The painting's journey
The prelude to this painting was the longing I felt for it, for the act of painting. I had been too dispersed across too many planes, uncentred. The MFA was the vehicle through which I could come back home. Part of this vehicle was zoom: hence my first artwork completed at the start of semester 2, concerning my early attempts at making, and internal dialogue concerning painting’s absence. This work, entitled ‘In open spaces’ has been selected for a group exhibition in Cumbria in June, and comprises of a fragmented/faceted garment and hanging, and a film piece with dialogue fragments. Click here to take a quick glance at the film.
The three sites for the painting project
I chose Hodge Close in Cumbria, a remote flooded slate quarry originally dug out to 100metres deep into the ground, with a network of tunnels which became more uneconomical to mine as the danger increased. Click here to see 20 seconds of footage. It is now used as a renowned extreme playground for divers and climbers. The chamber or cave where I worked could be classed as a liminal space, a threshold, a portal to another world, the border of light and dark. The space is constantly freezing cold and dripping wet like most mined areas. Trees and other plants have regrown in the quarry, and in its disuse, it has become re-inhabited with wildlife. My home studio and the gallery space would constitute the other two sites, to which I would respond.
I chose Hodge Close in Cumbria, a remote flooded slate quarry originally dug out to 100metres deep into the ground, with a network of tunnels which became more uneconomical to mine as the danger increased. Click here to see 20 seconds of footage. It is now used as a renowned extreme playground for divers and climbers. The chamber or cave where I worked could be classed as a liminal space, a threshold, a portal to another world, the border of light and dark. The space is constantly freezing cold and dripping wet like most mined areas. Trees and other plants have regrown in the quarry, and in its disuse, it has become re-inhabited with wildlife. My home studio and the gallery space would constitute the other two sites, to which I would respond.
Site 1 - Hodge Close
The painting, the quarry wall, the gallery wall
The plan
I made a modular artwork that retained a flexibility so that it could be reactive to the conditions through it which would move. A mutable structure. Big enough to make immersive impact in the gallery space, and to be a wall akin to the quarry wall that towered over me in the original site.
What happened
Each module piece hung on a nail, onto a baton. It was precarious, and in serendipity, this became more like the quarry wall than I could have predicted. I was pleased with the monumentality of the work, something I’d admired in Anselm Kiefer’s work for many years. When work goes beyond domestic bounds, beyond conventional framing, our body seems to interpret it in a different way, more akin to some archetypal feeling of being in a cave or cathedral. In the future, there may be ways to increase this monumentality, through other aspects of the gallery space, or different site used as the gallery (such as a subterranean chamber, or a highpoint on a hill).
The plan
I made a modular artwork that retained a flexibility so that it could be reactive to the conditions through it which would move. A mutable structure. Big enough to make immersive impact in the gallery space, and to be a wall akin to the quarry wall that towered over me in the original site.
What happened
Each module piece hung on a nail, onto a baton. It was precarious, and in serendipity, this became more like the quarry wall than I could have predicted. I was pleased with the monumentality of the work, something I’d admired in Anselm Kiefer’s work for many years. When work goes beyond domestic bounds, beyond conventional framing, our body seems to interpret it in a different way, more akin to some archetypal feeling of being in a cave or cathedral. In the future, there may be ways to increase this monumentality, through other aspects of the gallery space, or different site used as the gallery (such as a subterranean chamber, or a highpoint on a hill).
Painting method
The plan
Having carried out 26 oil paintings on site in various remote quarries and mining sites in Cumbria in 2019, I wanted to continue this method of directly working from the site, forgoing any intermediary stage such as sketches and photography. I wanted the base layer, the original pentimento, to record my subjective response, whilst being buffeted by wind and rain etc. Hence I had designed a portable modular structure made out of hardboard for this job. I would place the layers down translucently so that the record of my experiences would be visible at the end.
What happened
Even though I’d painted there before, on returning to the quarry, which is 1 hour from where I live, about 300 metres above sea level, up a single-track lane, and reached by climbing over large boulders for 30 minutes, I realised that bringing down any of the 52 pieces of the painting was going to be too much of a challenge in the short timescale. I resorted to oil and pencil sketches, video and photography.
Although I faced problems this time, I still wish to look for ways I can record all layers of experience, in layers of pentimento directly into one work. I might need to forgo desires of remoteness of site to achieve this. I also need to somehow make these layers, these pentimento appear more obvious, more separate from each other, while still being layered.
Painting method
The plan
Having carried out 26 oil paintings on site in various remote quarries and mining sites in Cumbria in 2019, I wanted to continue this method of directly working from the site, forgoing any intermediary stage such as sketches and photography. I wanted the base layer, the original pentimento, to record my subjective response, whilst being buffeted by wind and rain etc. Hence I had designed a portable modular structure made out of hardboard for this job. I would place the layers down translucently so that the record of my experiences would be visible at the end.
What happened
Even though I’d painted there before, on returning to the quarry, which is 1 hour from where I live, about 300 metres above sea level, up a single-track lane, and reached by climbing over large boulders for 30 minutes, I realised that bringing down any of the 52 pieces of the painting was going to be too much of a challenge in the short timescale. I resorted to oil and pencil sketches, video and photography.
Although I faced problems this time, I still wish to look for ways I can record all layers of experience, in layers of pentimento directly into one work. I might need to forgo desires of remoteness of site to achieve this. I also need to somehow make these layers, these pentimento appear more obvious, more separate from each other, while still being layered.
