Completed 'Risk Assessment 1 & 2'

At the start of the year, I find myself between creative projects with different ideas occupying my mind and vying for attention.  The start of the new school term means my day job now claims much of my waking time and energy again after the luxury of the holidays, just as I'd love to be putting more hours into unraveling some of those mental strands.

'Risk Assessment 1: Break Your Bones', Acrylics & Paper
Collage on Paper, 60 cm X 45 cm, 2013

The main thing is to recognize that these periods of seeking visual stimuli, contemplating possibilities and generally sorting wheat from chaff are all part of the creative process.  Freed from any concerns that I might be losing overall momentum, as once might have happened, I now understand it's important to put in the spade work of research and experimentation on the understanding that eventually a coherent plan of attack will emerge.  Last time I felt this way I remembered the importance of compartmentalizing everything into identifiable motivations, specific visual triggers and discrete themes, to have something clearly defined to pursue, and to understand where the connections and over-laps might exist.  At such times I often find myself filling the pages of a pocket sketchbook with spidery written notes and lists whilst juggling images.

Lincoln, December 2012 

Lincoln, December 2012

Lincoln, December 2012 

Lincoln, December 2012

Something I have done since Christmas is to take lots of photographs.  Amongst these are numerous examples of Heath & Safety signage and, in particular, hazard stripe graphics.  I posted some recently and include more here, including one or two that demonstrate my current desire to get a wider range of expressive qualities into my photography, both in-camera and through post production.  At present, they seem to be pointing towards an overall theme that I'm provisionally titling 'Risk Assessment' or maybe 'Take Good Care' in order to ring fence it mentally.

Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013

Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013 

Tollerton, Nottinghamshire, January 2013

Leicester, December 2012

I've also produced a couple of paper-based pieces that may become part of a small series of experiments around the theme.  These are quite uncompromising in their textual component and feel like an attempt to vent the angry frustrations that clouded my own mundane existence a few weeks ago and which emerge whenever I tune to the radio news.  They point towards a juxtaposition of the risk/responsibility-aversion of H&S culture with the real and terrifying existential crises revealed through daily news bulletins.  No one ever writes a document entitled 'Risk of Civil War', Risk of Religious Fanaticism’ or 'Risk of Inability to Afford Basic Needs In An Uncaring Society'.  They're more like a crude reaction than a thoroughly considered final statement but sometimes it's healthier to externalize stuff than to let it fester.

'Risk Assessment 2: Cut Your Throat', Acrylics & Paper
Collage on Paper, 60 cm X 45 cm, 2013

Several other identifiable ideas are beginning to coalesce in my mind, camera and sketchbook and which, hopefully, I'll discuss here once I’ve made a little more sense of them.

Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013 

Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013

Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013

Grantham, Lincolnshire, January 2013

Burial: 'Truant'/'Rough Sleeper'

Burial is paradoxical in several ways.  He became one of Dubstep’s biggest names but, whilst distilling that idiom’s dark, urban dread, his music follows its basic blueprint only tangentially and extends much further and subtly in terms of emotional vision.  Compiling an instantly recognisable signature sound from a notably small library of recycled audio elements, Burial’s novelty should have paled long since.  Instead, each new release has successfully found new possibilities within that limited palette, retaining the expressive impact of his early releases.

William Bevan, aka Burial

When William Bevan lost his anonymity in 2008, his carefully constructed mystique should have evaporated but it still feels more relevant to regard Burial as a shadowy entity haunting the contemporary urban and musical scene than to investigate his individual reality.  After two massively acclaimed albums, it might be assumed a third, even of lesser quality, would have quickly sold itself.  Instead, over five years, Burial has drip-fed us with limited, impeccably crafted and well judged tracks in twos and threes, as solo and collaborative projects.

‘Truant’ and ‘Rough Sleeper’ are the latest such artefacts.  As usual, I approached with trepidation, half-expecting the well to have run dry or finally to see through the hype.  Instead, I’ve fallen in love with Burial’s music once again.

Unsurprisingly, the usual formal elements are all present and correct.  They include:

• Shuffling, skipping beats, - often two-step derived.  They remain noticeably unquantized and periodically appear to hesitate or stumble.

• Profound, sculpted bass, clearly referring to Dubstep but used to create deeply immersive environments rather than being fetishized or allowed to browbeat the listener.

• Simple, often beautiful and achingly melancholic. melody lines, usually constructed from a few repeated notes or washes of synthesized tone.

• Pitch-shifted vocal samples that should sound ludicrous and cartoonish but, instead, convey considerable soulfulness.

• Multiple and varied layers of crackle, hiss, aural murk and granular texture that evoke audio static, persistent rainfall or else just general entropy.

• A plethora of puncta, and small details, including clicks, pops, metallic clinks and samples of intriguing dialogue.

