Tag Perfection

Am I Bovvered?

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

Amidst all the excitement of the Low Res, I received my annual rejection letter from the RA.

Immersed in all the distraction, I wasn’t bothered, which is why I have left it until now to reflect on this rejection. I’m still not bothered. Why? I’m not sure, in the end I invested quite a lot of time into the process of producing A Die, A Log, With You. However, I didn’t invest very much in an emotional sense – yes, it made me titter but it’s not as if I put my heart and soul into it. Why? because it was an arbitrary task I had set myself which was, frankly, getting in the way of more interesting things. Also, entering the Summer Exhibition is no longer my only artistic outlet into the big wide world. This blog has changed that.

Based on our discussion in yesterday’s session on the subject of success as an artist, I would say that I failed. The piece didn’t connect with others, and, perhaps more importantly, it didn’t connect with me. I used to think that my work was like a Harry Potter Horcrux with each piece containing a little bit of my emotional being. This piece has none of me, so was always destined to be a failure as a piece of work. However, as an exercise in ‘that will do’ as opposed to the normal quest for perfection it was a total success. So. I’m still left in a quandary as to why I didn’t feel connected – was it that in accepting something less than perfection I detached myself from it, or was I just not that into it to start with?

Dialogue III – That Will Do

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

I’ve always thought that if you do something, you should do it to the very best of your ability, no matter what. My husband is very much of the ‘that will do’ approach, which used to really irritate me.

With hindsight, it was an impossible ideal – it’s obvious that I couldn’t do my absolute best at everything I did in life; there’s only so much time, and so much of me. It was a tall order to impose not only on myself, but also on others – it led to feelings of disappointment and dissatisfaction. It was also the slippery slope which led me to strive for perfectionism in my art. Over the last few months, my mindset has shifted, I would say, seismically.

That’s not to say that I’ve stopped caring, or have become laissez-faire. I would like to say it’s because I now care much less about the result, and more about the process, but I’m not quite at that point yet. It’s more that I’ve stopped imposing such high expectations on myself – in the past their achievement might ultimately have given me a moment of satisfaction, but it was rarely ever enjoyable or something that I actually wanted to do. Now, I feel that I am motivated by what interests me, and I would still like to do my best, for example, in the sense of making the most of opportunities and ideas, but I recognise that there are so many variables which could influence what that might be.

Anyway, long story short, I’m done, finito, and heaven forbid – it’ll do.

So, I had the mirror images printed and fixed them to the back of the existing cut outs. I used a crafter’s glue – Tombow mono liquid glue – as it seemed the least likely to cause buckling etc. Now the cut-outs were thicker than they were originally which caused a problem of the white edging. Also, even using a brand new craft knife didn’t prevent some of the edging being visible face on, which was particularly irritating – I don’t really do fiddly stuff and I’m not the neatest – as I had been really careful when cutting them out. I used some highly pigmented coloured pencil to get rid of the white as best I could. I then glued the cutouts onto the mirror, which proved tricky as the mirror surface had to be wet for the glue to cure properly. I managed it as best I could, but it was a tricky process trying to get enough glue on the back of the cutout for it to fix, but not so much that it would ooze out from underneath and react with the water on the surface.

It will do.

Next problem: photographing the finished piece.

Reflection

Kate McCalmont-Woods 2 Comments

I’ve decided to take a leaf out of Sophie’s book and formalise the thoughts I’ve had since we finished our first term.

I don’t think that I have felt more like myself (whoever that might be) than I have over the course of the last 3 months. I can’t pinpoint why exactly; I’ve just felt like ‘me’.

It has been overwhelming (I suspect that I use this word an awful lot) in the sense that I have been totally free to create and, more importantly, to think about creating. I feel as if I am at the start of an important journey – I don’t want to rush into it; I want to take my time and be prepared. I don’t even know where I’m going – there are no limitations – but I know that I will discover something by the end of it.

