This blog post is all about making. It could read 'To Pierce, To Knit, To Sew'...
Some of the works I show below were made when living on the Isle of Mull in Scotland whilst others have been created whilst here in Portugal. They are developmental 'Works in Progress'.
My starting point - Pierced Paper, Ink Dots, Stitch Markings...
Selection of Pierced Papers - ongoing
Selection of Pierced Papers - ongoing
Selection of Embossed Papers - ongoing
Selection of Pierced Papers - ongoing
But what to do with them all?
What about a mass of pierced papers (bigger than this example)?
Presented on the wall, on the floor, on a table, bench, or plinth... a kind of visual diary really?
What about stacking? Piles of pierced paper? (Obviously lots more than this).
When the paper is pierced it becomes voluminous.
Examples of threads...
I like to knit. It is the most relaxing activity of all the things I do, at least for the moment. Above are some examples of the threads I am trying out.
But what to do with all the squares?
What about stacking? Piles of black squares...?
Obviously there needs to be lots more than this, and obviously neater and more uniform in size. Think architectural stacks. The verb 'To stack'? And by doing lots more, I should improve my knitting skills...
What about a free form knitted 'quilt' / 'blanket', that could be hung on the wall, or draped like the felt works of Richard Serra?
The thick black wool I've used is quite stiff to work with, and the more threads you knit with at the same time, the tougher and more robust the fabric produced. It could be manipulated, moulded and has sculptural potential...
Perhaps some sort of adhesive, or setting agent would help each piece stay in it's sculptural position? Can anybody recommend something or a method I could use? Of course over time it might sag. I could call it 'To Sag'...
My favourite thread of all at the moment is mohair. I like how hairy it is and it is so light to touch and hold. Sticky, yet fly away. The nature of the thread's hairiness makes it very voluminous. Hard to show in a photograph, but I imagine a room full of mohair thread, unravelled, as it is. Yes, you would need a lot of thread and mathematically could work out how much you would need. It would be a kind of sculpture or three dimensional drawing. It could also be like a big tumbleweed...
I have been wrapping...
And stretching...
A different thread - 'To Stretch'...
I imagine squares of knitted fabric stretched between pins on a wall. They might look like little maps? Think how many different types of patterns you could form just by tweaking the direction you stretch the square.
Fishing wire, crocheted.
I'm guessing that people would like to see through the crocheted fishing wire or with all it's shadows showing, something like the photograph above, not with the olive trees of course.
I like the idea of the fishing wire on a white background. Again difficult to show in a photograph, but what about a free form knitted 'quilt' / 'blanket'? It could be hung on the wall, or draped like the felt works of Richard Serra? You would kind of see it and not see it, it's opaqueness.
And what about spread out on the floor - soft, billowing, bubble / foam - like, fluttering, oozing...
Black and white mohair thread knitted together - detail
Black and white mohair thread knitted together - detail
I like the combination of knitting black and white threads together. There is too much white here in this sample above, but I like the idea of random white threads 'just' peaking through the black. It looks like a drawing or painting, and due to the knitting process every square would be different.
I brought the cream thread above when I found it in a wool shop on a car journey up to the top of Scotland. I've always really liked it and feel there is a connection between the wool and the watercolour paper that I use. I know the colour is the same but I'm not sure why else I'm drawn to it? How am I connecting the two visually, and how can I show that through making?
Likewise with the next two images below, I feel there is a connection between the knitted fabric and the watercolour paper. I want to sew the two materials together. Why?
This piece above I have had a long time and it is one of my favourites. I like the left hand side with the cream mohair thread sewn through the cellophane, such a juxtaposition of materials. The cellophane is the outside wrapper from a birthday card. I have a stash of cellophane card wrappers. What would this look like sewn en masse? Karla Black, a well known Scottish artist creates large sculptures using cellophane.
Having completed my first patchwork quilt for our motorhome this last year, I decided to try out this method using plain paper and pierced paper. I don't think it works, at least not yet. It is the wrong paper, too thick, chunky, clumsy looking. Too many squares. What I do like is how the pierced squares of paper are raised against the un-pierced, flat squares of paper, again the pierced paper is becoming voluminous and puffing out.
Simple is definitely best. Imagine this work above, on a larger scale, the un-pierced flat paper fixed to the wall, the pierced section hanging freely, kind of just hanging, dangling.
Mohair thread sewn into Pierced Paper.
I like the juxtaposition of textures.
I return to fabric. The two images above are of the pin cushion that I have made to use when I am sewing, when making art. I like it as a soft object on its own. I particularly like the lines of the seams, and where they join perfectly! Why?
April this year I will be presenting a selection of my black pierced paper artworks in London with the artists group Plastic Propaganda . It will be at the A.P.T. Gallery in South East London from 7 - 24th April. Our show is called 'Both Ends of Madness'. It is about the idea of the 'mad genius' and an exploration looking at artists who might struggle to make work in search of the impossible, to artists who use art making as a form of therapy. What leads to fulfilment in making and what are the therapeutic benefits of doing this?
My artist's statement explains why I like to make:
Richard Serra’s Verb List (1967-68), sets down the infinitives of 84 verbs and 24 possible forces and contexts as a linguistic bank of possible artistic actions in response to particular material qualities. Taking this as my starting point, my verb list might include:
to de-clutter
to purge
to empty…
I like to pierce paper, gradually weakening its structure with holes until the once firm support bares more resemblance to a malleable textile.
Most times I work alone connecting art making to a form of personal therapy. The repetitive action of piercing paper becomes both a mental “displacement activity” and a test of physical endurance. It is a place to withdraw and explore my mental state.
Intriguing groupings of holes are formed that become dense chasms when blacked-out with pigment. I like the loose, powdery nature of this material, it is a free spirit, yet both messy and troublesome to deal with.
Ephemeral in nature, the fragile artworks I create are a form of catharsis, a madness of quiet and contemplative intensity. I like to think that I can provide the viewer with an entrance point, willing us all to question the things that consume us, challenging us to assess their worth.
The process of making is important to me, but what to do with all these 'pieces' I am creating? How can I share them with the world? Do I need to share them with the world? And in what format? These are very big questions.
Our lifestyle is in flux, our long term travelling our choice. What sort of artworks can I make that fit in with what Shawn and I are doing? I have the consistency of our motorhome for space, and I find myself wanting more and more to come away from the formality of the studio desk to make my work.
I'm not sure quite what to do with it all and struggle to visualise the small works I create within an expanded setting, and ideally within a gallery / art context?
I end with something a little different. Shawn and I have just brought some new table mats. We have been for looking for ages not finding what we wanted until now. The picture is of the mats below.
They are made of cork from the cork oak tree. Cork oak trees can be found everywhere in this part of Portugal. Shawn was searching online to find out how best to care for the mats and found this lovely little film all about the manufacture of cork. It's brilliant - and all about material and process...
Have a look here: Film - 'Portugal. Cork harvesting, processing and use 60 years ago'.