Module 1 - Visuals and Thought Process.

In this project I began with methods of changing my level of control on my work. Being interested in what it means to create raw art, without the expectation of creating good work, I wanted to try different experiments in order to create work using partially chance and part my subconscious abilities. From blind doodles to mapping things from memory, I liked the way my work began to have it's own voice: potentially a voice that wasn't mine. A part of me, unlocked by letting go of the anticipation of what I was supposed to make, draw, create. By removing certain familiar aspects of traditional drawing, for me in particular sight, I was able to create images completely separate from what was intended. What I'd intended to be the portrait of a person became an abstract doodle.

Dennis Oppenheim inspired transfer drawings A5

A significant experiment in this process was inspired by the artist Dennis Oppenheim, who conducted a trial with a boy, who would draw an image on his back (and vice versa) and the person who had the image drawn on their back would then draw the image on to the page in front. Oppenheim was inspired by the connection of human beings, sensory abilities and unconventional methods of creating a mark. I used this to conduct my own experiment, in hope of creating some imagery that I could develop.
Again, I was left with abstract shapes and lines; like a language of some kind, rubbed out graffiti, a signature, a map. While conducting the experiment, I felt an element of instruction was used. A higher force, which in this case, has to have been me, who instructed using my paint brush the lines that Carly transferred onto the page. This silent language; an instruction by touch interested me. Who was the artist?

Photograph of the Oppenheim experiment I conducted.

Oppenheim's transfer drawings were about the connection between two people, the human body. I felt a lot more interested in the symbolism derived from the transfer drawings and the element of not being in control of the way the drawing is felt through the person, and therefore not having control over the final result. I liked the idea of setting up instructions or rules in order to limit the control I had over the final result. Inspired by Yoko Ono and her series of instructions of how to make a piece of artwork, I made my own instructions similar to this. Whereas Ono's instructions were more poetical and sometimes impossible to carry out, I made simple instructions which I asked other people to carry out for me. Below is a series of instructions which Lucy carried out and the results are completely random and could not have been anticipated. What I liked about the instructions I made was that sometimes the purpose wasn't to create an actual piece of art: it was the cleaning of a brush onto a page which resulted in the marks that were made. Art that is completely random and has no actual motivation.

Instruction series.

 On a mission to develop the symbols and shapes I'd developed through transfer drawing; anything that could potentially give them a meaning or a life, I turned to sculpture. I used multiple methods; the most successful being simply stuffing and a few pairs of tights. As shown below, I did dapple in ceramics, but after the shape was fired, I felt like it became stiff and too final. I wanted my work to be fluid and free. I liked the way the fabric sculpture was able to move, change and evolve. I recreated the symbols and shapes using the 3D form, but found myself becoming more interested in the spontaneous shapes I could create myself, without really anticipating a meaning or a figurative form. It was here that I became interested in film. This is something I will definitely want to dive straight into in the next module, because I feel like sound and moving image has always been so far out of my comfort zone and I want to combat that. I started small, creating very short stop motion videos of my sculpture changing and growing. I liked this aspect of moving image and the way the form sort of took control of it's self.
Developing this idea of something moving of it's own accord, I discovered the sculpture became an entirely different thing once I decided to suspend it from the beam in the studio. It became subject to chance: it had the ability to move, but also fall. This energy that the piece had once it was suspended interested me and I was keen to find out how I could push this. Once again I was inspired by Robert Morris, and his ideas of minimalism combined with chance.

Tights Sculpture 1

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I envisaged a large boulder like ball, hanging from a ceiling. Intrusive and dangerous. Swaying from one side to another like a pendulum only it would completely obliterate anything in it's path. The leap I took from a long, tubular form to a sphere one was interesting in itself, and to some maybe unjust, but to me it made sense. There's something about the wholeness of a sphere that no other form has. It's complete. It cannot be extended. It is it's own end. Something about it sparked an interest that I'm still toying with today.
Back to the boulder idea: I pushed my suspended sculpture into a new way of working: metal. Although restricted by size, time and money, I felt that this was a beneficial part of my project. I made a small copper ball. It was hollow, maybe an inch bigger than a 50p coin in circumference. From this small ball, I took photographs, filmed it... and dropped it. After hours of work the small ball had a dent in the side of it. Not to worry, as this was  a stepping stone onto a new idea, and despite the 6 hours of work gone into the tiny, almost useless thing, I felt like I'd accomplished something. The craft, time and care that Leon in the metal workshop insisted I take on such a small sculpture - which he didn't even know could maybe be considered a little insignificant in the grand scheme of my work - taught me patience and pride in craft. Control, time and effort. Something about that intrigued me, and maybe it shouldn't: as an artist I have spent a LOT of time creating things and I know the value of how long things take. But having tried lots of experiments up till now, all things that didn't take me too long, I thought about the value of time in my work.

