Please note: some of the other recent work can be viewed in the Oct 10 - Mar 11 artblog archive.
08/12/11
The weather is wild out there right now and I'm bunkering down in the studio, drinking gallons of hot tea, keeping all heaters on full blast, listening to my history of Rome podcasts and generally getting on with things while enduring the bleak Tayside weather. The river looks like Cape Horn today.
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The worst bit is usually walking home. That's when the general bleakness of Dundee life gets to me. It's also the time when my energy starts to give up. I'll have a little time back in the flat to eat food and noodle on the internet before I sleep. The wind rattling the windows doesn't bother me but the newly sprung leak in my ceiling is less than welcome. The other night, I found myself shivering in the dark, hustling about to put saucepans under the drips. Then I lay under the blankets listening to the 'plink...plink' and the rain battering the windows, wondering how likely the ceiling was to come crashing down and squash me in my sleep. That would be inconvenient.
I should also mention that my bed is full of plaster dust but that's just me taking my work home with me. |
So the work continues. There isn't much time until the winter break. I've been putting in some serious hours to bring a few things to a point of semi-conclusion. These last nights have seen me leave the studio at half ten or eleven o clock. It leaves me shaky and my labyrinthitis is playing up. It'll be worth it though.
The pooled shape underneath the second of the Elephant's Foot pieces is a relatively easy thing to form and a lot of fun. For one thing, it's size is manageable on a table surface. Unlike other pieces, I don't have to duck and dive around it. Unfortunately, I forgot to take a photograph before starting the molding process so this is the last one I have. The rippling effect is now much more detailed and subtle than this - less cartoon-like.
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Molding Able was always going to be a tricky task. I spent a little time with Phong, the sculpture technician, planning how to separate the constituent parts. He suggested removing the arms to mold them separately but then it became apparent that the whole thing would keel over without the arms to support the weight of the trunk, head and chest.
eventually, I planned out an eight part division of forms. This would mean applying the liquid layer of coloured plaster (coloured grey to blend in more seamlessly with the iron should pieces get trapped in the cast) in a step by step process, isolating other areas by masking them with plastic. Treating the human form with these layers of protection seems to emphasise a lurking vulnerability about the pose. |
The concern of overall weight was always at the forefront of my mind. It was tempting to mold the figure from the feet up but the mass of plaster on the torso could easily have distorted the spine and split the form ahead of time. I got into the familiar production line of preparing bowl after bowl of plaster.
Eventually, the form was covered in eight segments. The abdomen/chest area was particularly difficult to get access to but any little errors there will be difficult to spot in the final cast. A few strengthening splints will keep everything solid while the plaster cures.
If I get the mold cleared in the next week, I can let it dry over the coming weeks.
In the meantime, I've started thinking more about the poses of Baker and Charlie. The latter is insisting itself more on my plans. I'm still uncertain as to whether to have him against a wall or simply sitting on a bench structure. Should he even be on the floor, waiting for his chance in the sun?
So, I've started drawing from life again - mulling things over. Psychologically, it was good to get Able's form out the way first. I knew the challenge of posture and the plinth setting he gets would be a hurdle. I'm almost looking forward to what I may foolishly think of as the relative simplicity of the remaining two forms. Still, it's the subtleties of the pose that are paramount and unexpected things always seem to throw the manufacture in a new direction.
I keep having to remind myself that the humidifier needs to be accommodated in each case. A section of the figure or it's setting must be wide enough to fit it in
Time to head back to the flat. The wind sounds like it is dying down a little. I'm beginning to look forward to the winter break. A little enforced nothing might be good for me. My energy still seems high but I'm wary of overdoing things again, particularly at such a crucial time. |
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28/11/11
I'm in the thick of it - there's no place I'd rather be.
The studio work would almost be mundane if it weren't so enjoyable. The conceptual side of things seems worked out and now I am fulfilling the role of builder or technician - not an artist. Well, I have a handful of creative outlets on the go but right now I am engaged with manufacture first and foremost.
