'Dragstalgia 2016' At Santa Pod Raceway

All Images: 'Dragstalgia 2016', Santa Pod Raceway, Northamptonshire, July 2016.
1932 Ford Model B Coupe Dragster.

Habitual visitors here may know that, periodically, I do something enthusiastically car or vehicle related – largely in memory of my late Father, (or, as last year, my Grandfather too).  My standard disclaimer is that, whilst no great petrol-head myself, the involvement of the previous two generations of Marwoods, with various types of machinery, did make a significant impression on my early years.

1955 Ford F100 Pickup Truck: It Was Immaculate...

...As Was This 1959 Chevrolet Impala

Inevitably perhaps, my own interest eventually settled on the aesthetic, sensory aspects of vehicles, rater than the nuts and bolts.  In fact, my main interest in cars nowadays, is where they might take me, (or the environments that support them) - and my mechanical skills extend little beyond changing a wheel or topping-up fluid levels.  I can still take a certain pleasure in tinkering with my bike, but that feels far more like a low-tech extension of the human body than any motorised vehicle I ever encounter.

There's No Reason Why The Engine Shouldn't Be Pretty...

...But One May Not Be Enough.

Either way, it feels like the time of year for a little more indulgent regression.  Thus, I recently ventured out, to repeat my excursion of two years ago, and watch some Drag Racing at Northamptonshire’s Santa Pod Raceway.  I had massively enjoyed 2014’s ‘Dragstalgia’ weekend of period machinery, and this also being Santa Pod’s 50th anniversary year, was more than happy to repeat the experience.

Late 1940s GMC Pickup: Some Like Their Ride Really Low

...Others Prefer A Little More Clearance:  Austin A35 Gasser Dragster

Or You Could Have A Really Wide One: 1968 Plymouth Fury

... And Again, From 1958

The ludicrous, cartoonish excesses of Hot Rods and Dragsters, along with the vintage vehicles with which my Dad occupied much of his spare time, were where most of my adolescent car enthusiasms settled.  And, however inward-looking (as any other sub culture) it may be, I can still enjoy the efforts of those who put effort into shoe-horning massively overpowered engines into old bodywork, (often too small to accommodate them), then covering the results in a lurid, possibly kitsch, paint job. The resolutely home built nature of these machines is of great appeal, too.

Ford Front End: Model T Hot Rod

...And Another: 1944 Ford

...And The Definitely Non-Original Rear End Of A 1932 Ford Model B Coupe.

Examples Of The Ever-Popular 1941 Willys, From Various Angles 

That the ultimate fulfillment of such activities should be to repeatedly propel the things for a straight quarter mile, in as few seconds as possible, seems particularly pointless, and yet remains fascinatingly hypnotic.  Actually, the self-fulfilling functionlessness of it all may not even be so far removed from the production of art for its own sake as human impulses go.  I guess it’s all a pretty obvious male orgasm analogue too.

1956 Chevrolet Gasser Dragster

The Patina Of Age May Be Preferable To High Maintenance Paintwork...

...Or Maybe Just Several Coats Of Primer.

I described some of the sights, sounds and smells of Drag Racing, last time round, along with the non-exclusive geniality of the participants, - none of which have changed.  Frustratingly, as two years ago, I found the hardest thing was to record any of the actual action photographically, without a long lens or the ability to actually get trackside.  Watch any YouTube footage of dragsters crashing and you’ll understand the latter restriction straight away.

The Historic 200 mph 'Commuter' Dragster:  I Had The Toy Version Of This

Huge American Engine Into Tiny Italian Body Will Go: Fiat Toppolino Comp. Altered Dragster...

...Or You Could Stick With Flat Four, German Engineering

Thus, what you have here, in the main, is a selection of images of certain dragsters, and associated ‘Show ’n’ Shine’ vehicles at rest.  I did however experiment with a bit of video footage this time, and have included a couple of amateurish snippets.  It does make me wonder if a kind of persistent loop of the cars repeatedly launching might have some appeal.  I also quite like the potential of unfocussed footage to convey something of the overall sensory experience, but that might just be because whenever I film moving traffic, either from inside or outside, I invariably end up unfocusing the camera.

Either way, that hardly qualifies as serious or accomplished filming.  If you want a better flavour of the bizarre, mechano-fetishistic spectacle of Drag Racing, why not try these...

Bill Poster

Tame Valley Canal, Beneath M6, Birmingham, July 2016

I've been monitoring Bill Drummond's activities under Spaghetti Junction for a while now.  Each time I go back there, he seems to have added another chapter to his catalogue of philosophical, Situationist musings.  It pleases me immensely that he's chosen the darkest reaches of the canal, beneath the M6, for this, as it's a location I've come to think of as the psychic as well as the geographical heart of England. 

