The Cultural Tourist

A change of perspective

How does one get inspiration for new work? What drives the creative process and how are these thoughts developed. How is one’s perspective on a subject formed and how does this change?

Growing up in New Zealand, I ended up doing a Humanities Degree majoring in Education. I was being encouraged at the time by my family to train to be a teacher. Although I did not go down this route I did acquire some interesting knowledge, particularly about some of the principles of how we learn, in particular assimilation and accommodation. When we come across something new in our lives, our brain automatically tries to find a familiarity (a schema) with other things we have learnt – whether this be an experience, a memory, a pattern, whatever. This is the quickest way of learning as the new info just moulds right in. However, if the information we receive is entirely new, then our brains have to create new connections and new schemas in order to accommodate it. This process takes longer.  This is a very simplistic summary but hopefully one gets the gist. Our schemas as children are very simple and over time they develop in complexity and sophistication.

For example, ever since as a child I have always had a particular penchant for Scotland due to the fact my paternal grandparents were from there. Not that I ever met them, they died before I was born. It didn’t stop my childhood imagination taking over. I knew my grandfather was a lowlander and my grandmother a highlander. In my child’s mind I took this to mean that my grandmother lived up the hill and my grandad somewhere at the bottom and one day they happened to meet in the middle. A mixture of growing up, knowledge and experience have adjusted what I know to be the truth but I still remember fondly my childish explanation.

I wonder how my sons see the world, and how this is changing over time. They were born in London and have only lived here so far so experience-wise they don’t know any different. But they are obviously exposed to the media and the news which has considerable influence. I wonder how they perceive their New Zealand heritage, whether they think about it at all? They never mention it. Will this change as they grow older and seek wider pastures and more knowledge about their heritage?

My recent art work developed from a trip to Derbyshire did not just include the local landscape or my reaction to that landscape. I was studying my oldest son as he sat on the ground surveying the scene during one of our trips out and was wondering how he was currently viewing the world in front of him and how this might change as his thought processes matured. I’m in the middle of creating an art piece on this, combining aspects of the landscape, environment and this idea of an individual’s changing perspective.

The attach image is work in progress and I call it ‘Alex’s changing perspective’.

I have been continuing my work on my Moor series which was instigated by a trip away to Derbyshire. I’ve extended this remit to essentially include the more wildish aspects of the UK countryside as I normally spend most of my time in a city and urban environment.

What I notice most about being on a moor or open expanses of countryside is the infinity aspect where one can stare out into the distance for as far as the eye can see. No more buildings obstructing ones views and dreams from my usual ground floor perspective. Also the light is different and more changeable. In London, the predominant colour of the sky is grey followed by more grey. Having for years missed the light and bright blue skies of NZ it’s a blessed relief to see more dynamic and exciting skies.

As I make my art, different things spring to mind. Bits of poetry and literature, where others too have been influenced by their natural surrounds. The Moor in particular inspired the well known Charlotte Bronte’s ‘Jane Eyre’, Emily Bronte’s ‘Wuthering Heights’, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’, W.H Auden’s poem ‘In praise of limestone’ to name a few.

The Moor is perceived as being wild and mysterious. The unstructured, the uncontrollable – refusing to be defined by man’s hand however much we try to contain its borders and development.There is something humbling and grounded about being surrounded by countryside. The whole thing about feeling just a small part of it, a tiny entity situated in the wider landscape.

The knowledge that hidden away but within close proximity is a variety of wildlife. This lurking delights and intrigues me and I often wish I could just sit in wait, hidden myself to see what might appear. I can quite understand the occasional story of a big beast or cat being seen on the Moors and how these stories are sensationalised in the news. If I were a wild animal a moor is precisely where I would head as well. A place to completely run free like a car without a speed limit. The enigmatic power of a beast roaming free, unpredictable and relentless in its bid for freedom. Ted Hughes poetry springs to mind.

We tend to romanticise these untamed spaces, delighting in the colours and moods the craggy environment displays. There is also often areas of dense bracken or woodland – many probably introduced by man in the first place. But somehow even these inscrutable spaces appeal to our sense of relief and surrender. There is nothing to prove in places like these. It’s not just about being at one with nature but we can’t help but come face to face with the reality of ourselves.

The pieces I’m working on take a long time to do. Photography followed by digital editing and some montaging, then deliberately roughly collaged onto surfaces I have put together myself. The handmade is an important part of the process for this series of work. It’s like working on the land. It wouldn’t have felt right to use pre- made and already primed canvases. Then it’s all about preparing the surfaces ready for painting. Matt varnish x 2 layers followed by 2 layers of clear primer – waiting to dry between each layer – like a ritual or preparing for the growing of crops.

The gaps between the collaged bits are deliberate – scars in the land; carved out and defining the shapes in the surface. Colour is equally important. Purples, pinks, greys, greens, browns, and yellows of various shades try to encapsulate the wide variety of hues of the ever changing landscape.

One of the things I plan to do whilst working on this moor series is to apply some of the same techniques and practices that I use on my urban city pieces. For example I like to seek out the patterns and movements that my original photographs suggest to me and emulate these with drawing and painting onto the collaged image – my interventions; walking with my fingers, instinctively using touch at a basic level to respond to what I see in front of me. The works I display here are not finished and I don’t know how these will turn out. Each has its own journey in terms of what and how paint or other material is applied. I like to let my processes guide me.

Much of my recent art has been about the graffiti, shadows, reflections and gritty periphery side of urban areas and cities. It is also about how all these aspects blend with the corners of my thoughts – both conscious and subconscious.