Such is the self-referential nature of all this by now that any new elements can resemble massive breakthroughs rather than the steady evolution they actually represent, as is the case with the solemn organ and saxophone sounds that occur during ‘Rough Sleeper’.  Actually, where the real development is to be found is in Bevan’s manipulation of overall form.  Last Year’s ‘Kindred’ EP included the astounding ‘Ashtray Wasp’ which changed direction repeatedly over nearly 12 minutes, becoming almost symphonic in its references to past Trance euphoria.  The new tracks take this model further. Both appear to contain passages from several different pieces over their 11 – 14 minute durations with distinct pauses for breath between each transformation.

           


Clues to Burial’s intentions may come from the beautiful accompanying video, in which the nocturnal cityscape of Tokyo unfolds from the cab of an elevated train.  The idea of a meditative urban journey, - so often related to his music, is overtly depicted here.  As the train traverses different quarters, periodically stopping at stations, each musical hiatus suggests nothing so much as those brief halts in its seemingly perpetual transit, or even just the new view revealed each time a traveller closes and reopens their eyes.  The connection between electronic music and travel, or indeed immersion in urban environments is hardly new but few have made it this elegantly or reflectively.

I now realise I can probably take as much as this as Burial cares to serve up.  It may not be on his agenda, (and perhaps I’m old fashioned), but I look forward to the day when one of these extended suites reaches album length…

Still Standing

While I was out with the camera over Christmas I was able to document the latest incarnation of the old burned-out Donisthorpe factory.  I wrote about the sad loss of this important piece of Leicester’s industrial past after it burned in July and have been watching the changes the remaining edifice has undergone throughout the intervening months.

For much of that time, the brick shell was scaffolded, creating a whole new element of visual interest with even a hint of quasi-Modernism about the resulting grid and safety mesh.  Several photos here show that stage on a sun-drenched summer day that seems a long time ago now.

The scaffolding is all gone now and the building apparently stabilised with an internal structure of block work and an ad-hoc flat roof.  I have to assume someone thinks the building has a future and, even in this forlorn state, it does still form part of an impressive architectural cluster on the riverbank.  It’s also evident that whatever schemes the developers and planners may hatch, the graffiti writers pursue their own alternative agenda tirelessly.

It feels like documenting these constant processes of urban transformation, both official and unofficial, will remain an important part of my own creative practice into the foreseeable future.

Happy New Year.

Addendum:

A few hours after posting this I discovered it was receiving many more hits than I'm normally used to, - mostly from the USA.  I'd love to believe so many people are fascinated by my musings on the fate of an old factory building in Leicester, England but suspect I may have just got lucky with my post title.  Apologies to anyone who landed here by mistake while browsing for something else and to any that actually got this far, - Thanks for reading on anyway.

Walk Between The Rain

A couple of days after Christmas we finally had a brief interlude of sunshine between the deluges and leaden skies of recent days.  It didn’t last long but allowed me a short photographic excursion round one of my regular local circuits.  Whilst absorbing much-needed Vitamin D, I was keen to discover if my damaged leg muscle showed any sign of healing and also, to gauge the water level of the River Soar.  My house is quite nearby, and hardly any more elevated than the river, so the constant rains and nationwide flood warnings had caused me some concern.  Happily, I found I could walk about a mile with only mild discomfort and the river was well within its banks, although roaring over the weir with spectacular force.

I took a handful of photos that, although of familiar subjects, benefited from a combination of golden illumination and portentously dark skies as the next rain belt moved in behind them.  I’ve always loved the strange juxtaposition of dark skies with foreground elements lit brilliantly from behind the camera.  This time it had an almost eerie end of the world feel, possibly enhanced by the cascading water behind me, which seemed to fit the somewhat calamitous mood of this year as it concludes.

It also made me ruminate on just how vitally a specific quality of light can dictate my emotional response to a particular location.   A normally mundane or overlooked zone can, under certain climatic or temporal conditions, trigger sudden surges of almost visionary romance with whole new trains of conscious thought in their wake.  I suspect more of this quality may enter some of the photographs I take in the near future.  I’ve already noticed an increasing tendency to deliberately point the camera into the sun or bracket shots in search of emotively ‘incorrect’ exposures.  It will be interesting to see if this taste for a rather more subjective quality in images seeps into my painting in the New Year.

I was also delighted to find a couple more motifs to feed my current preoccupation with Health & Safety graphics.  The striped river barrier below the Victorian bridge adds an element of arbitrary, parallel reality to what would be a quaintly picturesque view otherwise.  The green Tarmac sign is something else altogether and illustrates how corporate H&S and mission statement culture can apply a bizarre, almost poetic utopianism to the most workaday situations.

