Completed Painting: 'Vestige 6'

Here’s ‘Vestige 6’, the latest in my on-going series of closely-related paintings under that banner.

'Vestige 6', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Emulsion, Adhesive Tape, Spray Enamel, French Polish, Pencil,
Coloured Pencil, Ballpoint Pen On Panel. 60 cm X 60 cm, 2016

On first impressions, this one may appear quite similar in overall tonality and contrast to its immediate predecessor.  However, it also highlights the mistaken belief that one can, (or should), repeat a successful formula, ‘just like that’, as far as painting goes.

'Vestige 5', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Emulsion, Ink, Spray Enamel,  French
Polish, Pencil & Ballpoint Pen On Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2016

I embarked on this one with the intention of redeploying some of the things I found enjoyable in the general approach of ‘Vestige 5’, whilst applying them to the motif of a framed but open internal space - rather than an implied rectangular ‘window’.  Of course, I should have known better.  If these paintings succeed at all, it is because each one finds some kind of organic accommodation with the accretion of accidents and random marks that play out within their static compositional format.  In fact, the only meaningful given should be that fixed idea of the rectangle within the square, (the ‘always the same’ bit).  Any attempt to nail down the more painterly, chance-dependent elements (the ‘always different’ part) can only undermine the basic premise of the work.

That probably explains why this one fought back a bit, until I realised the error of my ways and just allowed it to unfold in its own manner.  Part of this was the acceptance that ‘6’ was never going to achieve quite the same (relatively) fresh crispness of ‘5’, and that it just wanted to betray a slightly grubbier, more ‘fatigued’ aspect.  Ultimately, I can live with that; sometimes it’s just the way things go, and is itself an understandable consequence of the greater degree of dogged struggle involved in its gestation [1.].  I now realise it also results from a couple of technical issues.

One is the use of that much finer filter of dots fading in and out of focus across the picture.  Repeat dot patterns are a staple of many of my current paintings, (literally a repeat pattern, in fact), but this is the first time I’ve used them at this scale in a finished painting-sized piece.  They came and went as the painting evolved, but once I’d decided I definitely wanted them there, it was inevitable their relative density would influence profoundly the tonality of any ground they floated across.

The other contributor to a certain grimy patina is a different‘all over’ motif - namely the grid that intrudes over much of the composition.  Being partly drawn in with water-soluble coloured pencils, there was always going to be an element of colour tinting involved as they were re-wetted.  In fact, this is idea of ‘Monochrome - but not really’ - of tinted tonality, as it were, is just another satisfying aspect of these deliberately paradoxical paintings, (to me, at least).

I thought about the whole idea of intentionality while looking at some recent paintings by a local artist, during a local Open Studio event, the other day.  There doesn’t seem much point naming him here, - he’s an ambitious, young painter, with an increasing profile, (locally, at least), and I’d rather not draw attention to any shortcoming before more fully discussing the appealing things also at play in his work.  Suffice it to say, I was struck by how, for all the freshness and immediate, Pop impact of his work, there was also a disquieting tendency to simply paint to a successful formula or seductive style.  It meant there was a certain glib superficiality undermining much of the other good stuff going on.  Perhaps this an increasing danger for younger artists, shaped to a much higher degree by the imperatives of public profile, marketability, and a quantifiable ‘career’, than older drifters of my vintage/temperament.  Could it also be characteristic of a generation for whom the flat, flickering screen has always been the primary portal of instant gratification?  Alternatively, who is to say that ‘the struggle’ isn’t just another tired artistic affectation, anyway? [2.].

I really don’t know, - but either way, I was pleased to see one painting in his show that bore more marks of having been resolved out of at least a few quandaries, corrections and changes of mind.  It suggested he was perhaps diving further beneath the surface of an easily acquired style, to incorporate more nuance, and to engage with some of what still makes paint-wrangling a distinct and special activity.

