Embark again

Ooooh, the lovely artcornwall website has another review that includes reflections on yours truly's participation in the Embark ferry show in May this year. Thanks Rupert!! It does of course include reviews of the other artists' shows, I guess I should just mention that!!!

2nd Nature Review

A review of 2nd Nature has been published on the artcornwall website recently. The exhibition, which includes my piece Other Shores, has finished in the cathedral now, but continues at Vitreous gallery until the 13th. The review is by Joseph Clarke and has some good text and images - and an interesting nugget of information about my work that I didn't know... There's also a short video that shows some of the projections and stuff.

What do you do to unwind after organising an exhibition?

Visit an exhibition of course! After moving countless loads of twigs yesterday, I meandered over to Unity Woods near Redruth in the afternoon to see an exhibition of 3 artists' site specific work. Alison Sharkey, Steven Paige and Sovay Berriman subtly infiltrated the dark spaces with some thought provoking installations. In the mega clean up of the car this morning I appear to have thrown out the map of the installations with the titles on, but I can remember a couple of them...Steven's 'Dig' was an archaeological dig in a small clearing; Sovay's 'Sally' was a large piece of narrative, that had you thinking about sinister goings on in the vicinity and another of her pieces called Tom's Cabin was installed in what could have been the remains of a cabin, but now it's only got some tumble down walls and a chimney... Alison's pieces had titles that I can't remember - except one of them had the word 'pan' in it! (I am feeling very slack today!). Anyhow, here's a few pictures of the work:

This work of Alison's (above) was installed down a mine shaft; at the end of the oscillating, fluorescent 'ropes' (a long, long way down) were 3 barely visible plastic birds - the kind children fly. You could easily have missed this piece, if you didn't glimpse the strange fluorescent glow, or hear the low vibrations of the birds. It was one of my favourite pieces in the show. I liked the way you had to look down on a flying bird making you feel like a bird yourself, and they looked like they were flying in formation, so you wondered where they were headed and what was in the darkness below. Her other piece (left) also explored a mine shaft, this time with the blackness seeping out from below like a sinister, treacly river.

The two works above are by Sovay. I really liked the narrative piece Sally (left) because seeing text in an unusual context gives you different ways of finding meaning and associations. When you read the text you really imagine that the character is lying in this wood somewhere and wonder whether you ought to be looking for her! I'm not sure about the presentation of the piece though: I wonder what it would have felt like/looked like if it was made to look more like an official sign? It's interesting because you wonder whether the work really only exists in your imagination...

The picture on the left shows part of Steven's installation Dig. It was set out like an archaeological dig that was confined to the surface - if you dig deep around here, you'll end up in a tunnel or a shaft! At the other end of the dig was a one man tent, complete with sleeping bag that a friend took a cat nap in for a while! Curiously, things that had been 'dug up' on the surface were mainly broken toys - what on earth were they doing all the way out here in the deep, dark wood? And why were fallen trees laid in a circle (not Steven's doing!)? His installation really made you think about what people had used the space for as well as what's so often on the surface that we miss, clues to meanings, fragments... I really loved the way this piece made me think.

It was a great way to unwind. Definitely more fun than clearing up all the twigs and other remnants of the bower that are all over the house and garden in disarray. What am I going to do with it all now?! If anyone else wants to exhibit it, let me know!

Links to Sovay and Steven's websites are in the column on the left (listed under Artists).

And so to bed

It's been a very arty sort of day today: I went to Truro this morning to buy a new sketchbook and spotted the bunnies below; this afternoon I tidied up the studio a bit and this evening I went to a private view in Redruth to see Sovay Berriman's latest work The Great War. Great it was too.

She'd made a large, black 'mountain range' from timber, chicken wire and newspaper that was laid out on the floor, from where you could peer over the peaks and troughs like a bird on the wing. It reminded me of a computer model, but the relative crudeness of its construction was far more satisfying. There were several small but mountainous drawings on the walls, as well as a mysterious piece of sparkly black 'rock'. Staring at this paper and glitter construction I began to worry about the magpie feeling I had rising in my stomach. Hmmmm, that would look really good in my bower.... Resisting the urge to steal it while Sovay's back was turned I picked up a short narrative piece that was also included in the exhibition. The couple of lines printed in a courier font on thin, yellowing paper made me feel like I'd stumbled into someone's journal of strange landscapes and for me gave colour and meaning to the whole exhibition.

