Yesterday I saw a grass snake, the first in many years, at around 24″ long, he appeared languidly from behind some plant pots, taking a sun bath, but as soon as I moved in to view him closer he slithered away into the long grass… and with no camera, no photo opportunity. Significant perhaps as I was born in the year of the snake, according to the Chinese horoscope. Ah, the symbol of the snake; enigmatic, graceful, alert but cautious, astute and somewhat secretive.
Which leads me to think about the game Snakes and Ladders, a moral parable of the path of life, its ups and downs, of taking and giving, avarice and temptation versus piety and generosity of spirit. Life as an artist could be such a game, in which you climb selfishly to reach new perspectives, but one ladder will only reach so far and it is a singular adventure, many can help steady it, but only one will climb to the top. A sign perhaps that we need to to take risks, move out of the comfort zone, avoid falling into the easy trappings of formulaic and derivative work. It seems too, talking to other artists, that it is quite natural to have fallow periods occasionally, where the creative urge wanes and needs fresh input, or when you receive rejections which dent the spirit, or you decide to pursue ideas quietly without any reference to an audience (or an income).
I have been to see the Margaret Mellis retrospective and the Constructed exhibitions at the Sainsbury Centre and it was an eye-opener.
The exhibition is indeed a celebration of her life and her work. Reading and watching Mellis, it seems she became her most productive after the move to Southwold, the work beforehand being quite minimal and sparse in contrast (even the dates on the few earlier works displayed are vague). I found out much more about Mellis, such as she lived in a village not far from where I spent some of my childhood years, prior to moving on to the coast… her artistic productivity there helped no doubt by the numerous offerings of beach detritus from far and wide.
It is strange to think that she was creating these wonderfully colourful abstract constructions at a time when I struggled to find much joy in art classes at school, classes which consisted of drawing sliced cabbages and reflections of newspapers in chrome kettles… although I am grateful I persisted with a 2B pencil as my only medium at the time, since a myopic scrutiny of things is the eyesight of an artist.
Here are some of my own mixed media collages from the mid ’90s when I was known as Jasmine Green, of no relation at all to the delightfully scented tea. It feels especially fulfilling when you make connections between your own work and another artist’s many years after the event…