Of course, those observations might just be stimulated by my own recent difficulties with ‘Vestige 6’.  At this stage, it’s far too early to judge this painting’s degree of success or otherwise, within the overall series.  In fact, I suspect that will be nigh impossible for any of them until I can put a load up together on a wall, stand well back, and let them take their chances out there in the world.  However, it does make me reflect that, often, you learn more from the difficult ones.

[1.]:  If nothing else, this does seem to keep faith with the layers of grime, urban grunge, and general entropy that inflect so many of my own back street reveries.

[2.]:  Certainly, it’s one that has stifled me often enough in the past.  In fact, a large part of me envies those artists more suited to painting with immediacy ‘on the surface’, with vivid, confident statements.  Somewhat predictably, my own periodic forays into a more Pop sensibility usually end up looking like something that’s been left out in the wind and rain too long.

Working Methods 3: Extra Storage

West Leicester, January 2015

At various points over the last year or two, I’ve contemplated the desirability of renting a studio space.  Finding a venue for one’s productive activity is, I suppose one of the biggest practical issues facing any visual artist still committed to the idea of the physical art object, -  and one which can, of course, imply considerable financial outlay.

Since my practice became a constant, rather than a sporadic reality, a few years ago, my expedient solution has been to simply sacrifice the back bedroom of my tatty little terraced house to work space.  The financial benefits are obvious, and, whilst some might consider me unlucky to live alone, there’s no denying the advantage of being able to do as I please with my limited accommodation, and not worry about the impact on interior decor or falling short of anyone else’s standards of hygiene and orderliness.

West Leicester, March 2016

The down side is that it’s only a small room, and is accessed via the traditionally narrow staircase, complete with 90 degree turns, of a standard two-up, two-down.  Working on rigid panels, as I tend to, it’s not really practical to produce anything much larger than 1m square, (or 150 cm X 50 cm), which is a frustration.  Also, whilst I can work in (admittedly untidy) comfort, there’s little room to store completed work or the raw materials for panels in there.  Consequently, the rest of my house has slowly come to resemble a cross between a wood yard and the basement of a small, municipal art gallery.

Anyway, this situation has started to feel a bit untenable of late, not least when, the other day, I needed to put something down and just couldn’t find anywhere - literally.  Effectively, my home had become a giant, squalid version of one of those sliding tile games where you can’t relocate one piece without first moving another.  I thought again about the feasibility of an external studio, but ultimately, couldn’t imagine getting beyond the two biggest drawbacks of that solution.

West Leicester, March 2016

Firstly, as an amateur artist, the cost of renting a space can’t be ignored.  Having bought my house many years ago, and never upsizing, my accommodation costs are much lower than many other folks labour under.  However, the income from my day job income is relatively modest, and the rental of a studio would take a noticeable chunk out of it.  To be honest, it's not even the thought of spending the money, but more a wariness about the constant pressure I might feel to justify it by going in as a 'duty'.  I already have a job, - I'm in no hurry to transform my natural vocation from a pleasure, into something resembling a chore.

This also ties in to the issues of time and convenience.  Finding alternative accommodation would involve making specific journeys, possibly across town, just to do some work.  After a hard day’s labour at school, on a cold, dark evening in January, - just how many excuses not to bother would rear up?  I think I know the answer.  In the context of all this, the expense would become much less justifiable - especially if my work rate was actually diminished.  As it is, I can wander along the landing in my pants and be painting even before the kettle has boiled for my first coffee.  I can be working at midnight or dawn, in short bursts or extended sessions, - and I've even found myself doing a quick fifteen minutes before work on odd occasions.  In a world where most of us are time-poor, it’s hard to discount that kind of convenience. 

West Leicester, March 2016

Some would argue that being an artist is all about commitment and self discipline, and also point to the communality, creative stimulation, and potential networking opportunities of sharing a communal work environment.  Certainly, that can’t be disregarded.  My current answer would be that life is full enough of practical struggles without looking for even more potential hurdles.   The communal, creative cross-currents issue is harder to dismiss [1.],  but, having recently become a paid-up member of Leicester Print Workshop, I’m hoping that won’t be completely lacking in the coming months.  I'm certainly not dismissing the whole studio idea out of hand, but for now, it just doesn't really feel particularly advantageous.

