My practice has change a lot this year. I have allowed myself to admit that I am not a painter, and I never will be. I enjoy it definitely, but it is an endless struggle of the most unproductive kind. I look at the painters in my year, and am thankful that I have left it to them. There are at least three or four people in the studio who posess an intriguing handling of paint, that I could never hope to have.
The direction in which I am travelling is absolutely thrilling. I feel satisfied when I think of it, and relish the fact that it is a relatively unexplored medium within contemporary fine art; the artists’ book. The book. This is an innate source of our learning and knowledge. There are a multitude of questions to be answered in a variety of contexts. Why make an artists’ book? How does an artists’ book operate in a gallery space? How can we define the artists’ book? Is it a book made by artists, or perhaps a book containing art? A paraphrased definition I have found, and that I like, is that the artists’ book is a frame or a container, in which an artist places their work. The work must have a concept that runs throughout, and the artist is responsible for designing the physial form and pagination, as well as the work that is contained within.
I will write again soon. I feel excited about this blogging experiment. It is my first attempt at a blog, and I believe that it will help me articulate my own thoughts to myself, as well as sharing them with others. Whether other people want to hear them is another matter, but I do quite enjoy the narcisstic quality of it all. all