In counterpoint to this I recently spent a week in Derbyshire and wanted to explore my response to the wilder areas of the moors and countryside. I have been reading the book ‘The Moor – A journey into the English wilderness’ by William Atkins and his detailed accounts and personal reflections on the ecology, history, and influences on literature of English moors. This book has inspired me to take those ideas and practices I use within a city to a completely different environment.

As usual my work starts with documenting via photography the surrounding landscape, both close-ups of wild plants and surrounds to distant rolling hills. I am interested in the light and how it falls, the different textures, colours, movement and the natural shapes the landscape suggests to me. The idea of using references from relevant literature appeals to me greatly and I am thinking about how I could incorporate this.

As a child growing up in New Zealand I use to frequently imagine the wild and deserted areas of Scotland. My grandparents were Scottish and this connection no doubted whetted my appetite. Once in the UK, the Scottish Moors did not disappoint. The landscapes, mountains and ever changing colours of Rannoch Moor filled me with wonder and I would dreamily imagine I was that tragic and brave heroine in a novel striding across the moors, hair and skirt flowing behind me.

Now I’m back in London I only have secondary material to work from, such as photographs and literature. In a way this may be useful in that I can focus on the purely visual aspects and literary descriptions of Moor land which should keep my work quite focused.

Its chucking it down out there and I’ve spent a good proportion of the day in my studio. I am still working on my ‘Abstract City’ series, be it a little slow. One of the things I consistently find difficult when I am painting within a digital montage of mine, is to let go and get away from the image in front of me. It is true that much of the work is done via my photography and my digital editing and drawing. However my intention with this series (as it is with much of my work) is to disengage myself from what I see as a whole, and work with the rhythms and patterns that suggest themselves to me.I have a few devices that help me do this; constantly turning the work around to lose the context, or stepping back and squinting my eyes. But I think the most successful thing that works for me is just to put music on and let it wash over me. This helps me become unattached and work more on an instinctive basis.

I also tend to hone right in to parts within the work (no matter how small the piece) and focus on the detail. The work as a whole might suggest certain things to me and it is with this in mind that I embellish and add the paint. It’s not just about highlighting or toning down but very often adding new motifs and structures. This close-up attention means that I occasionally have to step back and see whether it works as a whole. My work does tend to become too complex quite easily and I may have to create space within the work to give it some visual respite.

Sometimes I might get a bit stuck as to what I am doing next, but I find sitting on the floor for a copious amount of time staring at it can help considerably as well as leaving the studio and getting yet another cup of tea. I also get a fair bit of my inspiration by looking through travel and interior design books and images, particularly when it comes to the use of colour and maybe an idea for a different kind of mark making. I have many a ruined book in my studio with paint finger marks all over it where it has been the subject of a good perusal. I look for ideas that might work with my initial premise which I would then have a play with. It’s not always obvious but a way of helping me liberate my preconceptions and natural inclinations.

2 of the images I display here are from one of my ‘Abstract City’ series. In my head I call this piece ‘Asian and Orient’ which gives a bit of a clue to the elements I am focusing on. The original montage is based on photographs I took whilst wandering around Bordeaux as are all the other works in the series. The other image I have displayed here I refer to as ‘Fretwork’ – mainly because the original montage focuses on fencing and fretwork around the area. The close-up of the added paint-work demonstrates how I have focused on the patterns, shapes and colours that are suggested to me. The final pieces may end up changing considerably both in terms of how it looks and what I call them. I never let my original idea hold up its destination.

Moving on

I have been asking myself ‘how do I develop my art?’ Is it a conscious or subconscious thing? I suspect it is actually a mixture of both. ‘What should I be doing more of?’ is a question I frequently wonder about. I read, I study other people art, I try to visit the many wonderful art galleries and take myself to exhibitions that wouldn’t be my natural inclination in efforts to shake things up a bit. Perhaps more importantly is that I try to keep experimenting and making work.

One thing I have noticed is that recently I think and plan in series as opposed to just working on a singular piece. This allows me room to explore a range of things over several works rather than try to encompass everything in one piece. It helps me relax and open up the work as it allows opportunities to go into a myriad of directions in a loose and instinctive manner. It is never definitive but tends to be roughly bound by a group of ideas that I want to try. These ideas never appear in isolation – they are never new. Very often art I have developed previously has considerable input into my new work in terms of the ideas and practices that I used.

To elaborate on this, I am currently working on an ‘Abstract City’ series. This will play with the everyday gritty aspects of a city and urban environment using my photography as a starting point. This is not new to me. I have done this before in various ways – my ‘Graffiti’ series being an example of this. I will also create montages and collages as I have done many times before.

I am keen to encompass the idea of bold colour, patterns and movement that I used in my ‘Patterns of New Zealand landscape’ (painting only) series – but using painting and drawing more in combination with my photography and montages. Now whilst my art practice frequently explores the ebb and flow of the painted versus the digital mark, I really want to push the physical mark making further in terms of colour, movement, shape and rhythm.

I have to ask myself ‘why do I want to do this at all?’ What I can say is that much of it comes back to my initial wandering around taking the photographs. These images are being captured very quickly on a compact camera as I’m walking down the street. They are not posed but very quick shots of things that catch my eye. I’m like a visual kleptomaniac, collecting anything that attracts me – it could be a street sign, or a piece of brightly coloured rubbish on the ground as equally as a beautiful carved column or pretty flower garden. It could be a pattern, a shadow, a texture, or a reflection for example. I end up with a large repository of images that define my impressions of that particular environment which I then bring together in various montages.

As I physically paint, draw, scratch and smudge onto these works it will be as a personal response to this recorded environment. I am tactically interjecting myself into these pieces – making my physical presence apparent, feeling the pulse, conducting the orchestra.

The works I display here show some of my new montages prior to painting and drawing within them.