Jazz Green : Artist Journal

All posts tagged with... ‘philosophy’

April 10th, 2013

hello reader, this is my all-time favourite mug…

artist studio mug shot

[mug shot]

it’s a hornsea (lion) mug dating from the 1970s, a design created out of cut-up & collaged newsprint typography. unfortunately, i put this mug in in the microwave one day and after that it became a little bit crazed on the inside, and it was later resigned to a more solitary mug’s life in the artist’s room.

some glimpses of other things i have been pondering on lately…

corrugated metal sheets

[shed : stored]

artist studio - corrugated iron shed

[shack : stacked]

wood bark panels sculpture - artist studio

[wood : engraving]

i like the idea of living in a rustic cabin in the middle of the woods, but i’ve been floored by the resolution of this piece. this is another woodwork artwork i started last year. when i realised i would probably never get the opportunity to present it in the right context i (sort of) gave up on it, because its visual aesthetic largely depends upon the neutrality of a white space. i also realised i was making it for no other reason than i wanted (or needed) to, and maybe it doesn’t have a particular place to be right now.

artist studio - wood bark art sculpture

[wood, work in progress]

some people may deride the clinical whiteness of the typical gallery space, but if art is to have any element of transcendence from the ordinary then perhaps it needs such an environment for its debut into the world of contemporary art, one which is conducive to looking & experiencing firsthand, for the invocation of thoughts in response to the expression of the artist’s ideas – or so i once thought. on more than one occasion i have visited a local commercial gallery to see a ‘publicised’ exhibition only to find the work has already disappeared from the white walls (sold out).

interestingly, a few months back i bought (quite by chance) a secondhand copy of robert smithson’s collected writings, and shortly thereafter i read this:

A work of art when placed in a gallery loses its charge, and becomes a portable object or surface disengaged from the outside world. A vacant white room with lights is still a submission to the neutral. Works of art seen in such spaces seem to be going through a kind of esthetic convalescence. They are looked upon as so many inanimate invalids, waiting for critics to pronounce them curable or incurable. The function of the warden-curator is to separate art from the rest of society. Next comes integration. Once the work of art is totally neutralized, ineffective, abstracted, safe, and politically lobotomized it is ready to be consumed by society.

[robert smithson, the collected writings]

well, that nails the contextual argument to the clinical white wall of a gallery, and it brings new meaning to the term ‘art in the community’! – and so art often has to exist independently of these institutional limitations.

whatever the context (selling or exhibiting), every artist hopes for a good prognosis on their art (support & encouragement), and hopes their work (of art) has a life of its own. carefully administer a catalogue, an essay, a gallery talk, or a full-on interactive panel discussion, together with some general public engagement at regular intervals, will all keep the art (and the artist) alive and kicking. art’s consumers are also art’s life savers.

however, this leaves me even more befuddled about galleries & exhibitions, and the reasons for making or showing work…

this particular work evolved out of some ideas about nature’s means of regeneration and renewal, and a form of resurrection or symbolic reverence for something (a life) in the past, with an awareness of a separation from (its) nature heightened by the context. so too a relevance in the use of mundane building materials, respectfully returning them to their natural state. i wanted to recreate the presence or feeling of something (living) to recall the absence (or non-presence) of something (other). i had also spent some time at an old-fashioned woodyard sourcing oak for a family memorial commission, appreciating wood/nature from the tree to the table, as it were.

wood stacked blocks sculpture

[wood : blocked]

such notions of presence and non-presence are sometimes called hauntological:

the paradoxical state of the spectre, which is neither being nor non-being” (from wikipedia).

however, finding a precise definition of hauntological has proven rather difficult. i was interested in the artwork as a sculptural object embodying the spirit of something else, rather than a pictorial representation or illustration of a thing, which is (sometimes) the most literal means of conveying an idea about something.

a thing summons up another (non-present, or absent) thing. the absent thing becomes present and affects the meaning of the moment (the experience) and thereby the meaning of other things, for everything is inter-related through time and place, but this sounds like a crazy, oddball place in which someone like me will get “stuck” when making art, much like trying to connect all the dots – some confusion ensues.

the internet, as the always-on, social network, curiously also lures us into creating a presence to mark time passing, especially in the sharing of pictures, as if being in the moment – or perhaps more self-knowingly, on trend – drives repeated affectations of instant reminiscences about an everyday event (the now ubiquitous, sun-faded or vignetted photograph, for example – i remember 1978 – it looks just like instagram!). although the social networks’ daily updates, annotations and user timelines soon become an archive of our social discourse these life-historical waymarkers appear to direct the travel (and any passing interest) in only one direction – onwards!

there is little space for personal recollection, history or a sense of time when it is all too soon buried by the now and the next. paradoxically, this relentless need for nowness also needs quite a lot of our time – so when do we find the time to reflect on & reconnect the now with the accumulating thoughts, ideas and experiences of the past to bring fresh meaning to things? well, most artists try to do this (when they can).

