Peter Birch : Visual Artist : Sort Of

2011-12-10T09:50:00.000Z

I’ve worked it out and I’m about 36 years behind schedule on my to-do list.

That’s not so bad.

The main problem is that I keep adding more than I cross off.

It’s always been the same.

When I worked in Marketing, my boss had a very simple and terrifying time-management system. It was a piece of paper and a pen. It used to scare the pants off me every time I saw it and heard the ominous words “Ah, Peter …”

Whenever he gave me a job to do he would write it on the piece of paper. And my heart would sink. It would stay on the list until it was completed – properly, fully, finally completed – and then it would be crossed off. By that time, however, many more items would have been added so it was no relief to see one crossed off.

It worked, though, and we accomplished a lot. But it was relentless.

Now I have my own pieces of paper with lists written on them. Many, many lists – some going back many, many years. The difference now is that I love these lists. I don’t mind at all that there’s more to do than has been done. That gives me hope that I’m not done yet.

My want-to-do lists are lengthy and detailed. Most days I add some new items. Soon, I’m going to need a fatter ring-binder to keep them in. The good thing is that when I look through them they remind me of my dreams and aspirations – and then provide me with one thing I can do today that will move me a little closer.

It helps, of course, that there’s no-one looking over my shoulder. No-one saying “Ah, Peter …” and no-one saying “I thought you said you were going to …” The only one making me feel unproductive, ineffective or guilty is me. And I’m getting quite good at telling myself to “shut up”.

Sometimes, of course, my lists get me down and I’m tempted to tear them up and start again. But then I remind myself that these are not things I have to do … they are (mostly) things I want to do. It’s quite exciting to look through the lists and find something I’d forgotten I wanted to do. It reminds me that I still have a lot of life to live and not to give up.

So as long as I have life I’ll have lists.

2011-10-25T20:18:00.000+01:00

An interesting 5 minute video of the "tranny potter", Grayson Perry in his studio. Lots more vids to watch from the Tate if you like ...

http://channel.tate.org.uk/#media:/media/1218055017001&list:/channel/playlists/41803706001&context:/channel/playlists

Short Story

2011-10-12T09:34:00.000+01:00

I know I’m not the sharpest button in the colouring box, but listen to this …

My car had been playing up so I went to a local garage. I told the mechanic that it appeared to be overheating, but I could be wrong because I know nothing about cars.

“Let’s have a look at it then” he said. “Oh, I haven’t brought it with me” I replied, feeling a bit daft. I really should have thought to bring the car.

He looked at me as if I was a bit daft, took a deep breath, and asked me to describe what the problem was. As I did so, I caught him looking at me with an expression that said, “You’re special, aren’t you?” In the light of that look I edited what I told him so it wouldn’t sound so bad. That didn’t work.

Here’s what happened …

I was driving back from Cardiff and got stuck in traffic. After a while I noticed steam coming from under the bonnet. “Strange” I thought, “I hope that sorts itself out”. Once I got moving again I couldn’t see any steam so I thought it had. But no. When I next stopped at traffic lights there was even more steam. “This might need seeing to” I thought as I popped into my Auntie’s on the way home.

The next morning I did the sensible thing and checked the water in the coolant tank. There wasn’t any. I poured in a big bottle-full and checked again. There still wasn’t any. “Oh well” I thought, “It must be in there somewhere – it can’t just disappear”. So off I went back into Cardiff.

By the time I was halfway there I could see steam again. And there was a funny smell. But it didn’t seem so bad and I got there OK. Before coming home later in the day I poured another big bottle of water into the engine. It still didn’t seem to fill up though. Driving back, the car was steaming, hissing, smelling, making a funny noise and not accelerating properly. It nearly wasn’t making it up hills. Or gentle inclines. I started to suspect that there was something wrong.

The next morning I got a 5-litre container of water and poured it all in. There was still no sign of it. I was having a difficult time comprehending this. It didn’t make any sense to me. It was like “the great disappearing water trick”. Interesting.

Anyway, off I went again. Everything was fine for a while and I was pleased with myself for dealing with the problem. That lasted until I again stopped at traffic lights. There was a huge amount of steam billowing out. Fortunately, at that moment the lights changed and I was able to pull away.

Hell broke loose.

The car rattled and banged and started losing power. Steam was pouring out.

And smoke.

Smoke was pouring out of the front, back and sides, enveloping the car in a cloud. Sensing there might be a problem, I pulled over to the side of the road and put my hazard warning lights on.

Suddenly, it got worse. Smoke started pouring into the car through the air vents. It filled up surprisingly quickly.

I opened a window.

After a few minutes it cleared so I started the engine and drove home.

Looking back – and judging by the expression on the mechanic’s face as I told him this story – I probably should have got out of the car and walked away. You know, in case it was on fire or something. But I didn’t think of that. All I did was sit there with a little smile on my face, thinking,

“This will make a good story”.

2011-09-17T10:28:00.000+01:00

For a few moments this morning I couldn’t remember whether I was right-handed or left-handed.

I was going to brush my teeth but found myself swapping the toothbrush and toothpaste from hand to hand. I couldn’t remember which way round they went and neither felt quite right.

Obviously I got it sorted out – otherwise there would have been toothpaste everywhere and I’d have spent the day with a minty-fresh face and foul breath.

I think it’s because I’ve been doing all this left-brain, organising-type work.

It’s fun and very satisfying to see some of the mess and chaos boxed, stacked, listed and labelled. I’m happy to have lots of work that I can simply store away for the future without feeling I have to DO SOMETHING with it right away. It takes a lot of the pressure off. And it’s still available to show as and when I want to.

Last week I went to a public talk at Cardiff Museum regarding the opening of their new contemporary art galleries. They explained that the current exhibition represented only a small part of their contemporary art collection. The rest was in storage or on loan. The speaker said, “There’s a lot more work to show and a lot more stories to tell.”

On a much smaller scale, I feel a bit like that.

2011-08-29T22:37:00.000+01:00

This last month or so has been quiet business-wise. Actually, it’s been quiet for longer than that but I’ve only just noticed.

There are no new commissions, no exciting projects and very few sales. I haven’t been to the studio for quite some time. Also, my scanner’s not working so I haven’t been able to write the blogs I wanted to and show you what I’ve been doing.

But it’s all good.

I’ve been taking the time to sort through and organise my files, cuttings, sketches, drawings and journals. I’ve been mounting, framing and archiving prints, photos and studies. I’ve salvaged a lot of stuff and thrown a lot of stuff away. There are now a few spaces where the floor is actually visible. It seems there is carpet. Who knew?

I’ve been going out sketching in the countryside and at the coast. I’ve been drawing in the Museum.

I’ve been writing, planning and having my photo taken for a local publication.

I’ve been to exhibitions, gallery talks, craft fairs and markets.

I’ve been reading biographies of artists and writers that have inspired me and motivated me to dig deeper and work harder.

It’s been a steady, daily routine of work that has absorbed my time and attention.

I still have lots of ideas – probably too many – but I’m going from one thing to the next and getting things done.

It doesn’t seem like much but it feels good.

For the first time in a long time, I work because I have hope.

I need to write that on my arm so I don’t forget.

2011-07-16T10:20:00.002+01:00

I’m still on about Yohji Yamamoto. Bear with me.

The creative process is something that interests me and I learn a lot from other creative “industries” – especially fashion.

In terms of creativity, I like that there is no model; no template. What works once may never work again. What worked for a while may, one day, stop being useful and productive. It’s constant invention and reinvention.

As Richard Branson says in his book “Business Stripped Bare”, regarding the definition of a successful business, “There are no rules … and it runs away screaming at the first sign of bullet points.” That may be true of all forms of creativity and artistic endeavour - despite efforts to systematise, package and sell it for business purposes (innovation in business; creativity in the workplace etc.)

But there is, nevertheless, often a process – a ritual – a routine – that undergirds the creative ebb and flow. It seems to be personal and related to the artist’s own practice and personality.

In Yohji Yamamoto’s case I read, “An almost ceremonial air surrounds every step of … (the) design process.”

That sounds like a very Japanese thing to me but I still find it inspiring in terms of my own culture and beliefs.

His clothing is often characterized by its use of washed, unironed fabrics, loose uncluttered forms, and dark colours. His “+Noir” collection is predominantly black (obviously) with splashes of colour.

Why?

Well, watch this excellent video (it’s only a couple of minutes) to see the man at work and hear him talk a little about his design philosophy.

http://thisismydreamthefilm.com/main/

2011-07-09T09:59:00.002+01:00

There’s an exhibition I wanted to see at the Victoria and Albert Museum but it closes tomorrow. I should have got my act together.

It’s a retrospective exhibition of the work of the Japanese fashion designer Yohji Yamamoto.

A good thing nowadays about some exhibitions is that you don’t have to attend them in person. With this one, I read the book in Cardiff Library; I read articles in Vogue and other publications; I’ve seen the amazing photographs by Nick Knight and others; I’ve visited the website and followed developments and feedback on Twitter.

I’m fascinated not only by the work but by the way in which it has been displayed.

The exhibition is not confined to one room but is spread is spread throughout the museum. Mannequins dressed in the designer’s clothes look out of windows, inhabit corridors and mix with Renaissance sculptures.

As the curator explained, “The idea was almost to have Yohji and the V & A in conversation.”

Someone else said, “Yohji Yamamoto’s retrospective … is full of surprises.”

I’ve been thinking about framing and displaying art and I like the idea of exhibiting it in such a way that viewers encounter different pieces in different settings; they are surprised by it; they engage in a conversation about it.

The V & A website is amazing and well worth a look:
“Follow exhibition curator, Ligaya Salazar, as she documents the evolution of the exhibition and offers an insight into the research, design and installation process.”

http://www.vam.ac.uk/things-to-do/blogs/yohji-yamamoto-va

2011-06-09T20:46:00.003+01:00

By the way ...

I've just passed the 5th anniversary of this blog. Just over 300 posts. Current average of 700 pageviews per month.

HUGE thanks to everyone who reads these "insane ramblings of a Welshman".

Art Mash-Up

2011-06-09T09:30:00.003+01:00

A few weeks I ago I went to an exhibition called “Pile”. The show included a diverse range of works – painting, drawing, sculpture, photography, textile and animation – by some 30 British artists. The interesting thing was that the work wasn’t set out like a typical group exhibition.

Rather than present each artist’s work in a defined area of wall or floor space, the pieces were grouped together throughout the gallery. Different pieces were leaning against each other, jostling for space like naughty children in a group photograph. In some cases, they were literally piled up on top of each other (the artwork, not the naughty children).

There was no sense of hierarchy or individual autonomy. It wasn’t always possible to tell where one piece ended and another started. It wasn’t possible, either, to tell which piece belonged to which artist. The collection of individual pieces became one large scale, multi-faceted exhibition … the vision of the curator rather than the individual artists.

This kind of mash-up made for a very interesting, exciting and engaging show. I went to see it three times. The “Pile” of art in this show broke down categorisations between artistic disciplines and challenged many of the viewer’s preconceptions about what constitutes “art”.

This has got a particular appeal for me in the context of where I work and who I work with. The studio in London is now home to I don’t know how many people who work there occasionally or with some regularity. Inviting people in is interesting because you start to see things through their eyes. Everywhere you look there are paintings, sculptures, drawing, photos, cutting, slogans, fabrics, samples. There are tables, desks, exposing units, sewing machines, easels and a loom. Every surface is covered and the floor is a mess. It’s a pile, a mash-up of ideas, inspiration, projects and cross-fertilisation. It’s a wonderful place to be and to make ‘stuff’.

And I like the idea of curating shows that have this ethos. Shows that have a serious intent but that are also joyful, intriguing and surprising.

To frame or not to frame ... part 3

2011-06-03T19:19:00.006+01:00

Some years ago I met a Korean artist named Jeon Won-Gil. I went to an exhibition of his at the Sackville Gallery in central London where I bought one of his paintings. Later I went to his home for dinner with him and his wife. While there he gave me one of his many framed drawings. I’m looking at both of these pictures as I write this.

If my house was on fire (if I had a house, that is) I would probably save these to pictures before I saved any of my own work.

Later, Jeon got in touch to tell me he was doing a one-year MA in Fine art at ChelseaCollege of Art. He invited me to visit hm there to see what he was working on.

The MA project he had undertaken was to draw and paint an apple every day for a year. The same apple.

Each day’s work was done on an A5 piece of paper using different media, techniques and styles. Obviously the apple was changing shape, texture and structure every day as it rotted - which was what he was documenting.

It was fascinating to see how he was pushing himself to view and depict the same object in as many different ways as he could think of every day for a year.

At the end of the year I was invited to view the final show, title “The Space of an Apple”. I expected a selection of the best pictures, framed and displayed. Like you do.

This was something altogether different.

Jeon had taken the measurements, done the calculations and constructed a free-standing room to house all the pictures. The pictures were unframed and simply stuck next to each other all over the walls and the ceiling. With no gaps between them, they filled the space with the images - or rather, the one image repeated in 365 different ways.

Stepping into the room and standing there - trying to take it all in - was a zen-like experience. And I haven’t had many of those. All I could do was look - allowing my focus to drift in and out on different images. I would try to look at one individual image but they were so close together that many of the others would fill my field of vision at any one time.

