Memento Mori Collaborative Project

I was keen to participate in the Memento Mori project so that I could work with someone who uses visual language in a different way to me. The use of metaphors is something I aim to pursue in my practice and I thought that working with a graphic design student would provide me with some new strategies for developing visual associations. It was evident almost immediately how graphic design involves a different process and way of working to fine art; it seems very focused on the end result, conveying a clear message and learning strategies of how to achieve this.

I think the topic of death is relevant to my own work in many ways because of my interest in the natural world, in life and the inevitability of death that shows itself through aging and decomposition. Recently I think I have moved on to looking at life more than death, but still retain a great interest in the aesthetic of decay, observing how structures corrode and order breaks down. I thought that investigating objects symbolic of death would also further my current focus on the poetics and established associations of materials. In some ways, death seems like a relatively easy theme to represent because it is such a powerful, distinctive thing which has a pre-established visual language (e.g. skulls, bones, dark colours, gravestones, the grim reaper...). On the other hand, it is a very hard and complex topic to work with and comprehend; art itself is used very often to come to terms with the idea of death because it is something that is hard to talk about.

The focus on the 'memento mori', 'remember that you are mortal' appealed to me because it points to the transience and fleeting nature of life. In my work I aim to encourage people to acknowledge things in the environment, to observe aspects of our world that are overlooked or taken for granted; this links to the idea of appreciating life, making the most of it and remembering the fragility of our current circumstances. My work is perhaps the 'memento mori' of sight, blindness being a kind of death. I am very conscious that we should value our eyes and our sight, and see the aesthetic beauty in everyday encounters. Although I tend to focus on sight, it is the same for every aspect of our lives, appreciating the value of things is important whilst they are there.

It was really interesting to have a discussion with people about the subject as I enjoy having new things to think about and questioning my opinions. I also learnt a few things I didn't know about how death was thought of in the past: Victorian post-mortem photographs, the Russian's belief in imminent immortality, the worry that society's belief in an afterlife would inhibit scientific progress... There are many, many fascinating ideas consider around the subject, it will be really interesting to see what people choose to focus on.

Mark Francis Lecture (12/03/2014)

The lecture by painter Mark Francis was interesting because of the subject of his paintings. He said he wanted his work to contain a feel for the things you cannot see, bacteria and the microscopic. I was particularly drawn to one of his analogies about his dot paintings, likening it to a school playground where one is separated from the crowd in an apparently threatening situation; I find it fascinating to think about humanity in this removed way, considering us as 'the human swarm', similar to observing the Earth from the air where huge buildings become tiny facets on the surface of the land.

I also liked Francis' focus on the broken down grid, the balance between order and chaos. I did wonder how I hadn't looked into his works much before because I spent my GCSE and A Level projects looking at broken down grids and structural, architectural decay. I find there is something really beautiful and melancholy about this motif, it shows the gentle but inevitable disintegration of order and man-made interventions.

It was a new experience to hear a painter speak, as opposed to mixed media artists or sculptors. Painting seems quite removed from my own practice and I was a bit puzzled by the talk because I found it hard to think in depth about the paintings. I liked the subject of the work, and thought they had a beautiful aesthetic, but I wasn't sure how much they spoke to me of the ideas he said inspired them. I find paint as a material interesting, and would quite like to explore it in a sculptural way but using it to represent something else in a 2D manner seems to me insufficient, it lacks complexity. I don't find this the case with all paintings, but I felt Francis' recent sculptural works had a lot more depth to them, for me they had a much bigger impact than the paintings because they are real and tangible objects.

Sellotape Experiments (03/03/2014)

It was suggested that i should try using sellotape to cast objects like I have been doing with fishing wire around the off cuts and the balloon. I thought I might try using it as it will be a lot quicker to produce the 'cell' shapes in this way and then I can use the sellotape maquette to practice a compostion for the fishing wire ones. The sellotape was instantly very interesting because of the way it takes in light and how marks show up on it very quickly, every fingerprint was recorded on the adhesive film.

