Showing posts with label Drawing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drawing. Show all posts

Wednesday, 26 June 2019

Oh, You Know - Something About Framing My Shots, Or My Latest Posts, Or Fulfilling My Goals...



All Images: West Nottingham, April 2019

Much of the imagery on this Blog originates in the heart of one city or another.  At other times, the focus may be more on the suburbs.  But here, we're definitely at the very fringes of Nottingham - outside its western ring road, and right at the margin where development filters out into farmland.  




But, as others have pointed out, 'The Edgelands' are a distinct, liminal kind of territory, and just as rich in potential artistic stimuli, as the inner core of many cities.  Edgelands may be much less concentrated, frenetic, or super-heated than city centres, but they can be fascinatingly nuanced and ambiguous - often with a distinct poetry of their own.




Viewed in the right way, they can even conjure an environment in which the everyday and mundane start to feel intriguingly alien or mysteriously enchanted in some unexpected way.  This strange sector of interlocking geometry definitely felt that way, on the eerily still, and  humid day in April, when I came upon it.




Of course, if one takes a step back from all the Psychogeographic daydreaming, and thinks in purely visual terms once more, these images also provide an ideal opportunity to just indulge my love of linear geometry, with all its glorious, abstract potentiality.




It started me thinking about how, in formal or pictorial sense, a line is often just a notional boundary between two distinct portions of space, or between a space and a not-space, perhaps.  For two dimensional artists, lines are essentially a device for chopping up illusionistic space, rather than something actually perceived or definable, in the real world.  For a sculptor, however, they can become something tangible - literally delineating a portion of actual space, into which one might insert one's body, as well as one's imagination.  In a wholly found manner, that's also exactly what these goal frames are achieving - and with a pleasing complexity.




Of course, by photographing them - and presenting them via this most illusionistic of media, I am returning them to the realm of the purely pictorial.  It also occurs to me that, particularly in those three shots wholly without a background of sky or distant trees, you've pretty much got the history of Western picture-making, from Renaissance perspective, to Cubism, to geometric abstraction, playing out in a few dozen steel tubes and a patch of grass.

Back of the net...




Thursday, 6 October 2016

'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection' At Nottingham Castle



Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Study For The Head Of St. Anne', Black Chalk (Partially Wetted) on Paper, 1510-15


I found time to call into Nottingham Castle the other day to take a look at the ‘Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection’ exhibition.  It would have felt like bad manners not to really: it’s not so often that such things make it to the East Midlands - after all.


Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016 

'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


It’s fair to say that the work of so-called Old Masters has hardly loomed large in my consciousness of late as it once might have.  And I certainly don’t feel beholden to the Monarch for granting us to the favour of seeing artifacts that should really be on more permanent display in a public museum.  But, I suppose we should be grateful that anyone could still raise the insurance premium, (us all, indirectly – I suppose).  Whatever the ins and outs, there is a kind of timeless mystique that attaches to Leonardo, both in terms of a certain ineffable quality within his work, and how he epitomises (like no other) the cliché of the ‘Renaissance Man’.  Most of all, of course, the old boy could draw a bit.


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Male Nude', Red Chalk on Paper, 1504-05


Indeed, I’m sure you don’t need me to deliver an essay on the genius or significance of Leonardo here.  You can get all that from far more learned authorities than I, with very little effort.  Suffice it to say, modest though the ten little pages on display in Nottingham may be - it’s difficult not to be swayed once again by that combination of delicacy, precision, transcendence, and the sense of a fearsomely rational mind trying to work stuff out - way outside any contextual box.  There’s something fairly thrilling about being able to view, in one room, the sublime ‘A Study For The Head Of St. Anne’, the apocalyptic ‘A Deluge’, and a survey plan of damage caused by weir-currents to the banks of the Arno (nominally prosaic – but visually stunning).


