Wednesday, November 11, 2009
"eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month"
On this Armistice Day, I'd like to read you a poem written by a young Welsh poet, Owen Sheers:
Mametz Wood
For years afterwards the farmers found them -
the wasted young, turning up under their plough blades
as they tended the land back into itself.
A chit of bone, the china plate of a shoulder blade,
the relic of a finger, the blown
and broken bird's egg of a skull,
all mimicked now in flint, breaking blue in white
across this field where they were told to walk, not run,
towards the wood and its nesting machine guns.
And even now the earth stands sentinel,
reaching back into itself for reminders of what happened
like a wound working a foreign body to the surface of the skin.
This morning, twenty men buried in one long grave,
a broken mosaic of bone linked arm in arm,
their skeletons paused mid dance-macabre
in boots that outlasted them,
their socketed heads tilted back at an angle
and their jaws, those that have them, dropped open.
As if the notes they had sung
have only now, with this unearthing,
slipped from their absent tongues.
From Skirrid Hill by Owen Sheers, published by Seren.
Mametz Wood
For years afterwards the farmers found them -
the wasted young, turning up under their plough blades
as they tended the land back into itself.
A chit of bone, the china plate of a shoulder blade,
the relic of a finger, the blown
and broken bird's egg of a skull,
all mimicked now in flint, breaking blue in white
across this field where they were told to walk, not run,
towards the wood and its nesting machine guns.
And even now the earth stands sentinel,
reaching back into itself for reminders of what happened
like a wound working a foreign body to the surface of the skin.
This morning, twenty men buried in one long grave,
a broken mosaic of bone linked arm in arm,
their skeletons paused mid dance-macabre
in boots that outlasted them,
their socketed heads tilted back at an angle
and their jaws, those that have them, dropped open.
As if the notes they had sung
have only now, with this unearthing,
slipped from their absent tongues.
From Skirrid Hill by Owen Sheers, published by Seren.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
At the end of last week and the beginning of this week I was very frustrated.
I had the studio space lined up ready to work in, I had the research and designs for the sculpture ready and I had the materials I needed to get started.
And then the car broke. It was driveable locally, but it was not up to the 3 hours each way back and fore to the studio.
But it's actually turned out to be a good week, once I came to terms with the fact that I was going to be here and not there.
The weather has been cold but sunny, with the colours of Autumn beginning to show through. Autumn is my favourite season.
Making the most of the weather, I went out drawing most days.
I've been drawing tree trunks again.
There is something, for me, very 'earthing' about standing and sketching.
As I walk I am thinking about all sorts of things, but my eyes are constantly scanning for something interesting to draw. Suddenly, I will see something. Often, I have walked past before my conscious brain has processed what my eyes have registered, so I walk back and look again to see what it was I noticed.
Then I stand, take a breath, and root myself to the spot. The flow of looking, drawing, looking, adjusting, looking, drawing begins and unfolds itself. Sometimes, I think I have finished but I sense I haven't. I stand a little longer and see a little more, and begin working again. A small A6 sketch can take 5 minutes or 20 minutes. I finish when I sense that it's 'enough'.
I have a nearly-full sketch book of tree trunk drawings now and it's interesting to look through to see how my 'style' has developed.
I had the studio space lined up ready to work in, I had the research and designs for the sculpture ready and I had the materials I needed to get started.
And then the car broke. It was driveable locally, but it was not up to the 3 hours each way back and fore to the studio.
But it's actually turned out to be a good week, once I came to terms with the fact that I was going to be here and not there.
The weather has been cold but sunny, with the colours of Autumn beginning to show through. Autumn is my favourite season.
Making the most of the weather, I went out drawing most days.
I've been drawing tree trunks again.
There is something, for me, very 'earthing' about standing and sketching.
As I walk I am thinking about all sorts of things, but my eyes are constantly scanning for something interesting to draw. Suddenly, I will see something. Often, I have walked past before my conscious brain has processed what my eyes have registered, so I walk back and look again to see what it was I noticed.
Then I stand, take a breath, and root myself to the spot. The flow of looking, drawing, looking, adjusting, looking, drawing begins and unfolds itself. Sometimes, I think I have finished but I sense I haven't. I stand a little longer and see a little more, and begin working again. A small A6 sketch can take 5 minutes or 20 minutes. I finish when I sense that it's 'enough'.
