Blog 28

This last month I have been to a crowdfunding workshop organized by Hi-Arts, a company that provides development and support to the arts and heritage industries in Scotland. As a recent newcomer to the area, it was a great opportunity to meet other creatives.

Crowdfunding is an up and coming way of raising funds for your projects through the internet and social networking, inviting people to donate money from £1 to £1000, in return for rewards such as a publicized thank you, original artwork or edition of, or tutored workshop for example. I think it is a more personable way of raising cash to support and make your projects happen and an exciting alternative to the government led initiatives that are rapidly drying up. 

In the studio I have been drawing maps of our journey in the van during these last two years. There is so much scope to be had with this subject and I wanted to create some visuals to set the ball rolling. There is discussion at the moment to publish a book for my show and give a background history about me. 

Destination stops in Britain 2010 - work in progress

Preparations for my show are hotting up. I am collaborating with a film - maker to produce a film and sound piece about piercing paper and I have very recently linked up with an art historian who is going to write a text about my work. Photography for the publicity has been done and designs for the posters, invites, coverage etc will be put together in due course. Thank you to everyone who is working with me on this. 

These last few days I have been doing a lot of writing, recapturing why I am doing what I am doing. Writing is a good thinking tool for me even if I disregard the work later on. I found myself going dizzy where I was concentrating so much, and it became just an enjoyment to feel the flow of the pen across the page and see the black ink flowing onto the paper. 

Hi - Arts 

http://hi-arts.co.uk/

Blog 27

I am still continuing my debate with the picture frame. Taking simple white A4 sheets of paper, I have been folding them, creating single or double seam lines, in series. Held up vertically, they look like screens. I imagine them door size, even bigger. They look like openings to something behind? I've been piercing the paper with holes at different points, but I'm not sure what the relationship between the holes and the seams are, perhaps none.

I've employed a reading strategy that encompasses my practice and personal interests. It has been such a pleasure picking up books again. I've just read 'From the Mull to the Cape. A gentle bike ride on the edge of wilderness' by Richard Guise, a guy who took a 586 mile bike ride through the Highlands of Scotland.

I'm just finishing 'The Cloudspotter's Guide' by Gavin Pretor-Pinney. Like the wonderment of our sky at night and the stars and moon etc., I'm not interested in being able to name all the different constellations and cloud formations, but more to think about a spatial atmosphere that exists around us.

Clouds are made up of millions of water droplets, at various different sizes. The water droplets within the clouds and air suck up pollutants to 're clean' it, at least try. This activity is going on all around us, but you can't actually see it.

Pretor-Pinney writes about the sensation of thick fog and it reminded me of a walk Shawn and I took up Scarfell Pike in Cumbria, the highest mountain in England, a few years ago. The fog came down and engulfed us. We were soaked with the moisture from the fog and disorientated with the lack of visibility. When we finally came out of the cloud, we found we were right on the edge of a high precipice, in a precarious position and far away from our finishing point. But it was this sense of being soaked and disorientated that I remember the most, and an all encompassing spatial awareness.

When I read I like to sit by a particular window in the bedroom. If you latch the window open you can hear the lapping of the waves and the sound of birds and the view is of the sky only. All very poetic.  I've just cut out a picture of 'The Deer Shelter' by James Turrell at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park where he created a square in a ceiling opening up to the sky. I can see that my personal skylight is a bit like 'The Deer Shelter'.

I've noticed that when it rains and I hear the rain hitting the window-pane, sometimes in quite a fury, I feel myself almost waiting for the rain to hit my face, but it doesn't. There is this pregnant pause and then nothing. It is a weird sensation.

I have been recommended to draw some of my maps from our two year journey in our van, as part of my solo show. There is a lot to do and I've just started the process. It will be interesting how my drawings develop and how I respond to this work. There are lots of dots to plot and think about.

A couple of weeks ago, Shawn and I took a trip to Ardnamurchan, the most westerly point in the UK. We have now reached all four edge points of mainland Britain, North, South, East and West. We could see some of the other Hebridean islands in the distance and it's given me a bigger sense of my positioning where I live and I would love to visit these islands.

Blog 26

Having spent many hours piercing my roll of paper, I have decided to leave the work for a while on pause and start some other things. I'm very pleased to say that I have been awarded funding for my solo show from Creative Scotland and hope to start work with a film-maker soon with regard to this project.

As I pin, I've been thinking about the concept of thousands of holes verses one hole. 

I like the idea of this drawing as one huge sheet (wall size perhaps?) with one hole positioned on it somewhere. In 2006 I made a single dot drawing on an A1 sheet of paper. It was a fully considered and measured mark on a piece of paper. I hung the drawing in my studio for six weeks to see if I would draw  more dots. I never did and that was the work. 

Shawn cleverly photographed the image of the view outside our window through the hole. It is of the land opposite, across the water. I think this work takes me into other subject areas which I don't want to pursue. 

I do like imagery like this though. We can see it's a window and I have images where you can see a chair. Is it because they are inanimate, or an object? But I don't necessarily want specifics, just the sense of, or the wonderment of not knowing what you can see behind the holes at all.  

I went to a talk in March at the arts centre on the island called 'Exploring the Dark Side of the Universe'. I wasn't so wowed by seeing a constellation of stars but more the idea that it had taken thousands of years for the visual of each star to reach us before we could see it. It's a hard concept to grasp. The astronomer also talked about dark matter and dark energy - the dark 'stuff' around each star. That was exciting.

I keep piercing paper, little maquettes or drawings. I imagine this drawing above to be created on a large scale, placed across the floor like a big carpet, or river of holes. It has a velvety feel and is soft. Imagine walking across it.