To avoid being overwhelmed by them I had to let go and allow my senses to be surrounded by the walls and ceiling of imagery. I sat on the floor and soaked up the experience.

365 days of work for one sensational - and, for me, spiritual - moment.

Looking back on this helps me to think more creatively about the many different ways there must be to display art and engage the viewer.

To frame or not to frame ... part 2

2011-05-28T09:20:00.011+01:00

It seems such a simple thing to produce a series of small, hand-finished prints. I’ve done sets of them in different colours, sizes and dimensions.

The process is straightforward:
scan / upload photos; crop, colour and print; hand finish with paint, chalk, pencil, pen and fixative or spray varnish.

The last bit is the messy part. It also requires a lot of space for spreading out the pieces that are being worked on, to allow them to dry out before working on them some more and then fixing or glossing them.

It felt like I was making a big production out of a simple idea, until I read this, by Annie Dillard:

“How fondly I recall thinking, in the old days, that to write you needed paper, pen and a lap. How appalled I was to discover that, in order to write so much as a sonnet, you need a warehouse.”

("The Writing Life" by Annie Dillard)

I felt a little better after reading that.

Scattered thoughts about ways to present this series of hand-finished prints were at the back of my mind when I went to Bath one day a few weeks ago, to meet my daughter, her husband and a couple of their friends. I’d mentioned to them that I wanted to visit some galleries, bookstores and independent shops. As we wandered around the city we came across the historic Octagon building where there was an art exhibition in progress. The Octagon is disused nowadays and a little rundown. But it’s available for hire and had been taken over for a week by a local artist.

The walls of this huge space were filled with large, colourful paintings. And what struck me first and foremost was that many of them were unframed. The painted canvases were either attached directly to the wall or hung from bulldog clips and lengths of string.

They looked fantastic. There was an immediacy and an accessibility to them that was very powerful. They looked like they had only recently been painted and had been hung straight away. And some of them had.

Chatting at some length to the artist, Al Greenall, it turned out that not only was he exhibiting there that week but he was also working. He had a large canvas on the floor in the centre of the room and he was painting as people came in and out.

These are his words, taken from his website:

“Running from 18th - 24th of April, my Spring exhibition at Bath's historic Octagon building came to a fantastic conclusion. I wish to thank everyone who came, whether deliberately or simply passing through. Your time, conversation, and contributions made my fusion of hung works and live studio painting an exhilarating and enlightening process. The large painting that I created during the week - excerpts of which can be seen on the right - will be entitled 'Festival City' in acknowledgement of one of many Twitter descriptions of Bath I was sent when planning the show and asking for peoples impressions of the city. I hope it captures the blend of city/Spring/colour/people/celebration that I was feeling throughout the show!”

I came away with lots of photos and lots of thoughts, but I’d still not worked out what to do.

To frame or not to frame ...

2011-05-19T19:15:00.005+01:00

I’ve just spent another half a day going to different shops trying to source just the right range of picture frames at just the right range of prices. With no success. Again.

Again? Yes, because a few weeks ago I did exactly the same thing. With exactly the same result.

Isn’t that one definition of insanity?

I currently have a stack of hand-finished prints – in colour and black and white. They are studies of water that I have been working on for some time. They would look good in frames – if I could find the right ones. I found some that would just about do but they were £4.99 each. I’ve currently got 60 of these prints - with more on the way.

I also want to frame some figure studies I’ve been working on. But there are 98 of these.

Clearly, this framing idea is not going to happen.

But maybe it doesn’t need to. Maybe I’m just being old-school.

I have to confess that the main reason I’m thinking about this is because I have the ridiculous notion that it might be nice to sell some of these prints and make a bit of money. You know, for the essentials - like fags and booze. And to do that, the image has more perceived value if it’s in a frame. Right? A decent frame sets a picture off nicely, presents it well, makes it look finished. A proper job.

But as I’ve been making these prints, the fun part for me has been giving them to people to hold and to feel. To feel the thinness of the paper and the thickness of the paint. Because I’ve used acrylic paint, the surface is tactile and flexible, almost plastic. It’s been exciting to watch people’s expressions as they actually handle a small piece of art. (I guess that because I have so many I can feel a little less precious about them.)

Thinking about the effects of framing pictures reminded me that a few years ago I made a series of 12 large pictures on paper. They represented 12 months of my life during what was the beginning of a “rather difficult time”. A couple of years had passed and I thought it would be interesting to exhibit them. Rather than frame and hang them I discussed with a gallery the possibility of simply stapling them to the wall. From there we went on to discuss the possibility of stapling them to the floor. Then people could walk around … or over … them.

The obvious metaphor suited my mood at the time.

Unfortunately … or maybe fortunately … the gallery closed before we could do anything and the pictures have been stored away never to be seen again.

Manifesto

2011-04-18T19:07:00.008+01:00

The Open Studio in London, the other weekend, went really well. Much better than I expected. The people who came were genuinely interested in seeing the Studio set-up and seeing first-hand how things are made.

Personally, it was great for me to have the opportunity to talk about some of my work. If nothing else it helped to remind me of some of the ideas and meanings in them! You know how it is, you often don’t know what you think until you talk about it.

It was good to give voice to thought.

Since then I’ve been working more on some of my ideas and I’ve started to write some notes and stories about them. (I’ve set myself a goal this week of writing 500 words every day).

This process of reviewing and reworking some of the pictures and writing about them as I go is an encouraging one as I realise that my motivation is the same now as it was when I produced the original works.

Besides thinking about individual works I’ve also been thinking about why I do what I do. I’m intrigued by the idea of having a manifesto (maniffesto, in Welsh, would you believe!) I don’t really want one – I’ve already got an Artist’s Statement and I’ve written loads of Mission Statements etc. in my time. But I like the idea of having one.

(Sure enough, as often happens when I start thinking about something, it starts cropping up everywhere. It seems every time I go online or open a magazine or a book, someone is talking about having a manifesto. I’ve linked to some of them below.)

A manifesto is supposed to provide “a clear and conspicuous sense of purpose”. I like the idea of that. But, even more, I like the idea of using art and stories to depict and describe that purpose … without having to be too obvious about it.

I came across this recently from someone who was a mentor to me for many years. The quote has been edited by me but basically says:

”artists will awaken the dreams and creativity in others – even when those dreams have been squashed … many gifts have been suppressed in people who have lived their lives in oppressive scenarios and the arts will be used to re-awaken this.” I like that and relate to it.

Maybe there’s the makings of a manifesto in there somewhere.

But if I was to have a manifesto I wouldn’t want it to be too serious. I would want it to be fun. And exciting.

In London there is a small chain of art shops called “Cass Art”. They have a manifesto that I love. It includes this:

“We want to fill this town with artists."

How exciting is that?!

Maybe I’ll just pinch theirs.

Here are some links that have landed in my lap recently:

http://www.happiness-project.com/happiness_project/2011/02/i-love-personal-manifestos-for-instance-on-the-home-pages-of-their-blogs-bob-sutton-includes-his-17-things-i-believe.html

http://the99percent.com/articles/7005/5-Manifestos-for-Art-Life-Business

http://keshabruce.com/artheromanifesto

Creativity at work

2011-04-14T19:46:00.003+01:00

This is interesting re creative process ... How Some Creative Geniuses Work. A special report from The Atlantic: http://www.theatlantic.com/special-report/how-genius-works/ Taken from a tweet by @the99percent

Open Studio

2011-03-29T19:06:00.004+01:00

We're having an Open Studio this Friday and Saturday, 1st and 2nd April

Yep, we're really going to do it on April Fools Day!

Come along and see what's happening and view (and maybe buy) textiles and art.

The address is 60 Union Street, London, SE1 1SG.

I'll be there on the Friday from about 2.30pm until 7.00pm and on Saturday from about 10.00am until 2.00pm.

I know it doesn't leave long for some of you to book airline tickets but I know you'll pull out all the stops! Ha ha!

How Do They Do That?

2011-03-26T09:06:00.005Z

Last week I went on a Guided Tour of some of the historical art at Cardiff Museum. It turned out it was the same tour I had taken a few weeks previously. I should have figured that out from the title. Still, it was interesting because it was a different Tour Guide and she put her own slant on the pre-set script.

The Guide was a woman who had previously been in business but had decided to follow her lifelong passion for art by doing an MA in Art History at Bristol University. She now works as a Volunteer at the Museum while she works out how to earn a living from her interest in Tudor portraiture. And I thought I made life difficult for myself. I wished her good luck with that one!

At a couple of points on the Tour she handed round X-Rays of some of the paintings. These showed alterations to the original painting (often made at the request of the patron) and in one case a completely different picture! A landscape by Richard Wilson had originally been a portrait! Presumably the commission had been cancelled or the portrait had been rejected. Wilson obviously thought it a shame to waste such a large canvas.

Someone asked whether all the paintings were X-Rayed. Apparently not. An X-Ray is only taken if the Conservators notice something unusual.

Conservators look at art in a completely different way to art historians or critics. Theirs is a more forensic examination. For them it’s all about materials, technique, process and execution.

I find that fascinating.

I’m very interested in how and where people produce work. I’m interested in the place and the process behind what they do.

It’s why I’m so interested in Studio Practice and enjoy hearing about the approaches other artists take to their work.

Over the next few weeks we’ll be opening up the London Studio so people can come and see what’s happening and how it all works. Hopefully it will be interesting to look behind the scenes.

In the meantime have a look at this link to see other artists’ studios. It’s taken from a book in which painters describe their daily routines, how they lay out their studios, what custom tools they use, and when they considered themselves professional artists

Also, this link shows some of the home offices of crafts people (very neat, aren’t they?).

Art & Poetry

2011-03-19T19:53:00.004Z

I recently came across this video, via twitter, in which Jennette Mullaney of the Metropolitan Museum explores the the link between Art and Poetry. It’s only a few minutes long but well worth a look.

http://www.metmuseum.org/connections/poetry/

I’ve always been interested in words and images; in poetry and art.

The first example in the video is William Blake’s illustrated poem “The Tyger”. This reminded me how much of an early influence William Blake was. He is known as both a poet and an artist through works such as “Songs Of Innocence” and “ Songs Of Experience”. Both of these were illuminated books that he printed himself in small numbers.

I used to write poetry and once produced a set of illustrated poems - a direct influence of Blake. I don’t know where they are now. Probably lagging some pipes somewhere.

Nowadays I don’t write poetry but I have discovered that by occasionally placing appropriate words within some of my images, I can add instant context and amplify the meaning.

This process will develop further as I write about some of my pictures - tell their stories - and possibly publish the pictures and the words together in some kind of book form.

Coincidentally, at Cardiff Central Library there is currently an exhibition of “Book Arts” - showing work by a diverse range of artists who make one-off or small limited editions of books. It’s fascinating to see how much relative weight the different artists give to image and text. The exhibition has been produced in collaboration with the Women’s Arts Association.

An interesting article about words and images in art is this Times review from 2009 “Words in pictures: the text big thing”.

Avid Reader

2011-03-02T09:01:00.004Z

I’ve been an avid reader since I was very young.

A very early memory is of me sitting on the sofa in the Prefab reading a “Commando” comic book. It was very exciting. My brother ran in to tell me that a whole gang of boys were going over the park to play football and did I want to come. I really wanted to … but I couldn’t. I couldn’t put the book down.

*

In my early teens my Mother bought me a book to take on holiday. It was a collection of short horror stories. I read it on holiday in a caravan in West Wales. But there was one story I simply couldn’t understand. It was about a collector but I couldn’t understand what it was he was collecting. I looked up from the book and said “Mum … what’s erotica?”

*

One of the most interesting and formative books I can remember reading was “Pilgrim At Tinker Creek” by Annie Dillard. In it she recounts how, over the course of a year, she walks alone through the land surrounding Tinker Creek, located in the Blue Ridge Mountains near Roanoke, Virginia. As she observes the changing of the seasons and the corresponding behaviours of the plants and animals around her, she reflects on the nature of the world and of the God who set it in motion

I particularly remember one story she told about how she hid shiny coins by trees and rivers so that people would come upon them unexpectedly and be delighted.

*

Recently, when I’ve been out walking, I’ve been finding coins on the ground. It’s happened in Cardiff, Bristol, London and Pontyclun. At first it was just 2p, 10p and 20p coins. The last three times, though, it’s been pound coins. I don’t think Annie Dillard has been visiting Wales – I think people are dropping money and not realising it. I don’t know how that could happen, mind you … I can hear a coin drop at a thousand paces. The funny thing is that since I’ve been picking up coins, my finances have been picking up. Strange, no?

*

I still pick up sticks, stones and pieces of wood when I’m out walking. I take them home and paint on them, sometimes sticking words on them. Recently I’ve been painting them with gold enamel paint and incorporating them into pictures. It’s something about picking up that which is commonplace and giving it significance.

Sometimes I take these gold-painted sticks and wood chippings and put them back on the ground in Bute Park. I scatter them by throwing them randomly as I go.

I hope people will come upon them unexpectedly and be delighted.

I hope people who find them will wonder what the story is.

What’s The Story?