Copper Ball

Moving away from sculpture, I spent quite a bit of time in the print room this semester. Sometimes the print room for me is just to get out of the studio, to try something different and not really know what the result will be. Despite it being quite a quick and simple process, I made some interesting discoveries in there. Having researched into Cy Twombly and his process when creating his crazy and boundless works, I wanted to see if I could recreate my own. His work was inspired by Greek and Roman mythologies and he would often work on a massive scale. On watching a short clip on Twombly on YouTube, admirer of his work and legendary filmmaker, John Waters discusses his admiration for the artist. "I realised the power of contemporary art" he says, when describing the way people would be infuriated by Twombly's work. The huge scrawlings and bold colour, Waters felt was almost arrogant and it had nerve. He described the wander he felt at looking at Twombly's work; it was relatable and outrageous at the same time.

I wanted to practise this handwriting, continuous scrawl technique that Twombly is most famous for in my own work. What could I write? I began to think of the way in which the element of instruction had been used previously in my work, and whether I could write instructions that could be distorted somehow. On a monoprinting plate, I inscribed lines of instructions on how to create a piece of artwork into the ink. I pressed this on to papers through the press, and there it was. A backwards, tangled mess of intended instructions. I had also tried using randomly collected words and dada poetry I'd made previous to this. I also printed non-cursive instructions, which were easy to read but looked distressed or angry because of the way I'd had to write them backwards to be understood. Sometimes I left them in their backwards form so they would almost, but not quite be legible. I felt that the endless instructions had more of a flow and a power. These could not be read or followed, but they existed. It reminded me of the way I began with inscribing imagery on Carly's back and the way she would 'blindly' try to follow the sensory instruction.

A print from monoprint series on Instruction.

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My next step, I felt, was a strange and risky one. Having recently started yoga, I was interested in the way we control our minds. The impact yoga had on my mind, body and the connection between these two intrigued me and I wondered if I could link this into my work. This state of 'zen' that is imposed upon yogis when they participate in a class is done entirely by the yogi themselves. We are in complete control, yet there is an element of trust and chaos that comes with trusting a crazy yoga teacher (my yoga teacher is really crazy), closing your eyes and listening to what she's saying without being embarrassed of falling over whilst doing a pose. I felt this was a leap because it is a vulnerable place to be at and this worried me a little.
Having researched into zen philosophy and it's connections with art, I learnt about the enso symbol which many Japanese artists perform before creating work. This symbol is an expression of when the artists' mind is free and ready to create.

The ensō symbolizes absolute enlightenment, strength, elegance, the universe, and mu (the void). 

When the circle symbol was whole, the artist was completely at one; absolutely enlightened. A circle left open represents a person who has a little more to develop. I really liked this idea of symbols and meaning, but also the freedom that comes with the movement. There are rules in place which create this minimalist look; the symbol with rarely differentiate too much. Yet everyone individuals circle would be different. This is how I arrive, yet again, at a the sphere/circular form.
From this research, I set out to complete an experiment, using the yogis in my class. I enjoyed it because the results were not what I wanted, expected or anticipated, even though I set up rules to manage the process. It was a way of completely putting my idea into the hands of other individuals, for them to interpret and to change. This is scary, but at the same time, I feel completely necessary, to be able to see ideas from a new perspective.
I handed each yogi a large sheet of paper and a charcoal stick. Everyone was very confused, but I instructed that they would find out at the end of the class, if they would please participate. At the end of a yoga class, when everyone felt relaxed, lose and free (hopefully), I requested that they draw a circle onto the sheet infront of them, in one motion, using the charcoal stick provided. It could be open or closed; it was entirely up to them. Everyone, curious yet cooperative, took their own approach. On watching the experiment, I wished I had used film to capture it: the scratching of sticks, everyone looking around bewildered. It was an experience in its self. The result was a collection of about 25 different circles, all of them different shapes and sizes, techniques used. Every circle was completely individual; some smudged, some large, some small, some skinny and some coloured in. Although there wasn't much room for error, I couldn't have estimated the results of the experiment, but more importantly the feeling of it.
From this experiment, I developed a stop motion video of all the circles, creating a hypnotic and continuous film, that could be played on a never-ending loop: in the same way circles continue. I wanted to develop this further on a larger scale, but restricted with my ability to use film cameras and get enough space, I decided to move on. Hopefully this concept is something I can come back to after further workshops using film. I look forward to this.

