Mobiles and a Spoon Woman: The RA

Two days ago i went to the exhibition now on at the Royal Academy called Miro, Calder, Giacometti, Braque: Aime Maeght and his masters. The exhibition consisted of 4 densely hung rooms with everything from sketches, paintings, prints and sculpture to mobiles, ceramics and metalwork. One of the things that really made the exhibition hang well together was Maeght's insisting on his artists to expand their work through a variety of mediums. It was this guidance that gives the exhibition today such a wide spectrum of interest, probably the most exciting, if not the most impressive being the extraordinary mobiles and stabiles created by Miro and Calder. Their delicacy and ability to change form through spinning gives them a fleeting quality that makes viewing them a unique experience depending on their position.

It was great to see such  diversity within the show, and i especially enjoyed discovering a painting i had never before seen, Personage (1946) by Alexander Calder. The painting has about it a hallucinatory effect, the proportions of the limbs on the two figures warped to an almost disturbing degree. The most enticing thing about the picture for me was the warm and earthy palette - even the blue of the sky seems to be covered in some sort of humid, misty haze. I found the totemic figures in the piece fantastically shaped, one with a head so swelled his only two facial features - his circular eyes - were pushed right up. It was through these figures that I saw in the piece a distinct influence of African art, one so common among artists of Calder's time and before, and quite literally displayed in Giacometti's Spoon Woman of 1926, which is a quite literal combination of the female form and a collected African ceremonial grain spoon.

In room three you are confronted with the stark, withered form of Giacometti's Walking man I (1960) which sets the tone for a room of less colour and a much more sombre atmosphere. Famous cubist Braque works are hung around Giacometti's sculptures and wonderfully sketchy drawings, where on close inspection seem careless, however when standing back from the piece, all the scratchily laid down marks seem to fuse into an energetic and uniquely styled representation of the subject.

The final room contains prints from Aime Maeght and some of Calder's later, simple works which were my favourite of the show. Works like Two Spirals (1974) are so elegant and beautiful in their control and simplicity i was drawn to them more strongly than anything else in the exhibition. Perhaps the most memorable part was though a video shot by Aime Maeght of Henri Matisse drawing a portrait of Marguerite Maeght which was really great to see. His light and quick moving hand can be seen to adorn the paper with energetic, wavy wisps as he composes the hair of Aime's wife. I really enjoyed the exhibition and came away with a few ideas of my own, which i have recorded down in my sketchbook for later use.

Memory documents: José Parlá

A little while ago i came across an interview with Cuban artist Jose Parla on the American art website www.fecalface.com, which pointed me in the direction of Elms Lester's Painting rooms in London, where he happened to have a show on at the time. I visited Adaption / Translation a while back with a friend and was seriously set aback with the sheer energy and depth all of the paintings had. Walking round the exhibition for the first time, i felt it hard to visually analyse all the paintings fully, simply because i felt no need - it was a satisfying experience just exploring the paintings casually. I ended up visiting the exhibition a further 2 times in order to fully solidify a true and personal understanding of the work.

Through plentiful background reading into the work ethic of Parla i have expanded my understanding of the meaning of his painting. Aesthetically the work can be described as densely layered compilations of a huge variety of mixed media which build up a deep ground upon which his rolling layers of calligraphic / graffiti style scribblings can be inscribed upon. Images such as Dance, Dance, Dance (2008), pictured above, is a prime example of such a work. Featured in the Adaption / Translation exhibition, it recalled the worn and eroded walls of urban environments, with the distinct influence of graffiti emerging in the work as a series of downward bending layers of writing.

The writing itself, which the artist describes as 'calligraphy,' is used as a form of drawing, with which he records observations. Compositions are derived from the observations of deteriorated walls in the cities visited on Parla's travels. Photography of such influences can be found in the exhibition catalogue. I drew heavy inspiration from the exhibition, now incorporating huge sections of newspaper headlines to add drama and bold visual interest to my work. I will undoubtedly write more on this fascinating painter in months to come...

Art Now: The Way In Which It Landed

A hanging wooden plank acts as a visual barrier to the room, hanging at about eye level, as pictured. Untitled (2007) by Lucy Clout is one among many works chosen by Ryan Gander, guest curator for the Art Now exhibition, from a randomly selected storage screen. Toying with the playfullness of random occurrence, works are drawn up without a coherent selection process, and the result is a collection of paintings, photographs, installtions and illustrations that bear no logical connection to one and other.

