Our Dreams Are not So Different

These are my fragments. They exist because I am in them. I made them and shaped them and left my fingerprints within them. They hold my DNA and have been imprinted with marks that only I could have made.

They are tiny, some barely bigger than an acorn. Their size is their strength – making them a reflection of us all, as we engage in this life of such infinite dimensions: representing something small and fragile – they are a seed, an apple pip, a tiny bud of potential. They can endure centuries of great adventures before they will be fully worn away. They are partial whispers or glimpses of a person: from most angles just a small piece of stone barely identifiable from one you might find on a beach and therefore, easily overlooked. But from the right angle the face is there, a spectator in life, a travelling companion, a fragment of your imagination, a dreamer…. you?

Imagine, if you will, these fragments being transported around the world, into every country, through museums, parks, galleries, woods and deserts. They will have a ‘lived’ experience with you, a relationship of sorts. Think of the child who finds a small marble and treasures it: this tiny gem of hand-held joy, more precious than any plastic toy in the shop. The experience is real, visceral. It is about touch and about remembering, finding magic in the small things that we know, deep down, are the important things. Remembering the ‘little I’, bringing it to the front of the mind, remembering our infinite potential at the same time as our relative inconceivably tiny sense of self in the universe.  Remembering that we are all precious and that we are all born into a life we did not choose: that our dreams are not so different.

If you take one of these fragments, please record it in your daily life, in places you visit, in the hands of those you come into contact with, and in moments when it seems relevant to you. The journey ends when you give the work to someone else, when someone needs it more than you. When someone else needs to be reminded of their potential or given something small to roll in their hand and feel connected to that gesture of giving, and therefore to the world.  Perhaps you feel the need to leave your fragment in a place. That there is reason and resonance in the fragment belonging there – leaving a piece of yourself – or being excited by someone else discovering it – perhaps that small child who will notice the strange curve and will pick it up to ponder further. Imagine their face registering the form, wondering how this could have appeared. Could nature have carved it?

You are my lens. You are my transporter, my vessel for building a map of the world without ever leaving my house. You will capture my imagination and my heart with the photographs you take.

I will be journeying with you.

Paint it Out

 

Eight months of painting, in one place. Time to not only get these out but to, get them OUT!

The small things…

Tanya sent me a link to a post: http://emlynpearce.blogspot.com/2015/09/the-importance-of-small-things-for.html  in which Emlyn Pearce writes about both what is important and what is precious – the way children feel about simple, small pleasures:

Children have always found abundant magic in objects that are so small that their very existence is almost a kind of secret. But just give a three-year-old a key, a coin, a ladybird or a leaf and you will see that for small people, an object’s allure only increases the smaller it gets.     E Pearce

It has made me think a lot about the work I am currently doing, making a lot of small things. Each, subtly and by nature of being the maker, a ‘piece of me’. I was discussing with a friend last night the journey I wish for each of these pieces and have been researching options for tracking their journey. Attaching a tiny satellite recognised tracking device to enable me to ‘follow’ them, or working on a large scale gallery piece at the end of which each piece is given away, the whole installation dismantled and shared. I thought about creating a competition to get them to all parts of the world and home again by passing them hand to hand. Surely this would not work? The possibilities are limited only by my imagination and funds – and I can apply for funding! In the meantime I am making more connections and the works I have been making recently will be given away during half term. This is after the deadline for our marked coursework as part of the MA, but I am not doing it for that. It seems only right that my practice is not contained within the parameters of the course structure, but is open to development and expansion through that ongoing urge to make and to connect. I have this week started volunteering as an artist at a Hospice, working with the day patients. This will be something that will no doubt feed into my own practice and be beneficial in a multitude of ways. I will be giving some of the patients these works to make of what they will, to hand on, to reject… as ever, some will find beauty and something meaningful and beautiful in the work and others will not.