Instead, I’ve opted to raid my savings to pay for a self-storage unit.  It’s still a significant outlay, but at least it’s just straightforwardly what it is, - and will allow me to make some immediate impact on my living conditions.  Even now, having simply lobbed my stack of completed work from recent years in there, I feel like I’ve reclaimed some valuable breathing space.  Somewhat disturbingly, I can now see the filth and structural defects in the house that also need addressing.

I’ll confess, I was kind of intrigued to gain some insight into the world of Self Storage, -  particularly as these large, usually yellow-painted, depots have become such a feature of the modern urban scene.  They seem to speak volumes, (see what I’ve done), about the way we live [2.], - not least the First-World decadence of a situation where many people just have too much stuff.  Self-Store facilities seem to proliferate almost as rapidly as supermarkets, (really? – another Lidl/Aldi?), or chain coffee outlets, and I pass at least two on my short work commutes, each day.

'Map 2', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2015

Significantly, it was that last issue which caused one of them to provide the stimulus for one of my ‘Map’ paintings from last year.  ‘Map 2’ not only took it’s colour scheme and found text from the business in question, but also signified how the building forms part of a node in two of the intersecting routes in my mental map of Leicester.  As such, it was a key piece in my ‘Mental Mapping’ work, and by co-opting the legend ‘Space Place’ labels a perennial key concept within my oeuvre generally.

Most pleasingly of all, this is the one where I’ve now chosen to store my stuff.  It wasn’t a fait accompli; like anyone else, I got the quotes and weighed up the options [3.].  Nevertheless, there’s a delightful symmetry about it all.  I spent a few journeys shuttling stuff over there, and enjoying all the cadmium yellow paintwork, clanging industrial shutters, commodious service lifts, etc.  In fact, as I trundled around the maze of pressed-steel shacks, erected inside an echoing, brick manufactory of an earlier age, - I couldn’t help reflecting on just how vividly the place seems to encapsulate, (and again), our post-industrial situation.  I locked the padlock on my own unit, - satisfied that ‘Map 2’ now nestles safely within the very Space Place that inspired it.  Self-reflexivity will eat itself.

Many thanks to my dear friend Lorel, for helping me to get organised - and with all the inevitable physical huffing and puffing on the day.

[1.]:  Sadly, even that doesn’t always pay off.  Many years ago, having recently finished my Degree, I rented a space in a large communal studio space in Bristol.  It should have been ideal, being local, relatively cheap, and situated in a pleasingly dilapidated remnant of Bristol’s dockland heritage - long before it all became absorbed by inevitable gentrification.  I spent a few weeks in there, admittedly somewhat short of inspiration, only to find it was often dispiritingly deserted and that some of the people in evidence were a little less than encouraging.  I painted a few aimless studies but, after my nearest neighbour objected to me listening to Radio 4 (!) for company - because he needed complete silence at all times, I cut my loses and bailed out.

[2.]:  This whole idea of vacant space being a valuable commodity within congested cities is pretty significant, I think.  It also seems to relate to my bizarre parallel fascination with car parking, and with the way that urban territory is divided, allocated and monetised, generally.  In many respects, to live in a city is to find oneself physically and financially constrained at every turn.

[3.]:  This is clearly a very competitive sector.  For some time, after collecting on-line quotes, and making my choice, I was pestered with cold calls, emails, texts, etc. with ‘improved offers’ and ‘special deals’.  I got a discount in the form of a couple of extra months ‘for free’ (yeah, - right!), but my advice for any really keen hagglers in the market would be to play competing companies off against each other.  The storage game is a pretty effective way to print money, I suspect, - and they seem keen to cut each other’s throats.

