Tag Archives: installation

Highlights of the degree show

Almost a week has passed, since the exhibits came down, the walls were repainted and the lights turned off on our final degree show. It was a great experience, although I am glad it is all over. I promised you all some potted highlights, in case you didn’t make the show!

Do you know who you are?

If you turn and look back
Do you see the places you passed on your way here?
Each dwelling, carving it’s nature onto your identity,
However fleeting the pause.

Shadows, built from real and imagined places,
Embedding themselves into your self.
You may not even have noticed it happening
Until you were already gone.

The absolute identity does not exist;
The self is nothing but a haunting of memories, experiences and fiction.
Each pause is an unravelling,
A fragment of identity found or remembered;
A choice, a path, a longing.

You should not have come here looking for yourself.
You will find nothing.

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In total there was 221 metres of map string made from 32 individual maps, carefully chosen to represent specific places significant to my own identity. The book of poetry sits alongside offering a glimpse as to the nature of the memories belonging to each place, each thread.

And lots and lots of visitors!

Thanks again to everyone who helped make the show possible, particularly those who generously offered their help in sourcing or offering vintage maps. You all got a mention in my book 🙂

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An encounter with myself

I have spent much of the last year (since before the Unit 1 assessment) tackling the challenge of how to include my interest in working with text/words into my practice. I realise now that if I am to be realistic, the real core of my “practice” has always been the words – the stuff in my sketchbooks are so often poems or calligraphic drawings, the expressionism. This is after all even what my last few art quilts were about. I have perhaps been trying to overlay some ability to work in 3D or objects, without really comprehending what the foundations of my own work were.

So if we look a the picture the other way around…if the words are the core thing, how then can other material or 3d design help express my concept?

I have been looking at the construction of a place identity, trying to express a sort of visual poem as a manifest object. My plan for the installation is to make it a real, immersive space which overlays a physical form of personal experience combined with a seemingly endless stream of consciousness poetry – offering a manifestation of my personal conception of my sense of self.

The key material for my piece is then really the words themselves – using the materiality of the physical act of handwriting, the work becomes both a visual poem and calligraphic record.  Handwriting is a raw, immediate and visceral expression of your core identity – something which is original and unique to yourself.

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String as contemporary art medium

I found this fascinating article on the history of of string based-art works, which talked through a lot of the reference artists I have found on my travels, and a few new ones as well.

Starting from the sculptural works of Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth with threaded string, resembling mathematical structures, and possible influencer Naum Gabo. Looking back at this, I notice that so much sculpture involving string is exploring geometry in nature, very little of it appears to be on a more conceptual basis. The installation is ore suited to this nature of art I believe. Once you start adding more complex craft to the work – weaving, basketry, embroidery, knitting and so on, you add layers and layers of more narratives which are based on the process and not the concept. Which is fine if that is the core of your work. However, I have never wanted to make statements about subverting a craft tradition, nor do I want my piece to comment on ‘domesticity and feminine arts’ which is what so many articles on textile/fibre work seem to do. So this brings me firmly out of the idea of making an object (bye bye map weaving) and firmly into contemporary installation territory.

The article, progressing onwards, takes us to the Minimalist string installations / sculptures of Fred Sandback.

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Untitled (Cornered Triangle, Fifth of Ten Cornered Constructions), 1980

His work used single strands of yarn from point to point to create precise geometric figures. This was of bifurcating three-dimensional space, these “intangible objects” became a meditation on the pictorial plane and architectural volumes. With this work I noticed the strength of simplicity that can construct a separate architectural space within a larger space. Comparing this to the massive complexity of works by other architectural influenced artists, such as Tomas Saraceno (pic below), I much more align myself with the more Minimalist approach.

039-tomas-saraceno-theredlist.gifGalaxy Forming along Filaments, like Droplets along the Strands of a Spider’s Web 2009

I am not however, making a pure geometric space, as this would be too much of an exploration of abstract spatiality. In the same way that my hope to use psychogeography as the core of my process roots the work too much into a specific locality. I want my work to be about both the here and there, while being firmly neither.

