"What Do You Think Of It, So Far?" 1 *

All Images: Southwest Leicester, May 2016

Leicester may be many things: centre of the footballing universe (briefly) [1.]; resting place of misplaced monarchs; the most ethnically diverse city in Britain; an unspectacular Midlands town, with a new lease of confidence; but one thing it definitely is not, is particularly tidy.

On my regular cycle rides along banks of The Soar, or the Great Central Route, I'm always struck by how each of the regular benches that punctuate them, resembles a cross between an impromptu picnic site and a mini landfill.  Archaeologists can learn much from what earlier societies have discarded, of course, and I suspect that those of the future will have a particularly deep seam of cans, bottles, disposable barbecue trays and partially degraded supermarket carrier bags, through which to sift for clues about our own mode of existence.

Anyway, as these images show, at least some folks make a rudimentary attempt to clear up after their al fresco banqueting, - if only in a half-hearted manner.  I suppose, were one of a mind to do so, there's also a point to be made here about the inability of our public services to keep up with the competing imperatives of instant gratification, consumerism, and an ever-expanding population.  I'd be lying though, if I pretended to not be visually engaged by this tawdry little scene, with its combination of jollity and profound squalor.  And I can't deny that all that synthetic colour is an energising intrusion into the surrounding natural verdancy.  Litter porn, - anyone? [2.]. 

This particular bin is one that always catches my eye on my regular forays into Leicester's southern fringes, not least for the thoroughness with which has been unofficially decorated.  In terms of last year's 'Mental Mapping' and 'Cement Cycle' activities, it is a distinctly Lynchian landmark [3.].

In fact, on my return leg, it marks a junction at which I can choose between two equally enjoyable routes home.  It also comes at a point where, depending on how far I've ventured, my perennially creaky knees may be reminding me of their fragility, and is a welcome reminder that there's not too far to go now.

For all of these reasons, its resonance within my own metal map of the city cannot be ignored.




* As British readers of a certain vintage will remember, the punchline to Morecambe & Wise's famous catchphrase is, of course, "Rubbish!".


[1.]:  Coincidentally, this site lies close to where, heading into the city, one first gains a view of Leicester City's King Power Stadium, on the opposite bank.  On certain Saturday afternoon rides this season, the celebratory KP atmosphere was clearly audible.

[2.]:  For reasons of which I'm not especially proud, these days I feel like being an artist is to take a kind of amoral observer's stance, rather than a desire to actually change the world for the better.  Just trying to find insight, by looking in a slanted way at what is actually there. feels like a sufficiently positive act in itself.  Does that offer any salvation for the world? - of course not.  Is that even an artist's job? - you tell me.

[3.]:  Kevin Lynch, ‘The Image Of The City’, Cambridge Massachusetts, The M.I.T. Press, 1960.

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.

(Slight Return) Completed Photographic Project: 'Concrete Cycle'

'Cement Cycle: Element 1 (Path)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29cm X 29 cm, 2015

Whilst doing a little turn-of-the-year housekeeping, I came across this post in a partially written state, and realised that it was a significant loose end in need of tying.  The first post of 2016 seems a good enough time to fill in the gap, - if only in the interests of moving on.  Better six months late than never, - even if there is a suggestion of OCD on my part.

'Cement Cycle: Element 2 (Path)', Digital Print On foamed On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

I alluded to my ‘Cement Cycle’ photographic project several times last year, both whilst it was in progress, and as it hung in June’s ‘Mental Mapping’ exhibition in Rugby [1.].  However, I never actually dealt with its ten separate ‘Elements’, as they appeared in their final state,  complete with final printed images, text captions, and concrete supports, (something that seemed to attract a fair bit of attention in the actual exhibition).

'Cement Cycle: Element 3 (Edge)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

Creating those concrete blocks was, in theory, the biggest technical challenge of ‘Cement Cycle’, (although, if you’d witnessed the pig's ear my ‘professional’ printer made of outputting and cutting the images to the specified dimensions, you might think otherwise).  I toyed with the idea of purpose-casting them, which might have given me complete control over the dimensions, but would have also have necessitating building at least one mold, then dealing with setting times, shrinkage and a lot of stuff I have relatively little experience with.  I knew weight would be an issue too, as they were always intended to be wall-mounted, necessitating the casting of a more complicated frame-shaped form, rather than a simple block.

'Cement Cycle: Element 4 (Edge)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

Instead, I opted to buy ten pierced, ornamental garden wall blocks, (of the sort that were so popular in my 70s childhood), and to chisel out the centres to leave a reasonably chunky concrete frame.  Repeatedly drilling the backs of these further reduced the weight, and their slightly rough texture provided an ideal key over which to build a patinated surface from thin skims of vari-coloured cement and filler.  It wasn’t a bad plan, even though it proved impossible to chisel a single one without also cracking the framing edge, often in several places.  It was easy enough to rejoin them, particularly as the open backs were blanked off with thin MDF, but harder to ensure they remained perfectly square, or absolutely uniform in size.