One of the enso symbols from the yoga experiment.

Having begun to take an interest in Eastern philosophies and yoga, I wanted to push my ideas into the medium of making pottery, using a potters wheel. Having been inspired by Japanese culture and their traditional 'singing bowls' used in yoga practice, I wanted to make my own bowl type shapes. I knew that using a potters wheel required a level of skill and control over the final piece. This would challenge me and perfectly sets up an environment where I have to fight for control over my finished craft. I felt more compelled by the need to learn the art of clay throwing, as oppose to make a beautiful bowl. In learning how to make the most basic pots, I learnt the importance of control, the body and centralisation. In order to make anything on a potters wheel, one must know their centre. It took me most of my time learning where this was, and sometimes I couldn't even establish it at all. In addition to this, the control and pressure I applied to the clay effected the results in many ways: too much pressure on the inside and it would be flat like a pancake. Too much pushing inwards would cause the pot to collapse. For me, the pots that I made are a symbol or a token of time spent learning a new craft. In Eastern philosophy there is great importance in appreciating a moment, rather than thinking about the results. I was also inspired by the wabi-sabi attitude of "a world view centred on transience and imperfection". Something I later discovered when my bowls arrived from out of the kiln was the continuous and strange pitched sound they made when I ran my finger along edge. It was an ominous sound that I felt, when focused, could be interesting. I am excited about the use of sound and experience, and hope this surfaces more in my next projects. 

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Inspired by these continuous circles, I went back to the print room, in search of a new technique to recreate this. Inspired by Mark Rothko and his Chapel, I wanted to create something minimalist and meditative in style, similar to what I'd captured in the yoga experiment, only with more control. Using paper circles as a resist, I created prints only with circles and developed multiple layers and tones by turning around the stencils, using every different level of ink. I created a series of prints using this simple process, that I felt really captured a meditative, monotonous and pensive atmosphere. Like Rothko's huge canvases; the simplicity, the lack of figures or atmosphere, takes the viewer somewhere else. With the only point of focus being a circle, one begins to see the intricacy, the soft lines, the tones. It was in every way inspired by what I'd read of Rothko's work and I wanted to develop this even further.

Monoprint series 1

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In an attempt to change up the technique, but also increase the scale, I turned to fabric. I knew I wouldn't be able to create a much larger print than I'd done already without using a canvas and paint, and this would give too much control and I felt the effect would be lost. By using a light, sheer fabric, my work would be able to fall and move subtly. On the samples of fabric, I experimented with dyes. Using a disperse dye and hot water, I experimented with dip dying, for the faded tones and grey scales. I then tried to recreate the circles I'd created using a tie dyeing process. I used marbles, elastic bands and wire to hold the fabric in place. I really like the grey tones I got with the dyes on a small scale, and knew that for it to have more impact I would have to scale up. On scaling up, to a sheet of fabric 2m by 2m, I found that dyeing was more challenging, and I had to use a dye bath as oppose to the small tub I'd previously been using. I liked this process: not knowing what I would achieve yet maintaining some control over the finished product. However, for whatever reason, I'm still not sure, my dyes did not turn the grey scale colours I'd wanted them to. They turned a blueish/indigo shade, which I'd not really wanted. This wasn't a massive issue: it was still a greyish dark blue, but personally I felt more work looked more stylised and tapestry-like. I couldn't achieve the same effects that I had on a smaller scale, even after a couple of times trying. Determined to find a way around this, I played with different compositions to view the fabric in another way. The fabric was sheer and movable, so I played with movement and film. The blue shades resembled waves on a stop motion video I created.

Flat pattern using dyes.

Flat pattern

Distortion of fabric.

Movement of fabric.

Image of movement of the fabric.

Dyes sample inside hoop.

Collection of dyes in embroidery hoops.

Early dye sample.

I've really enjoyed this exploration of concept and process. I didn't end up with the awe-inspiring final piece that I'd wanted, but I definitely feel like I've made some self discoveries, and I am excited for what future projects bring. I only wish to expand and perfect the small creations I've made in the short time I've had. I will continue to be inspired by Eastern philosophy and I hope to have improved my skills in film and sound.