31 May 2011
And further along, the sandy "beach" -
All part of the celebration of the 1951 Festival of Britain.
29 May 2011
28 May 2011
These are 1.25" square, made with leftover bits of paper -
27 May 2011
Thursday's "slight delays" on the Victoria line had me using a different route, via Oval station (Northern line - shown black on tube maps). Love those arrows on the old-fashioned signs -Screenprinting involved Victoria line and Piccadilly line blues - and trying to mix the right green for the District line -
More of the large sheets (still no new screens, pending delivery of the emulsion) - the blank areas are bits of fabric or sheets of paper, going toward my stockpile -
By the end of the day I'd been to the college shop to buy some A4 paper of various sorts, and printed a few of those (one side only) -
Also this week I've been thinking about the process of drawing, researching rather randomly, and borrowing more books from the library - notably Edgelands, which has a little chapter on "desire paths" and lots more that can be found in this peripheral "landscape of inattention". Psychogeography, maybe.
What next -- cropping? editing out some of the bright areas? distortion? My skills in Photoshop are currently limited to those three things.
Another queasy attempt -
I was surprised at how the photos caught those moments. Or have I reinterpreted the wetness of the wait in the light of what the photos show?
26 May 2011
25 May 2011
"In 1956 Margaret Mellis made her first ‘envelope’ flower drawing. On a small, torn, blue envelope she sketched - in pencil - two dying anemones in a glass jar. Looking at that delicate and fugitive drawing today, one wonders where Mellis’s intention lay. Was the use of the envelope deliberate or simply the answer to a practical need in which to capture a brief moment of a dying flower.
"In 1959 Mellis threw away most of what she referred to as her ‘scribbles’ but for whatever reason, kept that one drawing and only came upon it again in 1987. The importance of that envelope sketch, made thirty years earlier, is that it directly relates to Mellis’s later driftwood constructions in that the materials used in both are from ‘found’ objects. On re-discovering the drawing she said that the pencil lines and the shape of the envelope had fused together and become ‘significant’. Mellis saw its potential and over a ten year period from 1987 she made around 100 drawings, of which only 40 remain."
I first encountered these drawings in the mid-90s in a commercial gallery, and the memory has stayed with me - a nice twist on writing a shopping list on the back of the envelope!
24 May 2011
For Lucy Ward, the concept of ‘footwalking’ is central to the cosmology that defines her life and her artwork. Like Aristotle, Ward’s is a philosophy of the peripatetic. As a young woman, she traversed her Ngarangarri and Winyiduwa clan estates by foot, learning the traditional ways of her people. As an artist, her works reflect this movement, both spiritually and aesthetically. Ward is a prodigious and prolific innovator, continually incorporating new ideas into her work with a sharp-eyed enthusiasm. But on a deeper level, this restless artistic movement can be seen as a metaphor for Ward’s nomadic philosophy. For in the paintings of Lucy Ward, each mark upon the canvas is like a fingerprint, betraying the trace of its creator’s movement. In painting her ancestral homelands – the ‘land of the honey dream’ – her marks reveal her ownership of the country, like footprints in a landscape that she has traversed by foot, understood instinctively and known intimately. But just like a footprint, they exist as the memory of presence, a nostalgic echo of past travels.
Aristotle and his followers were known as the Peripatetics for their habit of meeting in the Lyceum and walking whilst lecturing. They met in the colonnade because Aristotle was not a citizen of Athens, and could therefore, not own property. Similarly, in the wake of colonial incursion, Indigenous elders like Ward cannot live on their traditional lands, but return only occasionally to tend to the country of which they are the sacred custodians. Returning to her sacred sites, Ward sings out to the spirits, warning them of her arrival. Her song echoes through the stony ridges and it is as though she is a young woman again. It is this memory of the landscape that reveals itself in Ward’s paintings. Each mark connects Ward to her landscape, making her one with the Dreams, songs and topography of her land of honey. They are what Marcia Langton has described as “site markers of the remembering process and of identity itself” as they inhabit a temporality that is neither past, present nor future, but part of the sacred link that connects Ward to the timeless Ngarranggarni or Dreaming.