I think that I have mostly engaged in the preparation side of things rather than the physical manifestation of work, but that’s been the best bit. I’ve been collecting ideas, inspiration, and information. I think about it most of the time. I’ll have a thought and think, yes, I could use that, and then it’s gone. I need to find a workable way of recording my thoughts – I can’t really open a notebook or Notes on my phone whilst driving – maybe I’ll have to call someone (hands free, of course) and get them to record it for me. Funnily enough, I used to do that: if, whilst at home, I thought of something I needed to do at work the next day, I would call my work phone and leave a voicemail. Just writing that has made me think about what voicemails I might leave younger versions of myself at various points in my life. And that is how it’s been, going off on tangents, suddenly striking up a conversation with whoever I’m with, on the thought I’ve just had.

It has also made me feel anxious – I don’t want to miss anything. I have amassed a large pile of books which I ‘need’ to read. I haven’t really tackled the online library resources with any conviction just yet – the thought of it makes my heart race – all that information out there – how can I take it all in?

The preparation of my study statement has come at just the right time. I need to marshall my thoughts and commit them to words, but in the knowledge that it is a living document which can change over time. I’m actually really looking forward to it as it will bring a sense of calm and order. I hope. Who knows, I might be feeling differently come the beginning of February.

Thinking back on the work I have done over the last few months, I think I have become much freer – I’ve been leaving things as being what I would term as ‘unfinished’ and managing not to go back to them. Making them public by putting them on this blog has helped tremendously. I’m now enjoying the process of making much more than I have previously – it was often an ordeal.

I think I have identified areas which I would like to explore in more depth: I have invested in a book on Procreate (it’s not going to beat me) which I’m working my way through, and I have some ideas in my head as to a series of three digital collages on the subject of motherhood which I may or may not develop further. I like the number three: I am one of three; there are three in my immediate family; there are three trees which together form one tree on my favourite walk near my home; and three is the smallest number by which you can seek the input of others and still avoid a deadlock. Having said that, it’s probably not so great for a friendship group.

I would also like to experiment with printing techniques, photography and a previous obsession, cyanotypes. This term I’m determined to book some sessions and get into CSM on a regular basis.

I’m now able to look back at the three monotypes that I made of my mother. I feel that it was the right thing to do. It was something that I always knew I would have to address and it was something that I had to tackle early doors. I think it has helped. I went back to my mother’s house not so long ago and I didn’t feel the usual sinking feeling of dread as I walked through the front door. I was actually able to sit down by myself in silence and remember some of the good times when we all lived there as a family, even when it became dark outside. A small positive step in the right direction.

As finished pieces of work, they are what they are, vehicles by which I transferred debilitating thoughts into another space. Could I have done them differently or executed them better? Yes, obviously, but I don’t look at them that way; it is what they signify and make me feel that matters: despair, confusion, sadness, resentment, helplessness, isolation and fear. I chose monotype because it is, as soon as it is, and there is no way back. It was all about the process, not the result. If I had to make a change I would change their order – I made them in the order of the conversations – they would work better as a series if their order was reversed, with each one making more sense of the one before.

I took my daughter back to uni at the weekend, and she phoned me up earlier, chasing me for some information I was supposed to give her. My husband chipped in that it wasn’t any wonder that I hadn’t got round to it as I seem to spend all my time blogging – well, if I don’t have anything else to show for the next year and a half, at least I’ll have this blog!

Part One: Think Like An Artist

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

… and Lead a More Creative, Productive Life by Will Gompertz isn’t taking me long to read at all. Gompertz, artistic director at the Barbican, makes some very interesting and thought-provoking observations on what it is to be creative. As I’m galloping through it at such a speed, I thought it best to highlight some parts, as I go along, which I think will either help me in finding my artistic voice, or which reinforce ideas and concepts which we have touched on in the course so far.

