(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.

Completed Paintings: 'Map 6' & 'Map 7'

As promised/threatened, here’s a more detailed look at my two most recent ‘Map’ paintings.  Apologies my tardiness in getting to this, - I feel like I’m playing catch-up here.

'Maps 6, 7 & 5', 'Mental Mapping' Exhibition, Rugby Art Gallery & Museum

Having completed the modestly proportioned ‘Maps 1 – 5’, I knew I wanted to extend the basic premise of the series into a larger format, in part - as a way of accommodating greater compositional complexity without everything becoming too fiddly.  I’ve worked with this 1 metre-square format a lot in recent years, and it always feels like a comfortable template with some relation to the human body.  In painting terms, it’s hardly large, but as a size point, It’s probably the place where ‘Medium’ gets properly interesting.  Anyway, ‘Map 6’ and ‘Map 7’ are the result, this time round.

The convolutions of how these two came together is somewhat anti-intuitive, and very much the consequence of consciously working towards an exhibition as a totality, over a more organic approach.  ‘Map 7’ was actually started before ‘5’ or ‘6’, and sat half-completed for several weeks while both they and my ‘Cement Cycle’ photographic project evolved.  ‘6’ then happened in about three weeks flat, (start to finish), whilst ‘7’ was eventually finished off in around five days, just prior to ‘Mental Mapping: New Work By Andrew Smith & Hugh Marwood’ being hung.  Once upon a time, pushing against a deadline like that would have caused me to cave, or lose faith in what I was doing, but I always felt it was a potentially strong piece, and never really doubted I could see it through.  Look how I’ve grown!

'Maps 1, 2, 3, 4, 6 & 7', 'Mental Mapping' Exhibition, Rugby Art Gallery & Museum

Much of what has already been written about the technical approach and general intent of previous ‘Maps’ carries over here.  Both pieces share a source location in Leicester, with ‘1’ and ‘2’, and, as before, the poster fragments that constitute much of their substance, were picked up beneath, or found hanging from, the large advertising hoardings located on that junction.  For these two though, Google Maps, rather than A-Z street maps provided the relevant cartographical content.  At the risk of excessive nerdery, I'm interested in the differing conventions and levels of detail between disparate maps of the same locations.  In this case, it can be detected in the radiused terminals of certain streets, and the use of blue or grey shading to designate water or different types of thoroughfare.

‘Map 6’

'Map 6', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 100 cm X 100 cm, 2015

‘Map 6’ started out with a largely grey palette in its early stages, and featured a large fragment of advertising for East Midlands Trains, which has long since vanished beneath subsequent layers.  Sometimes, the parts of a painting you grow most attached to early on must be destroyed before it can really move on, as was the case there.  What really struck me about the source location this time was the visual impact of the numerous vivid yellow and blue traffic direction signs peppered across it.  Even under grey Midland skies these sing out, and in bright sunlight - they positively fizz with synthetic primary colour.  References to them duly found their way into the painting, and it became something else altogether.

West Leicester, May 2015

Textually, there are actually three key phrases at work in ‘6’, although the repeated occurrences of the word ‘Wait’ are effectively lost under subsequent statements.  I enjoy the presence of earlier lost messages within these paintings that, ultimately, only I know about.  For what it’s worth, ‘Wait’ relates to the illuminated instructions of the junction’s numerous pedestrian crossings.  What finally took precedence were the two advertising slogans, ‘Good Stuff Happens’ and ‘Regret Nothing’, - relating to oven chips and fizzy drinks, respectively.  I’m amused by the trite, vaguely self-help tone of such commercial guff, and the way it attempts to equates implied ‘quality of life’ with the instant gratification of low-grade foodstuffs.  That being said, on a philosophical level - who can say that, if one waits and avoids the pitfalls of excessive regret, - good stuff can’t actually happen at any stage of life?  If I'm honest, it does feel like I'm involved in something of a creative late flowering myself.

Advertising Messages, West Leicester, May 2015

It also occurs to me that a few years ago, not long after the installation of a British, Tory-led coalition government, I produced another painting with an unfeasibly tangled composition and a primary palette of red, yellow and blue.  We have another new, unfettered Tory administration now, - installed even as ‘Map 6’ was being painted, and free to do its worst.  Could it be that ‘Good Stuff Happens’ is sardonically ironic after all?  Is it any real coincidence that the direction arrows point down as well as left, or that they are subsumed in roundels of deep blue?  Am I trying to stretch a point much too far? (Probably).