2011-02-26T10:00:00.000Z

“I was told stories, we were all told stories as kids in Nigeria. We had to tell stories that would keep one another interested, and you weren't allowed to tell stories that everybody else knew. You had to dream up new ones.” Ben Okri

(Guess who’s been reading Ben Okri!)

When I was in Mrs. Lloyd’s class in Primary School, I made up a story about entering an art competition where I was going to draw a reindeer. I was worried about it because I couldn’t get the antlers right. Mrs. Lloyd must have mentioned this to the Headmaster because the next day he came into the classroom with a template of a reindeer that I could draw around. I told them the competition was at the weekend and I would let them know how I got on. Sure enough the following Monday I reported back. I hadn’t won because I’d forgotten to draw the tail on the reindeer. They were suitably sympathetic.

I’m sure they weren’t fooled for one minute. I’m sure they were engaging in what Coleridge called “The willing suspension of disbelief”.

You’d think I would be ashamed, wouldn’t you?

But I’m really not.

I still make up stories and tell them to people.

I often visit an elderly aunt. The conversation is the same every time. What she had for dinner; how many hours she slept; how many fags she smoked; what’s she going to do if she gets locked in her flat and can’t ever get out. That sort of thing.

So sometimes when she asks me what I’ve been up to, I liven up both our days by telling her something interesting or amusing. Something totally fabricated.

She’s not daft and she sometimes tries to catch me out. But I’m too good for her.

Recently, I’ve come across this great blog http://www.onesentence.org/ where people tell their stories - in one sentence. Some are sad, some are funny and many of them are strangely engaging. I don’t know how many of them are true but I don’t think that’s the point.

The reason I’m thinking a lot about this is because for a number of years most of my pictures … the stories I tell … have been wrapped up and stored away … latterly in the London studio. The last time I went there I found that my daughter had unwrapped them and put them all around the place. It was very moving for me to see so much work that I’d forgotten about … many pieces that I can’t even remember making.

As I’ve thought about it, and looked at the work I’ve done, I realised that I’d forgotten what the point was. So I’m taking each piece and writing a story about it (well maybe not each piece … but some of them). It may be just 50 or 100 words. Or one sentence. The idea isn’t to explain the picture – though that would be no bad thing - but to help me remember.

It also occurs to me that while the pictures are on display this would be a perfect opportunity to photograph and catalogue each of them – which is another way of remembering. I’ll need some assistance with that, though.

But enough of this rambling.

Let me tell you about my day.

You see, there was this racoon...

Pointless

2011-02-15T18:56:00.007Z

Lately I’ve been feeling a bit “meh” about the art thing (“meh” is a word that needs to be said out loud with a slightly dismissive expression. Try it.)

There’s a lot of work I want to do and some I have to do. It’s creative, interesting and exciting. I’m producing lots of studies in colour and black and white, lots of designs, lots of photographs and prints. I have some good ideas about presentations, exhibitions and installations.

I’ve also organised the work into a practical production schedule complete with tasks grouped by category, timelines, due dates and priorities. I update these weekly and print out a list that tells me what needs to be done in the next 7 days. And, for once, it’s not the same as what was supposed to have been done in the last 7 days.

It’s all going really, really well.

But somehow …

I just can’t be arsed.

This was starting to worry me a bit because when I get like this I start looking for something else to do or somewhere else to go. I get terribly distracted and dangerously bored.

Fortunately, I caught a cold.

I didn’t feel too bad but my body and mind went into slo-mo. The days passed in an easy-going haze of paracetamol and alcohol.

Coming out of it yesterday, I got in the car with the aim of going to Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff to write for a while and catch up on my journal.

I drove for two hours but never made it to Cardiff.

I found myself thinking deeply about the real reason and meaning behind everything I do. About why I make art and write stuff. About the stories I want to tell and why I want to tell them.

I’d forgotten the point of it all.

In the film ‘Planes, Trains and Automobiles’ there’s a scene where Steve Martin berates John Candy for telling endless stories that have no point (you can watch the 27 sec clip here).

I had got into the business of producing lots of words and images but forgetting what the point was. They had become uninteresting to me and I certainly wasn’t motivated to bore anyone else with them.

As I drove (on automatic pilot) (and not under the influence of drugs or alcohol) I rehearsed scenarios and conversations in my mind.

I told myself stories and remembered what the point was. I remembered that the words and images I produce are simply illustrations and explanations.

I remember reading something that Ben Okri wrote that was along the lines of “Our experiences don’t mean anything to us until we’ve told them as a story.” And it’s true, isn’t it? Something happens that makes an impression on us and we can’t wait to tell someone about it. When we do it comes alive with context and meaning. It makes sense.

So I’m going back to monitoring my production schedule, to producing words and images and to making and showing art.

But I’m also going to remember that what I’m really doing is telling stories.

And I’m going to make sure those stories have a point.

I’d hate for any of you to start calling me Chatty Cathy.

(That last line only works if you’ve watched the Steve Martin clip)

Crafty People

2011-02-07T09:18:00.003Z

A few years back I used to book tables at Craft Fairs in the area. It was a relatively cheap way of getting some of my work in front of people and hopefully make some sales.

It was spectacularly unsuccessful.

Almost the only things I sold were bought by other stall-holders who took pity on me.

Having said that, though, it was a lot of fun and I made some good friends.

Recently I went to a Gallery Talk by Laura Thomas at a woven textile exhibition at Craft In The Bay, Cardiff. It was a fascinating insight into Craftspeople who are working at the boundary of craft and art.

This has coincided with me acquiring a market research report on “Crafts In The UK”.

I’ve picked out some of the main points and added a bit of personal comment.

Market Value
It seems that craft has started to lose its image as hobby and become a large retail industry turning over around £400 million annually. However, in the last few years sales have declined and several craft fairs and exhibitions have been cancelled or are experiencing difficulties. For those that keep going visitor numbers are down but there has been an increase in ‘spend per visitor’. This could be good news in that the price of good quality hand-made crafts could be increased to compensate for the increased cost of hall, stall and table hire.

Business Premises
Another factor holding back the development of craft businesses’ is a lack of workshop and gallery space. This is a problem I’ve discussed numerous times with crafters in Wales. A positive way forward would be to pool skills and resources in an ‘art and craft collective’ such as Dragon Artists & Makers. With regard to premises, in April 2009 the government launched an initiative worth 3 million designed to turn empty shops into arts and crafts galleries and exhibition spaces with provision for temporary leases and special planning application waivers.

Sales
The most popular crafts being produced are jewellery, paper crafts and textiles.
• Sales of jewellery remain strong with the market responding well to innovative design.
• Paper crafts are being produced in increasing numbers so there’s a lot of competition. Apparently card-making is the most popular craft hobby in the UK!
• The craft textile industry is interesting. Get this … John Lewis reported that sales of sewing machines have gone up by 34% as people ‘make do and mend’. They also report that sales of clothing have dropped by 2% but sales of buttons have jumped by 42% (I love that statistic!)

Trends
The report identifies some emerging trends:
• Online sales are growing through personal websites, eBay (where a quarter of a million craft items are for sale), and sites such as www.folksy.com, www.etsy.com and www.misi.co.uk.
• Crafts made from recycled and eco-friendly crafts are increasingly popular with firms such a petitartisdan.com supplying eco-friendly craft supplies.
• An interesting trend is for customers to learn crafts and create their own items rather than buy them from retailers and makers. There is an increasing demand for lessons, courses, workshops, training and craft parties. Groups like Craft Guerrillas have been pioneering this trend.

Finally, there’s a very good Government portal that offers arts and crafts people advice and guidance on working in the industry – www.creative-choices.co.uk

If you’re interested in following up on some of this data then here are some organisations and publications you can check out:

Trade associations and Professional Bodies

www.craftscouncil.org.uk

www.walescraftcouncil.co.uk

www.artscouncil.org.uk

www.ccskills.org.uk

www.societyofdesignercraftsmen.org.uk

Publications and References:

www.culture.gov.uk/images/publications/crafts.pdf

www.connexions-direct.com/jobs4u/index.cfm?pid=20

http://www.craftscouncil.org.uk/professional-development/research-and-information/our-research/

http://www.artswales.org.uk/what-we-do/publications

Google ArtProject

2011-02-01T19:32:00.004Z

This is AMAZING! Check it out! Could be my new addiction!

http://www.googleartproject.com/

For an interesting bit of comment read this:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/8296878/Nicholas-Serota-Googling-the-future-of-art.html

Studio Still

2011-01-15T09:54:00.009Z

In his book “43 Principles of Home” Kevin McCloud meets and interviews Dieter Collen – an architectural model-maker. At the end of the interview McCloud makes his own model. Collen commends him, saying

“That’s fine. It’s a good little piece. Really it is. You know, you have made something. It’s an object now.” (my italics)

I’ve been spending some time at Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff. The café / restaurant / bar is a huge space with long tables where people sit and work for hours on end. (Or just sit and people-watch - which is my favourite pastime.)

It seems everyone there is working at a laptop. A few of us are doing that old-fashioned thing of writing by hand and some are sitting and chatting (the people behind me yesterday were talking through a new theatrical production they were planning. I was very tempted to join in.)

But whilst it’s a great place for thinking, chatting, planning and writing, it’s not a great place for making anything. For that, a different kind of space is needed. Producers, dancers, performance artists, video artists, recording artists and visual artists all need their own particular studio space equipped with the tools of their particular trade. Chapter hires out a lot of these facilities for the production of art as well as facilities for its presentation (theatres, a cinema, a gallery etc.)

As I looked out at the sea of laptops in front of me and considered all these people working digitally (myself included, sometimes) I realised again that the main reason I can’t make art in places like this is because I don't work digitally - I work with materials. I make things. I make objects. But, mostly, I make a mess.

Paper, card, canvas, wood. Pencils, chalks, charcoal and fixative. Pen and ink, paint, glue and varnish. Fabric, plaster and cement. I love the way they get all over you – on your hands, under your fingernails, on your clothes, in your hair, in your mouth and up your nose. I love art that makes you want to stare at it, to touch it, to hold it. I love paintings that make you want to lick them.

I love the texture, the taste, the smell of it all.

I think I’m passionate about art, but really I’m just high on solvents.

(All the pictures are from the London studio)

Studio Practice

2011-01-07T09:51:00.007Z

Studio Practice is an important piece of the skeleton I work with in terms of my job as an artist.

This is where things get done. It’s where practical work is developed alongside studying art history and theories of art.

It’s a current priority for me - because I’m not very good at it.

These are some of the things that take place in the studio:

* Painting, drawing, printmaking, sculpture.

* Developing skills, techniques and good working practices.

* Accumulating a visual vocabulary.

* Developing a substantial portfolio of work.

* Producing and presenting of works of art.

* Experimenting with materials, techniques and processes.

* Compiling backup work – experiments, notebooks, sketches, photographs, photocopies, prints, cuttings and any other related material.

I like the sound of all that. I love the idea of it.

I’ve just never been able to make it work in practice.

I’ve worked in lots of different ‘studio’ spaces – some of which were specially designed, some of which were a bit ad-hoc. Some have been in the room where I live, some require a three-hour drive to get there.

I’ve even produced work on the road – literally.

(I was in Mid Wales parked at the side of the road. I covered a piece of board with No More Nails (a strong glue) and pushed it into the ground to get a piece of nature to work into. The trouble was, I also got glue all over my hands so I couldn’t get back in the car. If I had, my hands would have stuck to the steering wheel. Permanently. So I had to stand there waving my hands around waiting for the glue to dry. Not my most successful mission.)

Perhaps I’ve never ttled into a studio space for long enough to make it work.

Also, I can’t work when other people are around unless they are working too – even if they are elsewhere in the building.

I think, for me, the actual making of a piece of art is an intense and highly personal process. I like to abandon myself to the process and do whatever it takes for however long it takes. To be observed or interrupted makes me highly self-conscious and unable to function.

It’s a mixture of having the external framework and the internal, emotional state working together. I know how it can and should work – I just haven’t yet found a way of making it work consistently.

But that’s my there for the year … “more and better”.

By the way, if you’re interested, take a look at these pictures of Giacometti’s studio (click on the thumbnails in the upper right) … what a mess ... but kind of inspiring!

Post script: I never learn. The other week, before driving to London, I decided to re-attach my rear-view mirror to the windscreen using a strong glue. I ended up with a mess of glue on the windscreen and the mirror stuck to my left hand. I considered driving to London one-handed, with my other hand held up in the air so I could see out of the back. But I was worried the blood would drain from my hands and I would get pins and needles.

2010-12-25T09:13:00.003Z

H A P P Y

C H R I S T M A S

E V E R Y O N E !

My Own Private Art History

2010-12-10T18:46:00.003Z

In the 70s I discovered Surrealism, The Renaissance, Turner, God and PVA paint.

My paintings at that time were a hotch-potch of influences and styles.

I’ve often wondered what became of them.

I have this romantic notion that art is forever.

I like to think that my art has an intrinsic value. That it will be passed on to my children, my children’s children and my … well, you know the rest.

A recent discovery suggests this may not be the case.

It could all be destined to go in a skip or on a bonfire.

Or something more mundane.

A few weeks ago my Dad had his loft insulated.

