The Cultural Tourist

Unlike the title of the book by Julian Barnes, there is no sense of an ending. I am still inspired by the research I did as part of my Masters of Research in Art: Theory and Philosophy where my final dissertation looked into the tropes and mechanisms associated with ideas of the fragment within modern literature and modernity. As part of this one of the reoccurring themes was the idea of a fragment as never being fixed but being ever-changing and continually being influenced and in turn influencing all that it comes into contact with.

Such ideas are commonly associated with human-kind’s detrimental effect on the natural world. In respect to climate change and the extinction risk to many species of flora and fauna, it is well known that this clearly has a knock-on effect on the survival of mankind and the planet as a whole.

But there are more subtle connections that are becoming more and more prominent such as the positive effect on mental and physical health of humans being at one with nature. Is it possible that other animals and plants can sometimes feel the benefit of human-kind? We are just another creature that inhabits the world as they do, intercepting their space and interconnecting in ways that we cannot even imagine. That moment of connection is fluid, malleable; forever transforming and impossible to pin down.

‘We operate between the lines, the fragments and fissures, the detail and the signifiers, between the body and its senses and these invisible strands of connection…’ (Masterton F, 2021, p 51)

Following on from my August blog where I talk about the edge of my everyday consciousness and imagination and the birds that visit my garden, I have been trying to make a series of artworks that reflect this idea of the unfinished but interconnectedness of nature with humankind. The 2 works displayed are in themselves incomplete and whilst I will be doing a lot more work on the orange ‘Robin’ piece, it will deliberately not be resolved.

‘I have tried to portray an interconnected drift between content, time, matter, thought, what I imagine and my own reality’ ( Masterton F, 2021, p 50).

Reference:
(Masterton F, 2021, ‘My Grandmother’s Plait) – to read contact CSM Museum and Study Collection. https://www.arts.ac.uk/colleges/central-saint-martins/about-us/museum-and-study-collection

I have recently started on a new series of works, somewhat larger than normal and inspired by my previous doodlings of strange insect like creatures and also my garden series. It is at a very early stage but it will be a mixture of collage, painting and drawing, focusing on some of the birds and other wildlife that I see every day through my kitchen windows.

As I sip my coffee in the morning I easily become transfixed by the wildlife that pays a visit to the garden. This includes foxes, squirrels, the odd neighbourhood cat and a myriad of birds. There have been a pair of magpies that have taken up residence and certainly dominate the garden. They tolerate me sitting outside on occasion but after a while, they clearly think enough is enough and start chortling very loud at me and pressure me into moving out of the vicinity. There are also a couple of pigeons whose soft cooing is frequently heard, which is just as well as they do appear to have their eye on coming inside. I am wary about having the sliding door open as they ever so quietly inch their way towards it and it is only their soft cooing that gives them away every time. They seem very non-aggressive birds and unlike the magpies, inhabit the space peacefully with all the other creatures. Meanwhile the magpies vehemently protect their territory and often chase the other birds (and squirrels) away. I have also witnessed them stealing my little tea-light candles in their metal casings which makes me very curious as to what else might be contained within their nest.

Then there are the little birds – they perhaps give me the biggest pleasure. My garden is so overgrown such that coal tits flit in and out of the foliage in a delightful manner and robins hover close by on low branches or perhaps on the edge of an outside chair. Robins really do seem like they want to engage with you and I do wish I knew what it was they were thinking. I can’t help but have a little chat with them when they come and visit.

In this very hot weather I have been sure to keep the birdbath filled with water as well as the little tea light lanterns I have hanging from the trees. The coal tits and others delight in these as they can drink and bathe in relative protection.

Thus the garden space and its habitants sits on the periphery of my everyday consciousness and imagination. It operates as a kind of background that floats in and out of focus. Whilst I haven’t progressed very far with this lastest series, I have prepared the painted ground on canvas which I display here. As one can see these backgrounds are themselves gestural and organic. They are created in a relatively random way, allowing time and chance and the layers of paint to do it thing.

Spinney winney
Swimming, strimming through the water or air
It doesn’t matter
This strange creature defies existence, refuses structure
It lives its life through imagination and sheer determination
Poof, woof, whirrrrrl
It’s as if it discovers new parts as its shimmies along
A myriad of movements and alternative accoutrements
Blobbity blob, bob, flob.
It does have its bad points
A bulbous body, half worm, half slug, with devilish eyes and a laconic view
Flutter, flutter, putt, putt
Ting ting weeeeeee!
But there are always other ways and modes of passage
It occupies a space which is mutable and free
Slipping away at a hint of definition
Teleporting effortlessly through space, time and meaning

I have been suffering from a badly torn meniscus in my knee and whilst I have been able to hobble about ok, it has been very painful. Consequently this has necessitated a fair bit of rest and thankfully the weather has been so lovely that I have been enjoying sitting outside in the garden more than I would normally.

It is all looking pretty overgrown out there, and to be honest, this is what I prefer. There is plenty of foliage and therefore the little birds feel safe and dart from tree to tree. The longer one sits, the more one notices and it is the most ordinary of things that bewitch me.

As a result of this I created a series of art works that revolve around the garden and the small pleasures it provides. These are digitally edited photographs combined with oil painting that aim to evoke a particular moment that I have observed and enjoyed, such as the sun and dappled shade on a garden seat surrounded by overhanging roses, or the way the light falls on the neighbour’s fence framed by shrubbery, or the exotic shape of a plant and the way that it suspends in the air, or a mysterious but romantic looking dark patch of ivy, bluebells and dandelions suggestive of a home for something magical and not of this world.

That moment in the evening
Coming back from nowhere in particular
Thinking about nothing at all
The cars line the streets
And the street stretches ahead
The lights are not yet on
Yet there is an eerie glow
Spreading slowly across the sky
Turning in discomfort
Enormous in its reach
It does not feel natural
But yes, it’s kind of beautiful
And I soak up its aura