Between the eye and the object

Firstly focusing on the preface of Batchelors The Luminous and the Grey I found the initializing of the argument to be about how and why colour exists in the world around us.

“It is not the presence of colour in a work that matters but the use of that colour; it isn’t whether the colour is there that is at stake but what that colour does” – p.17

This got me thinking about where colour resides in the natural environment and asking myself: does it interest me?

What interests me about colour in the natural/rural landscape is the vividness created when the intensity of the sun shines onto/though it. More on that later…

For today, though I thought I would focus on surface colour, as that is highlighted in the preface. Instinctively it is the colours of chemical manufacture that interest me most; those vivid in hue and with strong saturation. Whilst residing in a rural landscape I wondered what the juxtaposition between natural colour and artificial colour would look like.

I also wanted to make a start by playing and involving my hands (baring in mind it was now Wednesday and the week seemed to be flying by) . I systematically wrapped from top to bottom green cotton thread around a dying plant. At first I just wrapped one, but then decided that in order to make an impact and become noticeable I would do several; this took me all day.

By the end of the day I was satisfied with what I had done, but also felt that I wanted to learn more and so read on.

Today’s work was futile in its longevity but useful in its concept. It did what I wanted and thought it might do, It got me going. However small, however insignificant in the grand scheme of things, it was a beginning, and everything has to start somewhere.

After an interesting first day of exploring the estate where the Merz Barn is located, I tried to set myself to work on something, anything.

I struggled.

I had put way too much pressure on myself to fabricate something, but I did not know what to make. I had so many elements around me to explore, so many exciting forms and shapes, different colours, equipment and not a clue what to do with them all.

You could say I was overwhelmed.

I felt I should be making something. I felt I had a very limited amount of time on this residency in which to come away with something credible, exciting, final and/or lasting.

I tried to make something out of found bamboo sticks; a shape in the landscape. My aim was to cover it in plastic and light from within; trying to think about a future commission I had been set. It didn’t work, the bamboo was too weak to hold sturdy. It collapsed shortly after this photo was taken. Boo! But maybe that was a good thing, because if it had worked then I would of spent all week playing with that idea and that would not have allowed for new struggles, deliberations and new ideas.

After a moment of self-torment I grabbed a staple gun and a roll of plastic sheeting attached it to the length of a whole wall in the Shippon Gallery. This was to become the basis for the outpourings of my brain for the duration. A brain chart, a mind map, a spider diagram, whatever you call…

I started by en-circling four things to focus on:

Why be an artist?
What does my work intend to say/do?
Why colour?
Why light?

I added a few things initially, but then started pondering and scratching my head – hard! This residency was starting to push me mentally and emotionally. I never expected to feel like this, or be doing this. I expected to be making, but I wasn’t.

I had brought some books with me on the off chance that I might pick them up for a read. Let me enlighten you on my reading habits – I don’t! – I am dyslexic (aren’t most artists?) and therefore struggle to read a chapter before instantly forgetting it, I find myself reading the same line over and over, I loose concentration and therefore I hate it, it is a chore.

But, BUT I decided, seeing as there was little else to do, except procrastinate by going on a lovely walk (which I didn’t), that I should read. Part of the Merz Barn set-up includes a little yurt library that Ian and co built in a day. It is a cosy hub full of his art book collection, soft chairs and a heater. I curled up in there with a cup of green tea and got stuck in. I had selected David Batchelors newest essay ‘The Luminous and the Grey’ as my starting point.

For me this was a momentous occasion. The last book I read cover to cover (not sure I should be telling you this) was over 7 years ago!!!!

I began to recognise theories and arguments relating to the use of colour in out direct environments, it made sense. I hurriedly circled interested snippets and quotes. It felt like all my questions could be answered, whereas before I thought they couldn’t and wouldn’t be. This is not to say I haven’t read around my subject, but instead I have dipped in and out of essays.

I made the decision to set myself mini-projects in response to and after I had read each chapter or section. A starting point.

Arriving at the Cylinders Estate; the location of Kurt Schwitters Merz Barn in Cumbria, last Monday was like entering a little bubble. A bubble where life is simple and pure.

Fellow artist Alana Tyson and I were to be artists-in-residence for one week (13th – 19th October) in an attempt to push ourselves, our practices and perhaps an opportunity to spend some time together. I could have gone alone, but didn’t want to, I felt that the opportunity would be perfect for the both of us and that the critique and conversation that we would engage with together would be helpful.

As soon as we arrived Ian Hunter gave us a tour of the grounds and then left us to it. It was time to explore. We made our beds, brought our (limited) bag of equipment into the residency space, unloaded our shopping for the week and made some lunch. It was glorious to just be able to sit outside and eat. A pleasure I rarely have at home as I am without a garden.

There was a synergy between the indoors and the outdoors. Where the outside space acted as another room. I would step from one ‘room’ to another as I do in my house, except in this instance I was breathing in fresh air and sitting on a bench.

I love the outdoors and wish I could spend more time in it. Just by having this simple pleasure I was starting to think about my future; where I might like to life one day; somewhere more rural perhaps?; How important was outdoor space to me? Very! etc, etc. How does living in the city effect my work and ideas? I tend to move too fast!

After lunch it was time to get to ‘work’. But in this first instance, work did not mean making art, it meant the daily chores of living in the natural landscape. We chopped wood for the log burning stove, we fed the chickens, we retrieved our first fleshing laid egg, got the fire going and explored the woodlands surrounding us ready for potential pursuits in the week to come.

As Autumn is well and truly upon us (Kurt Schwitters favourite time of year, as I am told to believe), the colours around us were of all hues. It was a treat to be a part of. Normally I am not a fan of this time of year as the darker nights draw in and the colder it becomes. I suffer from S.A.D and am frightened of the looming depression I always find myself in at this time of year. However, seeing the foliage change colour in front of my eyes and being outdoors and therefore making most of the natural light that I wouldn’t usually see – as I would be wrapped up indoors – felt very different from this time of year in the city.

It was the perfect time of year to take up residence in this type of setting for me. I also had a lot of questions to ask myself about my art practice; Why, why, why?

I had come a point where I wanted to question my ideas and bring in-depth context to the work. This residency was the perfect time to do this. I had one week, starting NOW…..

Intervals
Installation (T5 bulbs and acrylic)
Variable dimensions, this image shows 500cm (w) x 150cm (d) x 10cm (h)
2014

For Light Night Leeds I exhibited new work in the Henry Moore Room at Leeds Art Gallery. Light Night Leeds happened on the 3rd October between 5pm – 10pm in venues across the city.

Intervals creates a field of delicacy though systematically arranged shards of multicoloured acrylic which glow with an array of hues, saturating the immediate surroundings. This intense myriad of colours directly transforms the environment by creating an experiential encounter using an iridescent colour palette reminiscent of a city at night. This work carefully balances the science of colour theory as suggested in Josef Albers text ‘Interaction of Color’, together with the aesthetic and luminosity of light.