The other day I went up there to retrieve some things I’d stored.

Some of my paintings were stacked against a wall.

Because they were painted on half-inch chipboard they had been used as walkboards between the joists in the loft.

I’m glad they came in handy.

So if you need any loft insulation or if you’re planning to build decking in your garden, give me a shout.

I have a stack of paintings you could use.

It seems art is useful after all.

Art History … for instance

2010-12-03T11:17:00.004Z

Over the last couple of years I’ve taken an interest in the Italian Renaissance. I think it was triggered by reading a historical novel by Sarah Dunant, “The Birth of Venus”. At the Hay Book Festival in the summer, she spoke about writing novels as a way of making history come alive. You can get an idea of her thinking by watching this 4 minute video here in which talks at the annual workshop she holds in Florence.

I’ve also been reading straightforward history books and biographies and looking at lots of pictures and reproductions.

There are 3 things that have occurred to me that seem relevant to what I’m doing.

The first is that the Renaissance wasn’t a “golden age”. It wasn’t all sweetness and light. In fact it emerged at a very dark and dangerous time in European history.

Since the 14th century the black plague had been decimating the continent - killing a third of the population; the Hundred Years War was rattling along; there was the Inquisition, torture and burnings (many Renaissance works were burned at the time); murder, rape and pillage were often daily realities and bandits and mercenaries roamed the countryside. Apocalyptic expectations abounded in this environment. Meanwhile, the church itself, the most important cultural institution, seemed to be the centre of decadent corruption.

But in the middle of all that, there was a “rebirth” – which is what Renaissance means.

I find that interesting though I’m not quite sure yet what I make if it.

(A lot of this is taken from “The Passion of the Western Mind: Understanding the Ideas That Have Shaped Our World View” by Richard Tarnas.)

Secondly, the Renaissance wasn’t just about painting, sculpture and architecture. It was also about a sense of beauty, design and craftsmanship in everything that was produced. The desire for luxurious cloths, furnishings, decorations, household and religious objects led to the development of a new industry of artists and artisans who researched, designed and produced many new ideas, methods and works of art and craft.

There was a close collaboration between artists working in different genres, such as textile designers, painters, embroiderers, weavers, tailors and cloth manufacturers working together to produce ecclesiastical and secular garments.

I’m excited by the idea of art being expressed in every area of life and being made possible by the collaboration of like-minded people.

Thirdly, there was patronage. Predictably, many works were produced for the rich and the powerful, but it was an important part of the life of anyone with spare cash to commission or purchase art and crafts to adorn their homes. This kind of spending led to a very modern phenomenon - the demand for new kinds of objects, frequent replacements and changes in fashion … an early form of “conspicuous consumption”. But the fact is that it was an accepted - and commendable - practice for anyone who could to commission art.

This collaboration between artists and patrons that made it possible for the Renaissance to take shape and bring beauty hope, and cultural ideals to as many people as possible in the middle of a very dark time in history.

Art History

2010-11-16T09:26:00.004Z

When I was in Standard 4 in Primary School (aged 10 or 11) I remember the teacher saying we were going have a History lesson. I’d recently heard a clever and amusing line on television and chose this time to repeat it. “Sir,” I said, “I don’t like History … there’s no future in it.”

Rather than laughing and saying what a clever boy I was, the teacher looked at me sternly and said “That’s where you’re wrong” and launched into a talk about the relevance of history to the current day and to the future.

Of course, he was right. Humourless, but right.

Ironically, when I went to Aberystwyth University I studied History (as well as doing an Art Foundation course). One of the more memorable courses was The History of Italian Art. I remember a funny little lecturer, based in one of the old University building towers, showing us endless slides of Italian art. It was like watching someone’s holiday snaps. For a year.

Art History is much more interesting and engaging nowadays. There are libraries full of great books with high quality reproductions; there are museums and galleries; there’s Google Images and Wikipedia; there’s TED and Charlie Rose (and many more) for talks and interviews with contemporary artists. Plus, of course, more websites and blogs than you can shake a stick at.

I remember someone saying to me that they wouldn’t study history because they “could never remember all those dates”.

Nor me.

I rarely know what day I did last week let alone when Henry VIII reigned.

But I don’t think that’s the point.

More to the point, in my opinion, is ‘what the hell was going on’ and why does it matter.

When I study Art History, as part of my professional development, I’m looking for subjects, periods or issues that have contemporary relevance. It’s exciting when I discover topics that strike a chord with me and make me curious to know more and to understand better. The challenge then is to find ways to apply that understanding in terms of my own work and ideas.

So it seems my Primary School teacher was right.

But I was funnier.

The Skeleton in my Closet

2010-11-09T11:01:00.006Z

I suppose my use of time could, euphemistically, be called flexible. Random, even. My time is pretty much my own and I have very few obligations or responsibilities. That means I can make up each day and each week as I go along.

That’s not as good as it sounds.

If I’m not careful it can lead to aimlessness, indecision and idleness.

I have a number of routines and disciplines that I try to stick with to give some external structure to my days. The folders I posted about previously are a part of an on-going effort to get and stay organised. Things like this are like the scaffolding, or temporary structures, that support what I do. That’s why I’m not embarrassed to be changing them frequently.

But there is also an underlying structure to what I do that has been working well for me for a number of years. I think of it as my ‘skeleton’ because it supports and enables what I do by providing shape and structure.

The skeleton is set up to support my work as an artist (sort of) and to facilitate my ‘professional development’. I know that might sound a bit grand, but this art thing is what I do now – it’s my latest career choice and I want to get good at it.

(I prefer to think of it as a skeleton rather than a framework because framework sounds static, whereas a skeleton suggests an organic form. It also reminds me of Superted.)

The structure is one that I came across years ago from the Fine Art degree course of a UK University (unfortunately, the link is no longer available). I printed out the syllabus of their course and I refer to it frequently. It breaks down into four areas:

Fine Art: Practice and Theory

Studio Practice

Art History

Curatorship and Professional Practice

I’ll post in more detail about each of these over the next few weeks (though not necessarily in that order).

From time to time I’ve tried developing a working weekly schedule that would work across each of these areas in a consistent and well-balanced way. At one time, my daughter even designed the equivalent of a school timetable for me – complete with double periods, breaks and nightly homework sessions.

I’m sure you can guess how that worked out.

Yep. Not even a week.

(The idea of a timetable came from Barbara Sher’s book “I Could Do Anything If Only I Knew What It Was”. A recommended read – check out http://www.barbarasher.com/)

I realise that by telling you this I might be destroying the mystique of me being a complete shambles. But in the midst of all the madness, there is a method.

I’ll let you in on a secret … I know what I’m doing.

Creative Organisation

2010-11-04T13:09:00.004Z

“It is impossible to be creative without good organisation.”
Ferran Adria, head chef, el Bulli

“… creative notebooks are filled with ideas, concepts, photographs and sketches for new dishes … Each day Ferran will take an idea from the notebook as the starting point for that day’s session … the chefs can easily refer to the hundreds of notebooks that have been filed away over the years to look for new ideas or to compare results”
A Day at elBulli: An Insight into the Ideas, Methods and Creativity of Ferran Adria"

As I posted before, I’ve struggled with keeping track of all the bits and pieces I pick up along the way.

Every day I collect things that attract my attention. I take photos that I upload into Google and print; I make sketches and drawings that I scan; I cut out pictures from magazines; I photocopy articles; I write down quotes, phrases and extracts; I pick up leaflets, brochures, flyers and anything that’s free. All these things seem to be random – the unifying factor is that they register something somewhere within my creative imagination.

For a long time all this ‘stuff’ was scattered on the floor, piled up on windowsills, stuffed into carrier bags, thrown in the boot of my car. Or mysteriously lost.

But not any more.

Oh yeah, baby.

I’m getting organised.

Inspired by the book about elBulli I read recently, and particularly by the quotes above, I’ve changed the way I do things do things so that I can access all the information and ideas I collect.

Now, please bear in mind that for many years I was a Project Manager in a large financial institution, managing the development and implementation of computer projects and marketing strategies.

I also taught Time Management principles and practices.

I love Filofax and similar personal management systems (I still do).

So you’d think I’d come up with something pretty damn sophisticated.

Nope.

I went to Staples and bought a pack of 50 dull-coloured wallets.

Each week, I gather together everything I’ve collected and shove it into one of these folders. Then I write a list on the front of what’s in there. The following week I start again. No continuity; no cross-referencing.

That’s it.

And it’s working. Hell, I could find these elBulli quotes from months back, couldn’t I? And a list of books about the Renaissance that I’d written on a scrap of paper? Found that too.

I’m going to call it a “Filing System”. Good, eh? (Granted, the word “system” might be stretching it a bit.)

Why is this working (so far) when previous attempts have failed? I think it’s because it’s low-tech and low-maintenance. It’s easy but it works. Also, it’s physical … I can see and handle the folders (unlike a digital approach). And I get to write lists on the front of each wallet in coloured felt-tip pens! (Some of you will get how much fun that is … and how satisfying.)

One thing I’ve noticed though, is that I don’t date things – mainly because I don’t care much about when I picked up the idea – only that I did.

But I think I might invent a device for simply dating each piece of paper. I’ll call it a “Date Stamp”.

So tell me … what works for you?

Cardiff Museum

2010-10-30T13:46:00.001+01:00

When I was a kid I spent many happy hours wandering around the art galleries in Cardiff Museum. Some of the big old historical paintings used to scare the hell out of me, but I loved the smaller, lighter gallery of Impressionist art.

It was there, too that I first saw paintings by Graham Sutherland. His work was to become a big influence on me. In fact, recently I’ve been looking again at his sketches and paintings, though only in books.

You can visit the arts section of their website here.

In the last couple of weeks, Cardiff Museum has opened seven newly refurbished art galleries. As I walked in for the first time, there was one of my favourite Graham Sutherland paintings right in front of me. It made me happy.

The new galleries are really beautiful and very elegantly and tastefully decorated. The rooms are now more open-plan giving a much more spacious feel. They house a fantastic collection of Impressionist and Modern Art. It is simply amazing to be able to look at works by Renoir, Van Gogh, Cezanne, Rodin, Picasso and many more. There are eight Monets on show, for goodness sake!

There is also a special exhibition running on “Modern Art from 1930 – Surrealism and Neo-Romanticism”. That sounds a bit high-falutin’ but it’s really very good. Again, when I was younger, I was fascinated by Surrealist art so it’s amazing to see original works by some of my heroes such as Ernst and Magritte,

As with a lot of art exhibitions, though, it can be a bit overwhelming. I usually find that after an hour or so I have to get out of there before my head explodes.

It’s also difficult sometimes to understand the themes and links that the curator had in mind when putting the collection together. I asked about this and was told that staff are currently being trained and that in a few weeks guided tours would be available.

It’s a strange situation, though, when these new developments are taking place at a time when a number of privately-owned commercial galleries in Cardiff have had to close and of those that are still going some are struggling.

It’s also a time when the funding of 32 organisations by the Arts Council of Wales is to stop following a spending review (see this BBC News report).

I’m not really into the detail of it all but if you’re interested in the background to the development of these galleries, and of other work going on, you can look here at the “The Future Display of Visual Art in Wales” – a report for the Welsh Assembly Government on the options and costs involved in establishing a national art gallery for Wales and a national centre for contemporary art.

I just like that I get to look at great art in great surroundings. Oh, and that it's free.

2010-10-26T09:47:00.008+01:00

On Sunday my brother and I walked the whole length of the new community route. He set a cracking pace considering he’s an old fella with a gammy leg.

At the top end of the walk we found this.

It’s no wonder I get lost.

One minute I’m nearly in Tonteg, the next I’m on my way to Moscow! And I’ve never even heard of Sargres!

It turns out I’m not simply on a local community footpath – I’m on the EuroVelo Bike Route. Thank goodness I don’t have a bike or I’d never make it home for tea.

Anyway.

This is a Victorian cast iron vent that was discovered when the new bypass was built.

It was originally used to … wait for it … “ventilate the sewers”. Nice.

Now it has been set up as a waymarker for the community route and has been decorated by local schoolchildren.

The art on the sign was inspired by the Welsh artist Ernest Zobole (1927 – 1999). (That’s not a typical Welsh surname, by the way – Zobole was the child of Italian immigrants.) For images of some of his work, click here.

Zobole was a member of a group of Welsh artists known as “The Rhondda Group” who would discuss their work on the train to Cardiff every day (the journey then took about 2 hours).

All in all, an interesting Sunday morning stroll.

Cloud Cover

2010-10-19T09:00:00.008+01:00

“And the sky is full of dreams
But you don’t know how to fly
I don’t have a simple answer
But I know that I could answer something better.

This feeling won’t go
Wait for it, wait for it
Wait for it, wait for it
Something better.”

from “This is Your Life” by The Killers

Whenever I need to gain or regain perspective on my life I go to certain places where there are great views and big open skies. For many years it was Newlands Corner in Surrey or the Brecon Beacons in Mid Wales.

Now with the opening of the Community Route I wrote about previously, I have found another place.

I start at a little place called Cross Inn and walk a number of sections, sometimes as far as Church Village (where I was born … remember?).