I have done some experiments positioning the cells in the corner of my room, where spiderwebs sometimes grow unnoticed. This idea follows on from the work I was doing last year, using the parts of a room which are not regularly pulled into focus apart from by the intervention of spiders or dust. In this position I was able to observe it in different light throughout the day and the shadows that were cast around the base of the cells. I really liked the subtlety of the sellotape's transparency that would not really catch your eye unless you looked almost directly at the corner; in this way the work encourages people to look around at their environment and notice the smaller details. It would be interesting if I positioned it in a place where there are spiders webs to draw attention to them in a positive way, to encourage appreciation of the beauty of these natural forms. 

Martin Creed Exhibition and Talk (30/03/2014)

Last week I visited Martin Creed's 'What's the Point of It?' exhibition at the Hayward and attended a talk given by the artist afterwards. I have encountered Creed's work in lectures, books and online many times before and have a great interest in his use of everyday objects and the controversy they always seem to ignite. I was really happy to see works I have read about as well as work I wasn't familiar with. I found it a really engaging exhibition.

Something that struck me very quickly was the whimsical nature of everything Creed does; this was evident not only in the work, but in how it was displayed, how it extended to the foyer, how each work had a number with no obvious chronology, how his vomiting videos were shown in a room that you couldn't not enter to get to the exit. It was really refreshing to experience this kind of atmosphere in a large gallery where the viewer was allowed and encouraged to laugh. However, I couldn't help thinking of all the people who would have visited the exhibition with no prior knowledge of his work, perhaps as a way to spend the afternoon or on a family day out, and how confused, angry, appalled, offended they might have been by this notion of contemporary art. To me it seemed as if Creed was actively encouraging the 'my five year old...' response by including works with established connections with infantile art such as felt tips, vegetable prints and paintings using primary colours. I think this is where Creed really stands out to me, in the way he addresses our preconceptions about what belongs in a gallery and what is worth putting on display.

Creed's blu-tac is always mentioned by my housemates when we argue over contemporary and conceptual art (it would seem that the more ordinary and the more mundane, the more anger is provoked). For me the blu-tac is a symbol of Creed's belief that he spoke about in his talk, of how everything we do is an act of creativity. I also believe that art and life are the same, that there can be no distinction because art is an outcome of our experience of life. The placement of a piece of blu-tac is both a conscious and unconscious decision, and this as an artwork represents how every action we make, no matter how absent-minded, is still an impression made on the world. At the same time, the blu-tac is also just a piece of blu-tac. My favourite thing about Creed’s work is this absurd irony, the viewer either feels guilt, for not understanding the deeper meaning it is assumed must be there, or feels foolish for being over-thoughtful and seeing in one piece of blu-tac the whole of human life as a metaphor.

Creed is an interesting reference for my own work because of the objects and materials he uses - those of the everyday (blu-tac, tape, paper, cardboard...). Although my work is quite different to his in the way I am using and manipulating these materials, the associations that go along with them are likely to be the same.  In Creed's work, the cardboard makes me think of processes, factories, travel, containment; the tape decorating the walls made me think of occasions, ceremony, purpose; the screwed up A4 paper made me think of school, of uniformity and custom. I have never really thought to find other artists who use the same materials specifically to observe the their connotations, however I think it would be a useful thing to do.

One of the most memorable works in the exhibition for me was a felt tip drawing. I thought at first it was a strange, blurred photograph and took quite a while to understand what it was, because I had never seen pen used in this way before. This made it a really extraordinary image because felt tips and the marks they make are very familiar, if not the most broadly familiar medium because everyone uses them when they are a child and experimenting comes naturally. I couldn't find a photo of the image I saw but found a similar work that shows the style Creed was using.

I have made a few drawings inspired by this way of using felt tips, allowing the paper to use up the ink and become increasingly scratchy. I'd really love to do this on a bigger scale, although the larger the drawings become, the less ink in the pen and the fainter the marks become, the drawing dies as it grows.