Completed Painting: 'Vestige 5'

'Vestige 5', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Emulsion, Ink, Spray Enamel, French Polish,
Pencil & Ballpoint Pen on Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2016

Amongst things achieved over this academic break has been the completion of ‘Vestige 5’, - the latest in my ongoing series of paintings under that name.  My immediate impression is that it’s possibly the freshest-looking one so far, although I’m far too close (in space, time, and emotionally) to really make an objective assessment.

In reality, this undertaking is less about trying to achieve any kind of definitive statement, and far more about carrying out a potentially endless series of variations on the same theme - with each simply suggesting yet another way of making the same picture.  If/when this finally comes to an end, I’m sure it will be because I’ve become bored/tired of it, not because all the possibilities have been exhausted.  For now, I can only see more ways of addressing it.  In the knowledge of an impending exhibition later in the year, my main aim is to just pile up as many of these to select from as is physically possible over the coming months.  ‘6’ is already in progress.

The thematic rationale behind these pieces can be sought out here, and here.  As the joint show I’m planning with ShaunMorris and Andrew Smith, in September, moves ever closer – I’ll inevitably find myself trying to nail down exactly what the current work is all about in an even more formal manner.  However, for now, I think the posts I wrote at the genesis of this body of work still describe my thoughts pretty accurately.  Having already answered most of the ‘What?’ and ‘Why?’ questions, it’s therefore unsurprising that the issues of ‘How?’ rise to the surface of my mind most obviously just now.  There are a few specifics possibly worth mentioning here.

'Vestige 4', Acrylics, Paper Collage, Spray Enamel, French Polish, Pencil
& Coloured Pencil on Panel, 60 cm X 60 cm, 2016

Having been quite pleased with the fairly straightforward, dark frame/light interior format of ‘Vestige 4’, my fairly predictable impulse was to try to simply reverse that tonal scheme.  The tonal contrast is even starker here, (although we’re still far from pure black & white), and suddenly makes ‘4’ seem more subtly modulated than when I’d just completed it.  The way in which each piece can only really be seen in the context of the others is something that fascinates me about working within a tightly constrained series, like this.  What that tonal reverse did create, was another opportunity to indulge my perennial ambition to contribute to the noble, if slightly odd tradition of The White Painting.  Don’t ask me why I’m such a sucker for that, - I just am.  Clearly, ‘5’ isn’t technically a white painting at all - except in my mind, but that’s what really matters, when all’s said and done.

Another carry-over from the previous painting is my reliance on a regular grid as a sub-motif.  I’ve always loved that, both as a statement in it’s own right, and as an all-over compositional device, and I’ve noticed it coming to the fore again in recent work, (not least - in various photographs).  I guess it’s another clue that a significant portion of my visual sensibility remains rooted in formal Modernism.  If many of the philosophical underpinnings of Modernism have long since been abandoned, there’s no doubt that a memory of its general aesthetic still informs much contemporary culture - even now.  That does seem to chime with the themes of lost voices or revenant meanings haunting my current output.

In recent months I’ve talked about a certain move towards increasing painterliness in these pieces.  In reality, most of what I do tends towards hybridisation, and probably will for the foreseeable future.  Nevertheless, I have been consciously trying to throw the paint around a bit more freely in these ‘Vestige’ pieces, and to incorporate my collaged elements into a more fluid mulch of materiality, overall.  That was certainly the case in the earlier stages of ‘5’, although its final state actually reveals greater reliance on collage bobbing back up to the surface.  This doesn’t suggest any particular loss of belief, just that the glued-on letterforms, with which it concluded, seemed to supply an ideal support for its structural, geometric qualities.  Certainly, their edges may be another of the factors contributing to this piece’s (slightly) crisper aspect.

As already explained, the overall aspiration is that each of these should be ‘the-same-but-different’, each time.  I may have a general sense of what I might want for a painting when starting out, but inevitably, it’s really just a case of allowing the thing to emerge on its own terms, and of recognising when to stop.  Occasionally, that may be what was originally intended; more usually - it comes as a pleasurable surprise.

