one of my artistic heroes or heroines to walk through it. They often have events which are free to attend, such as talks and book launches. Unfortunately, we couldn’t hang around for the Portrait of Muriel Belcher evening.

There’s something very inspiring about the idea of a group of creative people coming together regularly to discuss work, ideas and concepts. I’ll definitely pop back in next time I’m in town, in the hope that something might rub off.

Lines

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

There’s something very satisfying about drawing a line.

Paul Klee loved a line. Taking a line for a walk.

Bewölkung (Clouds), Paul Klee, 1926

I stand in front of this Paul Klee every time I go to the Pallant House Gallery in Chichester. Ink lines drawn over watercolour evoke feelings and moods, suggesting, not defining.

I listened to a film whilst I did this. I like the suggestion of form created by the pattern of the lines. It’s made me think about something underneath trying to get out. The real me? I find these sculptures to be disturbing but compelling at the same time.

Maybe the lines are the contours of my life on a map. My own satnav so I know where I’ve been and where I’m going. Lots to think about.

On Your Marks…

Kate McCalmont-Woods 1 Comment

Well, the starting pistol has gone off, and I’m still sat here, procrastinating, allowing myself to be distracted, doing anything other than what I should be concentrating on: producing something for the pop-up show. My problem with deadlines is that I tend to ignore them until the very last minute – goal driven, that’s me.

What, with thinking about the pop-up and trying to come up with an inspirational text for Tuesday’s session, I’m feeling just the tiniest bit sick. I would say that I have stuck my head in the sand but apparently that’s a popular misconception: when they sense danger and cannot run away, ostriches will flop to the ground and remain still, attempting to blend in with the terrain – that sounds just about right!

Anyway, following on from my ‘Less’ post, I’ve been thinking about working with a limited palette and how it narrows choice. Using a pen narrows choice even further – just black and white and nothing much else in between. Using a pen forces you to think about mark-making in order to create tonal values and areas of interest. So, I’ve been using my time constructively by doodling with a pen in my sketchbook whilst listening to an audio book – who says I can’t multi-task!

I found the process of mark-making to be meditative and grounding, totally different from the anticipation of putting ink onto wet paper and waiting to see what happens. Strangely, I like it. I think I am a person of extremes: I’m either fastidiously tidy or chaotically messy; organised or haphazard; focused in on the minutiae or just wanting to see the bigger picture. Somehow I have to find a path along which both sides of me are satisfied.

I will definitely use pen again, if only as a way to order my thoughts. Going forward I think I should try to build up a bank of possible marks, almost like a painter might have a bank of colour swatches. Having said that, I’m mindful that I’ve still got to do a few things to which I’ve committed in earlier posts, so I think I need to embark on some self-accountability first.

Less

Kate McCalmont-Woods 2 Comments

I haven’t posted for a while – I’ve been busy sorting things out before going off to Marrakech for a four day trip with my book club.

Marrakech was amazing. Colour. Noise. Smells. People. Heat. Contrast that with this morning when I had to defrost the car before heading off to my weekly art class. I love this drive, along an old Roman road – straight and undulating through the Hampshire countryside to Stockbridge, a small town in the Test Valley. The sun came out and the trees came to life – burning oranges, golds and yellows. It was beautiful, and by the time I arrived at my class, late because I couldn’t find anywhere to park, I was still feeling its effects.

I can’t deal with too much choice – it paralyses me and then I can’t make a choice. Needless to say, I didn’t buy anything in the souks in Marrakech – the choice was overwhelming, so I resolved not to buy anything at all, and was then able just to wander and enjoy the atmosphere and culture.

So today’s task was perfect for how I was feeling. A landscape using a limited palette of burnt sienna, burnt umber, ultramarine, pale cadmium yellow, white and cadmium red. We took a board, roughly primed – in my case it was an old piece of MDF which I had previously coated with professional Dulux oil-based primer, which can make it a bit like an ice rink – and put down a loose ground of burnt sienna with a bit of sansador which ended up not drying for some reason. Then we put in some outlines using burnt umber following with thick patches of colour keeping it very general, but the wet burnt sienna contaminated some areas and lifted off the board in others. We experimented with dragging a dry brush across the paint and I also did a bit of sgraffito which I can’t help doing when using thicker paint.

This is the result:

I haven’t painted for ages – not since beginning this course – I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and experimenting with other media. At first, it felt a bit strange coming back to it, almost awkward, like I’d been unfaithful in some way.

It’s not my best by far, but it’s ok for an hour and a half. I am leaving it. The ‘me’ I’m trying to change would say that it is not finished by a long way. There’s lots I don’t like and would love to change – I’m itching to tinker – but I’m exercising some will power and calling it a day. Just like I’ve been trying to change my mindset about having an expectation as to how a piece will turn out, I am also trying to train myself to walk away.

Jonathan told me that the job of mark-making is to tell us what to do next. These marks are telling me to leave it alone and to be happy with what bits of it appeal to me – I like the lack of clarity and blurriness caused by the dry brush; the light coming through the burnt sienna ground in the foreground; the energy in the marks, which I would absolutely kill if I allowed myself to do more; the lack of definition which gives a sense of a fleeting moment; and the recreation of the feeling I had whilst driving to class.

Will I do this again? Yes, I always like going back to basics and using a limited palette – I’ll use a different image and next time I will definitely make sure that the ground is dry before carrying on so that the colours aren’t so muddy in places.

Miscellany I

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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…