The resin heads have been weathered with a variety of exotic chemicals. Each test-piece has been wrapped in fabric and wood chips, soaked in water and acid for a couple of weeks - then cleaned, dried and reconnected to the humidifiers to continue the rusting.
I couldn't be happier with the results. I don't need to worry about how the full figures will look - the process is taking care of itself now. I'm just a caretaker now, I engineer the finished result and it is busy work.
The studio is slowly but surely filling up with the molds, armatures and other fragments of what will make up the finished 'installation'.
The second part of the 'elephant's foot' is underway. This is the sequel - the continuation of the abstract narrative. The viscous substance has, in this case, reached the floor. The form pools on the ground. I've decided to disconnect the pooling mass from the parent frame. This is the first tangible evidence of it.
Presently, the form is in clay alone. I'm still debating as to introducing a seam or point of disconnection from the upper mass. I'm still drawing it out and playing with the effect. A smooth clay form like this is somewhat easier these days - practice of previous terms have made this less of a hurdle. Maybe its just the sheer physical scale. I know I have bigger forms to tackle than this. |
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An example of which would be this guy - the first of the three 'personifications' of the Crossroads tests, this is 'Able'.
Able is the air burst, the success story, the nuclear genie out of the bottle, the escaped potential. Right now, I'm modeling him at ground level for the convenience of molding but the finished cast will sit atop the steel cage. Technical challenges include allowing room for the humidifier without distorting the pose as well as the mold-making itself. Able is a sophisticated pose for a figurative form and will not be easy to capture. I predict long, plaster-dusty evenings ahead.
Able's cage is complete and beautifully functional. The plinth it currently stand on is yet to be upholstered or wired to accommodate the humidifier's power supply.
At present, I'm pleased that the base makes a simple but fundamental difference. It elevates the cage window from head height to display height, It subtly but decisively alters the implied interaction of the cage to something unattainable and more 'on display'.
Of course, there is no alternative at this point but to stick to the plan and see how the whole ensemble comes together as a finished piece. I can't help feeling that this addresses the issue of the 'plinth' in a gallery context in a variety of different ways. I think about Gormley's recent Hermitage exhibition - the audacious raising of the floor to cover the plinths and render the figures as equals to the humans watching them.
Similarly, there is a nod to the frequent architectural 'props' that augment Munoz's figures. Obviously this is on the brain as I've spent so much time writing about the guy's work.
Regardless of the art-historical comparisons, I find this structure wonderful. I can't wait to place Able on top of it. |
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11/11/11
The first of the wall pieces has been captured under plaster, saving the form. I spent about four days struggling with the finishing of the surface texture. Adding lumps of broken plaster and coating them with clay slip, I kept adding a natural, outdoor, almost industrial texture reminiscent of some of the images from Chernobyl which gives the 'elephant's foot' it's nickname. Still, after a while the surface seemed too fussy, too contrived - somehow lacking the honesty that I prefer to give paintings. I suppose that's what this is, a painting without colour or tone, only texture. Anyway, I edited the surface again and again, scaling back the texture and making quick, un-self conscious decisions about the outer surface. Like all decisions of finish on a surface, I find it best to apply it and then scale it back for a subtler look.
After this, 170 kilos of plaster made up the mould. With the combined weight of the wooden scaffolding, the clay, armature and plaster took the whole structure to a weight of about 250 kilos. A good few helpful volunteers stood along one edge to lift the thing through ninety degrees to stand against the wall. After that, I breathed a sigh of relief. The mold had not cracked and the interior form could be pulled from the interior with a minimum of difficulty. Now the plaster form is all that remains of the piece - the negative space in which the iron/resin mixture will be applied. For now, the thing has to dry as much as possible before it takes the hazardous trip to the sculpture workshops.