'Cement Cycle: Element 5 (Island)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

It was important that, within an essentially standard format, each block should have an individual identity through subtle variations in colour, patina and

Implied history, and that they loosely reflect some of the material qualities of the photographic subjects themselves.  I enjoyed drilling, chipping and repeatedly skimming them to achieve this, although power and hand sanding them back to a relatively uniform finish, wasn’t without its element of hard labour, (and a temporary breakdown in neighbourly relations).  The printed photographic images were laminated onto thin plastic board and, once eventually returned at the correct dimensions, these were attached to the front edge of the frames with strong carpet tape.  A mastic adhesive fill, and final sand, flushed them in as seamlessly as possible, and the raw cement was sealed with matt acrylic varnish.

'Cement Cycle: Element 6 (Island)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

I won’t pretend the finished results are 100% slick, (deft use of an engineering square would reveal a multitude of minor sins), but as low-tech, relatively affordable methods go, the results are pretty pleasing.  I avoided undue deadline stress by sticking to methods I could mostly control, allowing plenty of lead-time, and just getting stuck in until the job was complete.  They do give the illusion of being possibly solid, I think, and the surfaces are full of pleasing visual nuance.  I’m also pleased with the final proportions; both of each block, and of the overall set of the five pairs as they appeared on the wall in a grid formation.   Even more importantly, - nothing fell off!  I was determined to get some actual concrete or cement into the exhibition somehow, and ultimately this felt like a simple, but effective way to have realised that.

'Cement Cycle: Element 7 (Node)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

I’ve already discussed the rationale behind the images, and the different reasons why cement and concrete also recurred as a significant theme.  If they represent a desire to operate in a medium beyond painting, they also mark an involvement with something a little more consciously conceptual than usual.  It was thus, important to me to maintain a clear link with the source text of Kevin Lynch’s ‘The Image Of The City’ [2.].  I liked the idea of the project resembling a kind of bogus academic or official report, despite its underlying subjectivity, and for a while, I considered applying a direct quote from Lynch’s text to each of the ten ‘Elements’.

'Cement Cycle: Element 8 (Node)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

In the end though, I chose to write my own original captions, - utilising some of Lynch’s terminology to my own less academically rigorous ends.  My hope is that anyone familiar with his (admittedly, somewhat specialist) text would know what I’m getting at, but that each phrase could just as easily represent a pure fiction.  In passing, it’s worth mentioning that this was much the same quality that my co-exhibitor Andrew Smith captured in his script for our ‘Orfeo’ video collaboration, although to somewhat more sumptuous poetic effect.  Lynch also supplied something of an oblique stimulus there, and it was indeed, Andrew who had first referred me to ‘The Image Of The City’, some months previously.

'Cement Cycle: Element 9 (Landmark)', Digital Print On Concrete, 29cm X 29 cm, 2015

One final piece in the puzzle, possibly worth noting, would be the overlap between several of the locations in ‘Cement Cycle’ and in ‘Orfeo’.  I managed to avoid direct repetition, with one notable exception, but in many cases, an image from the former might reveal a still from the latter if the camera was moved a few metres to right or left, or simply panned a few degrees.

'Cement Cycle: Element 10 (Landmark)', Digital Print On Foamex On Concrete, 29 cm X 29 cm, 2015

That’s ‘Cement Cycle’ then.  I think it achieved much of what I set out to do, and certainly pushed the envelope a little in terms of my overall practice.  That is perhaps my main reason for revisiting it here.  It represents the first time I’d considered presenting photography as a definitive, exhibitable statement within my body of work, and that’s definitely something I want to pursue further in 2016. 

'Cement Cycle', 'Mental Mapping: New Work By Andrew Smith & Hugh Marwood', Floor One Gallery,
Rugby Art Gallery & Museum, June 2015

The recognition that a mild conceptual strand runs sporadically through my work remains equally important, and part of that is an implied willingness to work in whatever medium seems most appropriate to a given idea.  In fact, one of my pressing current ambitions is to explore the ways that pieces in different media might evolve out of, or recycle, each other in a less compartmentalised manner.  If a self-contained project like ‘Cement Cycle’ occasionally bobs to the surface, I hope it might also be seen as evidence of a wider process of hybridisation within my overall practice.

That may all sound a bit grand or willfully oblique, I realise.  On a more superficial level, If the conceptual subtleties of ‘CC’ were a little lost on some viewers, - I can at least take some satisfaction in having turned a few heads with my concrete fettling abilities.

Right, - move on…



[1.]:  ‘Mental Mapping: New Work By Andrew Smith & Hugh Marwood’.  8 June – 17 June 2015, Floor One Gallery, Rugby Art Gallery & Museum, Little Elborow St, Rugby, Warwickshire, CV21 3BZ.

[2.]:  Kevin Lynch, ‘The Image Of The City’, Cambridge Massachusetts, The M.I.T. Press, 1960.