Saturday 9 February 2008
www.whalecrow.co.uk
We were getting a bit crapped on here, so we have moved home. If you would like to come along to see where we now live then visit... www.whalecrow.co.uk. This will now be our permanent recidence
Sunday 20 January 2008
Responding to your troubles
I was reading what you wrote a few days ago, it seems to me that you're falling for the same trap and over thinking again, I know that what you wrote was fairly loose and not necessarily defining anything but it still is placing these thoughts into words which has a limiting, categorising effect. The main problem you seem to have is separating your critical practice/learning from the artistic, so it may be wise to simply collect those visual images you find interesting and arrange them in ways that strike a chord, not a literary chord but just a feeling that they're right together. this way you'll find other allusions may occur that actually end up meaning more to you. whether this is any use to you i don;t know.
Saturday 19 January 2008
Exclusive 10%-15%
Exclusive
quit
act slump
Fear
risk
One big property
shut doors withdraw
yesterday slump
panic seilling
move fears North-
run on
once high-fly
seen a safe haven
the on
sh, quit yesterday
all invest
fund able access
for a year.
the giant fund
in office blocks and shopping
centres across Britain, no longer
reserve meet demand
withdraw
money. down to
total ass the usual
10%-15%
quit
act slump
Fear
risk
One big property
shut doors withdraw
yesterday slump
panic seilling
move fears North-
run on
once high-fly
seen a safe haven
the on
sh, quit yesterday
all invest
fund able access
for a year.
the giant fund
in office blocks and shopping
centres across Britain, no longer
reserve meet demand
withdraw
money. down to
total ass the usual
10%-15%
Wednesday 16 January 2008
Broken thoughts
lack of sleep
drowning in paperwork and struggling to fit tasks to time
stressing about my practise.
Your text about MAtthias WEischer (sp) , looking at some Rauschenburgand a re read of Gunter Grass (sp) have got me thinking. I am having flickers of what I want my work to start doing in my head but feel frsutrated an its intangibility.
I know I want to start drawing things from many sources which create mini narratives with underlying meta narratives, allegories if you like. I know maps, art historcial references, various painterly marks, figures in general, text, gridsa and lines of perspective, architecture, small elements of illustration of 'objets', floating, falling and submerged forms... I know I want all of these to come together to form poetic narratives. Where elements draw us beneath the surface and other pull us back across. Where meaning seems both intense and allusive, where we can flicker between a multiplicity of potential conclusions- where there are basically painterly, spatial, pictorial and analytical disjunctions. (fuck knows if I know what I mean)
I want to create the kind of feel we have when we skip between elements on the internet, or when we slip through memoreis in our head. i want it to be about now but equally to be about issues of time, concenrs of histories, elements of the sefl indulgent personal, touches of the purely formal, to be both concise and articualte whilst also utterly non sensiscal. To be romantic but pragmmatic, to be everything adn nothing. To have lose, time, tragedy, rise and fall, transcedence and witt all rolled up together like a sweet which can be quickly consummed but then makes you vomit up your insides.
At the moment though, im worrying due to not having painted for a few days. I am created small, weakly paintede, pretentious, pastiche and meaningless little scribbles. I am progressing but now way near getting close to this undescribable thing I am chasing. And now I am on heere when I shold be compleing a lecture plan and constructing paragraphs and sentences which are confussing me more than helping me.
I really wish i did not care about all this pointless crap- but it keep knocking at my head
drowning in paperwork and struggling to fit tasks to time
stressing about my practise.
Your text about MAtthias WEischer (sp) , looking at some Rauschenburgand a re read of Gunter Grass (sp) have got me thinking. I am having flickers of what I want my work to start doing in my head but feel frsutrated an its intangibility.
I know I want to start drawing things from many sources which create mini narratives with underlying meta narratives, allegories if you like. I know maps, art historcial references, various painterly marks, figures in general, text, gridsa and lines of perspective, architecture, small elements of illustration of 'objets', floating, falling and submerged forms... I know I want all of these to come together to form poetic narratives. Where elements draw us beneath the surface and other pull us back across. Where meaning seems both intense and allusive, where we can flicker between a multiplicity of potential conclusions- where there are basically painterly, spatial, pictorial and analytical disjunctions. (fuck knows if I know what I mean)
I want to create the kind of feel we have when we skip between elements on the internet, or when we slip through memoreis in our head. i want it to be about now but equally to be about issues of time, concenrs of histories, elements of the sefl indulgent personal, touches of the purely formal, to be both concise and articualte whilst also utterly non sensiscal. To be romantic but pragmmatic, to be everything adn nothing. To have lose, time, tragedy, rise and fall, transcedence and witt all rolled up together like a sweet which can be quickly consummed but then makes you vomit up your insides.