'Asylum 1', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 100 cm X 100 cm, 2011

I don’t know if ‘Map 6’ is wholly successful, or necessarily the strongest of the ‘Map’ series, but I’m happy enough to stand by it.  It’s probably trying to do far too much at once, but I do like the way it almost painted itself, and now seems locked in perpetual internal debate.

‘Map 7’

'Map 7', Acrylics & Paper Collage On Panel, 100 cm X 100 cm, 2015

‘Map 7’ is a little more straightforward in both composition and phraseology, and was always envisaged as a rather rainbow-coloured affair.  Its somewhat bald, ‘End Of Life’ statement was lifted straight out of the signage for an End Of Life Centre, attached to railings on the same junction as above.  That’s a strangely euphemistic title for a car-wrecking yard, by the way, - being the same enterprise which shelters behind the graffiti-adorned gates I’ve revisited several times on here.

West Leicester,  January 2015

The palette of each of the ‘Maps’ has generally been derived from the various corporate ldentities, or other functional colour schemes found at their source sites.  This is no exception, and the starbursts and sugary, hot pink/peppermint green/lemon yellow/royal blue combo used to advertise what is otherwise a pretty grungy and grease-stained set-up, delights me no end.  In fact, the vaguely Po-Mo, Memphis-style palette brings to my mind an earlier period (in the early 1980s), when Britain also lurched dangerously to the political Right and market forces ran riot.  I write this in a week when the project to fully privatise the Post Office, and to further starve the NHS and dismantle the Welfare mechanisms that support countless disadvantaged citizens, were announced [1.].  We are sold a vision of Britain in which the Government’s ideologically driven misdeeds are cloaked with the bland notion of ‘Aspiration’.  Sadly, aspiration isn’t an option for many, for some of whom the continuing fixation with austerity, in maintenance of an economic system that favours only the wealthy, may literally imply the ‘End Of Life’.

On a more parochial level, the Redevelopment of Leicester’s St Augustine’s district, extending to the west, continues in earnest.  I’ve written aboutthis recently too, but had no idea just what a monster of a building was being planned to house De Montfort University’s ever-expanding student intake, when I photographed it a few weeks back [2.].  The old burnt-out Friar’s Mill  has a roof once more and, though it had largely passed me by, it seems that extensive plans to redevelop the whole area have been under public consultation for some time.  That includes several locations from our ‘Orfeo’ film, and the site of the cement depot from my ‘Cement Cycle’ project, (both also part of ‘Mental Mapping’).  The city shrugs its shoulders and, one of my favourite entropic playgrounds may be reaching the end of its life as a hotspot of picturesque dilapidation.

Student Accommodation Block Under Construction, St Augustines, West Leicester, June 2015

I can spoon-feed you all this stuff, till the cows come home, but it only really skims the surface of my thoughts and feelings both in the source locations, and whilst working on each piece.  I’d also hope that the found texts running through each of the ‘Maps’ are sufficiently ambiguous or open-ended to allow the viewer to apply their own potential interpretations.  It may be that, even without my cod philosophising, the juxtaposition of a terminal ‘E.o.L’ message and ‘7’s cheery, polychromatic presentation is a sufficiently entertaining conundrum, even as it stands.

That brings us up to date with the ‘Map’ series.  When I embarked on them, eight months ago, I hoped there might be up to eight to draw on for the exhibition.  In the event, seven were completed in that time, along with ‘Orfeo’, and ‘Cement Cycle’, - which actually feels like pretty good going by my standards.  They all made the cut, and fitted the space available in Rugby rather well.  Each has its relative strengths and weaknesses, (and I certainly have my favorites), but I’m reasonably satisfied with them as a body, and I don’t feel like there are any complete duds.

Will there be any more ‘Maps’? – I’m really not sure.  ‘Mental Mapping’ obviously felt like a major milestone, but part of me would still like to do the eighth ‘Map’, even after the event, (and there is an idea in the tank).  However, there are a variety of things to take stock of in the coming months, both artistically and otherwise, and it’s possible my next significant burst of creative activity may involve something other than painting for a while.  Either way, I should have more time for blogging over the second half of 2015.  

[1.]:  Even more cynical, is Chancellor George Osborne’s move to tie all future governments into the harsh imperatives of their chosen world view.  (There they go with their flippin’ ‘Capitalist Realism’ again).

[2.]:  Each afternoon, when I return home from work, this edifice appears to have acquired another story.  It seems set to dominate our entire neighbourhood, much as does the student tower, a little to the east, which I wrote about a while back.