As I write this, I remind myself of what I had originally written in my project proposal, final version submitted back in November about creating a heterotopia, a placeless place: a real place which exists simultaneously outside of all places, neither here nor there. This is the effect I can create with an installation – which I am now firmly set on making large scale – and using it to construct a heterotopic space which manifests a physical, personal conception of my sense of self:

I am this place. I am no place. 

 

 

 

Writing on the wall II

Having played a little more with the projection mapping, working directly onto my threads, I am not convinced it is doing what I want it to do. Although I like the idea of my writing being dynamic, I don’t want to be constrained into making a thread ‘wall’ just to have a solid enough surface for the words to show up on. So I had a look at what other options there may be for getting my poems materially into my work using the same principles.

I came back to Morley’s book, Writing on the Wall, and revisited the idea of literally doing that – writing on the wall. With a pen. There are precedents for this, with for example, artists such as Fiona Banner:

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My question remains though how to integrate the threads with the words. Perhaps having the handwritten poems revealed at the heart of the thread installation (written or displayed on the wall?). They will then offer my personal fiction – what impressions and imaginations can be discerned from life’s experiences – into the less subjective expression of place through the map yarn. I am happy to have the poems legible, because (as anyone who has read my stream of consciousness poetry can tell you) it won’t offer much help as to what the piece means.

My current best description is this: the installation itself will be a physical experience (big enough to walk through) offering a moment to seek an encounter with yourself. The installation will be created to reflect my personal identity through my choice of form and the places which I consciously choose as a representation of my sense of self. You can walk in to it so that I can say to you, this is my world.

My poem for today for good measure:

I lost my way in self-defence,
but panicked, and decided to find it again.
I was watching the road winding onward, but took the long way round.
There is no centre to anything

so I just fell out on the other side.
Why am I always here?
I should not have come here looking for any part of myself.
Cut the apple, says the witch, and find the sacred star
You’ll have forgotten again by morning. 

Angelique Talbot, 17:15 6 April 2016

Re-visiting thread installations

Maiko said she felt the beauty of the map string may be being diluted through the construction of the weaving, turning the piece into just a representation of the landscape and not much more. So, let’s take the extreme case: what if I don’t do any weaving at all?

There could be something more subtle and more ‘pure’ perhaps in making an installation directly with the map strings. Universal stories of physical places transformed and twisted into long paths. Each string perhaps a different place which is part of my sense of self (those places I choose to be). Then I can overlay my personal stories onto them through poetry or some constructed visual language?

I went back through some of the inspirations on this type of installation which I had come across before in previous fibre art research, to see if any new conclusions could be drawn, and came across the work of Anne Lindberg. Her practice has been described as a drawing language (which is what immediately attracted me to her, back when I was doing a lot of my abstract drawings). She creates installations and 2D drawings that are both abstract and immersive acting as “a mirror of how [she] experiences the world”.

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Anne states that her “sculpture and drawings inhabit a non-verbal place resonant with such primal human conditions. Systemic and non-representational, these works are subtle, rhythmic, abstract, and immersive. I find beauty and disturbance through shifts in tool, layering and material to create passages of tone, density, speed, path and frequency within a system”.

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She describes her work as a kind of self-portraiture. “Within the quiet reserve and formal abstraction is a strong impulse to speak from a deep place within myself about that is private, vulnerable, fragile, and perceptive to the human condition. My work is a mirror of how I experience the world, and as I negotiate physicality, optics and ideas through drawing languages, my voice withholds, blurs, teases and veils. I frequently return to subtle distinctions between drawing as noun and verb as a long held focus in my studio practice. This blurred distinction drives my fascination with an expanded definition of drawing languages and the resurgence of drawing in contemporary art. My collective body of work is an iteration of this language.”

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Looking back over my work from the last two years (although so much of it has been confused), you can still see the predominance of my love for the line. This was where I started back with the dimensionality project, thread drawings and then moving onto my first experiments in basketry. Perhaps this is a natural place for me to end up? The question is however, will I have enough time to resolve a new idea – or is this new idea in fact just a resolution of everything which has come before?