sheath | shine | sleight of hand
turn of touch
edge formed through trust
the paper hangs and waits…
Really pleased to have the drawing ‘The Summons’ in the latest edition of Zetesis. A journal Published by the Centre for Fine Art Research (CFAR) based at Margaret Street, Birmingham School of Art.
Beautiful photos and design by Lee Hewett – opening up a new stage for this drawing – elegantly exposing the drawn out movement of graphite.
A return – a blinding – a certainty of something I know –
I break through the sharpening and sharpening of the pencil….
adventures into huge, double sheets of paper – stretching double time to gather the traces and marks, stretch marks and piercing of the surface layer….
another rhythm entirely – in the dull – soft, light of the undercurrent –
I learned here of how much the pencil and paper can take.
I learned here of the emergence of information from the paper.
as I lean in, the paper turns out to meet me – it bears a back – and it tore –
I attended a lecture’by Dr Lynn Turner. She said the words ‘animal cure’ –
I thought about forgiveness – revenge – what is a good cure…. drawing is an available cure….
drawing houses the animal
this is a point of departure – a point of reinvention – a point at least to consider
Post Research in Practice – this is a bedding in time, glee, relief of being in the den, breaking apart, rebuilding, having faith in the next chapter…
paper – pencil – drawing – marking – space – breaking – tearing – destruction
taking them apart in the need to rework the theory
autopoesis…… oeconomy of structure and form…. resonance…. time/space continuum….
this is where my work is moving…. impossible spelling
Sliding the drawing out of the object… here it is…. nearly gone. Reducing the paper, soaking it, longer than usual…. pushing it further than it will manage – I take it out and it breaks.
Paper transforms itself – becomes another – embarks on illusions, channelling a patois of fabric and folds. It works the museum of illusions – power and painterly dissections. Ghosts of Masters – velvet and lace.
SPEAKING A PATOIS OF MURMURS AND WHISPERS – stories from the depths of the oceans and caves.
Carving the shadows, stories foretold – out into the room of my sleep
The question lingers how much, how far, how low…. how worn does it need to be, should it be?
i long to demonstrate destruction but there is a poise required – a call for a poise – a quality – not just in the space but in the tone of the form… tone of my touch.
“i brace the form across my teeth – tongue burns – lemon piercing, tears fall…..”
Why would my own gaze not be enough? “I am not a photographer” what can that mean?
Is my ‘touch’, whatever that ‘touch’ means… either through the lense, through the pencil, through the pin. I look close enough that i can touch the paper again, through the camera…. take the image and ‘sound’ it… ask it a question of ‘belonging’.
Somehow closer – we dance around the magnet that is the lense – peeping – it holds at once an attraction and twice a distance that I cannot meet – I ponder the photographer – the language of this.
Focusing in – finding fragments and details – selecting the information to frame – works to illuminate the intensities of these places – the intensity and delivering of the information that emerges from the paper .
These are conversations that loop from my hand, through paper, through the air….
Close enough to disrupt, dislocate and disorientate me – locked and unlocked
line up and cut – the white and the tonal grey – decide on the edge
– light shines through –
Have faith in the gaze –
These images read as the translation of a ‘quality’ of air.
They are quiet whisperings….
Taking sculpture to be photographed through another eye is transforming and curious. Fancy cameras and lighting, not me standing on my bed, at an angle, about to break my neck…. This is ‘proper’…. glass cut images by Simon Bruntnell. A lesson in illusion – pathos and surprise.
These images and the translation that photography offers returns the sculpture back into the 2d of the drawing space… it helps me with the ‘problems’ and/or challenge of sculpture – returning it into the safer – other – strangeness…
curves – movement – marking – hovering
curious more curious – skin and detachment – recall the distance
I am left troubled by the nature of the gaze – the lack of my control – the transformation by another, through another and the ‘speaking’ is not of my own. I ponder the crispness – the lostness – the identity so removed and the lost surface of my fingers moving across the surface, the pin pricks so tenderly and teasingly done, somehow now astray through translation…
seduced through the surface – lost through the lack of something and the suggested surface –
I step in the direction of my own version and deliver No 2