I have a nearly-full sketch book of tree trunk drawings now and it's interesting to look through to see how my 'style' has developed.
At first I was using pencil. But my mark-making was very tentative and the results were a little too grey and pale for my liking.
Sometimes I use a straightforward black pen (often a cheap biro). This is better, though a little too hard-edged for what I'm drawing and doesn't work so well for shading or softening the lines. I find it technically more challenging.
My favourite is a water-soluble fibre tip pen, with a water-filled brush. I draw in a Daler-Rowney A6 sketch book on 150gsm cartridge paper.
I like to draw the edges and the main features of the tree trunk, and then blur them with the brush. I then work into them, drawing some more, repeating the process.
I'm not creating a 3-dimensional, realistic representation of a tree. I take photos for that.
Sometimes I use a straightforward black pen (often a cheap biro). This is better, though a little too hard-edged for what I'm drawing and doesn't work so well for shading or softening the lines. I find it technically more challenging.
My favourite is a water-soluble fibre tip pen, with a water-filled brush. I draw in a Daler-Rowney A6 sketch book on 150gsm cartridge paper.
I like to draw the edges and the main features of the tree trunk, and then blur them with the brush. I then work into them, drawing some more, repeating the process.
I'm not creating a 3-dimensional, realistic representation of a tree. I take photos for that.
As I've mentioned before, I see figures in the trees and I gravitate towards the more elegant shapes.
I'm interested in the lines, the shapes, the contours and the curves.
I'm interested in the lines, the shapes, the contours and the curves.
But as I look back I realise that, really, I'm drawing breasts.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Sculpture Commission
The sculpture commission came about when we started off chatting about commissioning a painting for his shop. He'd already bought a few pieces off me including a sculpture that he was particularly fond of. He talked about how he connected more with sculpture than with paintings. At the time, we were sitting outside in his large and beautiful garden, and I commented that a sculpture set into the garden would look great. It clicked. And now I'm working hard to construct, complete and install it before the daylight diminishes and the weather turns too harsh for being outdoors. The end of the month is the aim. We'll have a garden party for the viewing.
Being commissioned to produce work like this has been a good process for me. When I work solely for myself (though as I type that I realise how untrue it is) I develop ideas and pick up influences and references as I go. They almost unconsciously weave themselves into my work. There's also had to be a bit more intellectual rigour in putting forward a clear and plausible proposition.
As part of the process I've put together a 30 page, bound document - a mixture of words and images -of my references and research, and sent it to my client. (Jo - we need to get a binding machine for the studio!).
I'm not going to detail the references here, because I'm finding the process to be a highly individual and personal one. But here are some fragments :
The basic concept is of a figure rising up from the earth. I was thinking a lot about it when I was in Brazil and knew I need to do something to get the process started and to have some actual images to work with. I took photos of Neto so I could begin thinking about the shape and structure of the figure. I also found some fashion images of figures in the landscape, where the legs were wrapped in long flowing skirts. This gave me a better idea for a more sculptural shape.
When I was back in the UK, I took a lot of photos and made drawings of trees coming up from the ground, and roots going down into the ground.
For the past year I've been drawing trees and seeing how they resemble the human form. I could see how the myth of Dryads emerged and what a potent idea it was. All of this was working its way into the process.
The base of the figure I will be sculpting will be covered in natural materials - grass, leaves, sticks, stones - elements that I've been working into my paintings for years.
I will be making the sculpture out of materials attached to a wood and wire frame. The size of the figure (about 4ft 6ins) makes this a little more problematical. But again I had references to draw from. Most days I walk by the River Taff where they are constructing a new fish-pass at the weir. Just recently they have been constructing the framework out of wood and metal rods and then pouring concrete. This showed me how I would construct the armature for my figure and attach materials to it (I'll be using fabric soaked in concrete and exterior PVA, with the whole thing being primed and then painted with many coats of white exterior paint - can't wait to get my hands in concrete!).
I'm due to start construction next week in the studio in London and I have most of the materials and tools ready to take.
But my car's knackered. That's the next problem to fix.
Being commissioned to produce work like this has been a good process for me. When I work solely for myself (though as I type that I realise how untrue it is) I develop ideas and pick up influences and references as I go. They almost unconsciously weave themselves into my work. There's also had to be a bit more intellectual rigour in putting forward a clear and plausible proposition.