i wonder if there is any hauntological significance to the process of ‘mediating’ a ’subject’ for the purpose of making art, as all art has a subject, even if its subject is only itself. the painter mediates his/her choice of subject through graphical marks, gestures in paint, qualities of colour, texture, surface – but are artists mediating experiences or the experience of making the art? (it’s just a thought…)

does endless theorising about this sort of stuff merely embellish and refine the artwork for presentation to a specific audience? probably.

most interestingly, someone i follow on twitter recently wrote in an article, bad language, that words about the art often (need to) come before the emergence of the art:

The professionalisation of artistic practice, with its emphasis on artists’ statements and the academic blitzkrieg of the crit, has bound the act of making with that of describing, so that many works of contemporary art seem to enter the world backwards, text-first.

[ben street, bad language]

street goes on to say that the ’text’ is also tantamount to a dress code in the art world, a protocol for professional inclusion, and a critical contribution to any discourse on contemporary art. ongoing discussions about art – between the artists (and the making of their work), their peers, critics & curators, gallerists and collectors – are crucial to audience engagement: the conversation has no absolute beginning or conclusion, it is revisited and revised (by the artist and others), as ideas and thoughts shift in emphasis and meaning, moving us closer to the surface of greater understanding.

therefore, presentation and context is important – assuming the art has been made to be exhibited somewhere (and not created in situ in response to a given location/space, which is the other story). sometimes too much stuff (interior architecture, crowds, texts) gets in the way of the experience, but not always (obviously). i saw an art exhibition in a disused industrial space (much like the original freeze exhibition), and although i didn’t need a text to experience the work, it was interesting to refer to. often critics and writers illuminate the artists’ concerns better, as if (at the very least) two minds are required to consolidate the work as art – and where one confidently leads the way others will surely follow – but to disagree or debate is also a good thing in art.

woodbark art sculpture

[wood : wood]

the small landscape of my personal art world changed and i am packing up this artwork along with everything else related to my art. the question i have long been pondering was answered. i am thankful to the mug for starting a conversation about purpose and value, although i see i have written too many words, once again.

sorry about the thingness thing…

February 12th, 2012

the surfaces of the sculptural ‘woodwork’ pieces have progressed which has in turn inspired something else…

sculptural relief wood panels in art studio

see previous states of this work in progress here: on making art again and not a painting, not a sculpture.

on the much smaller panels (gesso on wood), there is a deep bloom of patina, quite muted and monochromatic at the moment, with the illusion of atmospheric depth (if it is a given that painting is always an illusion).

patina on gesso wood panels in art studio

and inbetween things, some sketchbook drawing…

in the new year i decided to watch three tarkovsky films almost back-to-back (a feat of visual endurance) with some sideline dipping into ‘sculpting in time‘. it was interesting to compare tarkovsky’s writings on art and film to the ‘the non-object through painting‘ (with only six illustrations!) – slow looking, slow narratives, subtle signs and symbols that we wait (or wish) to discover for what they might reveal to us about the perilous course (and meaning) of life – allusions and analogies aplenty.

art is born and takes hold wherever there is a timeless and insatiable longing for the spiritual, for the ideal: that longing which draws people to art.

andrei tarkovsky, sculpting in time

there are always books of various kinds ‘open’ here, as art seems unavoidably connected to various strands of philosophical thinking – artists are natural thinkers although we may take some time to arrive at any clear conclusions.

last week i read an excerpt of foucault’s the order of things; back in 2007 a work colleague had mentioned this book, because of foucault’s critical discussion of the interplay of analogies or ‘similitudes‘ as he terms them, to communicate and construct a universal ‘taxonomy’ of knowledge (inspired by a story by borges). this resonated with me:

the interplay of duplicated resemblances to all the realms of nature; it provides all investigation with an assurance that everything will find its mirror and its macrocosmic justification on another and larger scale; it affirms, inversely, that the visible order of the highest spheres will be found reflected in the darkest depths of the earth.

michel foucault, the order of things

i found some of foucault’s textual expressions quite poetic (obviously in translation) but mostly it seemed too convoluted in its reasoning and argument to grasp it fully. i could see how my work colleague found this book a stimulating read, as a collector of things, how someone working in art or education could create new taxonomies, creating new meanings and connections out of collections of things. you can read more about foucault’s concepts here.

however, foucault’s reference to ‘nature’ drew me back into thinking once more about the miniature world of lichens, and also to many years back, when i worked for a while in a herbal dispensary, learning more about various healing plants and their connections to organs and functions of the body. i recall the ’story’ my boss told me of the plant usnea (a type of hairy lichen, also known as oak moss), how it was once harvested from the rotting skulls of dead soldiers and then used to treat the wounds and infections of the other (alive!) soldiers in the battle field. i am not sure how true this story is although the plant is known for its antibiotic properties. extracts of willow bark reduces pain & inflammation and oak bark is a powerful astringent, suggesting that their ‘nature’ or constitution (such as willows near flowing water) somehow aptly signifies their medicinal benefits.

