I went home this weekend past. That was probably the last break I’ll get before Degree Show. Its really getting there now. Three weeks to go. I don’t think I could focus anymore if I tried though. The studio, the assessment and what I’m going to do after June is all that consumes my thoughts. Sorry guys, I’m a selfish entity right now.
Since all I can think about is my practice, I’m going to talk about my practice. I scavenged some old relics from my garage on Saturday. This sort of thing spurs me on.
Found in a large wooden case of shoe-makers tools that were passed onto my Dad. These were some favourite details I saved from the box. The middle piece still has a leather threaded through it, and the set of compasses contains a stub of pencil. I love these details. I don’t know if I’ll incorporate this material into my upcoming show, but I feel sure I’ll use it soon.
The art school likes to kick me out at 8pm these days ’cause it’s ‘Easter Holidays’. So I guess I’ll be off.
I’ve revised a piece I made a few weeks ago. The shine of the acetates on top of the moleskin pages was distracting and a little tacky I think. So they’re gone. Well, not gone. As if I could discard of anything. That’s the entire essence of this piece, that I’ve recorded my every action throughout the month of January. The acetate texts are now displayed next to the colour coded sheets.
It makes sense for them to be separate really. Thoughts are so disconnected from actions sometimes.
They’re shown here on pins above a radiator. I think the way the heat from this makes them dance. But degree show is in May so I doubt the radiators will be in operation.
It was January in the (new) year, 2013
31 type on acetate and 31 coloured pencil on moleskin squared paper
I picked up two red steel boxes at the recycling centre last week also. Thought I’d attach one to the wall. Because…
I might use them to display my back up work. I might not.
Technology is making a strong argument against my manual Imperial typewriter at the moment.
I’ve had the idea in my head for a while to make a shirt out of typed text. The problem with this is that with a typewriter having set margins, I’ve been having to make the pattern in panels. This obstructs the look of the piece a little.
Yesterday I had a crit. My tutor suggested, “why don’t you just print out multiples?”.
“Well because… because I want to stay true to my materials… and well… because… oh that sounds difficult… and because…”
I muttered nothings for a few moments and then realised as lovely as the idea of me hand typing the whole shirt is, I’d be so much more productive if i sped up the process with more advanced technology. And technically I’ve still typed the original text that got copied. That counts, right? …Right?
It counts. I’ve come to terms with it now. By scanning in one printed panel and multiplying it on photoshop then printing it on the large scale art school printers, I can do 3 weeks worth of typing in an hour. So I can make more art. I believe this is what they call a ‘win-win situation’.
‘Relics of Attachment Part I’ is an exhibition I’ve been organising with some fellow Student Curatorial Team members. It features a collection of artwork inspired by the concept of nostalgia and sentimental objects.
Tonight was the introduction to this project. There was a lot of footfall, a lot of interest, and generally a good feeling all round.
Take a look at our work.
RELICS OF ATTACHMENT PART I
A – Lucas Battich, Amsterdam Lelylaan Schiphol // Edinburgh Glasgow
B – Lisa Gordon, Promises Light
C – Vivienne Russell, Five Seasons
D – Cathy O’Brien, Empty Packages
E – Rachael Disbury, Everything I know about him
This project took a lot of time and planning but I feel our work is paying off. I love the buzz of all this organising. Curating ain’t so bad.
We’re hosting a meeting tomorrow to encourage other artists to submit work for Part II of this project. The 14th of February should see a larger exhibition presented in the Cooper Gallery. So there’s really no time to relax for us!
‘Frenetic’ is my new favourite word. I’ve been slipping it into conversations at intervals over the last couple of weeks and wondering if people actually know what I’m talking about.
Fast and energetic in a rather wild and uncontrolled way: “a frenetic pace of activity”.
I couldn’t sleep a couple of weeks ago. This isn’t uncommon for me, but there was one particularly awful Saturday night. I found myself awake at 4am knowing I wasn’t going to be granted any dream time. I got my project book out with the intention to make some more unrealistic to do lists or another elaborate sketch of a farfetched idea. Instead I started writing. Just writing. No stop for consideration, just impulsive words on paper. Mostly the same phrase over and over, with some sporadic moments of varied expression.
When Monday showed its face, I still had this phrase in my head. And the typewriter came out. Brilliant. Sitting on the floor of the studio with black coffee and pounding keys is good therapy. And you can sometimes make some art out of it.
Perhaps the writing is a physical representation of my overactive mind. Thoughts go round and round, every event gets analysed and scrutinised in detail.
I don’t like obviously confessional art. I don’t wish to submit a diary entry. Thats too easy for people to just get facts and nothing else. I like the ambiguity of the frenetic typing. I don’t want to tell you a story, but I want you to wonder what the story is about. I’m still expressing thoughts and relaying events personal to me, you maybe just don’t have a clue what I’m on about. And I like that.
I spieled for a good 48cm last week resulting in, ‘On Wednesday the 7th of November’, an object/text combination piece, I don’t really want to explain that one.