Proceed With Caution

Christmas approaches; the year starts to dribble away; I’m between painting projects and currently exploring ideas for my next work phase.  As usual in late December, I’m a bit oppressed by weather and light levels, frustrated by an endless stream of calamitous news reports and physically drained from striving to earn a daily crust.  This year, the routine viruses and fatigue are accompanied by a torn calf muscle, - the result, ironically, of an attempt to gain a little more fitness and health of late.  It’s not all negative though.  The school term is over, my time is my own for two weeks, (with anticipation of festive indulgences) and several potential ideas bubble away encouragingly, just below the surface.

At this early stage, before things have coalesced, the most useful thing to do is to get out in the world in search of visual stimuli and the thought processes that they release.  Hence, I found myself out with the camera in Leicester a few days ago, in bitter temperatures but beautiful light, exploring a fascination for hazard warning graphics.  For the first time, I also collected some low-grade phone-video footage.  I think one of the themes of the coming year may be an attempt to augment my painting practice with extra, possibly time-based media elements.  It’s something I’ve never tried before.

For some time, I’ve been visually attracted to the bold interventions of hazard stripes, road markings and related signage that are such a feature of our environment.  The dynamism of their graphic devices and urgent primary colours seem to intrude into the world like an arbitrary, alternative reality, - the complete antithesis of naturalism in any form.  As I photographed a couple of local railway bridges and an adjacent car park, I was increasingly struck by how much this application of synthetic, high-impact black and primary yellow onto the visual environment reflects a disjuncture between the realities of life and the search for a world of total security.  In these cases, it all related to transport systems and traffic management, causing me to reflect, in parallel, on how constant movement and flux are intrinsic to urban life.

I’ll admit that some of this may stem from the influence of Health & Safety guidelines on my work as a school technician.  Having worked with hazardous materials and witnessed the multiple routes to death or injury existing around industrial processes I won’t pretend that much of this stuff isn’t important.  However, I’m not the first to notice the bizarre, potentially infantilising way that H&S culture can replace a realistic understanding of the world, survival instincts and basic ‘good sense’.  So often, the ever-multiplying sea of high-vis clothing, replicated documentation and warning signage appear to be primarily for the benefit of lawyers and insurance underwriters.  Of course avoidable risks should remain exactly that whenever possible but can any species really evolve through total risk aversion?  Should we really resign all responsibility for our lives to the wielders of the yellow paintbrush?

I have a feeling that Safety Yellow and diagonal stripes may play an important role in my next phase of activity, possibly in some attempt to explore the distinction between the formalised process of ‘Risk Management’ and the experience of genuine existential hazards.  It’s all fairly undefined as yet but at least some primary yellow should brighten up a gloomy winter.

Playlist 8

Lately, it seems that just turning on the radio news is enough to make me despair at the ridiculous behaviour of our species.  Couple that with short, dreary winter days, frustrations at work and another stinking virus and I really felt like blowing up in exasperation earlier this month.  Some proper shouting Rock music helped a lot and a much more festive vibe is kicking in now.

‘Memory Motel’, The Rolling Stones

Only fools and millionaires could afford to attend The Stones’ 50th anniversary gigs but there have been bargains to be had on their back catalogue.  I picked up the oft derided ‘Black and Blue’ recently which, whilst being a mixed bag betraying signs of their mid-70s fatigue, is much better than critics pretend.  It also includes this wonderful ballad which I’ve had on heavy rotation ever since.  ‘Memory Motel’ has a great melancholy lyric, lovely, almost Baroque guitar work and surprisingly sensitive vocal interventions from Keith.

‘Incense and Black Light’, Rod Modell

Detroit-based Modell has released numerous albums under different names including Deepchord, Echospace, (with Steve Hitchell) and CV313.  They’re all variations on the Ambient Dub/Ambient Techno/Basic Channel type of immersive urban soundscape, and pretty effective too.  At the dubbier or more ambient end of things Modell’s sound often dissolves into a miasma of pure texture. This one’s slightly more varied in its aural palette however, - with a more prominent Techno skeleton.  Apparently inspired by various nocturnal locations in Tokyo, it really does seem to take the listener on a hypnotic journey to the end of the night.

‘BCD-2’, Basic Channel

Basic Channel is both a label and the Berlin-based production team of Moritz Von Oswald and Mark Ernestus.  The nine 12 inch vinyl singles they released between 1993 and 1995 are widely recognized as milestones of Techno.  This compilation, whilst not definitive, is the most coherent collection of their music on a single disc and chronologically charts their evolution from harsh, minimal rigour to something with far more dubby reverb, smeared textures and vaporous atmosphere.  It’s easy to discern the jumping off point for their more explicitly Dub-based work as Rhythm & Sound, and indeed for those, like Rod Modell who mine similar seams.