thinking of weeping willows and oak trees and the history of herbal medicine (many herbal cures & remedies originate from china) draws me back to the non-object through painting again and to the notion of the ‘holistic’. the inter-connectedness of nature feels to be one of one vast, breathing organism, a symbiosis of forms and space, between being and non-being, as he describes:

true resemblance lies in the allusivity to the invisible dimension that permeates the concrete particularity.

françois jullien

the ambiguity that resides between space and form, between the real and the imagined, the perceived and the invisible is difficult to express in art without some outward expression of an object, a physical, lasting presence – which leads me back to materiality of process and the making of art in the physical absence of the ‘thing’ that it represents, and that in time the ‘thing’ will make itself visible again. is this the difference between western reasoning & eastern spiritualism..? that a form need not have to represent (or depict) the original form (a look-a-likeness) to be truthful, but could appear as a re-representation in a new form/space, as an emblem or a symbol for it, or (as i have understood from the book), a ‘transcendence‘ of it. in essence, one need not  ‘picture’ the whole form to ’see’ it whole.

also fascinating to watch a while back, was the bbc documentary ‘the strange science of decay‘, how slime mould so efficiently & intelligently ‘grows’ and maps out a network in the search for nutrients for its survival, a pattern mirroring modern transport systems – and thinking along similar lines, how certain cells in the body when observed under the microscope function like miniature cities, or how the network of blood vessels mirror the spreading branches of a tree. this is not the stuff of science analogy, it is the stuff of life and the cosmos (but i am not a scientist).

mould seen through a microscope

last summer i took some photographs of grape mould through the lens of a cheap (a child’s) microscope…

mould seen through a microscope

and a couple years ago, while photographing some lichens, i also stopped to gaze at the miniature landscape of mosses growing on a grave. who wouldn’t find such micro-landscapes fascinating to observe?

moss landscape

moss landscape

i was reminded of a more reflective, spiritual path in art earlier this week on hearing about the death of the catalan painter, antoni tàpies. for the media to describe tàpies as an abstract painter (abstract reduced to the expression of a style) rather misses the material complexity and the philosophical, symbolic content so evident in much of his work. i first got to know about tàpies’ work when i was an art student and his work regularly appeared in the high-end galleries of london. around this time, the work of the artist anselm kiefer also started to become more widely known and there are many similarities in their work.

for all the ambiguity of my painting [et amicorum, 1978], i wanted it to express a central theme: it signifies both a symbolic gift to all friends of painting – only they really know that its beauty belongs only to those who love it! – and a homage to my best friends, books…

antoni tàpies [in tàpies, andreas franzke]

December 7th, 2011

more pictures from the artist’s studio. not a painting, not a sculpture…

wood, bark, abstract art on panel

it’s quite dark in the cave and things dry quite slowly…

wood bark, trees, abstract art on panel

the remains of the day (a previous day, with a knife and fork)…

wood, trees, bark, abstract art sculpture

surface…

wood, bark, textural abstract sculptural art

texture…

wood, trees, bark, abstract art sculptural

edge…

things are not perfect. i won’t waste time with too many words today, people like to look at the pictures…

nature, reclaim, change, transience, decay, disintegrate, rot, renewal, trees, garden, prune, cut, lop, fell, fall, snip, sort, stack, season, slumber, lumber, weather, time, rain, cold, damp, heat, sun, light, shade, shadow, dark, layers, shift, shape, scrape, form, texture, grain, growth, habitat, shelter, wood, bark, bark again, out of the woods, into the cave, art, no landscapes, no people…

i have been working in the evenings, mostly (in the dark cave, away from images of reality). i have enjoyed working on these new pieces although perhaps enjoy is not the most appropriate word in this context. the process of making feels very focused, methodical, mindful, intimate, quiet, intense, as the work begins to take on subtleties of surface & form and there is some excitement in them coming to a considered conclusion.

i can’t recall a famous artist ever saying that they love what they do. they may speak of passion, determination, a sense of enquiry or curiosity, about scenes & situations, the issues & incidents of life. to simply love art implies unconditional acceptance that everything is perfect (or at least, it feels right), but making art is always a struggle of the will to make meaningful new things, to make them in a way that makes sense (and purpose) out of their creation. however, like the wabi sabi phrase, ‘nothing is ever finished’, making art also feels like a thoughtful, ongoing conversation, the memory of which lingers strongly in the mind long after the event, to be resumed again on another day…

see also the previous post, on making art again

in other news… i have acquired a new book to read, which you might have deciphered from a previous post. i have only read the first few pages, my eyes are very tired…

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The website of British Fine Artist Jazz Green MA RCA. Abstract landscape paintings, fine art photography. All images and text copyright the artist.