Recording time in little zigzag books… I love the traces of past drawings, and the shadows of previous marks shining through the paper against the light.
A fellow artist suggested a new approach earlier this week; today I have experimented with making marks for a designated period of time. I video recorded it too (if you can bear it) as the repetetive noise of the pencil on the page has become inextricably bound up with the whole thing…
Suzanne’s book is packed up ready to go back…
And the memory box is gradually filling up…
Mary’s additions have come back to me; she has sent me some lovely colourful sheets of ink and wax resist. I’m unsure what I want to do with them so I’m letting things percolate while I’m busy with work commitments this week.
Suzanne’s March pages have come back to me; this time there is a strong emphasis on the unnoticed, the ordinary, the overlooked. I am quite fascinated by the idea of psychogeography, and through my own practice have become more aware of my own surroundings and the effect they have upon me and my thought processes.
I live on a large council estate at the outer edge of the city; it is a place of contrasts. Detritus, fly-tipping, run-down garages, graffitti are all commonplace; and yet there is also a profusion of opportunistic wildlife and greenery – urban foxes, kestrels, ancient woodland, bluebells. This place on the cusp, where farmland meets the bypass, has undoubtedly had its effect on my internal journey.
I have been working on my response this week. Sitting in my studio, the idea for a new direction in my personal work has dropped into my brain; inspiration exists, but it has to find you working, in the words of Picasso. Fascinating how the creative process works – how different projects feed and enrich one another.
I’ve finished my Transformational Landscapes sketchbook, a spread from which is featured above.
I usually blog on a Sunday, but I’m currently experiencing technical issues uploading photos to WordPress, so if you are interested in seeing the book in it’s entirety, please head over to my Instagram feed here. You can also find some of the images on Twitter here, and on my Facebook page here.
Apologies for my technical rubbishness, hopefully normal blogging schedule will resume soon!
I’ve spent time in my studio this weekend reading, listening to dreamy music by Max Richter, and working on a particular sketchbook I’m making at the moment.
The dreamy music helps me to achieve a state of flow, which in turn informs the work on the pages. When something unexpected happens I find myself simply observing and allowing things to develop. I’m using water soluble graphite on gesso on a brown kraft paper book. I brush and scrape the gesso thinly onto the page; the graphite diffuses and flows and blurs as I spray it.
I am going through a phase of collecting interesting phrases, picked out like shiny treasures from the books and papers I read. The sketchbook I’m working on at the moment, which contains variations on the gesso and graphite, has attached itself to the phrase ‘transformational landscapes’, a phrase I found in a paper entitled ‘Threshold Concepts and Troublesome Knowledge (2): Epistemological considerations and a conceptual framework for teaching and learning’ by Jan H.F Meyer and Ray Land. The phrases I find please me. I turn them over in my mind like a child turning over smooth pebbles on the beach, cupping them in my hand, weighing them and feeling their shape and smoothness. I list them in my notebook. A treasure trove.
I’m currently interested in other-handedness; partly to do with a persistently troublesome elbow on my dominant side; partly because working with my non-dominant hand forces me to relinquish control and allow things to develop as they will. The sketchbook has been executed almost entirely with my left (non-dominant) hand.
I’m not sure how all these threads tie together – or rather, I’m not sure I can articulate it; in my mind it all makes perfect sense.
In visual arts, music, and other mediums, minimalism is a style that uses pared-down design elements.
Is my style becoming more minimalist?
Journeys, landscapes, internal and external, literal and figurative.
The fabric background seemed apt; the creases and folds echoed the contours of the landscapes, and the traces left behind by other wayfarers.
..the suppressed memories of a more ancient archipelago.
Robert Macfarlane, The Wild Places
The gif format lent itself to the idea too; it’s difficult to pinpoint the beginning or end.
The (carelessly cut) edges became curiously sculptural, like landscape formations too.
Little book of secrets.