On failure:

”When it comes to creativity, failure is as inevitable as it is unavoidable. It is part of the very fabric of making. All artists, regardless of their discipline, aim for perfection…But they know perfection is unobtainable. And therefore they have to accept that everything they produce is doomed to be a failure to some extent…Thomas Edison knew all about the notion of sticking at it…But at no point did he countenance failure: ‘I have not failed 10,000 times,’ he said. ‘I have not failed once. I have succeeded in proving that those 10,000 ways will not work. When I have eliminated the ways that will not work, I will find a way that will work‘…There is plenty of time for wrong turns, for getting lost; for feeling generally hopeless. The crucial thing is to keep going. Artists appear glamorous and blessedly detached, but in reality they are tenacious grafters: they are the proverbial dogs with bones… And while they are out there, worrying away, they often discover a hidden truth about the creative process… Their success is very often down to a Plan B. That is, the thing they originally set out to do has morphed along the way into something different.”

He references several artists who started out in one direction only to find their success through a Plan B, such as Mondrian, Lictenstein and Bridget Riley. In the case of the latter, in the early part of her career Riley was interested in colour theory and the work of the Impressionists, the Pointillism of Seurat, and the composition of Cézanne. It wasn’t working for her; she was directionless and lacked originality, and she was getting older. The ending of a relationship caused her to paint a canvas black, and she took all that she had learnt from her studies of Seurat et al and applied her knowledge in abstract terms. She painted a white horizontal line the lower edge straight, the upper edge forming a curve – it became a painting expressing the dynamism and inequality of relationships, human and spatial.

’Kiss’, 1961, Bridget Riley (Wikiart 4 Jan 2025)

”Bridget Riley had to abandon the one thing she thought most important and appealing about painting – colour – in order to make any real progress. It didn’t mean colour could never feature in her work again, only that at that precise moment in time it was the roadblock… Only when [she] went back to the most basic of basics – a canvas covered in black paint – did she find the necessary clarity to progress. Only then did she discover the most precious and liberating of things: her artistic voice… As long as you stick at what you are doing, constantly going through the cycle of experimentation, assessment and correction, the chances are you will reach the moment when everything falls into place.”

The cycle of experimentation, assessment and correction is at the very essence of this course: Practice-based research.

Gompertz also states that if you call yourself an artist and make art, then you are an artist regardless of where you are in the process, or what skills you still need to learn and develop. I think I find this the hardest to embrace – I still can’t quite think of myself that way. I’ve only just got my head around being a student – in retrospect, it probably wasn’t the best idea to try it out first on the border official at Marrakech airport who looked at me with incredulity and repeated “Student?”. Admittedly, it’s been a lot easier since I discovered all the discounts available!

On ideas:

Gompertz asserts that originality in a completely pure form does not exist; that all ideas are additional links in an existing chain, each link adding to the one before. It is a form of disruption: something to react against and respond to, to build upon. He suggests that Picasso, in the quote attributed to him – good artists copy, great artists steal – is actually describing a process that an artist needs to go through: we learn through copying and imitating, and it is only once we have done this and developed the basic techniques that we can identify opportunities to add our own link to the chain, and to find our own artistic voice. This reminds me of my discussion with Jonathan about Frida Kahlo’s ‘The Two Fridas’, when I questioned whether any work I make which is inspired by it will be original enough: he advised me that Kahlo painted it in the late 1930s and I would be doing my version almost 90 years later expressing my own feelings – following Gompertz’s reasoning, I would, in effect, be adding my own link to her existing link in the chain.

In fact there are numerous creatives who have been quoted as admitting to building on the ideas of others.