The painting, the quarry conditions and the gallery conditions
The plan
In the quarry site, my plan was to observe through both the sensations through my mind and body, as well as its conversion into layers of paint. I would be focusing on light, a light fractured by the stone it glanced off, or the mist, clouds or rain it was diffused or thwarted by. If I felt scared, rushed, awed, frozen, in pain, what would happen to my consistency of interpretation? If I started to speed up the mark-making, would I make better or worse decisions about the light?
In the home studio, I hoped to take the time to place down at least 20 layers of translucent paint, in order to intensify the original thoughts and feelings around the quarry.
In the gallery, I planned to hang the piece, then execute a final set of layers, that would modify the painting in response to both my memory and notes of the quarry AND also the new lighting thrown onto the painting. I had learnt that Turner had done exactly this during varnishing days at the Royal Academy. He modified the painting so that it could stand out in amongst other artworks and in the specific lighting of the gallery space This entangled nature of competing light sources encoded into a single painting was intriguing to me.
What happened
While I was painting in the quarry, I was usually frozen with a numb bottom! I worked with rapidity, not considering the consequences. I felt like I became machine-like. However, the feedback from viewers about this speedy work, was that there was a clarity to these quick responses, even if they were unfinished. It would be good to investigate this relationship further.
The layering of the paint in the studio was enjoyable, as its slowness enabled thinking carefully. Each layer of glaze produced a transformation, and in me a small moment of exhilaration.
The final layer in the gallery was applied over two days. All choices on detailed moments of light across the slate cave and the distant rocks had to be made in quick succession. Depending on where the gallery spotlight hit the slanted boards, affected how much glaze medium I used. I thought I would have used more glaze, to re-enact and depict the constant drips and rivulets that trickle across the slate. However, the harsh light on this glaze made me steer back towards the ‘quiet’ dark matt corners, corresponding to the infinitely dark corners of the quarry cave.
This final tussle between glaze and matt called to mind a lovely memory, that seemed to have a special prominence. The memory was of the moments where, in amongst the constant dripping, and the blinding light of the ‘view’, my eyes focused on one of these corners, and I would feel happy in the silence that I then heard. I would like to re-run this experiment in order to look more deeply at the manner in which this final reflective decision-making gave me a sense of meaning and connection.
The plan
In the quarry site, my plan was to observe through both the sensations through my mind and body, as well as its conversion into layers of paint. I would be focusing on light, a light fractured by the stone it glanced off, or the mist, clouds or rain it was diffused or thwarted by. If I felt scared, rushed, awed, frozen, in pain, what would happen to my consistency of interpretation? If I started to speed up the mark-making, would I make better or worse decisions about the light?
In the home studio, I hoped to take the time to place down at least 20 layers of translucent paint, in order to intensify the original thoughts and feelings around the quarry.
In the gallery, I planned to hang the piece, then execute a final set of layers, that would modify the painting in response to both my memory and notes of the quarry AND also the new lighting thrown onto the painting. I had learnt that Turner had done exactly this during varnishing days at the Royal Academy. He modified the painting so that it could stand out in amongst other artworks and in the specific lighting of the gallery space This entangled nature of competing light sources encoded into a single painting was intriguing to me.
What happened
While I was painting in the quarry, I was usually frozen with a numb bottom! I worked with rapidity, not considering the consequences. I felt like I became machine-like. However, the feedback from viewers about this speedy work, was that there was a clarity to these quick responses, even if they were unfinished. It would be good to investigate this relationship further.
The layering of the paint in the studio was enjoyable, as its slowness enabled thinking carefully. Each layer of glaze produced a transformation, and in me a small moment of exhilaration.
The final layer in the gallery was applied over two days. All choices on detailed moments of light across the slate cave and the distant rocks had to be made in quick succession. Depending on where the gallery spotlight hit the slanted boards, affected how much glaze medium I used. I thought I would have used more glaze, to re-enact and depict the constant drips and rivulets that trickle across the slate. However, the harsh light on this glaze made me steer back towards the ‘quiet’ dark matt corners, corresponding to the infinitely dark corners of the quarry cave.
This final tussle between glaze and matt called to mind a lovely memory, that seemed to have a special prominence. The memory was of the moments where, in amongst the constant dripping, and the blinding light of the ‘view’, my eyes focused on one of these corners, and I would feel happy in the silence that I then heard. I would like to re-run this experiment in order to look more deeply at the manner in which this final reflective decision-making gave me a sense of meaning and connection.
Concluding note
I had initially chosen Antoni Tapies and then Roger Ackling as mentors for the processes I had planned for this semester. Limitations (Ackling's burning with light at certain times of year, Tapies' monochrome and humble materials), simplicity (a reduced amount of marks) , and dwelling with site (Ackling - the coast, Tapies - the streets of Barcelona) were the facets I was drawn to. Under their watchful eye (ie by researching and connecting with them), I feel like I made a baby step in the right direction, managing to strip away the noise. There is a lot more to remove, but the silence I found in the memory of one moment, as I made the final alterations of gloss and matt (reflect or absorb light) was an indication of the satisfying pursuit that I share with these artists, that of exploring the entanglement of meaning and matter.
I had initially chosen Antoni Tapies and then Roger Ackling as mentors for the processes I had planned for this semester. Limitations (Ackling's burning with light at certain times of year, Tapies' monochrome and humble materials), simplicity (a reduced amount of marks) , and dwelling with site (Ackling - the coast, Tapies - the streets of Barcelona) were the facets I was drawn to. Under their watchful eye (ie by researching and connecting with them), I feel like I made a baby step in the right direction, managing to strip away the noise. There is a lot more to remove, but the silence I found in the memory of one moment, as I made the final alterations of gloss and matt (reflect or absorb light) was an indication of the satisfying pursuit that I share with these artists, that of exploring the entanglement of meaning and matter.