I’m not saying anything here that most creative artists (in whatever medium) wouldn’t take for granted - so I’d better stop spouting clichés, and just get on with it…

Well, Someone Has To Do It...

Whilst wandering around Birmingham, looking at great chunks of it being demolished, and at the evidence of apparent car crime, - I also came across this.  It fits the bill pretty nicely, I feel.

Central Birmingham, March 2016

Luxury's Disappointments

All Images: Central Birmingham, March 2016

These three images were collected close together, the other day - just outside Birmingham's 'exclusive' Mailbox shopping centre, (let's call a spade a spade).  In one way or another, they seem to point towards the priorities of a society fixated on the notion of 'luxury'.  They also tap into my uber-anoraky interest in urban parking provision.

I guess the first would make the point more eloquently if that were a newer, properly top-of-the-range Merc, but it still seems to suggest how, with ever louder exhortations to 'aspire', - directed at a population increasingly divided between 'haves' and 'have-nots', some will always grab their taste of the high-life in whatever opportunist manner they can.

That car can only have been joy-ridden, can't it? The jaunty angle at which it has been 'parked' in one of the city centre's most heavily regulated parking zones surely speaks volumes.  I also love the wonky tilt of the status-symbol bonnet mascot.  Has someone tried to pry it off - do you think?  What really delights me is the way the slow, heavy-handed response of officialdom appears be to simply impose one parking fine after another.  If only as much diligence were applied to analysing the societal tensions and priorities that may have contributed to the situation in the first place, - or even to just towing it away after a couple of days.  Who's ultimately liable to pay those fines, I wonder?

In my fantasy, I'd like to think the (possibly, shop-lifted) champagne packaging was discarded by the departing joy-riders, (it was very near the car), - although the two events are probably unrelated in reality.

Either way, it seems to suggest something of the decadence, deluded appeal, and race for instant gratification of the 'Champagne Lifestyle'.  When sipped on a special occasion, a glass of bubbly is, of course, one of life's great pleasures, (a Champaign Socialist?, - me?).  When glugged by the bottle-full, and the box - discarded in the street to become part of the general mulch of detritus, it seems to suggest something rather different.

Right, I'm off to put on my hair shirt, eat a bowl of gruel, and find an improving pamphlet to read...

Paradise Lost & Found?

All Main Images: Paradise Circus, Central Birmingham, March 2016

Well, it’s (relatively) early days yet, but it looks like I’ll be exhibiting again, later in the year.  The plan is to do a three-handed show in early September, with my Birmingham-based friends Shaun Morris and AndrewSmith, (both of whose work I’ve showcased regularly on here).  The Location will be Artist’s Workhouse in Studley, Warwickshire.  We went over to check out the gallery, and meet Artist/Curator Dawn Harris, (and lay a few speculative plans), the other day.

It feels good to have a new, specific target in view, and a reason to put a little more impetus behind my ongoing work.  Things have been progressing in a satisfactory, if relatively unhurried manner during the first quarter of the year. Now it’s time to change up another gear, in order to the make the most of this opportunity.

Actually, as I move psychologically from last year’s ‘Mental Mapping’ show, (with Andrew), to this next venture, it feels like the main task is to get into a kind of steady rhythm with all this exhibiting lark.  My aspiration is to reach a situation where phases of pure production, and of going public, grow organically out of each other as an ongoing process, (you know, - like a grown-up artist).  My instinct is that exhibiting should become a natural part of the whole deal, and one which involves a commensurate level of energy and emotional investment, without leaving one a feeling burnt-out in the aftermath.  I’m sure old hands would find this pretty obvious, but I still think of myself as being on a fairly steep section of the learning curve.

Clues Everywhere: "Where Commerce Meets Culture"

And Who Could Resist "The £500m Redevelopment Of Paradise"?

