I have always considered the making process to be a part of the work, and the most enjoyable element. I pushed myself to get more done; 10 more, 5 more, 1 more, before stopping. As it is inspired by living things, the process of its growth was to me very important. I made and added as many cells as I could, before unfolding it and seeing how much bigger it had become; it was therefore as if it really was multiplying each time I spread it out.
Recently I heard someone talk about "art as meditation", and it is something I have always felt unconsciously when I subject myself to periods of making. I love how actions can become mechanic, carried out without thinking, as the mind is elsewhere. I would be very interested to research what happens to the brain in a state of meditation and the use of art in this way.
Although I did not reach my target to use ten rolls of sellotape (I managed only eight), I was pleased with the effort I had put into the work. I love the feeling of stretching myself to the limit of my patience and ability. Really, that is for me what making is about.
I found a spot in the studio quickly. There was an interesting link between the other works in the room, a painting with visual references to microscopic cells and a sculptural piece made of plants which recalled ideas of place and the environment. My piece seemed to echo elements of each. I've never really considered the curation of an exhibition before but it really interested me how works can draw out meaning from and respond to each other in unexpected ways. Perhaps next year I will try and be more involved in the show so that I can have a go curating.
I tried out different compositions on the floor but was disappointed in how small my piece looked from that angle and how insipid it appeared against the grey. The work looked a lot smaller in the studio than it had in my living room, where I had thought it a reasonable size. I feel scale is something I really need to address in the future as I often underestimate how big the work needs to be to sit in the space... I know I am always told to be more ambitious with scale (so this is an example to remember).
There was strong sunlight coming through the window when I was setting up my work, and I wanted to see the sellotape in the sun so I draped it over the windowsill. It was beautiful there, the sun illuminating all the dirt and detritus inside the cells. I also loved how it now became part of the space, not a sculpture to be viewed and paced around, but a more unexpected encounter to be peered at and investigated. The curator's also really like the position and how it appeared to be a growth on the wall... adding another level of meaning to the work and the title.
This is one of the very few times that I have been really pleased with a final work. I liked my foundation final piece but I feel this one had so much more meaning and depth and integrity. This is the first piece of work I have made that means something, instead of being about the aesthetic properties. There are layers of meaning in the materials, the form, the location, display and in the title. I received some really positive feedback from a lot of people (people I've never really spoken to! ...that meant a lot). Everyone seemed really curious about it, they didn't know what it was at first sight, which I think is one of its greatest achievements... I really love how it affected how the viewer was standing, it enticed them in, made them crouch down to peer in and look more closely. I also heard such contrasting and visceral reactions: That's so cool! Euugh! Oh wow! That's gross...
One of my favourite things about the work is how it is both beautiful and disgusting, attractive and repellent. I feel I have really succeeded in capturing the 'phobic' qualities which affect me with certain things and which provoke such a response from the viewer.
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