Some reasoning behind starting with a photograph and ending with a painting:
I start with photography so I can try out many compositions quickly. I can take up to 80 photographs with only slight differences in composition, just for the one image. I’m trying to capture something that isn’t necessarily visual.
I want to start with a whole and then, gradually push, smudge, erase some of this wholeness. Until there is more, than there was before, even though there is less. Reveal the hidden.
I use photography to record the facts. I find the overall process of photography frustrating. What I capture in the photograph often seems to exclude the atmospheric quality experienced. This may be due to my basic photography skills and/or the lack of desire to master photography. This may change one day. What I am trying to capture isn’t physical so perhaps it can’t be caught in a physical manner.
Photography interests me in a theological sense. The obvious references are writers such as Susan Sontag (On Photography) and Roland Barthes (Camera Lucida) etc.
That desperate desire to hold onto a bit of forever-ness.
Possession.
The inevitable death of now.
I am trying to catch and stop myself being seduced by the desire to do what the mechanical lens has already done. When I don’t the painting is overworked. The aim is for the paintings to move further and further away from the photograph.
Starting to find time for the studio work again. I have been playing in the sketchbook and I have primed two new boards. They are half the size of the previous ones. I hope to be half as precious and controlled. I will be working from photographs. I’m slowly questioning why I am painting from photographs, and why I shouldn’t. I’m not sure if these questions are mine, or if I’m just getting paranoid by a traditionalist view. “Why not just exhibit the photograph?” When I discuss with contemporaries they don’t seem concerned.
Instead of answering the reasons for working from photographs I find myself answering why painting is my current medium. Why art at all.
It’s about the physical application of paint. I may also mean the arrangement of paint. The psychology of this act, not just the craftsmanship. The smell of linseed oil. Colour. Being alone in a studio. The dedication of time. Starting with individual elements, tubes of paint, an idea, tools and a surface. Transformation of a surface. A visual, unspoken conversation. The unspoken. Signifiers, transference, the signified. Blah blah blah.
Here is a better and different answer regarding the role of painting from the painter Simon Willems (2010) taken from an article in Elephant [1]:
This is tricky. One has to start from the premise of painting as a completely outmoded activity. Yet it is important to register that outmoded does not necessarily mean defunct, and that it has a role and a purpose here. What this creates is vulnerability, all the more critical and heightened by the ‘progressive’ relevance of everything else, to which I feel it is wholly interdependent. I like its outmoded vulnerability. One does not sit down cross-legged and devise strategies for the work or its role. Essentially you’re just aware of how it configures in the grander scheme of things. (Willems 2010, p. 108)
[1] WILLEMS, S. 2010. Stormtrooper Mourning The Loss of His Mother. Elephant, Summer, (3), pp.104-109.
Out of curiosity I visited the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition. I haven’t been in years. It was the last day but was surprisingly calm. At first it all felt quite cosy (I think) as if I was within some kind of womb, where the walls were made of art. However after a couple of rooms (127 exhibits) I was beginning to grow weary. There was a total of 1117 exhibits. I did make it to the end – but I definitely missed a few.
The positioning of the red stickers indicating a work had been sold baffled me. Some were stuck on the glass rather than the wall. I counted 40 odd on one work, which was an edition of 100. If there wasn’t a mount these stickers obstructed the view of the actual work. However lots of stickers means lots of buyers!
One of my favourites was Lost Memory by Tai-Shan Schierenberg. An oil painting of a broken house-like construction, within a house-like space, on a floor of grass. Sad. Atmospheric. Beautiful marks.
The private view for Atelier East Summer Exhibition was last Friday. The organisers were very welcoming (even though I brought along a large backpack and tent!) and it was great to be introduced to people. As well as celebrating the exhibited works the evening seemed to be about the exhibiting artists, the local artistic community and creativity in general. There was live music, a buffet, a raffle and people even discussed art.
Often I leave private views feeling disheartened. Private views are an important marketing tool but they can be more; something less cold. I am guessing most curators/galleries wouldn’t be able to afford to do the above on a regular basis. Would we be willing to occasionally donate a couple of pounds on entry to a private view to cover the costs? Would it help build creative communities? Is this naivety – would this system get abused by us or the curators/galleries?
The exhibition was held in Wisbech & Fenland Museum located in a pretty market town in Cambridgeshire. I was born nearby so it was also good to get back to my roots. Perhaps being outside London or a large city was a contributing factor to the friendly atmosphere. Don’t get me wrong I love London; sometimes its disjointedness is useful, sometimes not.
Going back to the practical side of things I have noticed the alarm that follows when an exhibition has been confirmed. How will the work be transported? What will it be transported in? How much will this cost? How will this impact the environment?
My mode of transport is bicycle – not suitable for transporting paintings. I don’t drive and I’m hoping I’ll never have to – it’s a green warrior thing. As an artist is a driving license an inevitability?
For the Atelier East exhibition Stage light was sent via courier, the courier service I had planned to use let me down – it was an expensive learning curve. On the other hand I did learn about exhibition varnish and managed to construct a wooden box for transportation. This was a big confidence boost I’m now considering making the panels I paint on myself – it would be a lot cheaper and I like the idea that I would be in control of the whole process.
