University Campus Suffolk

Anthony Caro; Interior and Exterior, Karen Wilkins, 2009

A work by Caro can be as exuberant and linear as a Barcelona balcony or as severe and planar as a medieval sarcophagus. He has conjured up intense feeling by making one piece of steel touch another and told turbulent histories by forcing clay, wood and metal to co-exist. Caro remains eager to try materials new to him, curious about the formal, structural and expressive inventions they will stimulate, continuously challenging his own discoveries, exploring their implications but refusing to settle for known solutions.

These sculptures demanded to be experienced in relation to the body. If we are to appreciate fully works such as ‘After Olympia’ (1986-7) or ‘Xanadu’ (1986-8) we must walk beside their extended length, measuring the full extent of the sculpture with our stride and confronting the series of intimately related steel structures that make up the whole as if they were individuals whos presence we test against our own corporeality.

Occasionally, we are granted a tantalising, oblique glimpse, as in the slanting views allowed into the recessed top of ‘Night and Dreams’, yet even here, the thickness of the few visible edges and the solidity of the rest of the sculpture combine to deny us a more intimate experience. Innerness becomes not an option but a potent, evocative abstraction; only visual entry, never physical penetration, is permitted by these enigmatic sculptures and even that, rarely with severe limitations.

Caro’s abolition of the plinth in his sculpture…. was a seismic event. By removing the structure upon which a sculpture stood – and which, arguably, defined a piece as sculpture – Caro challenged audiences to reconsider the space of a sculptural work; no longer did the sculpture exist within the bounded terrain of the elevated, plinth-based world; instead, it shared the space of the viewer. Audience and work were grounded on the same plane. (Smith, 2010:10)

Anthony Caro; Small Sculptures, H.F Westley Smith, 2010

Been thinking about a potential piece for the degree show, but am still unsure as to whether I want to actually display it as a stand alone work.

If I did it, it would be a whole wall full of small circular individual paintings made from the bottom of the plastic cups you get from the water dispensers. I started doing these at the beginning of the year, basically using the cups to wash my paint brushes with, and allowing the leftover pigment to settle at the bottom and dry.

I had a picture of them taken for the catalogue, where I stuck a small square of them on a white wall, and the impact they gave was quite strong. It was only after that that I considered them as an actual separate piece of work.

But now, I’m not so sure. I tend to think now that they don’t really communicate the same formal attitude that the other pieces I’m going to display will. They come across as being playful and fun, and I’m not quite sure that that would be a good addition.

?

My work has developed such a lot through this year, and although I’ve really enjoyed having this change in direction, (making the “paint boxes”,) I can’t help but feel that I’m doing something wrong by not painting in my studio upstairs, but by now spending my time downstairs in the sculpture studios, preparing the wood and fixing it together.

It seems such a change from doing what I had been doing at the beginning of the year, but it is a natural progression, I haven’t suddenly jumped from painting to sculpture.

What I like about the “paint boxes” is this change. I like the projection they have into real space. I like the fact that it would be harder for a viewer to ignore these, that they have to respond to them in some way, they can’t just walk past and blank them so easily.

But once these are finished, what do I do now, once I’ve run out of tins, what else can I display? Or do I not display anything else, but try to evolve them into a more minimalist work, like the paintings before them?

New Works

Well over the past couple of weeks, my work has altered its look, again.

I quite like it, and it came to me quite quickly and I impulsively started making the objects, without stopping to think too much.

It started off from initially finding this really old tin of lead white paint from the metal sheds at the back of the college, which I then started to use on pieces of wood after skimmng the oil off the top.

It is such a nice, old tin. It’s called Ibex, and its got drops of paint running down the side, and is slightly rusting, and the words are obscured, but really, it is aesthetically quite nice, and I really didn’t want to waste that aspect by just chucking away the empty tin.

So once I started looking at Donald Judd, I was inspired by his way of presenting works, specifically his stacks (pictured Untitled 1966, 1979, 1993.) And I really like that way of comprising the positioning of the works, thinking that this would work really well if I displayed the paint cans in their own self contained unit, and spreading them along the wall, either vertically or horizontally, in either one row or column or two or three.