Incidentally, I found out a few days ago that my Mum lived in Cross Inn when she was little. She may even have been born there. From the description of the house and its location it seems that she grew up in the house that my sister-in-law now lives in. Curious, eh?

Going for long walks is therapeutic for me. It’s my medication. It keeps the black dog at bay.

I take my sketchbook and my camera.

Often I don’t use them. I just walk.

I exercise … not just my body, but my mind and my soul.

I think deeply about things. I work – and walk - things out. I plan and I pray.

Having a view, with ever changing light and shade, reminds me of ‘the bigger picture’. Looking more closely I see fields, hedges, fences and pathways. It makes the journey seem possible. Manageable.

Looking at the sky helps me to dream (blue-sky thinking, and all that).

Over the years I’ve taken countless shots of all sorts of skies. Often, they are not dramatic or photogenic. Just clouds being constantly reshaped by a wind you cannot see.

And the good thing is that it’s not always lonely. In this part of the world you say “hello” to (mostly) everyone you meet and sometimes stop to exchange a few words.

The other day I stopped to talk to an elderly man who was leaning on a gate. He was a local fella who had lived in one of the nearby villages all his life. He lived in a close community of houses, shops and pubs. A place with not much employment and not much hope. After we’d chatted for a while he looked out at the view and said,

“This is the big country … and we didn’t even know it was here.”

I’m very pleased with these photos of the sky I took on Sunday. They reflect my current frame of mind.

Waiting for something better.

I'm much too excited about a new road ...

2010-10-09T10:06:00.034+01:00

... and this is not a metaphor!

The Church Village Bypass has just been opened. The road bypasses not just Church Village (which is where I was born, by the way) but a number of other small villages that used to get terribly congested with traffic. Only took 30 years of discussion and planning.

Alongside the main road a “Community Route” has been developed for cyclists and walkers. It’s a great walk with lovely views. It starts at Cross Inn and goes to Pontypridd (which will only mean anything to those of you that know the area).

It's a distance of ... oh, quite a long way.

The community footpath is safe because it’s fenced off from the road.

Or at least … that was the idea.

When I first walked along there I wondered about notices that had been posted along the fence.

Then I found out why.

It seems some elements of the community had a different agenda. Not only a new road but free fencing as well. Bargain! Whole sections have been taken away.

At least they left the notice.

Another section of the community has also been very well provided for. Let’s hope they are a little more appreciative.

I mean the dormice.

Obviously.

As you drive along the road you notice unusual structures crossing overhead.

These are the three Dormouse Bridges have been built in different places across the road. The cost was £190,000 - though I doubt the dormice are paying. Makes me wonder how the dormice persuaded the Local Authority to build them bridges though. It's all the more impressive when you consider that the plans of mice often go astray.

As it says on the official notice board:

“Dormice are primarily arboreal, moving around through the interlinked branches of trees. To maintain links to habitats on either side of the road Dormouse Bridges have been provided to enable them to cross …”

You couldn’t make it up, could you?

This is one of the views ... sort of.

Drawing Practice

2010-10-05T11:47:00.008+01:00

“Did you get any advice when you were coming up that was particularly useful?

One of the things I learned the most from was a school program in Paris and Vicenza. We weren’t allowed to take photographs – everything that we responded to, we had to draw. One of my struggles now is finding more time to draw, and to get back in touch with that.”
Chief of Operations N. Scott Johnson of Richard Meier & Partners Architects.

I’ve always loved to draw.

One of my earliest memories is sitting at the table in my Nanny and Pop’s house trying to draw cowboys and Indians. I couldn’t draw the gun in the cowboy’s hand so I asked my Dad to help me. He did it perfectly.

(I must have been about 17 at the time.)

I also remember trying to draw a reindeer in Mrs. Lloyd’s class in Tonysguboriau Primary School. I couldn’t, but the next day the head teacher came in with a stencil for me to draw around.

When I was a teenager I would go out most days during the school holidays (or when I was skiving) to sketch. I walked miles and filled sketchbooks. Some of the sketches I worked up into detailed coloured studies. I’m sure they are still knocking around somewhere.

Walking, sketching and taking photos is still the bedrock of what I do. For me, it’s the equivalent of practicing my scales on the piano every day … well, most days … OK, some days.

And I’ve come to terms with drawing the same things over and over again. It’s not about originality or creativity – it’s about practice.

But in the last few weeks there has been an interesting development.

A shift occurred as I sketched a tree. At some point I stopped sketching and started drawing.

For me, there’s a difference.

A sketch is a quick, unrefined representation of a thing. A drawing is much more imaginative, complex, detailed, worked. I was no longer representing the tree but simply referencing it as a source for a drawing. Although I was still looking at the tree and down at the page (as you do when sketching) I was now letting the pen (I usually sketch with a ballpoint pen) take flight and move more freely across the page. I was working into the image, adding depth and intensity, allowing the ink to blotch and working it onto the paper.

These sketches / drawings are still rough and ready and I plan to work some of them up into fully-fledged drawings to be mounted, framed and sold. (When I’ve done this in the past they’ve proved very popular.)

It doesn’t happen every time I go out sketching – some days I feel like I can’t draw to save my life – but when it does, and the “flow” kicks in, it’s a deeply satisfying experience. When it’s not there I just carry on with the practice of sketching as I go.

My enjoyment of the process must have released endorphins into my brain, though, because now it’s not a discipline … it’s an addiction.

Harvest

2010-09-30T09:37:00.004+01:00

I like this time of year when the season changes so noticeably. Autumn is one of my top four favourite seasons.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Harvest.

In Britain, thanks have been given for successful harvests since pagan times. The celebrations on this day usually include singing hymns, praying, and decorating churches with baskets of fruit and food in the festival known as Harvest Festival. I was going to a Harvest Festival last Sunday – to see what it was like in a traditional church setting – but I was unwell.

I don’t know how it’s celebrated where you are.

Also, the Celtic new year begins on November 1st. Samhain marked the end of harvest and the beginning of the new year. The first month of the Celtic year was Samonios - ‘Seed Fall’.

I don’t work to deadlines or schedules, but I like to work to seasons.

Over the last few months, I don’t feel like I’ve been working on anything much.

But everywhere I look there are piles of drawings, photocopies, printouts, magazine cuttings, articles, bags of ribbon, bags of sticks, photographs ...

As I’ve been gathering various bits and pieces together I’ve realised that I have a number of related ideas and themes that have been growing and developing. Many of these are now at a mature stage and something needs to be done with them.

They need to be harvested.

2010-09-23T13:58:00.003+01:00

I should never go out.

I’ve known this for a long time but I keep telling myself that it won’t be so bad this time.

But it always is.

It seems my capacity for making a fool of myself is boundless.

In Japan there is a caste of Japanese youth called hikikomori - mostly young men - who lock themselves away in their bedrooms.

I think they’ve got the right idea.

It worked for the poet Emily Dickinson too.

I’ve given up taking my camera or sketchpad out with me. On a number of occasions I’ve been accused of working as a Surveyor for the Council as I’ve drawn and photographed local scenes. Usually by suspicious local farmers. One thought I was planning the route of a Motorway across his land … indeed, across the whole valley.

I was just drawing trees.

But even when I go out unarmed and so-not-dangerous, strange things happen that unnerve me for days.

It usually involves me meeting people.

I’m currently living in the area I grew up in and I keep bumping into people I haven’t seen for 30 years or more.

They usually recognise me but I don’t recognise them. Even when they introduce themselves I can rarely remember how, where or when I knew them.

It’s very awkward and embarrassing.

It’s happened again this week. Twice.

The worst one was yesterday.

I was walking down the road when I passed a postman. I knew he was a postman because he was wearing a postman’s uniform. And he had a bright red bicycle. With a big basket on the front. With a sackful of letters in it. Please bear this in mind.

As I walked past he called out …

“Excuse me, are you Peter Birch?”

I hesitated before I turned around. I was honestly thinking of saying “No”.

But I didn’t. Big mistake. Huge.

I asked him who he was and he gave me his name. It rang a bell but I couldn’t place him.

He seemed delighted to see me and chatted away happily for ages, asking me all about myself.

Then there came an awkward silence. I realised I hadn’t been very forthcoming and hadn’t asked him much about himself. Mainly because I was still trying to figure out who he was.

And then these words fell from my mouth.

“So what do you do for a living?”

Boundless, I tell you.

Another week, another show

2010-09-18T19:09:00.004+01:00

Another exhibition of paintings has opened in Cardiff. This time a series of works by Corrie Chiswell who was winner of the 2009 Welsh Artist of the Year.

The exhibition is being held at a relatively new contemporary art gallery called Off The Wall. The Private View was on Thursday and was packed. There was a great buzz.

The paintings are figurative and tell ethereal, disturbing stories that seem linked to fairy tales. One of the main pieces was called “The Princess and the Pea” and was a beautiful and enigmatic piece. (You can view it on the homepage of Corrie Chiswell's website).

All sorts of images and themes emerged with a visual language that I barely understood – lots of half-eaten apples, pomegranates and a green orb. I like what she says in her biography that "Her perception of reality can be compared to a crime scene where clues are left to indicate what is happening."

Apart from the paintings there were drawings and studies as well as a portfolio of press cuttings. That made for a greater sense of connection with the artist and an understanding of her work. It was also helped that the gallerist (who I have known for some years since she was at a previous gallery) took the time to mingle and to talk about the work.

We talked about how difficult it was to run a successful contemporary art gallery in Wales when the work that sells is largely traditional landscapes with cottages and miners! I have to say, I wondered how contemporary the work was when there is such a serious lack of any video, sculpture or installation art. I’m sure there are artists producing this stuff but you never get to see it! Maybe I’m just not connected to the right people and places.

Nevertheless, a good, imaginative and technically excellent show of work.

Creative Methods

2010-09-15T18:47:00.001+01:00

I’ve always been interested in the processes creative people use to produce their work. I’m particularly fascinated by the methods used by people in creative industries other than the visual arts.

So I was very excited to come across this book about one of the world’s best chefs at his restaurant just outside Barcelona.

A Day at ElBulli: An insight into the ideas, methods and creativity of Ferran Adrià.

ElBulli is “one of the world's most famous, sought after and mysterious restaurants. Having held three Michelin stars since 1997, and regularly voted Best Restaurant in the World by a panel of 500 industry professionals, elBulli has been at the very forefront of the world restaurant scene Ferran Adria became head chef in 1987.”

The way they work is fascinating and the book goes into great detail about exactly how they do things.

The restaurant closes for 6 months of the year while the creative team develop new dishes, concepts and techniques. These are then developed in exact detail in the restaurant kitchens in the weeks before it opens for the summer season. At the end of the season, everything is assessed and the creative process begins again. The restaurant is like a workshop where new ideas are developed, produced and shared with the guests.

During the 6 months of creative development, Ferran Adria and his team explore ideas and possibilities from all over the world, and develop new techniques from other disciplines - such as art, fashion, architecture and nature. The process is one of extensive research, testing and development leading to the production of exciting and highly-desirable new dishes with which to delight their customers.

One of the reasons this book inspired and encouraged me so much is that it shows there are different ways of developing and producing creative ideas. It doesn’t always have to be a daily grind (though when the restaurant is open the amount and pace of work each day is phenomenal).

I’ve always read widely and am excited by new ideas and concepts. Many of these seem random and are little more that hyperlinks in my imagination and understanding. I’ve often been criticised for being too much of an “ideas person”. But I like the idea of allowing time to let these ideas brew and develop, to research them more extensively and to follow wherever they lead.

In recent months I’ve been developing ideas about sticks, ribbons, doors, words, colours, clouds and lots more. They all seem disparate and I’ve been tempted to abandon them and get better focused. But the ideas continue to niggle away at me.

More recently I’ve been thinking about putting on a few shows in 2011. Suddenly many of these ideas have started clicking into place and fitting together. Now I need to push these ideas through into production and show them.

So I like the idea of a broad framework for each year of

• researching and developing new ideas;
• sketching and modelling these ideas;
• producing and exhibiting them.

Obviously it will not be as neat and tidy as that and there will be a lot of overlap.

But it helps to think that there are other ways of working creatively and successfully.

What about you? Do you have any particular processes for developing and executing creative ideas?

A Good Show

2010-09-11T19:09:00.004+01:00

Yesterday evening I went to a Private View of new paintings by Darren Hughes.

“Born in Bangor, in 1970, Darren Hughes is one of the leading figures of the new generation of Welsh landscape painters. Following recent sell-out exhibitions in London and Wales, Darren returns for his third solo show at Martin Tinney Gallery”. (Click the gallery link to see the paintings.)

This guy can PAINT! His paintings are technically accomplished, attractive and atmospheric.

But, for me, there are a few other things going on in them that make them particularly interesting.

Firstly, there’s a darkness in them that appeals to me. This is a feature of the light on the landscape but it also captures the inherent sense of melancholy that pervades the Welsh. The singer, Judith Owen, sums it up well in this interview http://www.rambles.net/owen_int08.html where she says, “The Welsh are the Irish without the fun. We're a very melancholy bunch, and we sing truly melancholy songs. When I say melancholy, I mean people talk about operations and death at the dinner table all the time.”