Adulthood is tightly packed with so many bland, gigantic, IMPORTANT things, things that barge in, all sharp elbows and shouting like drunken students at a Chinese buffet. Our cities rush and rage, our politicians demand that LESSONS WILL BE LEARNED, our banks shudder and fail, our bosses berate, our computers and smart-phones and widescreen TVs explode and crash and dazzle – and before you know it, it seems impossible to remember how exciting it was to find the hidden face in the rust on an old bicycle frame, or how relaxing it was to spend a few hours sitting cross-legged on the garden path whittling a popsicle stick. But occasionally, if we just allow a little space for contemplation, even our jaded adult attention spans can bristle and spark as if they were still brand new. E Pearce

it will take time to unfold…

The title of this post is extremely important to me. I was watching a recording of Matthieu Ricard’s talk on The Habits of Happiness, and he used these words. It was a profound moment for me in which I realised that this explains so much. My work is currently unfolding to me. The words also explain that process of a collaborative work being developed. It is also recognition that some works ‘speak’ more than others or have a more significant voice, but that this is personal and subjective: different works speak to different people in a multitude of ways. The process of exploring, extrapolating and unfolding feels more comfortable than the idea of unlearning, because I believe that this suggests something more innately anti. I do not wish to unlearn everything I have been taught. But there is so much more out there. I do not need to pigeon hole myself and say that to be an artist I must work in a certain way, or practice in only one media. Working in abstract painting this year has been immensely freeing for me. In mindful practice, acknowledging thoughts and being in the moment has been crucial. It has allowed to to think and feel deeply, processing anxiety and raw emotion, whilst this manifested in works which may or may not indicate this. The process has been continuously unfolding before my eyes, as I have given myself permission to open up instinctively and rather than using my paintings as a shield to hide behind, I have in non-literal terms, allowed them to show everything, and nothing. Advice from Angela and Caroline throughout the MA course made me conscious of needing to find avenues for change and development. This has been extended by doing collaborative works which again require an unfolding process. The drawing itself unfolds as it is passed back and forth: it is almost an entirely separate entity: living and breathing as it evolves in stages and remodels itself. There is uncertainty and lack of control: we live continuously in the moment, being challenged and reawakened creatively. I collaborated with Noeleen Comiskey (artist, actor, friend) and she wrote:

I have learnt so much taking part in this conversation, it really does teach you to let go, not to be so precious but also to appreciate and engage fully in another person’s art. To really absorb another’s work, feel every bit of it and then merge it with your own very being in order to respond fully and with truth. A function and action that is governed by an immediate piece in front of you then outside influences such as friends/news/styles/mood, take over to guide your response. It’s truly fascinating. I normally have a vision of what I want to happen, but through this process I fully engaged with my centre and just existed with the piece, no vision, I felt my way through every mark until I could stand back and say, this is how I respond and my dialogue is complete.

N Comiskey 2016

 

Traces

I ordered tattoo pens some time ago and have been looking forward to working with them. Developing the marks on skin and making them semi-permanent and then looking at them fading. As the owner of actual tattoos I am aware of the fading over time and felt that this would present a way of achieving this artificially, whilst simultaneously leaving traces. It is the traces that interest me. The lack of control over which elements last longer than others, or stay visually coherent. I am fascinated by working on my own body as I feel that this is somehow most relevant to me at this stage in my work. I also make a decent canvas with plenty-of-surface area! Others have volunteered to allow me to draw on them and I may take them up on this, but initially this voyage of discovery is about me, about traces, exploring subtle layers as I work on top of previous designs.

In Suzette Clough’s ‘Visual Medicine’ she writes about ‘palimpsest’:

Palimpsest is the term given to a medieval parchment or vellum that has been written on, then carefully washed so that it can be reused for the writing of another manuscript. The new text is written over the old text and, over time, the original underneath shows itself, sometimes centuries later, through what has been written over the top. Visually and physically, palimpsest describes the delicate interweaving of words, old and new and something beyond both that is created from this unconscious union.

Initial layer of sketches on my legs. The imagery is now faded and only subtly visible. I will work over it and continue to record.

I also drew some patterns on my hand, mindful of henna and Indian skin designs. My son commented that this was what his friends did when they were bored in class, and I realised that this is very true. My marks were very basic and simplistic and there was little thought in terms of the design. I was quite literally free drawing over the top of my hand. I decided to ‘sleep on it’ meaning this non literally but rather hoping that I could complete the design the next day. However, it appeared the next morning that I had LITERALLY slept on it, and that my face had found comfort balanced on my hand through the night, resulting in a delightfully decorative beard for me. It seems there is much more to explore with these pens! These ‘traces’ and unintentional markings and impressions are the areas that interest me the most. I will also give my pens to other people. I think it is right that I should be a canvas as it literally takes the control away from me. I can react but am not choreographing all elements of the process. As I work in collaboration with other artists I realise that it is in these connections that we as individuals find real growth, challenge and inspiration.

Birdsong….