” If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Isaac Newton

“ Creativity is knowing how to hide your sources” Einstein

”We have always been shameless about stealing great ideas”. Steve Jobs

The young Picasso produced work which imitated the likes of Goya, Velázquez and El Greco, and later the Impressionists and Post Impressionists. It was only when his friend, Casagemas, died that he found his own artistic voice in his Blue Period; the blocks of colour, bold lines and expressive manner, which he had learnt from all those artists he had imitated, still influenced him, he just put his own twist on it. He took their ideas and filtered them through his own personality and experience, and used his instincts to simplify and reduce them into his original thought, into new and unique connections. Being creative isn’t always about adding to something; it can be at its most original when taking something away. This is demonstrated perfectly by Picasso’s bull lithographs, which took him a month to complete.

‘Le Taureau‘, 1945/46 (Wikipedia, 5 January 2025)

”There is no such thing as a wholly original idea. But there is such a thing as unique combinations.” Gompertz

Caught In A Paradox

Kate McCalmont-Woods Leave a comment

I’m typing this just as I’ve finished my tutorial with Jonathan, whilst I can still remember what we discussed – I did start taking notes at the beginning but ditched them as the act of note-taking became too intrusive. Consequently, I will probably forget bits, but this is the gist.

I explained that I’m feeling really positive about the course – just to be in the process is enough, and anything over and above is a bonus. Jonathan asked me what I wanted to get out of the course. What I would like is to find out who I am, which is a bit of a cliché, and to develop a rhythm of working so that art becomes a major part of my life: up until now I have had to carve out time to spend making art.

Jonathan asked me what my life is like in terms of whether it is ordered: no, it’s totally disordered with no real routine, fire-fighting issues and dealing with lots of things at the same time. Jonathan commented that the idea of spinning plates has its own rhythm. It has, but I feel that I need to develop a discipline in my artistic practice – I have no real self-discipline in many areas of my life.

Jonathan then asked me what my strength is. It’s getting things done: I can be determined, persistent and I don’t give up. The downside to this is that I’m goal driven (which causes issues in terms of concentrating on the end product, rather than the process), and I tend to jump right in. Thinking about it now as I write, not giving up can result in me being relentless and not knowing when to walk away and leave something – my mother used to describe me as a terrier.

Jonathan mentioned the story on my blog about my shopping habits: the act of wandering from shop to shop contradicts the idea of jumping in. I agreed that actually I should shop more like my husband in terms of reaching a goal, and that the act of wandering is not enjoyable but full of pressure: to find something which meets the criteria by the deadline. Not buying the first thing I see which would suffice, may indicate a reluctance to commit before exploring all the options.

What does it feel like to be working at my best? I lose all sense of time. I’m lost in time. Nothing else matters. I can look up and find that it’s dark and it’s 9.30pm and the dogs and my family haven’t eaten. But then I can look at what I’ve done and, if I’m not happy with it , think how I’ve wasted those hours of my life which I’ll never get back and which I could have spent doing something more productive. Jonathan commented that there was a paradox in terms of being lost in time and losing time. He asked me to describe the sense of loss of time: it’s huge and full of resentment in the moment, but then dissipates as everyday life starts to take over again, until it eventually disappears.

We talked about some of the things that I’ve been trying out, and I explained that I’ve been purposely not viewing things as good or bad (although I did on my last post!) or as a success or failure. You can only fail if you have an expectation and that every experience, whether good or bad, is a valuable learning experience. Jonathan agreed and commented that the purpose of the act of mark-making is to tell us what to do next and if it does this, then it’s done its job, even if it is to tell us not to carry on. He sensed a real frustration in my experiments with the iPad. I did feel frustrated but even though I had reached the view that it wasn’t something for me in terms of producing a final piece of work, I did appreciate its usefulness for preparatory work. Jonathan mentioned that a lot of artists use it for this purpose in terms of working things out, like composition, and referred to Justin Mortimer who produces large oil paintings.

