On making transportation arrangements, musing about my next work and impatience about a ballot box.
I’m waiting for a response from an art courier about transporting my painting over to Manchester in March. I will feel twitchy until I know I have it all organised. It’s bad enough thinking about driving into central Manchester with other sundry bits of equipment, without the worry of whether the painting will arrive.
I’m down to London for a few days over this weekend to see some shows; Klee and Hannah Hock are up there and a visit to the V&A to see some calligraphy among other things. Once back I’m in the studio to make a right proper start on my next investigations into my theme. I know what I am going to do in terms of process; manipulate and layer collagraph, mono, screen and lino print making techniques. How my imagery, surfaces and gestures combine and produce pieces of work is the unknown. But I like it like that; if a piece doesn’t speak well enough about my concerns when I have finished it, I add more layers until it either works or gets consigned to the collage material pile. I am fascinated by the layering of marks and gesture to create a surface; sometimes it can be easy to “read” and at other times the “meaning” is just outside my or the viewer’s grasp. I enjoy the enigmatic element in my work, and dislike anything that is too obvious both in terms of imagery and meaning.
Still no word from our Creative Economies Officer at the council about when we can get our hands on the de-commissioned ballot boxes. The council are replacing the metal ones with some made of lighter materials and our officer hit on the idea of offering the old ones to artists in the region to make a piece of work with. They are all going to be exhibited some time in the summer in the only good gallery space in the area, namely Ryedale Folk Museum.
I am itching to get hold of mine: I have an idea of what I want to do, but I need to have the ballot box so I can work with its dimensions. Meanwhile, I have a small series of notes and drawings in a tiny sketch book so I don’t forget any of my thoughts.