As part of the process I've put together a 30 page, bound document - a mixture of words and images -of my references and research, and sent it to my client. (Jo - we need to get a binding machine for the studio!).
I'm not going to detail the references here, because I'm finding the process to be a highly individual and personal one. But here are some fragments :
The basic concept is of a figure rising up from the earth. I was thinking a lot about it when I was in Brazil and knew I need to do something to get the process started and to have some actual images to work with. I took photos of Neto so I could begin thinking about the shape and structure of the figure. I also found some fashion images of figures in the landscape, where the legs were wrapped in long flowing skirts. This gave me a better idea for a more sculptural shape.
When I was back in the UK, I took a lot of photos and made drawings of trees coming up from the ground, and roots going down into the ground.
For the past year I've been drawing trees and seeing how they resemble the human form. I could see how the myth of Dryads emerged and what a potent idea it was. All of this was working its way into the process.
The base of the figure I will be sculpting will be covered in natural materials - grass, leaves, sticks, stones - elements that I've been working into my paintings for years.
I will be making the sculpture out of materials attached to a wood and wire frame. The size of the figure (about 4ft 6ins) makes this a little more problematical. But again I had references to draw from. Most days I walk by the River Taff where they are constructing a new fish-pass at the weir. Just recently they have been constructing the framework out of wood and metal rods and then pouring concrete. This showed me how I would construct the armature for my figure and attach materials to it (I'll be using fabric soaked in concrete and exterior PVA, with the whole thing being primed and then painted with many coats of white exterior paint - can't wait to get my hands in concrete!).
I'm due to start construction next week in the studio in London and I have most of the materials and tools ready to take.
But my car's knackered. That's the next problem to fix.
Monday, October 05, 2009
Sum Problems
It's been a bit hectic. As I thought it might be.
I recently had a great weekend with friends in Devon, where we started pooling ideas for a new venture I will be starting soon.
But mainly I've been working on research and studies for the two commissions I'm doing.
I've also been back and fore to London a few times to see people and, last week, to look at a vacant building I am going to use as a studio.
The plans for the sculpture are pretty much complete, so over the next 2 or 3 weeks I will start construction.
There are all sorts of technical and practical problems waiting to be encountered, but I'm trying not to let that put me off. I'll work my way through them.
But the first problem I have is one of size and scale.
And I have a mental block because it's about numbers. And numbers really don't like me. They never have.
When I was in school, I used to copy my maths homework from a brainy friend. I even put in a few deliberate errors so it wasn't too obvious. But the teacher caught on and told me I should be honest about what I didn't understand so he could help me.
I recently had a great weekend with friends in Devon, where we started pooling ideas for a new venture I will be starting soon.
But mainly I've been working on research and studies for the two commissions I'm doing.
I've also been back and fore to London a few times to see people and, last week, to look at a vacant building I am going to use as a studio.
The plans for the sculpture are pretty much complete, so over the next 2 or 3 weeks I will start construction.
There are all sorts of technical and practical problems waiting to be encountered, but I'm trying not to let that put me off. I'll work my way through them.
But the first problem I have is one of size and scale.
And I have a mental block because it's about numbers. And numbers really don't like me. They never have.
When I was in school, I used to copy my maths homework from a brainy friend. I even put in a few deliberate errors so it wasn't too obvious. But the teacher caught on and told me I should be honest about what I didn't understand so he could help me.
So I did my homework honestly for a few weeks.
I got crap marks, the teacher shouted at me and I was moved down to a lower set.
So I went back to cheating. And hating teachers.
Anyway, to this day if I hear a sentence beginning with the words "two trains leave a station at the same time ..." I run for cover.
And don't get me started on two men digging holes.
My brain simply shuts down.
So here's the problem. And I'm sitting here forcing myself to describe it.
The sculpture is to be around 4ft 6 ins tall.
The human figure is 8 heads (see figure below)
I have a long timber post (that's not a euphemism).
I need to mark it up.
How big should each head be (in a nice round number) to make the whole thing approx 4' 6"?
You can figure it out while I go and lie down.
Really.
I got crap marks, the teacher shouted at me and I was moved down to a lower set.
So I went back to cheating. And hating teachers.