And if you don’t believe that’s true, spend five minutes with me in the local library or in the local shops.

But I don’t just mean it facetiously. I think there is a creative, highly-expressive melancholy in the Welsh psyche. It summed up in the word “Hiraeth” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiraeth) which doesn’t easily translate into English but has something to do with a deep longing for the land, for a sense of place and a sense of home. Darren’s paintings show a close affinity with the land - with all its shadows and moods.

Which brings me on to the second thing that I see in Darren’s wonderful, dramatic landscapes. They are real scenes of real places, mostly near where he lives in Bethesda. Stone walls, agricultural fencing, telegraph poles, small houses, communities and schools. I was first struck by this when I saw one of his paintings a number of years ago. It didn’t show a typical Welsh chapel, or a traditional stone cottage or any of the usual postcard-type stuff. It showed a temporary, prefabricated school building with a flat, galvanised roof that is so typical of schools around here. And that made me identify and feel at home with his work. He was painting places similar to where I grew up and went to school.

Thirdly - and following on - I think Darren’s paintings of Wales as it really is are an important record of this time and place in our history and culture. Like good still-life paintings, they take the simple, ordinary, everyday things and put them in front of us - and future generations - and say “This is what it is like here and now. This is how it looks and this is how it feels to live here.”

When we look back at history there are many approaches we can take. But looking at the art of the time and thinking about what it represents is a good way to understand the cultures, beliefs and experiences of people and communities.

This is an exhibition that will live with me for a long time.

So not all Private Views suck after all.

Mallorca

2010-09-08T14:34:00.008+01:00

I’ve just got back from a very enjoyable ten days in Mallorca - one of the Balearic islands off the coast of Spain. What’s not to enjoy in a place where you can buy a litre of very drinkable wine for less than a pound?!

I have always loved travelling and have a soft spot for Spain, though I have never been to the Balearics.

Every time I go to Spain I want to stay there - to live and work. And one day I will. I just won’t come back. The culture and the climate suit me. I feel at home there.

Travelling is always an enriching experience as well as being a ‘time-out’ from the same-old-same-old and a chance to reflect and plan.

I enjoy the sound of a different language; the feel of a different climate; the sight of a different landscape.

Mallorca being a small island it was possible to explore the mountains and the plain, the coast and the city. Which all sounds very relaxed and groovy except that I was driving a hired car, on the right-hand side of the road. And often through narrow, twisting mountainous roads. I was terrified much of the time I was there!

I also like to chat to people and have random conversations and exchanges. I tried a few jokes, but they didn’t work. The best, though, was in Deia - on a mission to find the house of the poet Robert Graves. Having been unsuccessful, I asked in a bar for directions. The man standing next to me said “I can help you - I’m his son”! And it was true!

After finding the house and having a fascinating and inspiring time looking around, we met Juan Graves again, sat in the shade (it was 40 degrees) and chatted for a good half an hour.

A special day.

Mallorca has it all - craggy mountains, rolling plains, fabulous beaches and medieval towns.

And lots of Germans.

I mean, LOTS. Being British meant being in an ethnic minority and that was a strange and disturbing feeling.

Coming back to Wales I’m noticing how cold and wet it is.

And how expensive the wine is.

2010-08-20T22:21:00.003+01:00

When I was younger I was a big fan of Jethro Tull.

So it made me very happy to come across this YouTube clip of Ian Anderson (a flautist who stands on one leg!) playing a rocking version of ... err ... Bourree. (You'll recognise it when you hear it.)

Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC95ftYjFgQ&feature=player_embedded

Francesco Clemente

2010-07-30T20:56:00.002+01:00

I really enjoyed watching Charlie Rose interviewing the artist Francesco Clemente.

http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/9227

I love the way that Clemente is so thoughtful about his answers and the profound things he says about his art and his process. For instance:

The importance of boredom and waiting in producing art.
How he edits before he paints not during.
How he regards art as his language, not his talent.
The importance of having a sense of narrative in life.

It's a long interview (43 minutes) but fascinating (I think).

If you watch it, let me know what you think.

Cairn

2010-06-09T20:37:00.007+01:00

I love it when people do things like this ...

I walk beside the River Taff most days. Today I was delighted to see that someone had built a cairn in the middle of the river!

"A cairn (carn in Irish, carnedd in Welsh, càrn in Scots Gaelic) is a human-made pile of stones, often in conical form. They are usually found in uplands, on moorland, on mountaintops, or near waterways ... Similar structures can be found in water."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cairn

It's a frequent complaint that there is too little funding for public art, but this is a great example of someone just getting on and doing something interesting and pleasing.

Revisit

2010-06-03T21:28:00.002+01:00

I had a good couple of days at the studio, though I nearly froze there in the night! Did a lot of sketches and studies ... most of which were crap, but on the second day found my "voice" again.

I've been working on coloured landscape studies ... trying to imitate other artists I've seen lately who are commercially more successful than me. And that's been the problem.

It's just not me.

I unpacked some of the pictures I've done over the last few years that have been in storage. They reminded me of what I was expressing. And I liked them.

So I'm going "back" to what it is I feel I'm all about. Speaking in my own tongue. Telling my own stories. Putting my own ideas on the table for conversation.

I want to ... and I will ... extend my own vocabulary. But I won't try to speak with someone else's voice.

Also, I looked long and hard at the commissioned sculpture I've almost finished. And that too is crap. I'm going to - literally - cut it back and rework it.

It means more work but it will eventually say what I want it to say.

A frustrating couple of days, but positive in their outcome.

2010-05-09T21:50:00.000+01:00

Brilliant YouTube clip ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42E2fAWM6rA

Wildfires

2010-04-26T16:51:00.000+01:00

The kids are burning Maerdy Mountain.

According to a Times article in the Summer of last year, South Wales is now known as "the wildfire capital of the UK".

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/the_way_we_live/article6619231.ece

Some of the fires are set by kids on scrambler bikes trailing burning ropes behind them.

Up until a few years ago, I did training sessions with young people on a year-long course called "DNA". The sessions I ran included a day on Vision, and another half-day on Time Management (to fulfil the vision).

I also worked with the Prince's Trust as a Business Mentor to young entrepreneurs.

I think young people should light fires.

I think they should find their passion, their vision, their reason for being here, and go out and blaze a trail with it.

I think there should be so many of them that the "fire-fighters" can't contain and control them.

I think they should set fire to the earth.

My days of envisioning and equipping young people are over. It's a different time now and I'm a different me.

But there's still work to be done for Jaded Youth.

Fresh Air

2010-04-25T08:58:00.000+01:00

This week I'm going to hit the books, the magazines, the coffee shops, the shopping malls, the sketchbooks and the journals.

I need fresh inspiration.

Private Views

2010-04-23T16:50:00.004+01:00

I know I’ve often said how much I dislike Private Views and how I’m not going to any more. Ever.

Well, I’ve been to two in the last few weeks.

The one I went to last night was typical. It was at BayArt in Cardiff and was an exhibition by four contemporary British painters. To be honest, I liked one or two pieces, and loved one. But it was the whole ethos of the thing that aggravated me. No ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’; no idea whether the artists were there; no explanatory notes; no prices; £1 for a glass of wine. The whole thing was trying to be too cool for school. There was, to my mind, a strong disengagement with the viewers … whether intentional or not. And that’s not what art is about.

On the other hand, a few weeks ago, I went to Oriel Ty Coch (Red House Gallery) in Pontcanna, Cardiff. This is a new space and a very attractive one too. There’s a smallish space downstairs with a large gallery upstairs. There’s stripped pine and exposed brickwork which gives it a certain charm. At the Private View, the Owner stayed near the door all evening to greet visitors and say goodbye when they left. At one point in the evening there was live music which gave it a nice buzz. Out in the courtyard a BBQ was cooking and the food was free. The wine was free too. The artists were there and keen to chat; there were explanatory notes and biographies round about. Itwas a very engaging and pleasant evening. And that’s not too much to expect.

Now, bear in mind, that an important element of marketing is “word of mouth”, so these events are opportunities to turn visitors into fans.

This is my “word of mouth” to you:

Oriel Ty Coch (www.orieltycoch.com) … get along there and have a look. Say hello to Rachel, the Owner.

Bay Art (www.bayart.org.uk) … meh.

Do Not Go Gentle ...

2010-04-20T19:39:00.002+01:00

I've been doing some work in graveyards ... sketching, taking photos and doing rubbings of headstones. I've photocopied the Funeral Service at the library.

It's been triggered by the death of a close friend at the end of last year.

This morning I put in my bag a copy of Dylan Thomas's collected poems so I could photocopy his poem "Do not go gentle into that good night; rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Then I got a phone call from my son saying that his best friend had been found dead that morning aged only 30. It is the second death in only a few years among his close group of friends.

This is no longer an art project ... this is a search for some meaning in the midst of "shit happens".

Spoiled Rotten

2010-04-14T19:03:00.004+01:00

I haven't been able to get to the London Studio for a few weeks (cash-flow problems) and I've realised how spoiled I am by having a dedicated space to work in.

I've moved all my art and materials there which means that when I'm in Wales I don't have any resources to work with. That's a bit "doh" but I wanted to focus my activities.

I have a lot of work to complete when I next get there, but in the meantime I've been out and about drawing, taking photos and planning some new work. I also produced some small "artefacts" related to the Easter story.

Today I went to a local churchyard to take rubbings of headstones. It was a pretty intense experience both physically and emotionally ... but more about that another time. It's about rememberance and commemoration.

So next week I hope to get back to London to wrap up the current work and begin making some new pictures.

I'll keep you posted.

Interesting Times (UK) article ...

2010-04-02T18:29:00.001+01:00

Let's get artists into our churches

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/visual_arts/article7084421.ece

Must be the Easter thing again ...

More Stations!

2010-04-01T18:47:00.002+01:00

In case you don't pick it up from the comments, you really should check out this post by Andrea Pratt ... a BRILLIANT painting and an excellent commentary on her process and symbolism used in interpreting a religious theme though she herself is not religious (though, in my opinion, she is a very spiritual woman).

http://didrooglie.blogspot.com/2007/02/stations.html

Art like this totally rocks!

Isn't it iconic

2010-03-31T18:44:00.005+01:00

After doing my 'relics' of wood, cloth and stone on Monday, I had some pieces of wood left over. I didn't want to throw them away so I've been thinking what else to do with them.

I woke this morning at 5.00 thinking "the seven stations of the cross". I didn't know what they were but I'd heard of them.

I'm still intrigued by the idea of a contemporary take on religious iconography and relics.

So I decided to make seven little icons. Something I could get done in a day.

As I searched around for material to use as the bases, I wondered if perhaps it was nine stations of the cross.

I went to the library to do some research.

Turns out there are FOURTEEN stations of the cross! And there are variations on what the fourteen are. Huh. So much for getting it done in a day. Or at all.

I decided to pick my top five stations (the ones that actually referred to the cross) and just do those.

It all turned into a bit of palaver, to be honest. But that's another story.

In the end I settled for fragments of scripture, pieces of wood, a splash of blood (well, red paint) and a sprinkling of gold dust.

I think I might be done with this Easter thing.

Now I've got five of these pieces that I don't know what to do with. They are 6" by 4", paper, wood, paint and gold dust on card. Signed as well.

If you would like one, email me your address and I'll post one to you.

Commemorate

2010-03-29T17:10:00.002+01:00

How confusing is Easter?

I really don't get it ... Shrove Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Palm Sunday, Good Friday, Easter Monday, Lent, Holy Week. And whatever else I've missed. Mothering Sunday, perhaps?

I'm not even going to attempt to shoehorn in the Easter bunny. Or chocolate eggs.

Nevertheless.

I've spent the day making small Easter gifts for the people who support me as an artist.

While I'm not a big fan of religious festivals, they can act as a frame to hang some ideas on.

I put together a piece of wood and a piece of stone and wrapped them in a cloth on which the word "commemorate" is written.

"To commemorate an important event or person means to remember them by means of a special action, ceremony, or specially-created object."
http://www.google.co.uk/dictionary?aq=f&langpair=en%7Cen&hl=en&q=commemorate

I simply put them in a jiffy bag and popped them in the post. No words, no explanations, no definitions, no instructions. Hopefully they will cause a moment of thought, consideration, reflection. Maybe more than a moment.

I like the idea that there can be so many layers of meaning, significance, story and interpretation to a simple piece of art.

I've kept one piece back for myself and I'm going to use it as a "sacred relic" to focus my thoughts and intentions over Easter weekend.

I'm pleased I've got them done and posted in time for Easter. I tore up the cloth and wrote on it this morning, and then I spent most of the rest of the day walking around collecting pieces of wood and pieces of stone. I sat in a coffee shop addressing envelopes and then sat in the car packaging them. Now I'm here in the Library writing a blog post and taking a photo.

A productive day.

More about the studio ...

2010-03-14T21:40:00.002Z

The studio in London is a 3 storey building in Southwark (central London) made available by Richard and Clifford Burt at http://www.rkburt.com/ - paper merchants. They do a brilliant job at supporting artists and the arts. A BIG UP to them!

The Studio's fab, by the way. Here are some pics ...

2010-03-14T21:20:00.003Z

Hello Blog

2010-03-14T21:05:00.002Z

Busy working in the London studio. Not in writing mode - not even in my journal.