At the moment though, im worrying due to not having painted for a few days. I am created small, weakly paintede, pretentious, pastiche and meaningless little scribbles. I am progressing but now way near getting close to this undescribable thing I am chasing. And now I am on heere when I shold be compleing a lecture plan and constructing paragraphs and sentences which are confussing me more than helping me.
I really wish i did not care about all this pointless crap- but it keep knocking at my head
Thursday 10 January 2008
Rain sketch
She was a wet veil
Which quenched the roads thirst
Puddling and eating yesterdays memories
Footprints drowned in browning milk
She was those falling dancers
Rhythmically breaking and spraying across that screen
Window to wall and a road lost in a haze of beauty
She was rivers running down your face
Heavy feet and an oh so slow journey
Slippers by the fire just a mirage
Which quenched the roads thirst
Puddling and eating yesterdays memories
Footprints drowned in browning milk
She was those falling dancers
Rhythmically breaking and spraying across that screen
Window to wall and a road lost in a haze of beauty
She was rivers running down your face
Heavy feet and an oh so slow journey
Slippers by the fire just a mirage
Tuesday 8 January 2008
A couple of poems and a diary entry
Lemon Twist
Ever seen a lemon
Twisted by one juicer?
Its flesh dissect then disintegrate.
Lap it up
The bitter life's-blood
That slides over your skin
Like Archimedes through your mind.
Lap it up
It stinks.
A Short Trip Up The Ganges With Graeme Greene
Your rose-hipped fella there
With wistful eye's and scruffy hair
Looks all fine, flippant and fair.
But he's a thin jonny two-bob,
A paddler true.
Doesn't stick his oars in right,
Doesn't look to you.
And when you look to him
Through his mane of sunship flip
As the needle-point stitched light
Turns to sulphurous green night,
And his leprous diamond trumpitt
Doesn't sound quite so bright.
When his hessian filled mouth
Fails to ignite...
...Would you look to your feet?
Observe a stench quite oblique?
That stirs a memory quite unique.
And see my snivelling, repugnant mass
Still resides there repleat.
On the subject of poems, have you read any T.S.Eliot, specifically his wasteland poems? I'm thinking in particular of A lovesong to Arthur J. Pruefrock. I may have got that wrong but its something similar. That poem was a revelation to me, its astonishing. I'll try to remember to bring it with me when i come down.
Diary entry 07/01/08
What type career artist do i want to be? I always have the most respect for an artist who seems ambivalent to current trends, an artist who bravely trudges his own path. I am thinking here of examples such as David Hockney and Auerbach. Their practices are poles apart, Auerbach has been stoically banging his head against the same wall for 40yrs or more, whilst Hockney, like a hummingbird has flitted from one area of concern to the next in a never ending search for... well... everything. However they both seem to transcend the earthly problem of style (style being associated with fashion here). This I can see as being a slightly naive statement, particularly with regard to their early careers, both were certainly aware of the artscene around them, however, they never seemed defined by it, yet, particularly with Hockney, the work has for the most part appeared current. I think this is the area that this entry has moved into now, how do you create art that matters (that has the appearence of being culturally relevant) whilst not falling into a dogmatic copy-cat of current styles? To remain true to yourself doesn't seem to quite cut it, what exactly is true to yourself? It doesn't exist because we are a product of our time and environment. So again it seems to be a balancing act, perhaps this is thereason why artists are naturally wary of power structures, governments and such, because it thus places us on the outside of something giving us just a bit of objective space in order to find our voice, a voice that whilst heavily influenced by society is not totally reliant upon society. That said, I'm stuck in my parents house in the fog of middle-class suburbia, i'm kinda failing miserably in my efforts to see anything.
Ever seen a lemon
Twisted by one juicer?
Its flesh dissect then disintegrate.
