What role do accidents play in the artistic process?
Like many artists, I feel that I have a bit of a “schizophrenic” mind. On the one hand, I am an obsessive planner; before beginning a project, I undertake extensive research, think the work through in every detail – making drawings here and there – buy all sorts of materials, daydream and generally fry my brain. And throughout all this, the fear of failure hounds me (although most people would not guess that).
On the other hand, once I start to create, I seem to develop a penchant for chaos. Apparently, I attract all sorts of unexpected events and what was once a beautifully clear plan becomes a complete mess; at the very least, I end up changing my mind halfway through. Indeed, it is this notion of an artistic “u-turn” which has prompted my investigation into the role that chance plays in the creative process.
Like many artists, once I start to create, things always change, and quite often I end up taking a different direction. This is normal, I would say. Nevertheless, not all artists are able to accommodate change – perhaps because they feel challenged by it. A lot of artists would rather backtrack, correct a mistake and carry on as per the plan. But I feel that making mistakes helps shift my mindset, and failure itself can provide clarity and pave the way for improvement.
In many cases, the accident becomes the work itself. For instance, in 2011, during a residency in Ireland, I had set out to write a play about the identity of two brothers; I was interested in the concept of “otherness” and was certainly not in the process of using self-reflection as part of this journey. However, during this period, I was approached and advised to do just that. After a day of consideration, I found myself making a complete “u-turn” and ended up writing a play called Self-Portrait, based on a collection of personal anecdotes.
I guess that the reason for this occurrence stems from the fact that, ultimately, I am interested in art as a process rather than an outcome. I was not formally trained as an artist; rather, I learned by “doing” – acquiring different skills as and when they were needed – so, in this sense, my work is the result of this very process, rather than a taught methodology.
Thus, in the case of my video On Drawing, which is the basis of this blog and research project, it all started by chance. In 2014, I spent almost two months on an artists’ residency in a small village in France. Upon my arrival, I immediately noticed the presence of a Moroccan cleaner, and wanted to work with her. I asked the director of the gallery if I could photograph her (I was cautious as I knew that in some Arab cultures the act of capturing someone’s face with a camera equates to the theft of their soul). Surprisingly, the director of the gallery said that the cleaning lady would be delighted to work with me, as not all the participants of the residency had been kind to her. So I set about speaking with her, explaining the concept of the photography project, which, at the time, was still very vague, but she got it straight away, even suggesting ideas of her own, which enabled us to begin work right away.
The following day, she came to my studio and said that she wanted to show me something: I, naturally, was very intrigued. She then proceeded to show me an address book and when I saw it, my mind was blown away – since she can neither read nor write – her address book is composed of a collection of drawings and phone numbers. That night, I could hardly sleep, so much was I thinking about the address book, and I suddenly had the idea of making a film based on the book. I called the gallery and they managed to book another appointment with her. She visited me and we filmed the video.
Over the next two years, the editing process was rather stilted as I was very busy and often on the move. I really wanted to spend some quality time with footage, and to fully dedicate myself to it. Although the video is simple, that decision of keeping it simple was only possible because I took the time to let the work sink in, instead of rushing to finish it. It seemed only appropriate to dedicate a decent amount of time to something that had been such a personal and profound offering. I would watch the raw files from my laptop, whenever I could, if only to make sure that I still had it. It was my music box: I would watch it to feel happy.
After editing the video, I decided to create my first blog On Drawing, (this one is the second), in order to be able to visually present the discoveries I had gathered. I thought that by displaying information online, I could create an imaginary map that would be ingrained into the back of my mind. Through this work, I could somehow throw my ideas into the World Wide Web, without having the pressure of writing an essay or publishing a paper.
Now, two years later, and with the support of A-N and Arts Council England, I finally have the time to pursue some of these ideas, allowing certain projects to flourish: not only my new trailer for On Drawing but also the creation of digital illustrations, such as those that decorate this article!
All in all it has been an incredibly productive period – I just need another accident to happen now, so that I can set off on a new challenging journey!