I've learned lessons from this piece. It's companion will be constructed in the same manner but with the important addition of a palette under the structure so it can be moved more effectively. Furthermore, I'm going to seal the armature with shellac and sterilise the floor space underneath to prevent it from becoming such a paradise for spiders and mould.
I've started work with some of the figurative pieces too. This armature is the beginnings of a figure that will be crouched on top of it's 'plinth'.
Deciding on the pose was relatively simple. A series of life-drawings as well as numerous photographs of myself crawling along the top of a wooden box led to a complex pose. Kneeling, curled up and reaching down the length of one corner, there is nothing simple about the form. A roughness of finish is the key for these pieces. Not forgetting, the interior cavity must have room for a humidifier to sit and the piece must be relatively easy to open so the water tank can be refilled. |
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The plinth itself is this cage structure. At six feet high, the figure atop will tower above the viewer. Added height will have to be taken into account as a broad, flat lower plinth will take the weight of the cage as well as serving as a receptacle for drips of rusty water falling from the figure.
A final complication is the addition of a power supply - a cable will be neatly camouflaged within the cage corners so as to power the humidifier and possibly a light source although I'm undecided on that. There are sobering issues to be addressed. what with the combination of steel, dripping water and electricity, things will have to be kept safe for the viewer and, more importantly, me.
At this point, the cage needs a little grinding to tidy the welds and of course a liberal coat of glossy black paint. There will also be a bolt and padlock added to the door. I want this thing to be as least 'art' as possible. I want to make it so functional it could be mistaken for a found object.
So, the manufacture continues. Most day's I feel like a builder more than an artist and that's just fine with me right now. The other side of the work is the conceptual. I tackle that with a different brain. |
Consolidating the thoughts and themes behind this body of work has been a long process of dragging things from across my range of interests, allowing it to marinate in whatever language of imagery I've cobbled together over the last three years and eventually pruning the whole mass to the point that I can create a coherent and powerful body of work. There's an unashamed emphasis on making an impact, a 'show' as well. Rather than going into it in depth in the Artblog, I ended up writing an essay on the over-arching themes - partly for the academic staff to read but also as a way of distilling and refining the ideas. Without simplifying it too much, the Crossroads atomic tests of 1946 and issues of access to nuclear energy provide a framework for the work - and you can read all about it here.
The studio space is becoming a shrine to these themes.
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28/10/11
I've started working on one of the larger pieces I've had planned for a while. This is the first of the 'elephant's foot' works, so called as it is inspired by a lump of radioactive material under the site of the main reactor in the remains of the Chernobyl disaster site. Put simply, when the reactor went into meltdown, a mix of overheated nuclear fuel, steel and concrete formed a molten viscous mass that congealed in the foundations of the structure. I'm going to get into the artistic and thematic raison-d'etre of most of the large scale work at a later date in a separate document so for now I'll just stick to the fabrication stuff.
The wooden armature was expanded with further supports followed by mesh, plaster and scrim to bulk out the basic form. That was surprisingly painless considering how vital it is to get the underlying shape right. Clay was then added in great lumps, bit by bit - a lot of clay.
The clay was smoothed down with water, a piece of cloth and my trusty kitchen knife in a long process that required me to continuously bend and stretch around the piece. This left me covered from head to foot in plaster dust and clay but I got there in the end. I know that I'm not going to leave the form in this smoothed state. I want to include a subtle layer of texture that implies debris within the mass but it would be too easy to overwork it. As long as the 'liquid' nature of the form is correct, just a few scraps of clay randomly arranged on the surface should bring it to a completed state.
One big mistake - I should have put down beams of wood first to rest the whole armature on. Once the plaster mold is complete, the whole thing is going to have to be lifted to stand against the wall. Lifting that amount of weight is going to be trouble so I've fabricated some steel handles to embed into the edges of the mold.