After a bit of socialising I drove home thinking about birds and glittery things and when I got back decided I would go straight up stairs and try out an idea I'd had earlier in the day. I decided I'd sit in bed and work on it. The great idea was to attach one of my waxed birds to a string of child's beads that I'd picked up last week. The most practicable way of doing this was to use a bradawl to make a hole through the bird. So there I sat, tucked up in the duvet with a robin and a bradawl and I took the plunge. At the moment the sharp point penetrated the wax and skeleton of the bird I was almost asphyxiated by a noxious smell. I probably deserved it, but why did I have to be in bed at the time?! The smell (I couldn't decide whether it was of burning or putrefaction) permeated the whole room for an hour. It was totally gross. And to top it all, I'm not sure that the resultant 'bird on a pink beaded necklace' was quite what I had in mind after all...

Art Now Cornwall

Went to Tate St Ives to see Art Now Cornwall the other day. What a load of rubbish. Well alright, not all of it, but a lot of it. Not that the numerous paintings on show were particularly rubbish in themselves, but art NOW? Is this it? It's pretty sad if it is. Paintings that look like they belong in the 1950's or worse still the 1980's abounded - I couldn't see much development between then and now in many of them. Symbolism, abstract expressionistic derivatives, modernism - boring. Where's the new exciting stuff? There was some (but not paintings), but they seemed a concession, an adjunct to the rather sentimental looking choice of the Director and Curator that forms the bulk of the exhibition. Susan Daniel-McElroy (Director) and Sara Hughes (Curator) seem to be at pains to point out that the exhibition is not a survey, but a curated sample of what's going on in Cornwall. They mean what's going on in Penwith, the district that Tate's in. Out of the 28 artists work on show I don't think there are many living or working outside of Penwith. Cornwall's a big county, 100 miles long and made up of 7 districts - but I guess Art Now Penwith doesn't have quite the catchy, crowd-pulling potential of a name like Art Now Cornwall...

So just what is this show about? It didn't seem to be particularly cohesive, and was running alongside small galleries of Francis Bacon and Bryan Pearce works, and the inevitable modernism in St Ives, none of which seemed to add and anything to each other or any context to the Art Now Cornwall show. It all left me feeling a bit nonplussed. The title seems to be a complete misnomer; you go along expecting cutting edge stuff, stuff that's representative of this century, but I didn't leave feeling that was what I'd got. "Cornwall has relatively few sculptors..." it states in the catalogue introduction and if you used the exhibition to guide you on this you'd think it was true, given the number of paintings on show, but amongst my peers there's a dearth of painters. So I'd say, again, all the exhibition shows is that there are a lot of painters in Penwith - which is hardly surprising given the number of commercial galleries and paying tourists in the area. It all seems a bit of an odd swansong for the retiring Director to bow out on; a kind of miss-hit compared to some of the punchy contemporary shows at Tate's other venues, which is what a lot of us were hoping for, but obviously didn't get.

All that said there is some exciting work worth going to see, if you haven't already seen it in some of the artist-led shows that have been on in recent years. There's Amanda Lorens' Tango Provado (2007), a very sensual video installation that's easy to miss because of it's odd siting in the foyer area; Lucy Willow's Dust Rug (2007) which is slowly disintegrating over the period of the exhibition; Andy Currie's installation My Lucky Star is a Rubbish Scorpion (2004), worth seeing just for the different ambiance it has in a museum rather than the crumbling school room I saw it in at the Eek exhibition last summer, and finally Harriet Bell's Six Black Objects (2005) - it does what it says on the tin, but they are wood and guess what...WAX! (You know how much I love that material!) It's also worth a trip to the gallery to see the Francis Bacon of course - wow, now that's what I call painting!

Art Now Cornwall is on at Tate St Ives until 13 May 2007.