I’ve attached an image of a sketch I made imaging the layout of this piece.

I was also lucky enough to find a really intriguing can from an illegal tip which I can use, and two friends subsequently gave me various pots of paint in various stages of decay, some are more interesting than others, but I have a nice enough collection to make a composition of these, what I refer to as “paint boxes.”

I’ve so far made eight, two of which are pictured.

For the first box, I covered the inside in a thin sheet of metal aluminium which I had spare, wanting this material to reflect the material of the can, which it does nicely. I have run out of this sheet metal, so the rest of the boxes are purely made of wood.

With the addition of corner braces, some on the outside, some on the inside, the boxes themselves are very basic and, kind of rubbish really, thanks to my bad handiwork, but actually, I don’t know that a perfectly made box would really compliment the context of the piece. I believe the difference between box and paint can, if the box were perfect, would be a bit jarring.

I’ve also started painting the inside of the boxes the contents of the paint cans, if any, which sometimes adds more colour, or not, as I have mainly neutral colours or no paint at all. But I think that kind of randomness adds an unexpected element, there’s no pattern to it, there’s no symmetry, and why should there be? Does that matter? I don’t think so. I like random, it’s quirky.

This move is bringing my work to a new layer. By doing this, I am literally presenting paint as the object, the painting literally becoming the sculpture/installation.

Later, I will question more the motives behind this work, and how it works in a space etc.

“One of Judd’s main interests was space. Once he had discovered, in the early 1960’s that space provided him with more possibilities than the two-dimensional canvas, he made it a central subject of his work.” (Stockebrand, 2011:6)

-Am becoming more aware of the space that I occupy and how I can create works that exist in a particular space; how the works develop based on the space they will occupy.

“This is where Judd was adamant: space has to be understood and therefore open in some fashion. It should not be concealed. Space has to have clarity. With clarity it can be simple.” (Stockebrand, 2011:6)

“Here the wood’s grain constitutes the “decorative” surface (as galvanised iron does in metal). Judd had begun his career as a painter and colour remained a profound interest throughout his life. An object (e.g., a work of art) without colour was not conceivable for him. However, over the course of the years the relationship of material and colour changed. Initially paint was applied onto the surface of the support material, but once he began using metals their inherent hues were the colour. Colour wasn’t added, it was integral.” (Stockebrand, 2011:8)

Untitled, 1978, Douglas Fir Plywood, (pictured)

-Slowly realising that this is somewhat reminiscent of my progress and journey throughout the third year. That surface has become as important as what is applied to the surface, and sometimes, the simpler the application, the more the surface is able to talk for itself.

“The floor piece illustrated here is constructed with such a slanted divider; it runs from the centre (at top) to the corner (at bottom). It cuts the space into one and three quarters, resulting in a smaller triangular space on one side, and a larger trapezoidal volume on the other. But this mathematical approach is barely an explanation of what the division does to the space; as in real architecture this space, too, has to be perceived from more than one standpoint and at more than one time of day. The fascination largely results from the impact of light, which – depending on its angle- may be captured more fully in the smaller area, making the larger one appear darker, or vice versa. Of even greater fascination is the fact that while the configuration is entirely understandable, the interior is not entirely perceivable at once, or from any one standpoint. Some areas remain obscure. Nevertheless, while looked at from various angles the interior does open up in beautifully different ways.” (Stockebrand, 2011:8)

Untitled, 1978, Douglas Fir Plywood

“”Colour and space occur together,” was his statement, adding that it had never occurred to him to make sculpture without colour.” (Stockebrand, 2011:16)

“While Albers noticed a visual movement forward and backward between certain combinations, Judd was looking for their actual expansion in space.” (Stockebrand, 2011:16)

– The presence of a colour in its surrounding space

“There is an impression of movement, suggested by the different positions of the dividers, creating zones that are wider or narrower and lighter or darker, while the entire interior remains completely open and transparent.” (Stockebrand, 2011:28)