The form is simplistic and fundamental in nature. we are so ingrained with the understanding of the effects of gravity and the flow of liquid that we have no problem processing and recognizing the essence of these kinds of shapes. But, like a painting, this thing is an illusion - a contrivance of the real deal. Liquid dynamics is governed utterly by the maths of the process and we instinctively know when it isn't right. Slight errors are very noticeable and wreck the illusion easily.
Past experience of being driven to distraction by correcting these kinds of forms has given me a far sterner eye for detail. The condition of the clay is essential. It is layered on thickly to allow room for editing. |
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The two experimental heads have been cast and conditioned. As I feared, the heavy texturing trapped a lot of the mold plaster into the surface so I spent a great deal of time with dental picks and the sand-blaster getting them out. I started using the Dremel to lightly scour and drill them out of the little nooks and crannies in the surface. Then - a eureka moment.
I knew I wanted to use the humidifier to weather iron surfaces but I wasn't certain if it would be used in 3D work or not. While mulling this over I realised that I could use the Dremel to cut precise holes through the surface of the fiberglass but those holes would be hidden by the pits in the sculpture. So, if I simply direct the water vapor inside the sculpture, the pieces will seethe with 'smoke' - condensing and running down the rusting surface. That was the theory anyway. Suddenly, these two experimental heads became test subjects for 'proof-of-concept' as they say on Mythbusters.
And it works.
technically, it is hard work to seal the underside so that pressure is maintained inside each piece but there is more than enough vapor slowly oozing out of the surface to cater for a full-sized figure. such a figure could be fabricated with the humidifier inside - becoming a self-contained system of a human presence, still yet animated, seething with chemical energy.
Already the surface is changing, becoming vibrant with the colours of oxidation. This helps satisfy the urge I had with last year's work - to refine and finish a piece so far and then allow random chance to take its toll on the condition of finish. There's something about iron and its twin, rust. There's some kind of honesty I feel in not allowing colour to limit me - not having to choose which tube of paint, which kind of varnish. Maybe that's why sculpture claims to be its own academic discipline. I'm still experiencing painterly dilemmas but there's a freedom to 3D work. I know that the big projects underway are ultimately my 'answer' to the problems I have with painting, with galleries, with people.
Enough rambling. In a complete aside I'm happy to be going through a season of excellent cinema. Like 2007, there seems to be a raft of movies that are impressing me more than the last. 2007 bowled me over with The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford and the astonishing There Will Be Blood. This year is a similar experience for me with each successive break I give myself from the studio taken in the DCA cinema. Particularly, Lars Von Trier's Melancholia is a bleak wonder.
I wouldn't normally talk much about cinema on this page but, as in this case, I feel an affinity of intent and atmosphere with what I'd like to achieve. This film is utterly joyless and unsentimental in some regards and bursting with emotion in others. Lars Von Trier is a love 'em or hate 'em kind of film-maker. For me, Melancholia is vying for the top spot of my favourite movies list.
Time to go back to Glasgow. I have a full weekend of putting ink into people's skin and playing music to drunk people.
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06/10/11
I took time away from the blog for the summer months. I was tattooing solidly and had little time to catch a breath let alone deal with the embryonic musings of the next stage of studio work. Then, just as I was thinking about jotting down a few of the first ideas, I had a major laptop malfunction that deleted all my FTP software and backed-up files. Anyway, all is well and its time to get back into the habit of writing again.
My fourth year studio set up is great. I'm in one of the 'sheds'. These are separate buildings from the bulk of the other studios that have larger open spaces and tend to suit people working with large-scale work or maybe just a great deal of it. As a separate building it is also the only studio space with 24 hour access so I've already been able to work a few late nights - although we are officially discouraged from bringing in camp beds and gas-stoves.
I know what I have to do - what I plan to make. I've started with some maquettes that I've arranged in a formal frame structure. The rose in a glass here represents the height of the gallery viewer.