Waitng review published on Art Cornwall

A review I wrote of the Waiting Project has now been published on the Art Cornwall website, with several more pictures of the lovely films I saw - check them out! I'm told more great pictures will be added soon.

I recently had a really interesting email conversation with someone from Art Cornwall about the 'purpose' of a review: should a review of something purely describe the exhibition / film / play, etc or should a review include the personal opinion of the reviewer? If an article presents an opinion, does this make it a critique and not a review? Is there a difference? What sort of thing do you prefer to read, and does that depend on where you read it? I'd be really interested to have any thoughts on this!

PS for my original review on this blog see Waiting Projects

The most boring paintings in the world?

Apparently to be a woman to win the Turner Prize these days you have to be a boring painter - but hey at least it was a woman for once (not just a man in a dress), they just chose the wrong one. Tomma Abts' paintings must count as some of the most boring in the world, surely? And believe me they look better in reproduction than they do in reality... The only interesting thing I found about them was that they were small scale, which is a bit unusual. Other than that the only thing they made me think was lets get out of here quick and find something interesting to look at.

To make up your own mind have a look at the Tate website.

Waiting projects

As I mentioned in my last post I did indeed go to the launch of Waiting Projects at Truro's 'Knowledge Spa' the other night. The Spa is a new building that's part of Treliske Hospital and (I think) is a building dedicated to learning for the health profession. So why was Waiting, a series of artists' films, being shown there I wondered. In the blurb about the project it says

The Waiting project is aimed at providing a more relaxed and enriching experience in a waiting area.

Waiting is a necessary aspect of attending a GP surgery or other health care building. Everyone will experience waiting in a different way; for some people it may be unfamiliar and stressful whilst for others it is well-known routine.

These artist films have been specially selected to enhance the waiting experience.

I was intrigued by this. In the past I've always felt very sceptical about 'arts and health', feeling that it was a glorified way of providing decoration for the mundane, labyrinthine hospital corridor walls, or was encroaching on the art therapists' role.

When I arrived at the launch, late as usual, the films were playing in three areas that were laid out in typical 'waiting area' style, with seating in rows so that no normal social interaction might take place. Two were set up in seminar rooms and the third in the main atrium of the spa. Lights in the seminar rooms had been dimmed and, being night time, were dim enough in the atrium too, though I did wonder how this might transfer to the usual gp surgery. How were they shown in surgeries, perhaps more practically on a tv screen rather than projected onto a wall? How would this affect the experience? In my local surgery there's an awful lot of noise with people coming and going children playing, children crying, people chatting and catching up and the inevitable 'Muzak', in this case provided by some mind-numbingly dull Cornish radio station... In an environment like this how would these films even be noticed?

There are some 54 films, selected by Steven Paige and Michael Donnelly, with much variation in style and length, and budget too. I watched several films right through and caught glimpses of others while talking to those around me, probably like the average person might in a waiting room. Most of the films seemed to be serene and contemplative in some way, interspersed occasionally with the sparse (Paul Carter and Alexandra Zierle Round and Round we go ; Katie Welsford Glue) and the humorous (Sam Thompson The Making of a Machine to get Brain Waves).

I was particularly struck by the number of films that might offer an interesting metaphor or two in a health setting. In Spilled Measures Dancing at My Feet (Zierle) a woman (we never see her face) in a long red dress and black flamenco-style shoes tugs at a constricting pearl chocker around her neck to release the pearls bouncing to the ground at her feet. The camera focuses on the regular, circular indentations left on her neck. It's a simple but extraordinarily beautiful film, rich in colour and texture, that made me think about the constricting nature of illness and the release a cure might offer and the impressions it might leave on someone's life. Other films got me thinking about life's journey: the candles burning in Akiko and Masako Takada's Volcano, a newt swimming in a pond in Adela Jones' One Minute Newt Minute and David Sants' Pushchair in which we follow a baby's journey around a city. The split screen of this film gave us both a view of the baby and the restricted view she had through the plastic tent of her pram. She was wheeled around following someone else's journey, just like we were, and ever present was a very colourful, dangling toy spider... I was mesmerised by this film: the changing scenery, the lack of clarity as the condensation built up and a rhythmic soundtrack that sounded like it was made from a child's toy. There was also a lot of 'nature' in the selected films, from rocks, sky and trees drawing in the wind, to water. There was a lot of water. Seas went backwards, we watched the reflections on the surfaces of water, water filling a glass... Don't know why but watching rhythmic waves or focusing on the surface of a river always make me think of death, a kind of urge to dive in and sink. I'm not sure how this would affect my thoughts in a surgery waiting room with my history of depression! But that seems to me the great thing about the films that have been chosen: many of them have a kind of ambiguity that can be interpreted in a whole host of ways significant only to the viewer.