Sinister Associations (03/03/2014)

I have been doing a lot of research into more sinister connotations that fishing wire might evoke as a material. One of the most powerful things that I found out was that birds use fishing wire to build their nests, and in some cases become entangled in it. I think this is such a dreadful, poignant thing how something built to protect becomes a threat. I'd be really interested to investigate the concept of safety and danger existing together in one object.

I have been reading 'Diverging Critiques' regarding the work of Joseph Beuys, which has encouraged me to think about the mythology of materials, how they can be given meanings as well as assuming them. With this in mind, I think fishing can be used in my work to epitomise danger, to give it a material form. I am unsure at this point whether I would want to create a sculpture, a standalone fabricated object, or an installation which will immerse the viewer in theses ideas of safety and danger. I know an installation will be a lot more powerful but I want it also to be subtle.

 

Whilst researching how animals are endangered by fishing wire, I came across this one image of a sea lion which had a particularly big impact on me. The way the line has cut the flesh inspired me to do a few maquettes wrapping fishing line around squashy materials such as foam pipe insulator. I did these more as an active response to the photo than a material experiment. I had to use a lot of force to cut the foam, even to compress it, I felt uncomfortable doing it. I think this idea of wounding flesh would be one way that I could take the project forward; it is certainly an issue that I feel strongly about and that could potentially provoke a very strong response from the viewer. However, I think this might be at odds with the other properties of fishing wire that interest me, its translucency and ability to disappear.

In considering how fishing line ensnares and entangles I have observed how this might come about, what properties does it have that makes it work in this way. I have done a few experiment where I have unravelled long lengths of line and seen what actions are necessary to make it tangle, weaving and threading it and twisting it round itself. My plan is to make a video where this is illustrated, it would be interesting to observe the process in a more removed position, and as a visual study instead of a multi-sensory experience.

 

The drawings were something I did because I wasn't sure what else to do. They are the result of allowing my hand to wonder over the paper while I was not looking, it felt like I was exploring the paper through the nib of the pen. Visualy, there are many connections to the fishing wire so I made a series of them. I think the role of the hand in these two experiments has a lot of interest, how it entangles itself, and is the creator of the tangle of lines. I would really like to try drawings of this kind on a huge scale.

 

 

 

 I also photographed tangles of my hair (removed from my hair hairbrush for a friend's project), which I realised had similar qualities to the fishing wire. I really like the photographs and the negative spaces between the lines, I view them more of as a drawing...in space...(idea for future sculpture...!).

Outside the Studio (10/03/2014)

I decided to take my work outside of the studio following on from the feedback I received in the crit. I photographed my sellotape cells around Woodlane gardens, positioning them in different settings. It was interesting to see the relationship they had to different environments, and the associations the different settings gave to the work. It was fortunate that the sun was strong so that I could also see how they appear in the light; one of the things which draws me to sellotape is its translucency and how it holds the light. I find the photos interesting, although I view them very much as a brief experiment into understanding how the material works outdoors. In the state that they are in currently, as single cells, I don't think they have any particular significance in that environment. I also plan on photographing them at the beach because of the reflectiveness of the water which echoesthat of the plastic.

 

 

Looking closer at how the plastic was illuminated by the sun reminded me of the material of the wasps nest, where strands of fibres can be seen running through it. This has renewed my aim to find/borrow a macro lens, or even a microscope to examine the materials I'm working with. I love the idea of uncovering something that cannot be seen by the naked eye, which extends my proposed theme of 'observing the unseen'.

I also photographed the sellotape maquettes on the bike shelter roof outside the studio, which has caught my attention several times before because of the patterns in the lichen (some made by people but mostly by snails). Something really interesting happened when I placed my work on there: I began noticing many other things, looking closer at the surface of the plastic and all the signs of life that had changed it. I often find that if I take my work out of the studio, even if I am just carrying it home, I notice my surroundings more because I am looking at them in a different way, in relation to the work instead of just a place I must walk through. I am really interested in this idea of making people notice things that they don't normally and I think the bikes helter is certainly something that may don't pay much attention to because it is such an ordinary thing.