These pieces are a continuation of the studies in materiality, gravity and narrative that are couched in the notion of painting as image versus painting as object. They will be cast in iron again to allow for weathering and rusting. The exact texture is elusive right now but I have a couple of ideas I'm playing with.
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The armatures for these objects are large and cumbersome. The form will be rendered with clay and other materials embedded in it. They can then be coated with a clay slip to allow contact with the plaster mould.
These forms have the advantage of allowing for a single piece mould (or very close to it) that should hopefully allow for a seamless finish to the final cast.
Overall texture is a difficult area right now - and not just for these pieces. There's a modern trend for an extremely rough, bold, thrown together kind of feel. I'm drawn to this but I don't want the surface to appear lazy, nor too slick. So many of the art-history connotations of surface are unknown to me. I think I have a good intuition for sculptural decisions and my naivety is part of that approach - there's a freshness in it.
I'll still be using the iron and the means to decay it. The colours and lustre are really satisfying. They carry a sense of age and importance but also a contemporary feel that bronze lacks. |
I'll be applying the weathered / aged / weighty look to wooden structures again. The antagonistic spike-element is demanding an appearance. A large-scale piece is in the works for a later date. It requires a great deal of manufacture and smart engineering. For now, I'm thinking about the finish of the wood.
I'd like to use the surface to be sealed and rewarding despite the 3D form. I'm curious to see how effectively I can establish text on the surface and still allow the natural grain of the wood and pigmented fibres to show through. I have in mind a wall-based surface that engages as a painting. It has a visually rewarding surface that encourages investigation and leads the eye across its surface. If this object can invade the viewers space and antagonise, even threaten, all the better.
Finally, I'm going to make some figurative, life-size pieces. I'm reconciling my gallery issues by acknowledging the human presence within them. I'm doing this by introducing my own human presence into the gallery in the form of human analogues. They will be sculptural but not elevated to the status of art by delivering them on a plinth. Nor will they simply exist on display. They will inhabit the gallery, not the space. They will be viewers as much as artwork and they will interact with the artwork as do the real humans.
So, I've been regularly drawing from life again. This is a skill that gets rusty really fast if neglected and I booked a good few intense days of drawing throughout the last few weeks. It took a while to get up to speed.
Again, the issue is texture.
There's a lot of information in drawings that we don't register when simply looking at flesh - it is also often left out of painting. I like the idea of bringing in that extra information into a sculptural form. This doesn't mean exaggerating scale or proportion but it does mean emphasising the physicality of the object.
If possible, I want to avoid getting bogged down in precise finish and modeling of details such as ears and fingers. That would defeat the purpose of having the figures there at all. If I can render the overall form in the correct posture and energy then the detail should take care of itself.
The drawing is a pleasure and a chore in turns. It's strange how the brain is utterly capable of achieving the required results one day and not the next. The next step is to concentrate on a few particular poses I have in mind for the actual pieces. Some may be less than comfortable for the models to hold. |
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I've started with two preparatory 'heads'. I'm testing some things out. First - what kind of texture fits the purpose? I've been throwing in clay very loosely and quickly. If the piece looks too correct than I've been slamming it with a piece of timber to give me a few chance effects as well as erasing any workmanship that looks too self-conscious. Second - how long does the whole thing take? This addresses the mold-making, the casting, patination, finish and all the stages of drying and manufacture that working with fibreglass resin and iron require. Timescale is so particularly important these days and there's no point embarking on a majorly ambitious project if it can't be completed.
So this is just practice. every little technique helps. Every little repetition of fabrication goes a long way to adding to the final effect. Above all, I'm aware that while it is good to be set and decided on the nature of the work to come, time spent working also generates the little happy accidents that so often contribute to a finished work.
I always work hard on this kind of thing. Time not spent in the studio is time spent feeling guilty. I find it hard to wrench myself away from my plans in order to concentrate on the written side of things. This is another reason behind this late update.