Birds have felt important recently. Given that my blog is ‘art in a birdcage’, largely in reference to feeling exposed and simultaneously responsible, and therefore this impacting on the work I want to create. The title also seemed relevant in terms of my gender and being termed a ‘bird’ informally. The cage symbolic of everything that this entails: gender labels, inequality, notions of what represents the male and female ‘roles’ attributed by society and affecting  my identity as a single parent, and in general. Recently I went to a dance filming course with Simeon Qsyea and his dance group were called ‘Bird Gang’. I therefore did a large number of drawings of the Bird Gang dancers (see below). This, for me, enabled me to get back in touch with very immediate drawings. I was drawing in public yet unapologetically allowing myself to feel my way around the sketches, following the movement of the dancers, refusing to be interrupted by any thoughts of ‘exposure’. Working mindfully I have been replacing old anxieties about  value judgement and how I should appear as an  art educator, with newer feelings of needing to grow as an artist and learn by ‘unlearning’ parts of my practice. I am finally recognising the illogical boundaries I placed on my work. I am acknowledging that whilst I have benefited from the action of making and creating, I have limited myself in terms of my openness to drawing and painting in a much more instinctive way: losing the literal, being less self conscious of mark, feeling the energy and pleasure of simply holding a pen in a different way, or closing my eyes and feeling my way around the drawing: giving value to the outcome not merely as an interesting exploration, but in terms of the beauty of the unrefined, the challenging, the less contrived. I am working hard to avoid relinquishing control to a set of rules that never needed to be part of the work.

In March my sister gave me this silver charm. It features a bird, in a cage. The door opens. I am well aware of the symbolism, and am emotional about the significance of this. Change sometimes happens when we do not expect it. I remember a conversation with Caroline Wright before starting the MA in which she told me about the method of working through the Masters course in which we might feel the first year being more about taking our practice apart, picking up the pieces and reviewing them. She went on to say that the second year should feature more of a building up of practice again, with reflection of what has been understood in Year 1. I remember nodding and feeling a little apprehensive about the ‘breaking down’ parts of this. But when something happens organically, through exploration and opening oneself up to an experience, it is overwhelming. I have been moved literally to tears whilst painting over the last few months. I have acknowledged emotions and thoughts that I usually suppress, have accepted them and allowed myself to go through grief in having lost a partner some years ago. I did not expect this to be part of my MA course, but in exploring healing and art I have been mindful of my own emotional heritage and psychological well being; as well as dealing with my own metaphorical bird cage – that which I create daily and have built around me. Aware that this is not a diary, I will end thus: that there is freedom and birdsong and opportunity, and I am smiling.

Birdcage charm above. Bird Gang Dance drawings below.

Infiltration – Testing My Boundaries

On the 2nd April I painted my son and we visited the Tate Modern. This is significant in that it was a central part of my plan in terms of ‘exhibiting’ within the Testing project. I may have infiltrated but will list the Tate Modern as a location in which I have had a temporary exhibition/installation. My son was absolutely perfectly spontaneous in his movement around the galleries, stopping in front of various works and pausing for long enough for me to record. He stood for about five minutes as still as he could alongside the Gerhard Richter’s, with a number of visitors glancing at him to check that he wasn’t an official exhibit.

This was the venue of choice for our first infiltration.

Whilst gaining a few interested glances from adults, it was almost exclusively the children who actively stared at this ‘exhibit’. Their honesty in thinking that something was uncomfortably different or unusually fascinating contrasts with the more common adult response of feeling it is rude to stare. This was interesting to observe in a place where people are generally staring at everything.

Naum Gabo’s Kinetic Construction with Emma Delpech’s I Made It

 

What a ridiculous and exhilarating experience. Just the start of the infiltration I have planned.

Making Day 02-04

I began this making day with Angela, Alison and Ines, later to be joined by Maire. I described that I wanted to work with some collaborations during the day and that I was starting my own response to the work given to me by two artist friends. This first piece was presented to me to work on by Noeleen Comiskey.

My response was to work in oil paint, despite the original work being on unstretched paper. I used a square head brush which is one of my current favourites. I like the purposeful mark this makes. I also tore up a photograph of my son as I decided that the mouth needed an eye and I was drawn to the innocence of this oversize element. Despite sending this image to my friend and gaining her positive response, I feel that this is only a stage in the progress of this work and feel that it has another stage of drawing to complete it. My response was, as Angela pointed out at the meeting at the end of the day, somewhat emotional: getting negative emotions ‘out of the way’ so that the work could begin. It took me a little while to see this, but when I did it made perfect sense. I am waiting for the oil paint to dry so that I can draw over the surface again (probably in white).

