Well, that's it. My show on the King Harry Ferry is over; already the next artist's work is up. I feel a bit remiss that I haven't kept you up to date with the way the project developed. It's odd but I've felt a bit divorced from it really…
Looking back at my proposal (see earlier post) the ten images I produced became more conventional drawings than I had perhaps originally anticipated. I thought that I would use the vinyl itself as a medium, but as I worked I realised that actually it was the conte and ink marks that were most important to me and ideas of cutting into the vinyl soon dissipated.
When I began the project it felt like I had weeks to make the work and as usual I left it and left it, although of course you never stop thinking about it. Then one day, cycling back home, I found a dead tawny owl on the verge. It looked like it had been knocked down to me – no blood and gore, but apparently it had a broken wing. I picked it up and gently put it into my rucksack – it hadn't been dead long – and continued home. It felt like serendipity; I'd been ruminating for weeks as to exactly what I was going to do and there it was handed to me on a plate! I was excited and started drawing it immediately, just trying to understand its structure and form at this stage. After doing loads of drawings though, over several weeks, it just wasn't going anywhere. The drawings were studies really and looked too 'nice'. I was beginning to panic; I had to get the drawings done two and a half weeks before the actual deadline, because I was going away… I got some feedback from a friend, then felt like everything was falling apart! My self-confidence vanished into a black pit somewhere under my feet and I began to question everything, berating myself with questions like "what right do you have to call yourself an artist when you can't even produce a couple of simple drawings". A self-induced trauma if ever there was one!
Finally, literally the day before I was travelling abroad, I took the bull by the horns and made a series of drawings. Six of them looked good to me and not one of them included the owl, but they felt right! They were about A3 size and became amalgams of photographs I'd taken with drawings and text. At that point I also decided I'd include four studies to show alongside, two of which did include the owl. I hastily photographed everything before the natural light went, saved the images to disc and posted them to the organiser the next day. A couple of days later I had an email to say they'd arrived safely and they liked them. Relief!
After the holiday it was time to put the work up on the ferry walls. I hadn't seen the drawings for a couple of weeks and seeing them printed at a slightly larger scale and in a completely different environment restored my confidence. They still looked good and I felt that I'd made a good choice. Then that was it – everything went quiet and the 'divorce' happened! I felt completely removed from it all. A friend asked if I'd had any feed back and I said no and thought then that I should go and visit the ferry and ask if there'd been any comment. Before I got there though I received a press release from the organisers that mentioned "a controversial exhibition on the King Harry Ferry showing pictures of dead birds". Controversial? I was intrigued – and bemused! Apparently some passengers had been complaining about the content of the drawings and had questioned whether they were suitable for children to see – I was astonished at this last comment, since my own son gets incredibly excited whenever he finds a bird for me to draw!
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity and the local ITV news wanted an interview… I went down to the ferry for the filming and awaited the broadcast with trepidation. It was a great experience talking to the cameraman and journalist, learning to see my work in ways that hadn't even occured to me. The piece was broadcast on a couple of news bulletins the next day, and probably lasted a couple of minutes at the most. After I'd left the filming they'd got some 'vox pops' from a couple of passengers and it was these comments that made my day – one man said that he'd been to Tate Modern and the only thing he'd understood was the overhead crane!; a driver said that he thought art on the ferry was a great idea, but the comment I'll remember was from a lady that said that of course we should see pictures of dead birds and that they were "beautifully rendered". Isn't it odd how one simple compliment like that can set you up for the rest of the year! It certainly made me feel like the energy and stress of making the drawings was worth the effort. After this excitement things became quiet again for the rest of the month and when I went down to the ferry yesterday another artist's work was up.
What's left for me now is a workshop next week with a local school. I thought maybe I shouldn't take in a load of dead birds to draw, so have settled on making plaster reliefs from stuff they find around them – hopefully a few feathers might be in order!