Its quite refreshing walking through a room where each work is completely different from the one before. There is no concentration on a core theme or idea, and so the viewer is forced to make their own of each individual piece. The sculpture in the room did nothing for me, one even made me laugh. This reminded me of the Salon d'Automne 1905 exhibition where the Fauve artists were originally grouped together, their paintings so radical in their use of colour, and, at the time, almost offensive, that people walked out of the exhibition laughing. One viewer even attempted to slash the canvas of Matisse's Woman in a Hat (1905) out of sheer disgust. Im not saying i felt like lashing out at the sculpture, one of which a seemingly careless composition of potatoes sitting among a few rolls of tape, but i did question how much time and effort the artist put into the work. I may not be 'ready' for this type of sculpture, but my own taste prefers art with some obvious signs of thought and time expended into it, and some of the works seemed so lazy and thoughtless. It didnt help that i had no explanation of the ideas of the artist, and i find it is true that the more i read or learn about a piece, artist or even movement, the more i tend to like it.

It is an interesting concept, at which point should you accept something as art or reject it as thoughtless, careless nonsense. People these days find it hard to accept works from high profile artist like Cy Twombly and Duchamp. The phrases i hear go along the lines of - "Thats rubbish, anyone could do that." I think, well, if you don't know anything about the ideas behind works such as Duchamp's Fountain (1920), and you take the piece by face value, then yes, it is just a signed urinal, but the great thing about art is that its not just about aesthetics. That signed urinal is arguably the most influential piece of art of the 20th century, almost purely due to the ideas behind it. Furthermore, why is something like a urinal rubbsih art? Decontextualised from its bathroom environment, it is actually a fairly beautiful sculpture. I sort of draw the line at a few potatoes and rolls of tape, however my mind is open and hopefully soon, with more knowledge about this type of work, ill be able to accept that too.

Other pieces in the room drew my interest alot further. There were some intense, highly detailed and complicated graphic illustration alongside some rather child like yet charming ink drawing. I was drawn to a paint splattered artist's palette, attached to a wooden board, encased in a glass-fronted white casing. It was an enticing explosion of tiny dots of colour, i found myself in front of it for quite some time, leading me to notice that each little dot of paint had actually been applied with a brush. This kind of intimate, timetaking process is one that i love discovering, and it is only through careful obervation that i did. I think the exhibition is over now but i thought i should record my ideas from it.

Blockbuster: luminous Rothko

Visited the Tate Modern with a friend to see the Rothko exhibition there, i felt a kind of moral obligation as a practicing artist and art historian and was surprised with how i found it. To be honest i didnt really know what to think, i had seen the posters but didnt really know what to expect from the paintings in person. Stepping into room three, i was slowly filled with a warmth, the expansive room, with over 10 very large paintings really calmed me and i couldnt help but smile. There was a sort of vibrating hum of energy that i couldnt put my finger on. It must have been contagious because my friend felt it too, every new painting we walked around to see (bar some of the more lurid, brighter orange ones) we both experienced this similar sense of deep satisfaction. It was possibly something to do with the scale, as well as the enticing, feathery edges to the geometric shapes that allowed us to just stand happily for lengthy periods of time. Something in the far corner of the room drew my attention. Above is pictured "Red on Maroon" of 1959, a distinctly luminous surface lures you in from a distance, and the fleeting layering of paint in that simple and pure rectangular shape keep you rooted in front of it.

I felt some sort of emotional connection with most of the works, the more i looked, the more i noticed (quite literally) and the more i felt myself become attached to individual pieces. I came back with 3 postcards which on inspection have nothing of the same effect. It really is one of those things you have to go and see.

Screaming Clergy, Francis Bacon

It has been said about Bacon that all the emotion and drama is shown through the faces of his portraits. On visiting the exhibition now on at the Tate, i turned into room three to be faced with this man, Pope Innocent X, who seems to be sitting, eminating an opressed scream from his gaping mouth. Certainly, the face does initiate an intense psychological connection between the viewer and the subject - who could escape those frankly terrifying features? - and yet i cant help to notice more subtle elements to the work that contribute to the atmosphere of complete exasperation and helplessness of this poor, troubled man.