I have to remember the dangers. I made myself ill this time last year and I still feel the symptoms of the labyrinthitis today. I feel a glee in overwork. It helps to keep me happy and I am very happy these days. I have the luxury of engaging with projects like this and I have the love and support of the one who keeps me sane when I remember to take a moment to breathe.
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30/04/11
I'm sitting in a packed-up room, waiting for my ride back to Glasgow. Dundee is gloriously sunny. This is weather I associate with the book-ending of the academic year - the bulk of working I associate with darkness, snow and ice. The studio became transformed for the end of year assessment. All the scraps and fragments of sculpture, all the drawings and scribbles, all the crusted paper cups congealed with resin and weird chemicals, all were cleared to give the space the vague air of the orderly ambience of the gallery.
Inevitably, I'm taking stock of what may or may not feel like a complete body of work. The academic staff are very happy with what they've seen and graded me accordingly but both they and I agree that fewer working methods on display would have made all this feel a little more coherent. Certainly, I see this display as an archive of experiments with materials and themes. As I leave the third year and prepare for fourth I'm already considering the shift in emphasis from academic experimentation to the impact of a show.
The rust-frames exemplify this. The process of chemical transformation and its appearance of the dripping water on a plastic surface show us the process and intent. Stripping the plastic away and revealing the rusted panels deliver the impact of output. This dualism is uneasy and conflicting. This dualism needs to be satisfyingly resolved.
Anyway, I have time to think things over and whatever pressure I put myself under has been relieved for a little while. I've had a curious, hypnotic week here in Dundee. I've wandered in to the studios in the morning to refill the humidifier - the extent of my art-school involvement for the assessment period. I've been unwinding by swimming huge distances, wandering aimlessly, tinkering with the possibilities of my new phone and watching horror movies. Duncan of Jordanstone is largely empty save for the distant sound of hammering as someone somewhere struggles with their installation or whatever.
I'm interested in the changes that will happen next year - the new work, the new studio space (I'm being encouraged to occupy one of the 'sheds' - larger areas with 24 hour access usually used for bigger 3D construction) not to mention the final academic writings, the dissertation. Unfortunately, Dr. Jon Blackwood is leaving this summer. I'll be sorry to see him go. As of those of his colleague, Euan MacArthur, his lectures and support have been excellent.
I'm keen on what the summer holds, too. After traveling every weekend to continue tattooing, I'm looking forward to a more relaxed structure of being in the shop constantly and doing as much as I can.
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I'm really enjoying the potential of tattooing, the variation in line thickness and the subtlety in shading.
Learning a new tool is fun, plain and simple - especially once you get over the initial nerves. I'm so much happier with the machine in my hand than I used to be.
In the case of this project, the terrifying imagery happily justifies the early drawings of a young boy. I think about all those gleeful hours drawing dripping skulls and zombies. Preparing a tattoo like this comes easily. Its the more refined and delicate work I'm aching for the day when someone asks me to design a full sleeve crammed with roses. |
Working on a large scale is rewarding, particularly of something is specifically designed for an individual. This tribal sleeve is great experience for someone like me. There's a huge amount to learn from positioning the client, the variations in skin texture as well as the actual flow of the piece. More than most artistic pursuits, the practicalities insist themselves very quickly. While this design isn't what I'd choose for myself, I've enjoyed giving the client what he wants. It's a rewarding feeling seeing it come together.
So, it's time to leave Dundee again and enjoy the summer. I can hardly believe the next academic year is the last.
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19/04/11
I'm tired.
Regular readers of this page will notice the redesign of the whole site. I've been working solidly on it, trying to push it to a finish rather than let it draw out into a tedious chore. Anyway, this is a short entry in the blog to give the changes a nod. The Gallery is updated to include the newer sculptural pieces. At present there are a couple of small sections still needing updating but they can wait.
As for the blog, everything is archived and this page starts afresh.
Anyway - enjoy. I'm off to bed.
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