Focussed on getting 2 commissions completed and delivered.

More to follow ...

More Inspirational Websites

2010-01-23T11:49:00.001Z

If you're interested in fashion, style, photography, magazines etc. then these are some cool websites to check out for ideas and inspiration:

http://showstudio.com/

http://theselby.com/

http://www.thesartorialist.blogspot.com/

http://testmag.co.uk/

And, for advertising, writing, design and general creativity read this excellent blog by Dave Trott:

http://www.cstadvertising.com/blog/

Now I'll let you get on with whatever it was you were doing.

I don't know if you're interested in this kind of thing, but ...

2010-01-15T18:10:00.001Z

... these are some of the blogs that have inspired me over the last few months:

http://whitehottruth.com/

http://www.communicatrix.com/

http://chrisguillebeau.com/

http://lateralaction.com/

http://the99percent.com/

They are all business / lifestyle / rocking your world kind of things. Very inspirational and very informative.

Check them out ... there's lots of free e-books and articles to download in some of them.

Doing One Thing

2010-01-09T21:05:00.004Z

When I read a magazine, I have scissors and a craft knife nearby so I can cut out and keep words, articles and images that resonate with me in some way. When I read a non-fiction book I like to have a photocopier handy. When I browse blogs on the web I copy and paste like a mad thing.

I'm a scanner; it's what I do.

The trouble is, I end up with lots of references that I can't attribute.

My bad.

So I came across the idea of doing one thing a day towards building a business. But I can't remember where from.

Also, around the same time, I came across this from a computer programmer:

"Start with something simple.

Build the absolute smallest thing that can be considered a complete application and ship it.

Who do people take too long on the first version? Pride, mostly. They hate to release something that could be better. They worry what people will say about them. But you have to overcome this.

Doing something simple at first glance does not mean you aren't doing something meaningful, defensible or valuable.

Now, when coding, I try to think 'How can I write this such that if people saw my code, they'd be amazed at how little there is and how little it does.' "

The thing I have to overcome is that I'm not content to do one thing.

I want to do everything.

I read somewhere (there I go, scanning again) about stopping biting your nails. The advice was, stop biting one nail.

How this works out for me:

I want to send 'Thank You' cards to my supporters. This became a full-scale mailing pack to hundreds (OK, dozens) of people. I've whittled the list down to a few. Maybe I should send just one?

I want to make coloured studies of my tree-trunk drawings. This became a hundred studies on specially sourced paper. I'm going to do one on any old copier paper I can find. Any day now.

To be honest, I'm finding it a challenge.

It's easy to fill my days doing many things, but not doing 'the one thing'.

(This post was my 'one thing' today. It took me all day to find where I'd put the reference I quoted above. And then Blogger played up and wouldn't let me paste. So it's now tomorrow. Not so easy, eh?)

2010-01-01T19:19:00.002Z

Happy (official) New Year to everyone!

Hope it's a good one for us all.

I've appreciated all your comments during the last year ... keep 'em coming!

The one where I manipulate time

2009-12-30T18:49:00.002Z

I started my New Year on December 21st.

To be honest, I was fed up of 2009 and I wasn't looking forward to drifting through the days to Christmas and the New Year.

The shortest day - the Winter Solstice - seemed a good day to begin afresh. At least I knew the days would start getting lighter. And I needed that to look forward to. I need more light.

2009 was a good year in many ways, and had many highlights. But after its early promise it started to drag. The last few months got gloomy.

I needed to earth myself back in again to some simple plans and tasks. To give myself something to work on every day that would help me to get back some kind of orientation.

I read somewhere about "building a business in a year by doing one thing every day". For me, it's not just about business but about all that I aspire to be and do.

Also, by starting on December 21st I would have 375 days in the year, not 365.

It felt like a better number.

Funeral for a friend

2009-12-19T18:30:00.000Z

For more than 30 years I've been friends with a guy named Simon.

We raised our families together, went on holidays together, worked on projects together.

More than that, he was an excellent friend and a brilliant 'advisor / counsellor' to me personally.

In the last couple of years, knowing that he was ill gave us both a new sense of purpose to our friendship. All of our conversations were positive ... he seemed never to give in to negativity or despair.

As I've begun to reconfigure my life this year, Simon was supportive, helpful and wise. We were working out how he could take on a role as some sort of advisor / director in the business aspects of what I planned to do.

He met me at the airport when I got back from Brazil in August after he'd just been to the consultant.

That's when he knew he'd run out of road.

Over the next few months we saw each other from time to time and he continued to give me good advice and support ... some of which I'm still thinking about.

During that time I've been distracted and dithering.

But he faded fast and his light went out just over a week ago.

This week I attended his funeral.

Today I realise how much I miss him as a friend and what a gap he leaves in what I want to be and do.

Today I'm finding it hard to find the ground beneath my feet.

2009-12-02T18:24:00.000Z

It's gonna be a lean Christmas.

Lean, lean, lean.

This year everyone will be getting a stick.

The French Connection

2009-11-28T20:35:00.001Z

Outside Cardiff Library a massive piece of modern sculpture is being installed. It's a large arrow-like column with a hoop leaning against it. The hoop will be filled with liquid that will have 'a phosphorous glow' at night. Also at night, projectors installed within the arrow will project words in English and Welsh on to the ground.

It was designed by a Frenchman and is being installed by French engineers.

As you would expect there is some resentment that a Welsh artist wasn't chosen to produce something.

The official blurb says, "The monumental sculpture was commissioned following a national competition to find the right piece of artwork that would fit well within the city and become a new landmark. A total of 120 responses were received from artists across the globe with just 5 artists shortlisted for the opportunity. Jean-Bernard Metais' 'Alliance' was eventually chosen for the task because his response to the brief stood out as the best."

I would quote more but I'm losing the will to live.

So if it was a "national" competition, did that mean Wales or the UK?

Seems it's an irrelevant question because responses were received from around the globe.

Doesn't make sense to me.

Anyway, I've been watching it going up from the 4th floor window of the library, where I sit. The other day the artist and the project manager were sat next to me watching the installation. I was going to chat to them about it but they were talking to each other in French. I can sound like a French person but I can't actually speak French so I left them alone.

When on site, the project manager wore the obligatory hard hat and vis-vest ... but with white wellies! Very French. And at lunch time he and his workers have a glass of wine!

One side of me is cross that there was deemed to be no Welsh proposal that was good enough. But maybe that's because the art-scene in Wales isn't of an international standard. I don't know.

But another side of me thinks it's cool that Wales is a European nation, and Cardiff is a European city, and so this sense of internationalism in the arts may be appropriate.

So maybe I'll start calling myself a European artist.

Especially if it means I can wear white wellies and drink wine at lunch time.

Won't Get Fooled Again

2009-11-25T18:26:00.001Z

When I was a teenager me and my friends used to go to "rock concerts" at Cowbridge Town Hall. The music was loud and the place was packed. We'd usually drunk cider and smoked cigarettes round the back. Down the front, close to the speakers was the place to be. Your ears ringing the next day was the sign it was a good evening.

A friend of mine's Dad had an amazing "hi-fi" system in the back room (kept for best). We used to go there after school (and sometimes when we should have been in school) and play LPs very loud.

The local youth club sometimes had "discos" where we would take our own LPs and dance.

I say dance ...

It was legs apart, head down, hair over ya face and imaginary guitar in hands. Then rock back and fore Status Quo style.

This all came back to me the other day when I was travelling in the car to London. I always listen to music - usually the same thing on repeat for 2 or 3 hours. But I'd recently dug out a CD of The Who's greatest hits. I let it play happily in the background, until it came to "Won't Get Fooled Again". On a whim, I turned it up ... really loud. It was fantastic. All these memories of listening to loud music and dancing crazily came back to me. It was fun.

Then I got sad, and I was sad for the next 3 days.

Why did I stop listening to music really loud?

And when did I stop rockin'?

Probably when I cut my hair.

"eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month"

2009-11-11T14:43:00.007Z

On this Armistice Day, I'd like to read you a poem written by a young Welsh poet, Owen Sheers:

Mametz Wood

For years afterwards the farmers found them -
the wasted young, turning up under their plough blades
as they tended the land back into itself.

A chit of bone, the china plate of a shoulder blade,
the relic of a finger, the blown
and broken bird's egg of a skull,

all mimicked now in flint, breaking blue in white
across this field where they were told to walk, not run,
towards the wood and its nesting machine guns.

And even now the earth stands sentinel,
reaching back into itself for reminders of what happened
like a wound working a foreign body to the surface of the skin.

This morning, twenty men buried in one long grave,
a broken mosaic of bone linked arm in arm,
their skeletons paused mid dance-macabre

in boots that outlasted them,
their socketed heads tilted back at an angle
and their jaws, those that have them, dropped open.

As if the notes they had sung
have only now, with this unearthing,
slipped from their absent tongues.

From Skirrid Hill by Owen Sheers, published by Seren.

2009-10-17T18:46:00.002+01:00

At the end of last week and the beginning of this week I was very frustrated.

I had the studio space lined up ready to work in, I had the research and designs for the sculpture ready and I had the materials I needed to get started.

And then the car broke. It was driveable locally, but it was not up to the 3 hours each way back and fore to the studio.

But it's actually turned out to be a good week, once I came to terms with the fact that I was going to be here and not there.

The weather has been cold but sunny, with the colours of Autumn beginning to show through. Autumn is my favourite season.

Making the most of the weather, I went out drawing most days.

I've been drawing tree trunks again.

There is something, for me, very 'earthing' about standing and sketching.

As I walk I am thinking about all sorts of things, but my eyes are constantly scanning for something interesting to draw. Suddenly, I will see something. Often, I have walked past before my conscious brain has processed what my eyes have registered, so I walk back and look again to see what it was I noticed.

Then I stand, take a breath, and root myself to the spot. The flow of looking, drawing, looking, adjusting, looking, drawing begins and unfolds itself. Sometimes, I think I have finished but I sense I haven't. I stand a little longer and see a little more, and begin working again. A small A6 sketch can take 5 minutes or 20 minutes. I finish when I sense that it's 'enough'.

I have a nearly-full sketch book of tree trunk drawings now and it's interesting to look through to see how my 'style' has developed.

At first I was using pencil. But my mark-making was very tentative and the results were a little too grey and pale for my liking.

Sometimes I use a straightforward black pen (often a cheap biro). This is better, though a little too hard-edged for what I'm drawing and doesn't work so well for shading or softening the lines. I find it technically more challenging.

My favourite is a water-soluble fibre tip pen, with a water-filled brush. I draw in a Daler-Rowney A6 sketch book on 150gsm cartridge paper.

I like to draw the edges and the main features of the tree trunk, and then blur them with the brush. I then work into them, drawing some more, repeating the process.

I'm not creating a 3-dimensional, realistic representation of a tree. I take photos for that.

As I've mentioned before, I see figures in the trees and I gravitate towards the more elegant shapes.

I'm interested in the lines, the shapes, the contours and the curves.

But as I look back I realise that, really, I'm drawing breasts.

The Sculpture Commission

2009-10-12T19:16:00.002+01:00

The sculpture commission came about when we started off chatting about commissioning a painting for his shop. He'd already bought a few pieces off me including a sculpture that he was particularly fond of. He talked about how he connected more with sculpture than with paintings. At the time, we were sitting outside in his large and beautiful garden, and I commented that a sculpture set into the garden would look great. It clicked. And now I'm working hard to construct, complete and install it before the daylight diminishes and the weather turns too harsh for being outdoors. The end of the month is the aim. We'll have a garden party for the viewing.

Being commissioned to produce work like this has been a good process for me. When I work solely for myself (though as I type that I realise how untrue it is) I develop ideas and pick up influences and references as I go. They almost unconsciously weave themselves into my work. There's also had to be a bit more intellectual rigour in putting forward a clear and plausible proposition.

As part of the process I've put together a 30 page, bound document - a mixture of words and images -of my references and research, and sent it to my client. (Jo - we need to get a binding machine for the studio!).

I'm not going to detail the references here, because I'm finding the process to be a highly individual and personal one. But here are some fragments :

The basic concept is of a figure rising up from the earth. I was thinking a lot about it when I was in Brazil and knew I need to do something to get the process started and to have some actual images to work with. I took photos of Neto so I could begin thinking about the shape and structure of the figure. I also found some fashion images of figures in the landscape, where the legs were wrapped in long flowing skirts. This gave me a better idea for a more sculptural shape.

When I was back in the UK, I took a lot of photos and made drawings of trees coming up from the ground, and roots going down into the ground.

For the past year I've been drawing trees and seeing how they resemble the human form. I could see how the myth of Dryads emerged and what a potent idea it was. All of this was working its way into the process.

The base of the figure I will be sculpting will be covered in natural materials - grass, leaves, sticks, stones - elements that I've been working into my paintings for years.

I will be making the sculpture out of materials attached to a wood and wire frame. The size of the figure (about 4ft 6ins) makes this a little more problematical. But again I had references to draw from. Most days I walk by the River Taff where they are constructing a new fish-pass at the weir. Just recently they have been constructing the framework out of wood and metal rods and then pouring concrete. This showed me how I would construct the armature for my figure and attach materials to it (I'll be using fabric soaked in concrete and exterior PVA, with the whole thing being primed and then painted with many coats of white exterior paint - can't wait to get my hands in concrete!).