He seems to be gripping the arms of his seat, as a child grips to his mother out of sheer fright on, say, its first day of school. The scintillating brushstrokes that make up his fingers curl tensely round the wood, and the bolt upright seating position indicates yet further emotional distress. Furthermore, Bacon entraps the figure within a hexagon of lines, a frame that serves the purpose of suggesting the complete, entrapping and overwhelming sense of responsibility that we know Pope Innocent X felt for his job.

I would be reluctant to strongly recommend the exhibition, i personally do like a large portion of the work but came out of the exhibition feeling a slightly humbled and untalkative. Maybe it was something to do with the grotesque abstraction of hanging meat in the crucifixion room or the general dark feeling a lot of the paintings had about them, but i left with no contentment, only satisfaction on having witnessed a fair representation of the artwork of a (as i see it) very disturbed painter.

Sparks on train tracks

I love drawing parallels between my art work and real life. Today i was looking out of the raindrop covered window on the top of my route 337 double decker bus. I noticed a train speeding down the wet tracks coming out from the bridge the bus was going over, and the spectacular array of bright sparks that eminated from what looked like the wheels. When i got home i found out what was going on (see quote below)

"The London Underground uses a 4-rail system in which the electrical return is isolated from the running rails (the rails used by the trains wheels). Sparks are quite normal and occur when the electric power collection "shoes" of a train that is motoring (i.e. drawing power) reaches the end of a section of electric power rail."

It was interesting to think how often these miniature firework-like explosions must occur, and even more interesting to realise that they had been represented without intention in a piece of work i did last year:

Pretty nice connection in my opinion!

Motivation and Ideas

Cy Twombly is like marmite, you love him or you don't, but whatever category you fall into, you can't deny that he is a beautiful mark maker. His most recent work captures my interest the most, with pieces like those of the Lepanto series. I find it somewhat romantic how he lets his liquid paint tumble down his canvas, and i am visually ensnared when faced with an image as eye catching as this:

Purely from an aesthetic point of view i draw heavy inspiration from works like this from not only the deliciously warm and mellow colour scheme but the passionate and energetic handling of the paint. Some of my recent work is beginning to draw parallels with that of Twombly's:

Notice

I'm going to try and start getting people to look around them, even in the most unlikely situations.

Looking, Vlaminck, Art and Inspiration

A friend was once telling me a story about how she was confronted on the street by a stranger. To her surprise he stopped her and sought conversation, and doing the normal thing she felt uncomfortable and started to question the true intentions of the unknown man. But all he had to say was to stop looking at the ground. He told her that there is so much to see in life that if you walk around looking at the ground, you'll miss half of it. I know i'm guilty of staring at the ground as i walk and hearing this made me think for quite a while.

Maurice de Vlaminck was a big, 6ft tall muscular man that used to paint in the suburbs around paris in the early 1900's. He recalled:

"One afternoon in 1905, i was in Argenteuil and had just painted a scene of the seine with barges and the surrounding hillsides. The sun was scorching hot. My colors and brushes put away, I took my canvas and entered a small restaurant. A group of bargemen and stevedors were at the counter. While i drank a refreshing glass of white wine and soda, i noticed on a shelf - among bottles of Pernod, anicette and curacao- three African statues, to of them from Dahomey painted over in white and yellow and red ocher. The other from the Ivory Coast was all black. Was it because i had been out in the sun for two or three hours or the particular mood i was in that moment? Maybe it coincided with certain ideas i had been mulling over for some time? The three statuettes impressed me greatly. I instinctively sensed their inherent power. They revealed African art to me... I asked the owner to sell them to me. At first, he refused. I insisted, but after much hesitation, unwillingness, and apologies, he finally gave them to me under the condition that i would pay a round of red wine to everybody here; and i so left with the three figures."

This result of in a sense "keeping his eyes open" and not looking at the ground, looking around, absorbing all the visual information around him led Maurice to aqquire posessions that not only he loved, but influenced his work. Looking further than just the normal and noticing incidental details of my surroundings is an idea that helps me to draw inspiration in my art from everyday life. Althought libraries, art galleries and the internet are very good resources that I frequently use, the chance meeting of my friend and the enlightened stranger has allowed me to draw inspiration from everything around me. A drip running down the window of my bus has become a motif that has enriched my current artistic direction to an amazing degree.

My advice to everyone is the same advice the stranger gave my friend. Don't look down, look up and around you, absorb your surroundings, look even further.