Anyway, to this day if I hear a sentence beginning with the words "two trains leave a station at the same time ..." I run for cover.
And don't get me started on two men digging holes.
My brain simply shuts down.
So here's the problem. And I'm sitting here forcing myself to describe it.
The sculpture is to be around 4ft 6 ins tall.
The human figure is 8 heads (see figure below)
I have a long timber post (that's not a euphemism).
I need to mark it up.
How big should each head be (in a nice round number) to make the whole thing approx 4' 6"?
You can figure it out while I go and lie down.
Really.
Friday, September 18, 2009
What's brown and sticky?
A stick!
It's something about authenticity - even though no-one else would be able to tell. I'd know though.
(that one still makes me laugh)
I've been working on quite a few pictures (a dozen or so) based in and about Mid Wales. You may remember me mentioning that I work on them on-site and then bring them back to base camp to finish them off.
Recently, I realised that I had run out of the sticks and stones and other bits and pieces that I use in these pictures.
I could have just gone outside and picked up some more.
But oh no.
I had to wait until I was next there and then take a couple of hours to go collecting.
For some reason, the materials had to be from Mid Wales for the Mid Wales pictures. It wouldn't have been right to have pictures from Mid Wales with sticks from Pontyclun or Cardiff.
It's something about authenticity - even though no-one else would be able to tell. I'd know though.
I am working on lots of ideas, sketches, studies and pictures from different geographical areas, and I have bags of bits from each area.
Wherever I am, I find myself shuffling around with plastic carrier bags full of 'stuff' - like some old bag lady.
I have a bag of bits from Mid Wales for pictures about "the land";
I have another bag of bits from the coast in the boot of the car for pictures on "fluid";
Another bag of bits is from Bute Park in Cardiff for pictures about "chaos";
And I've started collecting material from a cemetery for pictures about "transition" (yes, I know, that last one is a bit weird).
So far, I've been trying to retain a naturalistic style to the pictures even though I paint the natural elements in different colours. Now I'm toying with the idea of doing some pictures in neon and flourescent colours.
It might be a bit more zeitgeisty.
(shoehorned that one in)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Coming Soon!
Monday, September 14, 2009
Tree Farm
Some time ago, as I was travelling through Mid Wales, I stopped at a Forestry Commission place for a wee.
While I was there I noticed they had various walks and nature trails mapped out.
So, picking the easiest-looking one - I went for a walk.
I had a packet of Mini-Cheddars so I knew I was well prepared.
The path I chose was actually a wide, made-up road, with picnic benches and tables along the way.
Not very intrepid, I know ... but forests scare me so I wanted to stay as far away as possible.
Also along the way, were these various sculptures.
Animals also scare me, so seeing things like a hedgehog this size was a bit unnerving.
Anyway.
I got to thinking about art in public places, and what a good thing it is.
While I was there I noticed they had various walks and nature trails mapped out.
So, picking the easiest-looking one - I went for a walk.
I had a packet of Mini-Cheddars so I knew I was well prepared.
The path I chose was actually a wide, made-up road, with picnic benches and tables along the way.
Not very intrepid, I know ... but forests scare me so I wanted to stay as far away as possible.
Also along the way, were these various sculptures.
Animals also scare me, so seeing things like a hedgehog this size was a bit unnerving.
Anyway.
I got to thinking about art in public places, and what a good thing it is.
I thought it was great that the Forestry Commission had commissioned and installed these pieces.
They weren't very zeitgeisty, but someone had made an effort.
However.
Something wasn't feeling right.
It was all a bit bland, a bit sanitised. It didn't feel like I was in 'nature'.
It was a bit creepy, but not in a good way.
As I came to the top of an incline, and rounded a corner, I saw this.
They weren't very zeitgeisty, but someone had made an effort.
However.
Something wasn't feeling right.
It was all a bit bland, a bit sanitised. It didn't feel like I was in 'nature'.
It was a bit creepy, but not in a good way.
As I came to the top of an incline, and rounded a corner, I saw this.
Devastation for miles around.
I suddenly realised that I really wasn't in nature ...
I was walking through a factory farm for wood
... a slaughterhouse for trees.
It was genuinely upsetting.
I walked back past the picnic benches and the sculptures and the whole place suddenly seemed very bleak.
It's a place to avoid, not visit.
No matter how desperate I am for a wee.