Just now, the fact that the place resembles a dark, forbidding cavern, just feels even more symbolically relevant.  Drummond is clearly channelling the same topical zeitgeist here, and the back story of how this piece came about shows he's nothing less than engaged.

I do admit to being slightly baffled by the relevance of the tropical garden image at its centre. Is it even Drummond's work, or someone else's subsequent intervention?  Knowing his previous efforts, there'll be some incongruous, absurdist connection, known mainly to himself.  Anyway, it turns out the garden is situated just a few hundred metres away, adjacent to the massive road interchange, so maybe that incongruity with the immediate environment is the whole point.

Gravelly Hill, Birmingham, July 2016

Coincidentally, as the tunnel images were being taken, a passing dog walker identified himself as the garden's owner.  I love it when things get odd.


(This one's for Liz.  Thanks for coming with to share the strange).

Working Methods 4: Printed Panels In Progress

All Images:  Work In Progress.  Acrylics, Paper Collage, Ink, Spray Enamel,  Adhesive Tape,
Pencil, Coloured Pencil, Ballpoint Pen, Various Solvents & Screen Print On panel.  Leicester
Print Workshop, July 2016

Like most artists, I spend a lot of mental energy reflecting not just on what my work may or may not express, but the nuts and bolts of how it might do it too.  In fact, for many, the desire to explore a particular medium or range of technique may often be sufficient motivation alone to embark on a particular project - whilst the more nebulous stuff takes care of itself, (or is taken care of by others).

I’d estimate that, for me, considerations over why I’ve made something and how I’ve gone about it are in a roughly equal balance currently.  Actually, what interests me particularly is that the two things seem to be blurring into each other quite a lot.  Thus, the list of possible themes that might run through current efforts, itself includes ideas about hybridisation; the mutation of images, or their recycling or translation through different forms; and the ways that Process and the technologies of production might rub up against potential meaning.

If that all sounds a bit grand or over-cerebral, let’s just say I’m really enjoying exploring new media, these days, - whenever the opportunity arises.  We all end up with our own favoured ways of working, but it seems healthy to consider any medium as, at least available; possibly appropriate; ideally of equal validity; and most definitely - an opportunity to explore exciting new territory.  My forays into screen-printing definitely fit that agenda, and are something I’ve already discussed here in recent months.

I have much respect for the wealth of skill and experience I’ve witnessed around me on recent visits to Leicester Print Workshop.  However, I’ve probably always suspected I’m less likely to become a purist printmaker (admirable though that is), than to be searching for ways to incorporate print into hybridised forms - or as one facet of a multidisciplinary practice.

In a small way, the images here illustrate that impulse.  They feature my recent attempts to print onto a series of small panels - already prepared using my familiar (and itself somewhat hybridised) painting/collage procedure.  The chosen motifs were themselves extracted digitally from three different photographs, thus building in another layer of process, and a set of four stencils produced which could be combined in a slightly different way each time.  What I ended up with is a series of eight pieces, (actually it’s two sub-series of four with some crossover between) in which certain motifs recur in varying configurations.  It’s really just another take on that, ‘The Same But Different’ shtick, I’ve been harping on about for a while.

There were one or two practical issues to get around, and I should thank Kate the LPW Technician for her input at this point.  In fact, the trickiest connundrum was something I hadn’t predicted - involving the PVA on my panels being remoistened just enough, by the application of ink, that some wanted to glue themselves to the screen.  Luckily, a solution was found and the whole set of eight panels completed over one afternoon of prepping screens and sussing-out - followed by a marathon nine-hour session of pulling prints, cleaning screens and repeatedly changing colours.  Trust me to choose the two hottest days of the year!

No Need To Wait For Stuff To Dry On The Hottest Day Of The Year.

Anyway, it’s all been worth it as I’m generally pleased with the overall result.  If nothing else I’ve proved to myself that it’s a perfectly feasible thing to attempt, and is a method I might exploit further in future projects.  Most importantly, bar a bit of final titivating, it means I now have at least four separate, but related, series of work from which to select for the exhibition I’ll hang with Shaun Morris and Andrew Smith, in a few weeks.  It’s good to know there should be no last minute concern over quantity, leaving a bit of much-needed time/energy to focus on the other practicalities of getting a show up.  We’ve agreed a title (all will be revealed), and are starting to gear up over supporting material, publicity, etc.  Watch this space...