I explained that I have been doing a lot of thinking recently and have a lot of ideas inside my head – In fact, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’ve also been getting a lot of inspiration as to how to express these ideas in terms of producing work. If we had had this tutorial a few days ago I would have been excited and energised, but I now seem to be less so, as I feel a resistance to attempt to translate the ideas into actual work. It’s not a fear of failure as such, but a reluctance, or maybe a fear that once I try to capture the idea it won’t be as good as it is in my head. I would usually jump straight in and, more often than not, end up feeling frustrated or disappointed. I’ve recently found that thinking about and planning a work results in less dissatisfaction in the end result, but it seems that the act of stopping and thinking creates a barrier, an inertia, to moving forward. It’s a bit like how I would imagine doing a parachute jump: I check that I have everything I need in order to jump safely, but I still can’t get myself out of the plane. The other side of me would just jump. I mentioned the blog: I’m not on social media and I like to keep myself to myself and fly under the radar, yet I enjoy the process of writing the blog and this is fine as long as I don’t think too much about it ie that it’s public (as an aside whilst I’m writing this, I have actually searched for it on Google and it doesn’t come up so that makes me feel better!).

I then told Jonathan about a proof-reading distance learning course I signed up for many years ago, as I thought it could be something I could do whilst my daughter was young. I received the first couple of modules in the post and did the first assignment. The feedback was good but finished with a reminder that the marks from all subsequent assignments would count towards the final mark. That was it for me, I couldn’t carry on. We discussed why this might have been the case. I think it was because I hadn’t done perfectly on my first assignment and that I might not even do as well in future assignments. When I was young I would come home from school eager to tell my mother how I had done in a test – then she would ask me how everyone else had done – I didn’t understand at the time, why she couldn’t just be pleased with my result, like I was. I grew up to be a perfectionist, with a view that if you are going to do something, you should do it to the best of your abilities – I have since realised that what is your best can be influenced by the circumstances at the time. Jonathan reassured me that that is why the course is the way it is – there is no assessment of a final work or comparative approach for the very reason that it would cause students to freeze up.

Jonathan commented that my perceived weaknesses are actually also strengths in that the tendency to rush in, would deal with this issue. He observed that I had mentioned the word ‘fear’ quite a lot and asked me to describe the fear. It’s like a barrier in front of me but it’s not insurmountable and it’s transparent in that I can see beyond it, to where I need to get to. Having said that it clearly wasn’t insurmountable in terms of the proof-reading episode, but that was a long time ago! To get past it I need to act, and in this respect, Jonathan said that’s where I need to draw on my strength of jumping right in without thinking about it.

We concluded that there were many paradoxes in what we had discussed and that perhaps the solution is to try and combine the two sides of me in terms of moving forward in my art practice. I commented that perhaps the paradoxes are caused by me thinking that I’m one version of me when actually the real me is someone else, which is what I want to explore. Is the real me the baby who was born, or the person I now am with all the baggage I’ve collected along the way? I recognise that my strength of getting things done is probably as a result of my career. Jonathan commented that it is the question of nature and nurture and who they are is something artists ask themselves, so it’s far from being a cliché, it is actually what art is all about.

I then asked Jonathan about something which has been niggling at me: I draw inspiration from various sources to help me see ways to express my thoughts in work. I gave the example of the Two Fridas and the passage I had come across in a book I had seen in Waterstones about siblings and the primal connection through umbilical cords. In drawing on these sources, am I creating anything new, unique, or will someone just look at it and think ‘that reminds me of the Two Fridas’? Is it enough that it is coming from me and about how I feel? Jonathan assured me that it is ok to draw inspiration from others – the Two Fridas was personal to Kahlo and painted 80 years ago – I would be making it now, in 2024, and it would be personal to me.

What will I do for the next hour? Go away and write up my note of the tutorial before I forget it, which will be a useful process to consider what we discussed. Jonathan pointed out that at the beginning I had said that I had wanted to make art a bigger part of my life and that during our chat I had said that I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so I’m on my way and I should just keep doing what I’m doing.

I’m still feeling positive, and I would venture to say, even more so. I need to cogitate on what we discussed to move forward, but for the moment, everything is all ok.