Between a Rock and a Hard Place.
“Evolution is what it is. The upper classes have always died out; it’s one of the most charming things about them.” Germaine Greer
“Blogstipation” I moaned “It will soon pass.” quipped Sandra my new Twitter friend. Unaccustomed to complete mental limbo, I hit the beach for a very long walk. Optimistically I carried a strong bag, but without any idea of what I might put in it. It was hot and bright, after a while I began to notice things, first the lovely grey-blue flints especially the small ones that shape-shifted into pre-christian goddesses and miniature Moores and Hepworths. Broken bits of tile appearing like tiny ancient Tabula Rasas waiting to be inscribed. Whole planets of chalk, riddled with small craters. The big open space, promoted big open musings about the evolution of human mark-making on the landscape. Two and a half hours later, my bag had become heavy with gleaned beach booty and I struggled home like a giant Borrower.
“An artist must evolve to quell the voice within and find new ways to speak unspoken ideas.” William Scott Jennings.
Adhering to the Two Steps Backwards principle of not being seduced into making an “artwork” just when the “drawing” gets interesting, I went back to the drawing board, back to basics, just back. This time my new mark-making “rules” were: new ways to express surface and volume. Figs 1 & 2.
Fig.3. Fascinated by the hide-and-seek nature of the natural holes in the flint and chalk, I made some test pieces (a la Eva Hesse) by filling them with a mixture of beeswax, paint and rosin as a way of delineating and drawing attention to the particular shapes. This was relatively easy as the holes were facing upwards.
“Most species do their own evolving making it up as they go along which is the way nature intended. And this is all very natural and organic and in tune with the mysterious cycles of the cosmos, which believes that there is nothing like millions of years of really frustrating trial and error to give a species moral fibre and, in some cases, backbone.“ Terry Pratchett.
However: when it came to the chalk “planet” it was a different matter altogether as the holes faced every which way but up. I endured hours of patient tipping and propping of the chalk and much pouring, dripping and burning (mostly me) of moulten wax. Repeat drippings were necessary to get the wax flush with the surface. It was during this agonisingly awkward process that my live-in technical advisor walked past. He watched the torturous process with loving concern and advised:
“If you’re going to take this further, I suggest you find a big one of those (planet) one without holes, and then you can drill the holes yourself and get them exactly where you want them.”
There was a time, dear reader when I would have bristled defensively, and responded with a mini rant, with more than a whiff of moral high ground, about highlighting the organic beauty of creature-made holes, the random specificity of each… and how he would never understand…or get me etc, etc. But instead I kissed his concerned forehead and he went back to doing what he was doing.
“Man’s mind, once stretched by a new idea, never regains its original dimensions.” Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Next morning, fired up with creative over-enthusiasm and intent on stretching my own parameters of drawing once again, I remained undaunted even by a casual remark from a friend. On hearing that financially things were a bit tight and that I was now taking students to augment the budget, she looked me in the eye and said:
“Without wishing to demean you or anything, have you considered cleaning?”
I felt considerably demeaned- but not daunted and I went back to my small “pre-Christian” goddesses and stood them up and put them in their own specially made bases, thus bestowing them with a sort of rampant authority. I happily surveyed the work laid out on trays looking like a fresh batch bake and it felt good.