For some weeks I’ve been grudgingly attending a gym.  On headphones, these endlessly repetitive abstractions are a perfect antidote to the establishment’s generic House and R&B and provide a rhythmic accompaniment for my attempts to reduce my waistline.

‘Bossanova’, Pixies

For a brief period, around the release of their ‘Doolittle’ album in 1989, Pixies seemed like the coolest band on the planet.  They played in Leicester one night and nearly blew the roof off the University Union.  Their neat trick was to combine brutally grungy noise rock, surf-style guitar work and Black Francis’ weirdly intelligent lyrics delivered with entertaining eccentricity.  ‘Bossanova’ appeared the following year after tensions had emerged within the ranks but, without scaling the heights of its precursor, did consolidate their distinctive sound.  What it does have is a skewed Sci-fi sensibility and one of my favourite ever screaming-at-the-wall songs in the coruscating ‘Rock Music’.  When frustrations with the day job start to build, that one provides much-needed catharsis.

‘Monkey Gone To Heaven’, Pixies

A little Pixies always leads to a load more Pixies so it was inevitable ‘Doolittle’ would get played too.  This was the recognisable anthem from that album, being pretty lush and melodic by their usual standards.  Francis still can’t resist a bit of a shout though and demonstrates how to address environmental concerns without sounding remotely worthy.

‘Candy Apple Grey’, Husker Du

This raucous American Indie Rock palaver gets pretty infectious sometimes and is a proven way to squeeze out angry thoughts.  Husker Du were acknowledged precursors of Pixies, and thus, Nirvana later on.  They combined manic, hardcore thrash with hooky Pop know-how, whilst guitarist/joint songwriter and vocalist Bob Mould fairly seethed with palpable disgust at the human condition.  Released in 1986, ‘Candy Apple Grey’ sees them stretching out into slower, more melodic territory but still finds room for the gloriously shouty opener, - ‘Crystal’, (during which Mould simply explodes with erudite rage).  ‘Eiffel Tower High’ is a blast of cornball joy and ‘All This I’ve Done For You’ closes the album on an energetic high point.

‘Birds’, North Sea Radio Orchestra

When I reviewed NSRO’s ‘I A Moon’ around a year ago it was the one of the most refreshing things I’d heard in a while, (it still is really).  ‘Birds’, its predecessor, was unavailable for a while but has been re-released and I snapped up a copy recently.  It has all the qualities of pastoral beauty, and English Romanticism, stiffened by an understanding of Minimalist/Modernist strategies and subtle electronics, that I loved in ‘I A Moon’.

As with their eponymous debut album, the lyrics derive from the canon of English poetry, including Chaucer, Blake and Tennyson and may just evoke the England that, secretly, many natives still wish they inhabited.  Yet, in a way I can't quite define, they always avoid a descent into the merely twee.  Sharron Fortnam is my current favourite female vocalist, (being the equal of Sandy Denny for sheer emotional clarity), and her pure tones are augmented with beautiful choral arrangements on several of these pieces. Amongst the original compositions lies a wonderful instrumental reworking of the Medieval Christmas carol 'Personenet Hodie', putting a modern twist on an ancient tune that could lift the darkest Winter mood.

'On This Day', The Choir of King's College, Cambridge

Each December I embark on the season of compulsory shopping and religious lip service with a fairly heavy heart.  I'm not opposed to Christmas per se, - just the reality of the contemporary routines we can get lumbered with.  Actually. I'm all in favour of mid winter festival to lift the seasonal gloom and welcome those rare moments that are genuinely moving or convivial.  This is Gustave Holst's 19th Century take on the 'Personent Hodie' tune that always helps to make sense of it all.




Despite my secular  outlook, it's only fair to acknowledge the Christians have both great music and architecture so listening to the Festival of Nine Lessons & Carols from King's has become one of my annual rituals.  I sat in King's College Chapel one December day many years ago, as the choir rehearsed.  As the organ reverberated around the Gothic stones I realised the music was its own justification.

'A Christmas Gift For You', Phil Spector

I guess that, as Christmas rituals go, this is the other end of the aesthetic spectrum.  It's cynically commercial, deeply kitsch and performed by the manipulated puppets of a subsequently convicted murderer, - so Merry Christmas everyone!  Those vocal arrangements and patented 'Wall of Sound' production are hard to beat though, and who doesn't love 'Frosty The Snowman'?

'Christmas In The Heart', Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan, Always With The Interesting Hats, - But Why The Wig?

Bob, - what were you thinking?  Dylan proves he's no Grinch by croaking his way through a pile of cheesy festive favourites and a couple of genuinely interesting oddities.  Along with his band he throws himself into the accordion-driven rave-up of 'Must Be Santa', (with a video that must be seen to be believed), and both 'The Christmas Blues' and 'Christmas Island' are hard not to love.

Good job it was for 'charidee' though...