Lap it up
The bitter life's-blood
That slides over your skin
Like Archimedes through your mind.
Lap it up
It stinks.
A Short Trip Up The Ganges With Graeme Greene
Your rose-hipped fella there
With wistful eye's and scruffy hair
Looks all fine, flippant and fair.
But he's a thin jonny two-bob,
A paddler true.
Doesn't stick his oars in right,
Doesn't look to you.
And when you look to him
Through his mane of sunship flip
As the needle-point stitched light
Turns to sulphurous green night,
And his leprous diamond trumpitt
Doesn't sound quite so bright.
When his hessian filled mouth
Fails to ignite...
...Would you look to your feet?
Observe a stench quite oblique?
That stirs a memory quite unique.
And see my snivelling, repugnant mass
Still resides there repleat.
On the subject of poems, have you read any T.S.Eliot, specifically his wasteland poems? I'm thinking in particular of A lovesong to Arthur J. Pruefrock. I may have got that wrong but its something similar. That poem was a revelation to me, its astonishing. I'll try to remember to bring it with me when i come down.
Diary entry 07/01/08
What type career artist do i want to be? I always have the most respect for an artist who seems ambivalent to current trends, an artist who bravely trudges his own path. I am thinking here of examples such as David Hockney and Auerbach. Their practices are poles apart, Auerbach has been stoically banging his head against the same wall for 40yrs or more, whilst Hockney, like a hummingbird has flitted from one area of concern to the next in a never ending search for... well... everything. However they both seem to transcend the earthly problem of style (style being associated with fashion here). This I can see as being a slightly naive statement, particularly with regard to their early careers, both were certainly aware of the artscene around them, however, they never seemed defined by it, yet, particularly with Hockney, the work has for the most part appeared current. I think this is the area that this entry has moved into now, how do you create art that matters (that has the appearence of being culturally relevant) whilst not falling into a dogmatic copy-cat of current styles? To remain true to yourself doesn't seem to quite cut it, what exactly is true to yourself? It doesn't exist because we are a product of our time and environment. So again it seems to be a balancing act, perhaps this is thereason why artists are naturally wary of power structures, governments and such, because it thus places us on the outside of something giving us just a bit of objective space in order to find our voice, a voice that whilst heavily influenced by society is not totally reliant upon society. That said, I'm stuck in my parents house in the fog of middle-class suburbia, i'm kinda failing miserably in my efforts to see anything.
Friday 4 January 2008
Selection of responses
I've been thinking about what you have written about your working practise, about how your paintings are a series of destructions, this is meaning that there is a starting image (photo, historical painting etc) and how your work is about breaking down this image in order to pick out particular parts, enhancing these sections in order to create new meaning (I could splurt out a whole load of verbose chatter about sign and signifier here but i won't).
I am thinking that my own work is about a series of additions onto already semi realised paintings. The photo which is the seed where an idea germinates becomes very quickly, very distant and the aim becomes to build on the created painting a new painting. Building up layers of history that slowly, through the sedementation of truths and semi-truths, into the realm of a new-old mythology.
As for your new works, well i think that it could potentially lead to somewhere very interesting, as for whether the staining that you've done on them makes a significant difference, it does give the impression of something trapped in time, however, i find that side of them slightly obvious. What i think is more exciting are these works of obliterating newspaper images. i've spoken as much as i can about this previously, the challenge for you is how you can translate this to more significant. i think you need to expand upon the single photo image, perhaps starting by collaging a couple of photos together, and responding by oblitering these. i think this could then start to make them mean something more significant.
I am thinking that my own work is about a series of additions onto already semi realised paintings. The photo which is the seed where an idea germinates becomes very quickly, very distant and the aim becomes to build on the created painting a new painting. Building up layers of history that slowly, through the sedementation of truths and semi-truths, into the realm of a new-old mythology.
As for your new works, well i think that it could potentially lead to somewhere very interesting, as for whether the staining that you've done on them makes a significant difference, it does give the impression of something trapped in time, however, i find that side of them slightly obvious. What i think is more exciting are these works of obliterating newspaper images. i've spoken as much as i can about this previously, the challenge for you is how you can translate this to more significant. i think you need to expand upon the single photo image, perhaps starting by collaging a couple of photos together, and responding by oblitering these. i think this could then start to make them mean something more significant.
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