Leonardo Da Vinci, "A Deluge', Black Chalk on Paper, 1517-18

Leonardo Da Vinci, 'A Map Of The Arno East Of Florence', Ink & Wash On Paper, 1504

Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Expressions Of Fury In Horses, A Lion And A Man', Ink  on Paper,
1504-05


Such things speak for themselves, really, and anyone with even the most superficial interest in drawing would do well to take a look, whenever the chance arises.  But what I really want to spend the rest of this post highlighting is the sheer weight of interpretation surrounding the actual drawings.  It seems to speak volumes about contemporary priorities and the role of the Curator in constructing numerous inescapable frames through which we are invited to view such cultural treasures.  In all honesty, ten little scraps of antique paper, bearing often quite minimal lineaments of chalk or ink, can rarely have been more diligently explained and interpreted, or presented in quite such a thoroughly meta environment.


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Cats Lions And A Dragon', Ink & Wash Over Black Chalk on Paper, 1513-18


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies For Casting An Equestrian Monument', Ink & Red Chalk on Paper,
1492-93


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'The Heart Compared To A Seed', Ink Over Black Chalk, 1508


Indeed, in order to reach the pieces themselves, the visitor must first pass a display of other examples of ‘serious’ drawing, and rooms containing the responses of contemporary artists to Leonardo’s achievements.  Once in the exhibition proper, they then move through an ante-chamber, larger than that in which the actual drawings are shown, whilst being info-bombed by large graphic panels - detailing the artist’s historical and cultural context, his wider oeuvre, and the significance of the Renaissance as a moment in cultural History.  They might watch a video on the importance of drawing, or peruse what I think is a catalogue of Leonardo’s work, but which I didn’t really have time to examine - before a helpful museum attendant was inviting me to download it as an app.   Should they feel so inclined, they could also commemorate their visit with a cardboard-cutout selfie as the Mona Lisa.   


Leonardo Da Vinci, 'Studies Of An Infant's Limbs', Metalpoint & Ink on Prepared Paper, 1490


Once in the inner sanctum, one finally encounters the drawings themselves - encapsulated in double-sided glass display units, or mounted on walls on which more extensive information texts demand attention.  Other wall legends fill in yet more vital context, or justify the importance of the Royal collection.  The prevailing decor scheme is Blue and gold and, whilst I understand the Conservator’s need for subdued lighting, I doubt the survival of the work depends on it being quite so theatrical or reverentially manipulative.



'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


If this all sounds overly critical, I do understand the need to wring every last ounce of educational and cultural capital from the rare, peripatetic appearance of such trove in a regional, municipal museum.  And it is a museum, after all – with all that implies.  Also, having shelled out seven quid for admission [1.], perhaps the average Nottingham punter is entitled to expect a bit of a show, along with some attempt to explain exactly why they should be so impressed.




'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


And yet, part of me wonders how my reaction to Leonardo’s drawings might have differed were they to have been allowed to speak for themselves to a greater extent.  It is of course quite valid to fill-in interesting background detail, not least where a drawing is essentially evidence of Leonardo’s researches, or just him talking over problems with himself visually.  I’m not quite so sure that I need my information graphics to be picked out in glistening gold, however.  It also feels slightly strange to be writing a blog post about ten fragments of such supposed artistic/cultural resonance, in which the main discussion and, dare I say it – perhaps the lasting impression, is of the lavish manner of their presentation.  The sad fact is that, however breathtaking those little drawings might be, they ultimately feel somewhat lost in the midst of it all.



'Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection', Nottingham Castle
Museum & Art Gallery, September 2016


Ultimately, I’m struck by just how routinely we are invited to consume an ‘Experience’ - rather than to actually absorb things on their own terms, these days.  But it is the twenty-first century, I suppose, - and I’m sure Leonardo himself would have been fascinated by all the technological and academic resources at the curator’s disposal.  Actually, I expect he’d have been downloading the app without a moment’s hesitation.




Leonardo Da Vinci: Ten Drawings From The Royal Collection’ continues at Nottingham Castle Museum & Art Gallery, Lenton Road, Nottingham NG1 6EL, until 9 October 2016.  There's just time, if you hurry.




[1.]:  It doesn’t seem that long since I was moaning about shelling-out a fiver to get into the same gaff!