I've returned to the canvas frame. In 2009, I created my first drawing on a frame. It was hundreds of black ink dots on a dark charcoal ground.  

This time I've placed white dots on a light charcoal ground. This work you need to stand back from, walk around the room, away from it, looking at it. It looks like a cloud, or lace. The black ink dots on a dark charcoal ground you need to get close up to. I don't think black ink dots work with the white dots together? Although I like the stray 'blob' on the edge of the frame. This piece needs to be bigger. Big. But how do you go about this on a practical level (even getting the canvas through the door) and cost? 

I've then taken a piece of A4 paper, attached it to a frame and pierced holes all across it. It needs light shining through it. Imagine every hole having a beam of light shining through it.

I've pierced a fixed piece of canvas that is already sealed on a frame. Light is more difficult to pass through. Both paper and canvas loose their rigidity and sag when pierced on a frame, becoming more sculptural, but only slightly. 

And I've had this black painted canvas as is, in my studio for ages, not daring, or wanting to touch it. What's going on? I like the shadow of the figure in the image, the reflection of me taking the photograph. Again, imagine a great big wall of reflective black. I also like the canvas itself, the structure of the material. Minute little grooves of cloth. 

I've drawn with graphite onto a board which had been painted with a white acrylic ground. Quite roughly painted on, you can see the horizontal and vertical brush strokes. The more I look at this, it reminds me of the look of linen. And graphite when thickly layered gives a sheen and therefore a reflection of the table the work is resting on.

I'm having a practical debate about the picture frame, and light, and the materiality of canvas, linen, paper, board.

And dots and holes. Black dots, white dots, on the line, through the line, in a line, pushing against a line, no line, free floating, lots of them or only one.

And dots placed on dots. Black first or white? They look like eyes, bubbles, foam, eclipses... Maybe these dots are too pretty. 

Blog 25

I think when I wrote my last blog I was feeling kind of panicky. I feel calmer today, more composed, thoughtful.

There has been one or two articles published recently referring to participatory / group / social (community) art and they question what has happened to the private experience and individual 'imaginative engagement' with art? This makes me feel better and reminds me that there is a place where I can communicate with the public or community en masse with my work. And it doesn't have to be labelled 'socially engaging', but can be individually engaging and to lots of people.

A slight deviation on these thoughts leads me to think about our financial crisis and questions being asked if culture is in crisis? What are the values of artwork beyond monetary values? Aesthetic values, anthropological values, environmental values?

Individualism and the idea of the individual artist working in a studio making art supposedly no longer exists in the contemporary art scene. Its almost perceived as 'uncool'. As people travel more, work remotely and are dispersed on an international scale, we all communicate and collaborate together via the internet, Skype, social media, the telephone, me included, yet we are still on our own in a physical space (and probably on a mental level too), just like the artist of years gone by. We have the technology now to make us feel like we are not on our own.

So what else have I been thinking about since I last wrote a blog?

I've began receiving regular email bulletins from the Association of Art Historians. The subjects discussed and the language used can be difficult to understand, but these emails provide me with bite size nuggets of thought provoking questions about areas of art practice, historical and current, that interest me. There are also a number of curators who write for these bulletins and they are an area of expertise I would like to tap into.

Subjects that have come up include materiality (which I will discuss another time), along with museology and the functioning of the museum, modes of display and exhibition as an ephemeral event. I am fascinated by how art is made (the artist's process) and how it is displayed and portrayed / presented to the viewer. What I make in my studio, how can I share that with others?

The word 'ideology' has been cropping up. What an exciting word. Beside it's economical and political nuances the idea of creating a 'visionary speculation' (I quote the dictionary here) is a thrilling thought. I keep thinking whether I should write a manifesto to give more direction to my work.

To quote the Portuguese I feel like I am on 'the edge of the world'. Not about to jump off, but happily sitting to the side looking on.

I am waiting news of funding for my solo show. I do hope this comes through soon as it will allow me to move forward with this project.

I'm also considering the idea to take a trip this summer to the outer islands of Scotland and visit some of the galleries, see if I can set up a new project for next year.
 

Blog 24

For my dissertation in 2009, I questioned what is the role of the artist in contemporary society? And all those old haunts of mine are coming back again. I have so many questions about the role of art and the the artist today and what is my role as an artist in all of this?

I've been catching up on my art journals these last couple of weeks and they invariably bog me down with all the numerous layers of thought and activity that are happening in the national and international world. Art that is participatory, includes community involvement or activism are key areas constantly addressed, yet I am not a community artist. This feels problematic for me.

On a practical level, I've been piercing my roll of paper for over 100 hours now and it was starting to feel repetitive. The process that I meticulously follow was starting to feel like hard labour. I am feeling a bit better about it now.

I think I'm trying to establish a formality to what I do. A structure and a justification. This is for the work that I make (the thing in itself) and myself as an artist.

There are three things to consider:

1. The act of making, which I approach in a simple way. I love the simplicity of it.
2.  (a) Reading, thinking, and writing about the theory and context of my work. (b) Keeping up to date with contemporary art practice. This feels the most complex and challenging part of my practice - good and bad.
3. Computer, networking time. This can be informative, is necessary, yet sometimes an all time consuming activity.

I think I'm feeling restless at the moment. Thinking lots and not wanting to think at all. Wanting to talk lots and not talk at all. Feeling a need to explain myself and not explain anything at all. In terms of the creative process, the way I am right now is said to be a good thing. Arrrrghhhhh!