Our Day Out In Brum, 2016

Digbeth Coach Station, Birmingham, June 2016

As part of my School-based day job, I accompanied our Art Dept. on a day trip to Birmingham, the other day.  This kind of thing is definitely one of the perks of my support role.  Inevitably, with these deals, you're always very much on duty, - and usually even more conscious of possible hazards than one would be back at base.  However, it's still nice to get out of a context where everything is constrained in boxes - both physical and mental, and to watch students starting to make creative connections with the wider world around them.

Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

Still Open For Business: Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

As it is, the vast majority of our kids handle themselves pretty well in such situations.  We had no real problems ushering 80-odd Year Nines around the slightly edgy Street Art hotspots of Digbeth, then on up through the City Centre to view the more official displays at Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery and Birmingham School Of Art.  As a result, I had plenty time to collect various images of my own, a few of which you see here.

There It Is again - That Paradoxical, Anarchist Tradition Of Formal Design Qualities:
Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

Those shown here are all from Digbeth, an area I've returned to repeatedly with my camera in recent years, and one which always provides a rich, and ever changing, source of urban texts and textures.  It’s one of those fascinating regions where one can see economic and societal transformation at work even as one watches.  Once a hotbed of industrial activity, and dominated by a towering railway viaduct, in more recent times it sank into economic decline, and consequently picturesque physical dilapidation.  What traditionally industrial enterprises hang on there, do so in a slightly parless state, wringing out any available business in neglected or shored-up buildings, despite the less savoury evidence of social deprivation accreting in certain alleyways and gutters.

Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

Thus, in several respects, Digbeth echoes some of the characteristics of Leicester's St Augustine’s back yard - albeit on a larger and rather more vivid scale.  But what really links them is the sense of their both being zones of transformation.  If St Augustine’s is rapidly being absorbed by De Montfort University's ever-exploding property boom, Digbeth is gradually succumbing to the creeping gentrification implied by the expansion of the 'Creative Industries'.  Admittedly, Creative or Media types are often originally attracted to an area exactly because of its earthier, more affordable aspects.  But experience shows that Property Developers and purveyors of overpriced lifestyle accouterments are rarely far behind.  Either way, I noticed several such newly opened ventures - even since we did the same educational walk last year; and that many once-neglected buildings were currently undergoing refurbishment or remodelling.

Indeed, none of this is really any surprise.  We started our day at The Custard Factory, - once the origin of a million school puddings, but for several decades now - a complex devoted to performance, media, niche retailing and various creative activities.   As such, it acts as a big, white flagship for much of the change currently overtaking Digbeth  Exactly how this will all be impacted by the recent decision to leave the E.U., and the accompanying economic impact and loss of income streams, remains to be seen [1.].

Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

As ever, the properly constructive way forward for any artist, is to interact with actual events, and to explore and react to the distinguishing subtleties of each situation on its own merits.  The restless processes of upheaval at work within cities are one of their defining characteristics and recording and responding to those currents is ultimately a more positive act than bemoaning what may have been left behind.  In reality, for me, it is those moments when a district seems caught in an interim state between past and future, which seem to quiver with the most delicious resonances.

Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016

Thus it was that, as our students snapped away at some of the more spectacular outcomes from Digbeth's officially sanctioned 'City Of Colours' Street Art Festival, I found myself predictably drawn to many of the less formal and more easily overlooked visual clues that punctuated our walk.  Defiantly undisciplined, often easily overlooked, and frequently full of humour and subversion, they represent the powerful, organic and uncommodified currents of outsider creativity still flowing through the streets of Digbeth [2.].  What delights me most is the tension between so many of these and more official legends; or the way that hastily written, commercially driven injunctions, themselves come to resemble little more than territorial tagging.  The ceaseless transformation of all those grimy and decaying industrial substrates into a polychromatic, ever-mutating canvas - reflecting both the best and worst human impulses, still fills me with deep joy.

"Tru-Dat":  Digbeth, Birmingham, June 2016


[1.]:  My last but one post bemoaned the misguided result of Britain's recent referendum. To many of us, it feels like a depressing turn towards blinkered Nationalism and the kind of unenlightened Philistinism that always runs scared of the 'other'.  And yet, for many, the transformation of Digbeth from a local manufacturing hotspot to a cultural playground may symbolise how ‘ordinary’ working people have been dicarded by a rapidly changing society society.  Is there really so much distance between my slight queasiness at the perceived march of smug gentrification, and a baulking at the insecurities of a globalised economy on the part of many Brexit enthusiasts?  Am I a hypocrite who just wants to have my cake and eat it?  Is it really tenable to always enjoy things most when they’re decaying beautifully?

[2.]:  And, of course, it's all too easy for artists to glibly celebrate all that’s raw and authentically 'From The Street'.  But, for all I know, entertaining yourself with amusing Situationist street interventions, or lurking around to document them, could just look like so much decadent self-indulgence to many trying to grind out a living at actual street level.