Monday, 8 August 2016

Padding Up



The images shown here were produced on an iPad as part of a little personal challenge, related to the school field trip to Birmingham I accompanied a few weeks ago.


All Images: iPad Image, (Manipulated Photographs), June 2016


It’s one of the paradoxical aspects of history that those who live through momentous change are sometimes less aware of the drama of it all than those who rationalise accounts of it from outside or after the event.  Individual lives tend to be lived on a domestic or routine basis, to a day-to-day rhythm - rather than than in big chapters of underlined significance.  My formal education sketched in the transformative upheavals of the Industrial Revolution, and even some of the twentieth century turmoil that shaped the society we were born into.  However it’s easy to forget that we are currently living through a period of possibly even greater societal, environmental, and above all, technological transformation.

Don’t worry though, I’m not about to embark on a major dissertation on the way digital technology is altering all aspects of human life; but rather just a briefer discussion of one new way it has recently touched on my own practice.  To return to that original thought for a moment though – it is now possible for those of us of ‘a certain age’, to actually gain a little perspective on the massive changes that have occurred, even over the few decades of our own span.




As a child, I remember my father occasionally discussing ‘The Machine Room’ at the local Bank where he worked.  It was, I like to imagine, a room occupied by one or two primitive calculating engines - possibly housed in wardrobe-sized cabinets, not unlike those employed by archetypal Bond villains in their flip-top volcanoes [1.].  I also remember, at the age of seven, watching grainy monochrome footage of Neil Amstrong fluffing his lines and bouncing around on the Moon, - his ever utterance punctuated by an electronic ‘bleep’.  Journalists and Historians never tire of telling us how the computing power harnessed in that achievement was no more than that of the scientific calculators we wielded as GCE O-Level students, less than a decade later.  And it was, of course, a tiny fraction of that packed into the domestic lap-top device on which I type this, or the pocket gizmo on which you may well be reading it.

So far - so familiar.  Such technological advancement over half a century may seem impressive - but already, not as surprising as it once might.  None of the school children I encounter daily at work can have any real concept of a world in which their every task isn’t electronically assisted, or most of their social interactions aren’t digitally networked.  And the graph of exponential change accelerates ever more acutely.




For an admittedly arms-length, late adopter - like myself, each new attempt to up-skill myself often involves investing considerable mental effort to learn something that, it turns out, the cool kids all regard as last year’s news [2.].  Even in my mid fifties, I can’t help wondering at what point I’ll just have to sink back in exhausted bafflement - finally resigned to letting it all pass me by, as the robotic Care Assistant patiently spoons lukewarm soup into my mouth.

Well, I’m not quite there yet.  Indeed, if anything, my current attitude is one of slightly more enthusiastic embrace of the new toys, and not least, of the ways they might aid and abet my creative practice.  I’ve talked a lot in recent months about my urge to incorporate different or new media within my overall ambit, and (more relevantly here) - a desire to acknowledge some sense of Process, and the inescapable influence of The Digital Realm (note the portentous capitals) within my own work.  I’ve often mentioned (probably to the point of tedium) viewing Tate Modern's impressive Painting After Technology’ display - not least because it was one my most influential gallery experiences of recent years.  It is possibly no accident that many of the artists on display there were of a similar vintage to myself [3.].




Anyway, in an attempt to embrace somewhat more of, what some in educational circles term a ‘Growth Mindset’, I have started to compile a scratch wish-list of technological devices or methods with which I have yet to interact meaningfully [4.].  Baffling though that may be to many who regard them as old news, Smartphones and Tablet devices are high on that list.  I’ve carried a Smartphone for a couple of years now, but without really unlocking its potential much beyond texting, emailing and taking the occasional shaky photo.  My experience of iPads, (other electronic tea trays are available – obviously), was even more limited before I made these images.  Somewhere in my mind, I’d created a false division between those gizmos you pilot with a keyboard/mouse combo, and those with greasy screens that you rub with your fingers.