This second piece is a large ink drawing on paper (A1 size) and this was given to me to work on by Tyga Helme. It is typical of many of her ink drawings and the subject matter is also something which she frequently turns to. The suggestions of trees and plants was something which I was transfixed by and, as you can see in the stages of development, I kept tweaking in different ways before becoming comfortable with ownership of the work. It is a very interesting thing to collaborate with another artist and to feel the push and pull of what you wish to reveal and conceal, probably both in literal terms and in psychological terms. It was interesting that changing the music I was listening to made a real difference. The more powerful music somehow gave me a sense of control, and once this was mine I thoroughly enjoyed working into the drawing. Tyga is also very pleased with this and I believe she is going to draw into it again so the conversation will continue. Angela Rogers gave me some extremely good links, including photographs of the work of Jon Barraclough, with his lazy susan drawing tables at Tate Liverpool . She also gave me links to writing on Drawing Conversations.

The day started at 10am but I had assumed that it would start at 9am and was ready at this time. Whilst there was an hour to play with I continued to add ink to the pencil lines I had created the previous day watching Bird Gang dancers in a workshop led by filmmaker and choreographer Simeon Qsyea. This was probably the most fun I have had with a pencil in my hand in a long time. The dancers were incredible and my drawings were such a wonderful release. Literally ‘opening up’ and exploring movement whilst trying to block any sense of judgement from others (everyone else there was filming or photographing the dancers, I was the only participant drawing). I realise that I needed to remind myself to ‘stay in the moment’ whenever my thoughts wandered. The moment was very demanding to focus on as it kept changing quickly. There was no time to be distracted by negative thoughts. Putting ink over the pencil lines was almost as rewarding as the initial activity as I felt I was being taken on an incredible journey of discovering my own work again. At the end of our Making Day, in response to a question I asked Angela about words she used to describe needing to feel ‘uncomfortable enough’ in her drawings, she explained: “Every time we look at our work, we are faced with ourselves”. That sense of needing to be able to make honest marks and be less contrived and allow a sense of play and discovery  was something we all understood. What a joy to be able to share these words, and each others’ work.

 

Collaborations and Public Drawings 2

Drawing in public is always something which raises the stakes slightly. As a teacher I am used to drawing in front of my class. I can assume that they will be receptive, and that it is easy to create an atmosphere where we all draw together. Drawing in public demands a different type of readiness: preparing for reactions from people who may feel that they need to critique the work, or critique by disapproving looks. I had a GREAT deal of fun drawing into a work below which began as a portrait of me by my 3 year old niece. The nature of this as a starting point meant that anyone who looked at my work might make assumptions about my drawing ability or ideas, whereas it is only the humour that they might gauge accurately as I found the process extremely funny. The train was very full at the time and, as ever, most people were watching their phones. I was easily able to draw a woman sitting opposite me and to my right as she did not look up from her newspaper at all. I observed one or two glances in my direction but there were no comments and everyone was very ‘busy’ most of the time studying their emails or social media. It is interesting how this has removed us from interacting with the world around us and it has made me aware of trying to be more ‘present’ in the moment. Whilst it provides a great platform for communication, virtual reality is also a barrier to the world: taking us away from the crowd we are within, avoiding eye contact, allowing for actual ‘blocking’ of others by engaging only in palm held interactions. Something which would have been unthinkable thirty or forty years ago. But this enabled me to feel untroubled by my various public displays of drawing, ‘approved of’ by collective disinterest.

(Above) A long ‘visual conversation’ with Tyga Helme. I absolutely loved this piece as it moved back and forth between us on a number of occasions. It has now become the banner on my new artist headed paper.

I bought some porcelain paper clay and have started to make palm-held faces from this. This is something I can build up over the summer term and fire towards the end of term. I am hoping to also make/design a clay stamp which will mark this work as my own, though it will need to be a little more like a hallmark on a piece of silver because otherwise it will be too dominant.

(Above). This piece began as a series of drawings developed by a class of students. At least six students were involved in drawing on top of each other’s work, looking at two images by artists to inspire ideas. We also gave them additional challenges such as observing connecting lines or negative spaces and depicting only this. I subsequently drew in turquoise ink over the study and then used some black ink. I really like the way it has the appearance of an ordinance survey map or a nervous system. I have numerous other pieces with a similar background to work on top of. I also photocopied all of the original drawings onto acetate so that the students can enjoy layering them on a light box and then working onto a photograph of their own collaborative composite.