Anyway, this definitely feels like an exciting next step, and I’m sure I’ll be writing more posts about our show, as the weeks go by.  For now, I want to take a slight detour, and mention what happened in Birmingham after my discussions with Shaun and Andrew were complete.

Behind Those Windows Was The Yardbird Club; A Place Which Really Could Be Paradise On
Any Given Night

With a few hours to spare, and favourable lighting conditions, I headed into the City Centre, to see how the demolition of the old Birmingham Central Library complex, at Paradise Circus, was progressing.  I’ve talked about, (and, indeed photographed and filmed) this site, on numerous occasions, and its passing feels more than a little significant.  This goes way beyond my personal responses; and the passing of what was either a masterpiece of Brutalist Modernism, or a dismal, neglected eyesore, (or both), seems somehow symbolic of social, philosophical and political change in a much broader context.

Big - Art Project, Or Big Art - Project?

Anyway, whatever the pros and cons, the removal of John Madin’s landmark building is inescapable.  Indeed, a significant portion of the dramatic edifice is already reduced to a pile of concrete rubble.  Actually, my timing felt pretty good, - with the interplay of wrecked sections and those still standing creating plenty of visual drama.  However, as is always the case at such sites, the inevitable walled-off exclusion zone, and my lack of a decent long lens meant really good views and compositions were a bit limited.  The shots I took tell the story, but aren’t necessarily the best I’ll ever take.  My response to this was to get a bit visually ‘meta’, pausing to capture the abundant information graphics, and the abstract delights of the safety fencing, in addition to the main event.

An As-Yet Untouched Corner Of The Complex 

And Another.  I love The Way They Just Arbitrarily Boshed The (Once) New Into The Old

It’s hard not to be struck by the extent of all the PR branding surrounding what we are already being prompted to think of as ‘Paradise’.  It’ll always be Paradise Circus to me, not least because the cyclical reinterpretation of what Paradise might actually imply to different generations, does actually feel like a bit of a circus.  Utopia can never be more than a mental construct, after all.  As ever, it’s as much about the competing meanings, spectacles, and Psychogeographical resonances, as it is the practical or expedient realities.

For what it’s worth, my immediate reaction to the numerous artist’s impressions dotted around the site, is that what replaces the old concrete Ziggurat may be little more than just another generic glass box, filled with the usual offices and retail outlets.  This objection to an ever-encroaching corporate blandness is something many have raised in recent years, but it’s also important to recognise that what you are reading here are equally the observations of a middle-aged bloke, with a weakness for dystopian spectacle, watching the landscape of his early years gradually being erased.  Ultimately, the significance, or otherwise, to real people’s lives, of either the old building or what replaces it, is for the people of Birmingham to decide.

In the context of all this, the most moving moment came as I dropped down into the service yard of the adjacent Copthorn Hotel, in search of more camera angles.  I fell into conversation with one of the demolition workers, - clearly a local guy, who spoke in a very informed manner about the old building’s history.  It was clearly an important landmark in his own local mental map, and he expressed regret that the original architectural vision was compromised by budget constraints from the very start, - but also, his remorse at participating in its destruction.  He kindly handed me a fragment of concrete from the rubble as a souvenir, and we parted by recognising that, if nothing else, it was all keeping him in employment for the time being.  I often talk about my fascination with the perpetual processes of transformation at work in urban environments, but this took it all to a far more human level than normal.

Postscript:

Having orbiting the entire site, and gathered what images I could, I left Birmingham, via Spaghetti Junction, and drove on to Nottingham for a little more social activity.  That included watching Ben Wheatley’s newly released film adaptation of Ballard’s ‘HighRise’ [1.].  This isn’t the place for a full review, (I enjoyed it), but it’s worth reflecting that the concerns of ‘High Rise’ chime more than a little with some of the above.  My journey even included extended delays on the M6, caused by a distinctly Ballardian road accident.  Once again, things just seemed to join up.

[1.]:  Ben Wheatley (Dir.), ‘High Rise’, UK, Recorded Picture Co./British Film Institute/Film 4, 2016.