Anyway, it’s clear the novelty of mobile (soon to be wearable or surgically implanted) technology isn’t wearing off anytime soon, and, more to the point, that many folk have already been using them, in numerous creative ways, for a long time.  Thus, as our students clicked away with a variety of cameras, (and, comfortingly, - also drew in sketchbooks), I braved the ignominy of being “one of those twonks who wave iPads around”.  I deliberately set about collecting photos that could then be manipulated in a fairly immediate manner, on the same device.




The results are probably pretty trite and, whilst resolutely urban, don’t particularly relate to much else in my current work.  In some respects, they’re little more than those never-ending, neon scribbles we all made back when the possibility of making any kind of image on a computer screen first suggested itself.  I did enjoy making them though - not least for their rapid immediacy, and the potential for a kind of photographic/digital sketchbook, to which they point.  I relish the idea of combining a photographic moment with a more organic intervention, made at the speed of thought and gesture of a swiped finger.  I was also pleased to discover that the cut-down version of Photoshop I used, (something I believe the young people are calling an ‘App’ – imagine!), offered just enough of it’s big brother’s potential – particularly in the interaction between layers, layer modes and filter effects.

Strangely, I can even imagine that working like this might even encourage me to draw more than I have done of late, and for images to evolve with more spontaneity than has sometimes been the case.  The other point worth making is that, as with all digital ways of working, the scope for versioning and variations on a theme is pretty limitless; and that’s something that’s been clearly preoccupying me all year.  




Will I be doing more of this kind of thing in the near future?  Like a lot of stuff recently, these images merely scratch the surface of something novel (to me), but they do seem to suggest considerable possibilities.  The trick, as ever, will be to work out how to integrate that into my wider practice.  Or, for now, it might just imply loads more fun playing around with something new.




[1.]:  This is probably over-romanticised fantasy.  I never saw the fabled Machine Room.  In passing, I did however visit my Dad’s workplace on a couple of occasions when he was summoned to open the branch for the Police - because the alarm had gone off after hours.  It turned out to be simply a new alarm system bedding in, but how was a schoolboy even allowed to accompany adults into the scene of a possible bank robbery?  I can only conclude it really was a different world, (never mind being locked in the car outside a pub with a packet of crisps!) 

[2.]:  That glib reference, is in itself, quite illuminating.  The large comprehensive secondary school I attended in the 1970s possessed only one or two primitive, student-accessible computers that I’m aware of.  Only the elite Mathematics and Physics students inducted into the lunchtime Computer Club used them.  Those of us with aspirations to attend Art College, or go on to study English or Humanities at University would chuckle at their briefcases and mystifying punch cards.  The ‘Cool Kids’ - they definitely weren’t.  (To be honest – neither was I really, but I did feel like I was destined to breathe the same air as them).

[3.]:  I’ve queried before, whether younger folk might themselves regard all this self-reflexive focus, on the novel characteristics of technologies they just take for granted, as slightly quaint.

[4.]:  Loth though I am to credit Donald Rumsfeld with anything good, I do find his oft-derided concept of ‘Known Unknowns’ surprisingly useful.  In fact, the most superficial research reveals that, perhaps not surprisingly, he didn't originate the idea at all.




Thursday, 15 May 2014

Camera Elusiva



Whilst the hand-made object/image remains at the very centre of my art, I very rarely draw these days.  I certainly used to, and for many years I pursued the idea that everything should stem from the act of drawing.  Strangely, only when I allowed myself liberation from this precept, did the production of images I could feel genuine satisfaction with really start to flow.


Sneinton Market, Nottingham, April 2014


I certainly don’t want to demean drawing, - there are still few thrills in art as immediately satisfying as drawing, or of encountering a well made example of it, of whatever sort.  For me though, it’s through my camera lens that the source images which nourish my work are now absorbed.

Everything I do reflects my experience of city spaces, and it feels like the rapid repetition of shutter clicks is just a better way to seize the dynamic procession of impressions, fleeting glimpses and stolen moments I find as I move amongst them.  Conversely, it also seems a great way to monitor the slow, entropic processes at work on the very fabric of the city.  I was going to say ‘objectively’ but that’s not right at all…