Picture: Still from Rupert White's film Drawing Made by the Wind

I think the project is ambitious in its attempts to engage with this particular audience, after all we go to a surgery for a very specific reason, which doesn't include viewing contemporary art. In that sense the art is incidental, something you might stumble over and engage with, if for just a few minutes you can forget your introspection, your worries about health. There are some fantastic films here and I for one, would far rather be gazing at them than the usual NHS posters on my surgery walls. That would be my worry: that the films become like the posters on the walls, or the Muzak, something that we don't really notice because our minds are elsewhere. And these films deserve much more than that. They are quiet (many of them don't have sound tracks), but that doesn't mean they haven't got a lot to say.

I commend Paige and Donnelly and Arts for Health for having the guts to do something experimental in a setting like this, it's certainly making me rethink my attitude to art in a health setting, and I think this project deserves to succeed. I look forward to hearing how it goes!

By the way, there's a great booklet that was available at the launch listing all the films and artists and I spent yesterday afternoon having a look at some of the artists' own websites. Here's a few for you to browse, in no particular order!

www.zborough.co.uk
www.rozcran.co.uk
www.alexandrabettencourt.com
www.rupertwhilte.co.uk
www.evaolsson.net
www.ciclover.com

Evaluation

I've been off-line for a few days - some problem with bt broadband that was fixed today, yippee!

As part of my residency in Scotland I had to write a short evaluation for funding purposes and I've put it on the Creative Skills blog www.cvaf.blogspot.com - if you're of a mind to read it!

Don't miss Volver

I'd like to thank my friend Kate for suggesting a trip to the cinema on Thursday night. It was an inspired choice. We went to see Volver at Falmouth Arts Centre - the first time I've been out to see an adult film in months, possibly years. It was a far cry from Sponge Bob Square Pants and Cars, the sort of stuff I'm normally cajoled into seeing; I felt so grown up I didn't want it to end. If you haven't seen the film already you must go soon. Not to go is to deprive yourself of something wonderful that only costs around a fiver, and bar £5 worth of chocolate there isn't much that will give you that deep feeling of satisfaction for so little money!

Volver is like a Mike Leigh film shot in exotic colours and psychedelic patterns. It's visually sumptuous: the hot Spanish colours are like plump fruit about to burst. In common with something like Secret and Lies (Leigh- one of my favourite films ever) it focuses on the family intrigues that drive us to despair because we know that to know would be like finding the missing piece of the puzzle that completes the picture of our lives. It's about communication within families, how the events and truths that we bury bubble to the surface and spit in our faces until we acknowledge them, accept them and move on. And Volver has just about everything that you could want in two hours: warmth, comedy, strong characters, mystery - even the odd murder! If you can't get to see it, go and buy a bucketful of chocolate, put an orange light bulb in your lamp, turn the heating up and imagine you're in Spain. It's about the closest you'll get to having such a good time!

London

On Monday I took buses to Aberdeen in glorious sunny weather. The hills looked inviting and I was sad to be leaving them, and new friends, so soon. I felt like I'd just got settled in and was finding my way when I had to upsticks and return home. Still, a good few hours of gallery going in London beckoned before I finally made it back to Cornwall. I bought a Time Out at the airport and used the flight back to plan the next day.

I met my brother Dan in Camden, then we visited the Turner Prize Exhibition (utter crap) and the Holbein (gob-smacking!) at Tate Britain. Then it was on to Timothy Taylor near Oxford Street to see Kiki Smith (whimsical). On the way to our next gallery, Tate Modern, we took a detour to Hamleys for you know who! I insisted on taking this cheesy photo for Kim; Dan was impressed that 'pirate ted's' coat matched his jumper!!