(Above). Another piece worked on in the same way. My drawing only in dark ink over the top. Again, I am very happy with all the traces of other hands at work in this.

This drawing was started by  my three year old niece with a black and purple felt tip and some pencil. I asked whether she would mind if I drew on top of it and she seemed hesitant about this but eventually said that this was fine. My design reflected a sense of the playfulness of being around her, of having my hair ‘styled’ and of the toys all over the floor. I realised that this piece also reminded me hugely of my father and drawing with him as a child. He used to play ‘Guess what it is?’ and we would spend hours watching him draw objects, or trying to draw them ourselves, taking it in turns and ending up with pages covered in lovely studies, doodles and ‘wrong’ drawings.

(Above) Portrait of me – by Coco (age 3) and me (age 39). Completed in very tongue in cheek way on train journey.

Sketching passengers on the train.

The works above were tandem drawing with a superb artist and ex student Rory Alexander. We met and drank tea and sat in the window of a high street pub, swapping drawings frequently. This is currently still a work in progress.

I have realised that whilst collaborative drawing is a truly enjoyable experience and activity, where work is given to others to complete in their own time, this can interfere with the chronology of ‘conversations’. I am not sure that this really matters. I have also been thinking a great deal about making more of these connections and really working hard at making connections with a range of other artists to collaborate with. I was hoping to raise funds for Crisis and to contact their fundraising coordinator to allow the project to focus on how it is daily human connections that make humanitarian difference: that it is acts of kindness, one person and one connection at a time that change the world. It may be a bit of a ‘project’ for me, and one which I am going to spend some time resourcing, enabling and documenting over the summer, with a plan to exhibit these conversations and auction them.

In the meantime, the ‘conversations’ continue.

Collaborations and Public Drawing

These drawings were completed with artist Tyga Helme. We sat and drew from two Van Gogh works, in different coloured inks. Half way through we swapped drawings and completed the works. We did this in front of others and then discussed the experience of tandem and collaborative drawing. It was delightfully liberating.

Drawing with Tyga Helme. We found a table and sat, drawing into each other’s work. We both had different ideas but identical sketch books and we were both using ink and a bamboo dip pen. There is something remarkably liberating about giving work away for another artist to make their own. I was aware that Tyga’s marks were stronger than mine, both in terms of her use of darker ink and the thickness of the mark. I liked this. It seemed appropriate that my drawings were a little lighter, and that her marks were dominant. During our drawing I said “I love drawing on top of your work!” and she replied with exactly the same words. It was a funny realisation that there is something deeply personal about sharing your drawings: a relationship of sorts.

Another tandem drawing by Tyga Helme and myself. I rotated this drawing 90 degrees before staring to work on it. This made sense to me. I felt like there was something softly resembling a heathland and some kind of ruins in the distance as I drew into the work. We were both particularly keen on this drawing and felt it had rhythms and a voice which we both approved of and enjoyed.

I particularly like the top half of this drawing. I also like that different people ‘see’ objects within it, only some of which actually exist. I like the flow of the drawing styles in collaboration and feel they suit each other well.

Tandem ink drawing by Tyga Helme and me.

One more work by Tyga and myself.

The works below were a collaboration with artist Theo Young. He is currently completing a degree in Art and leans towards illustrative drawing and digital imaging. This collaboration was completed via posting work to each other and completing it in our own studio spaces. It was extremely exciting to see the development of works as, despite recognising perhaps the individual style of the artist, the connections made and order of who drew first is intriguing. Also, the layering of meaning and perhaps even the change of meaning between the initial drawing and the response. This ‘conversation’ as such is what fascinates me. It is the opening up to another of something personal and often misunderstood, allowing it to be reinterpreted and reworked, perhaps leaving it with an entirely different narrative, focal point, or subject. The unveiling of the new works was a very exciting moment, for both of us. There is something extremely special in that type of ‘connection’.

Theo Young and Emma.

Theo Young and Emma.

Theo Young and Emma.

Theo Young and Emma.

This  process is such a very direct way of working with other artists, and it is so dynamic and testing, opening up exciting opportunities and possibilities as well as presenting with interesting issues of clashing styles. It is truly exciting and I have lots of ideas for the continuation of this series of works. (see next post)

Current Work

This gallery contains 5 photos.