 

 

I have started to think about what I could do to the shelter with my sellotape cells, perhaps making a 'fabric' from them and draping it over the whole structure. I need to think about where people will be viewing it from - the sellotape sections look fascinating from beneath but that is not the natural angle that someone would approach it from. I like the idea that the work would become part of the environment, as it is adhesive dust and dirt can stick to it, it will take in the sun and collect the rain.

Sellotape Sampling

Over the holidays I continued to to take prints of surfaces using strips of sellotape; there were lots of opportunities to do this around my garden and I managed collect several pages of prints that vary in pattern. I was most inspired to do this when I saw the surface of our trampoline covered in lichen. I also took some photographs (which I have inverted) that really interest me; I really like their ambiguity. Are they microscopic images, or aerial photographs, are they paintings? Indeed someone has said that they thought they were painted, and I like that abstract quality to them.

The photos above have actually distorted because of the size I have made them, which is really fascinating. The intricate weave of the trampoline canvas has made the pixels create patterns. To me they look like aerial photographs of ploughed fields.

Working in this way, as if I am conducting a scientific investigation, reminds me of the 'archaeological' digs that Mark Dion carries out. I like the idea that it is an investigation of the environment in a calculated, measured, obsessive manner such as scientists or geologists or archaeologists might use, but really it is just following my fascination with the aesthetic properties. In Dion's work he categorizes the found objects according to things that interest him, not in traditional or even logical ways. I want my investigation to be similarly personal, the rules usually set in order to conduct a fair experiment in science, instead conducted by what I find interesting and significant.

Imperial War Museum North

I wanted to write a very quick account of my visit to the Imperial war Museum North in Manchester and the main thoughts it inspired in me. I was really impressed by how innovative the museum was in making the information engaging, using lighting, video, interactive displays, and cleverly designed graphics. Museum exhibitions of this nature have interested me ever since I learnt about installation art, because they use the same multi-sensory media to create a similarly powerful experience. I found that I had an emotional response to the information because of how it was displayed.

One of the things that I found most poignant was the collection of personal belongings from soldiers of the First World War, shown in cases alongside a passage describing their lives. There was something incredibly poignant about their lives being summarised in this manner, reduced down to key facts and key objects, their legacy. I don't think those stories would have been as powerful, however, without the accompanying objects; to me the mundane, everyday objects were also a lot more striking to see than the medals, they evoked a familiarity, and thus empathy. I couldn't help thinking of Cornelia Parker's 'The Maybe', which featured the personal belongings of famous historical figures. In both the museum display and in Parker's work the objects would not be powerful or significant without the knowledge of their identity, to whom they belonged, for what they were used.

It was an interesting experience to visit a museum as I more regularly go to art galleries. It made me consider the role of art in our everyday lives, which comes to be a relic of the times and society in which we live. In the WW1 exhibition alone there were examples of cleverly designed propaganda posters, paintings and prints of factory workers and everyday scenes, and many, many photographs. I was interested to see that the museum also had works by contemporary artists who had created responses to themes such as war and the Holocaust. I think contemporary art is sometimes misrepresented to the public as being elitist and difficult to understand, so the integration and
utilisation of art in this environment was good to see; the use of creative interpretation in this way seemed to make the issues more current, and furthered the emotional response. I know art is one way in which people deal with emotional ordeals which can't be explained in words, so the Imperial War Museum seems like a very fitting place for such works as a personal account of past events.

Above all the clever, personal and multi-sensory exhibits, the most powerful and emotive thing in the gallery was a mangled girder from the World Trade Centre. Although again very much assisted by the knowledge of its identity, it was a poignant encounter because I have a personal relationship to the event, a living memory. I understand why museums try to include personal stories and video interviews because it is the experience of the individual that makes an event significant.