When we finally got to Tate I realised that I had less than an hour there if I was going to make it back across London to get the flight down to Newquay. We decided that a journey down the biggest slide would be the icing on the cake at the end of a great day. Major disappointment. The slides were fully booked... It was now decision time: art, bookshop or coffee and cakes. We were starving, so the cakes won and we had a 'Cornish' cream tea!!!

I'm still in shock that I didn't make it down the slides or more importantly into the bookshop - I feel withdrawal sypmtoms coming on and must find one soon. Dan was disappointed that he didn't get a go down the slides and is planning to go back with his son nearer Christmas. I think he's just using his son as an excuse not to look like a big kid, and should just go over in his lunchbreak!! I know I would...



I got to Newquay at five past nine, spot on time, and then had a 45 minute wait for Paul and Kim to arrive - I knew I was home!

Mania anyone?

Did any of you see that program the other night The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive, with Stephen fry? (BBC) Being someone that suffers from depression, I thought it would be interesting to see how others cope. What I ended up feeling was jelousy. Okay, I'm going through a serrious bout of depression at the moment (I've broadcast it to everyone I know, so why not the whole world), which might of course be colouring my feelings, but it seems so unfair to me that whilst people like me get only the black stuff, there are some lucky buggers out there who know what it's like to feel really good about themselves.

In fact I'm so envious that I look at some of my past behaviour to see if I can recall any 'manic' episodes that might help me feel better about myself. The nearest I get is a sort of hyper mania - the feeling that I can and will do everything that's important to me, regardless of what everyone else tells me is physically possible. There aren't that many people out there I supose that will do their ma dissertation and exhibition at the same time as studying for a post graduate cert ed, as well as working part-time, being a parent, running a home, teaching and all the rest of it. Yes, I worked through the night on lots of occassions, yes, I felt confident throughout that what I was doing had absolute clarity (especially the dissertation!), but I'm not convinced I was feeling good about myself. My mother has always said I'm stubborn. And looking at this kind of behaviour I can see why she would. I had the bit between my teeth and was doggedly determined to prove all my detractors irrevocably wrong. I will do it all and I will make a success of everything... But in effect do I just run myself down, wear myself out ready for the next depression to creep up on me unawares, as it always does? Who knows.

I know that to have mania is not healthy, but I still can't help feeling that the manic depressive got the better end of the deal. If they want to feel good, they can just stop taking the meds for a while, can't they? Just drop into that wonderful mind-swinging euphoria for a short swim in its creative waters. What happens if I stop taking mine? I've been dosed up to the eyeballs for years and still feel like this, so I'll leave it to you to work out.

Fry asked several of the people on the show whether they would "press the button" to make the manic depression go away if they could. Only one person said she would. And that's something I completely understand, because even now, feeling as ill as I do, I wouldn't press the button. Feeling this way is part of me, is me, the real me. Part of me feels that it's society that can't cope with my depression, not me. My colleagues don't want me sitting in the corner of the room brooding under a black cloud not talking to anyone - but it doesn't bother me. My negative thoughts about myself and humanity are completely logical and valid to me, and it only seems to bother society that I don't think well of them, and of our pointlessness as a human race. But the biggest reason I wouldn't get rid of the depression at the press of a button, is that it would remove a 'special' part of my creativity. I'm not saying that I'm only creative when I'm depressed, that's patently not true, but I feel a heightened sensitivity to it in this state of mind. I feel that I'm able to see through the surface of things and find a deeper meaning. (I also feel that most of what I produce in this state is crap, but that's another matter...) No, like those manic depressives, even having been at the brink of life on numerous occassions I still wouldn't say goodbye to this part of me.

Wheal Art Weekend Review

Well, while I get myself together after the successful, yes, successful Wheal Art Weekend, and gear up to writing my own review of the event, I thought you might like to have a read of this one on art-cornwall's website... There's even a few pictures!

www.artcornwall.org (Check under 'exhibitions', then 'Wheal Art Weekend')