I'm due to start construction next week in the studio in London and I have most of the materials and tools ready to take.

But my car's knackered. That's the next problem to fix.

Sum Problems

2009-10-05T18:21:00.001+01:00

It's been a bit hectic. As I thought it might be.

I recently had a great weekend with friends in Devon, where we started pooling ideas for a new venture I will be starting soon.

But mainly I've been working on research and studies for the two commissions I'm doing.

I've also been back and fore to London a few times to see people and, last week, to look at a vacant building I am going to use as a studio.

The plans for the sculpture are pretty much complete, so over the next 2 or 3 weeks I will start construction.

There are all sorts of technical and practical problems waiting to be encountered, but I'm trying not to let that put me off. I'll work my way through them.

But the first problem I have is one of size and scale.

And I have a mental block because it's about numbers. And numbers really don't like me. They never have.

When I was in school, I used to copy my maths homework from a brainy friend. I even put in a few deliberate errors so it wasn't too obvious. But the teacher caught on and told me I should be honest about what I didn't understand so he could help me.

So I did my homework honestly for a few weeks.

I got crap marks, the teacher shouted at me and I was moved down to a lower set.

So I went back to cheating. And hating teachers.

Anyway, to this day if I hear a sentence beginning with the words "two trains leave a station at the same time ..." I run for cover.

And don't get me started on two men digging holes.

My brain simply shuts down.

So here's the problem. And I'm sitting here forcing myself to describe it.

The sculpture is to be around 4ft 6 ins tall.

The human figure is 8 heads (see figure below)

I have a long timber post (that's not a euphemism).

I need to mark it up.

How big should each head be (in a nice round number) to make the whole thing approx 4' 6"?

You can figure it out while I go and lie down.

Really.

What's brown and sticky?

2009-09-18T18:30:00.000+01:00

A stick!

(that one still makes me laugh)

I've been working on quite a few pictures (a dozen or so) based in and about Mid Wales. You may remember me mentioning that I work on them on-site and then bring them back to base camp to finish them off.

Recently, I realised that I had run out of the sticks and stones and other bits and pieces that I use in these pictures.

I could have just gone outside and picked up some more.

But oh no.

I had to wait until I was next there and then take a couple of hours to go collecting.

For some reason, the materials had to be from Mid Wales for the Mid Wales pictures. It wouldn't have been right to have pictures from Mid Wales with sticks from Pontyclun or Cardiff.

It's something about authenticity - even though no-one else would be able to tell. I'd know though.

I am working on lots of ideas, sketches, studies and pictures from different geographical areas, and I have bags of bits from each area.

Wherever I am, I find myself shuffling around with plastic carrier bags full of 'stuff' - like some old bag lady.

I have a bag of bits from Mid Wales for pictures about "the land";

I have another bag of bits from the coast in the boot of the car for pictures on "fluid";

Another bag of bits is from Bute Park in Cardiff for pictures about "chaos";

And I've started collecting material from a cemetery for pictures about "transition" (yes, I know, that last one is a bit weird).

So far, I've been trying to retain a naturalistic style to the pictures even though I paint the natural elements in different colours. Now I'm toying with the idea of doing some pictures in neon and flourescent colours.

It might be a bit more zeitgeisty.

(shoehorned that one in)

Coming Soon!

2009-09-16T18:20:00.003+01:00

Tree Farm

2009-09-14T18:06:00.000+01:00

Some time ago, as I was travelling through Mid Wales, I stopped at a Forestry Commission place for a wee.

While I was there I noticed they had various walks and nature trails mapped out.
So, picking the easiest-looking one - I went for a walk.

I had a packet of Mini-Cheddars so I knew I was well prepared.

The path I chose was actually a wide, made-up road, with picnic benches and tables along the way.

Not very intrepid, I know ... but forests scare me so I wanted to stay as far away as possible.

Also along the way, were these various sculptures.

Animals also scare me, so seeing things like a hedgehog this size was a bit unnerving.

Anyway.

I got to thinking about art in public places, and what a good thing it is.

I thought it was great that the Forestry Commission had commissioned and installed these pieces.

They weren't very zeitgeisty, but someone had made an effort.

However.

Something wasn't feeling right.

It was all a bit bland, a bit sanitised. It didn't feel like I was in 'nature'.

It was a bit creepy, but not in a good way.

As I came to the top of an incline, and rounded a corner, I saw this.

Devastation for miles around.

I suddenly realised that I really wasn't in nature ...

I was walking through a factory farm for wood

... a slaughterhouse for trees.

It was genuinely upsetting.

I walked back past the picnic benches and the sculptures and the whole place suddenly seemed very bleak.

It's a place to avoid, not visit.

No matter how desperate I am for a wee.

2009-09-11T11:52:00.001+01:00

Over the last few weeks I've been very focussed on the 2 commissions I'm working on. I'm very excited about them and feel I have some good ideas.

I'm doing a lot of preparatory research and studies, including reading, taking photos, making photocopies, getting tear sheets from magazines, producing drawings and getting samples of materials.

I have a deadline of 20th September to have all the preparatory work done, ready to present and, hopefully, get approved.

So not long.

The pictures I'm producing are a series of 4 based on the theme of growth and decay. The reason for producing 4 is that the number 4 represents the number of the earth (4 corners of the earth, north / south / east / west, 4 seasons, 4 winds etc.) Each will be 2 feet square. As is my usual style, the pictures will be colourful, highly textured and will have natural elements embedded into them.

The sculpture I'm working on is based on an upright human figure. The lower half of the figure will be covered with sticks, leaves and other natural elements suggesting that the figure is rising up out of the earth. It will be about 4 ft 6 ins tall. I am exploring the materials to be used but they will be very robust and weatherproof. The sculpture will be painted white.

Because of the size of these pieces, their physicality, and the nature of the materials being used, I need a dedicated studio space to work in. I have been offered a large space in a disused building in Central London, so I am checking that out. I will travel there for 2 or 3 days each week to work (probably more as the deadline moves closer!).

I am working on both pieces simultaneously and allowing 2 months for their completion. I am working towards installation and viewing at the end of October, so I'll also be working on publicity materials and a launch event(s).

While these commissions are my priority for the next few months, I also have a number of other projects on the go. These include a number of pictures that I'm working on, and plans for a new business-type initiative that I want to develop.

It was quiet in the weeks before I went to Brasil, but I knew it would be busier when I came back.

I'm enjoying it.

Interview with Joanne Aguilar - Textile Designer

2009-09-01T10:24:00.004+01:00

Joanne Aguilar is working as a freelance printed textile designer; producing and selling collections of textile samples for fashion and accessories, with a focus on menswear.

I've found it fascinating to learn more about what a Textile Designer does ... I hope you do too.

(Full disclosure - she's also my daughter!)

During your time at university, what did you REALLY learn? People often study a subject that they never refer to again (like me with History!), but yours seems very practical, hands-on and business-orientated. Was it?

My main aim in going to university was to learn the skills involved in textile design. I picked a course that was particularly traditional and craft based so that I would learn the processes step by step – I thought that if I knew how to do all these things properly I could then start to change the processes and experiment with the variables involved. So yes, the course was very practical but not especially business orientated or modern in terms of digital printing and new textile processes.

What does a Textile Designer actually do? Do you produce the fabric for making clothes? If so, what about the machinery you would need?
If you don't need a lot of machinery, what do you need? How do you produce samples?

My goodness – what a lot of questions! Textile Design is basically split into three disciplines – print, weave and knit. The designs can then be used for fashion, interiors or architectural spaces. If you think about it, textiles are everywhere in everyday life – inside and outside - so the possibilities are endless.

Personally, I specialised in designing printed textiles for fashion. I design patterns and prints in collections and make portfolios of small samples, which I then sell to fashion designers. I don’t need a lot of machinery as my samples are hand made and hand printed. I don’t make the clothes or produce any lengths of fabric – the fashion companies I sell to have their own manufacturers for that.

Why did you choose to focus on menswear? It doesn't seem so glamorous, colourful, tactile or exciting - things I'd have thought a textile designer would have been looking for!

Well, firstly, I think menswear can be glamorous and exciting - and it definitely is tactile. If pattern and colour are less obvious then the feel of the fabric really comes to the forefront. So touch is important to me when I design, and I am also really excited by high performance fabrics – fabric that has specific qualities such as being waterproof, reflective or protective. Good quality fabric is key, as are warmth and comfort. I’m much better at designing for a specific context than just printing pretty patterns in pretty colours.

All in all I think menswear suits my design style perfectly, and it’s definitely what I feel passionate about – menswear presents so many possibilities and challenges as there is still a lot of scope to innovate, all the while keeping it practical and wearable.

How do you begin working on a project? Are there any deadlines or timescales you have to work to? What about fashion seasons?

I start by drawing, taking photos and putting together sketchbooks and mood boards of ideas. One of the first things I decide on is a colour scheme and I like to get into the dye room pretty quickly and dye fabrics and papers to give me a palette. I also check all the upcoming trends as my collections are made for specific seasons in the fashion cycle – either Spring/Summer or Autumn/Winter. I research contemporary designers to keep up to date with current fabric and fashion developments and also read a lot of magazines and visit exhibitions so that I’m aware of what’s happening in general. I’ll set myself a brief and a deadline and choose which fabrics I’ll start with, but once I start printing and sampling I quickly get carried away and new ideas and processes start presenting themselves!

Where do you find your inspiration? How do you get an idea and then translate it onto a design for fabric? How can you know if it's going to be commercial?

Phew! I tend to play with contradictions – for example between traditional and contemporary menswear, printed and constructed textiles, traditional tailoring with elements of sportswear. I consider and exaggerate the inherent qualities of the fabrics I am working with. For each project the inspirations are different but I often look at architecture and graphics and for previous projects have researched suits of armour and military uniforms. I’ll then continue drawing and designing patterns and thinking about which processes I might use for each.

As I said before I try to design fabrics that I know will be wearable and functional for clothing and according to the trends.

Who do you sell your designs to?

I sell to fashion houses but also in the future I would like to collaborate with designers, especially young designers; developing fabrics alongside them for their upcoming fashion collections. I can also sell through textile design agencies.

What kind of environment do you like working in? Is a studio space best for you? Do you prefer working alone or with others?

I don’t like working alone! Even though I produce my collections on my own, a studio in a creative environment is really important for me in terms of meeting people designing in different disciplines, sharing ideas, possibilities of collaborations and having friends nearby for cups of tea! Working in isolation is not conducive to my creativity and I need to build and maintain a network of peers, supporters and friends. Also in practical terms I need studio space – what I do is quite messy!

What are you currently working on?

I’m currently working on a new collection of samples, my first post-university! You can see how I’m getting on at www.joanne-aguilar.blogspot.com

What's next?

The next step for me is to set up a print studio as soon as possible to enable me to continue designing and making samples.

Making Art In Brasil

2009-08-17T15:06:00.002+01:00

I made some art when I was in Brasil.

I tried to make 2 pictures but only completed one and a half.

Being there was a good time for me.

I didn't do the touristy thing, I just spent time hanging out with Claire, Neto, Neto's family and my family (who all made it out there). I joined in with whatever they were doing. It was perfect because I got a first-hand picture of what Claire's life is like ... where she lives, shops and works ... who some of her family and friends are. It made it all feel less distant.

As we went about the place I began to think about making a picture for her and Neto as a wedding present. One day, while she was seeing someone about wedding arrangements, I wandered around with my camera and took a few photos.

I told Claire I wanted to make a picture (I didn't say it was for her) so she gave me some acrylic paints, PVA glue and a sturdy cardboard box that I cut 2 pieces out of to work on.

Over the next few days I primed the cardboard (with the dregs of a tin of white emulsion that we found) and began the process of adding texture and colour to the surface of both pictures.

A couple of days later we were at a shopping mall so I took my camera memory card to a photo shop and asked for 3 prints. They looked at me a bit strangely as the prints I wanted were of a patch of earth (the earth there is a rich red colour), a wooden post and a bunch of grapes. Hardly holiday snaps.

The next day I stayed at Claire's house for the morning while everyone went out. That's when I got cracking. I scrabbled around outside gathering sticks, leaves, small stones and handfuls of earth - elements of the land where she now lives. I stuck them on Claire's picture and the other one. Fortunately things dry quickly in the Brasilian sun!

I added another layer of paint and texture. Finally, I cut words out of a magazine I was reading and stuck those on.

(I couldn't finish the other picture because I couldn't find an image I wanted to photograph or words I wanted to stick on.)

This is when the curious and unexpected thing happened. I was sitting with Claire the morning before her wedding. She had an email from the pastor of the church where she was getting married suggesting I should "say a few words" at the close of the wedding to sum things up. He thought it would be a nice touch and Claire thought so too. I agreed.

As I thought about what to say, I realised that the picture I had made would be a great visual aid. I made it to have meaning especially for Claire and Neto. Now I would have a chance to explain it to them in the context of their wedding rather than just leaving it in the pile of wedding presents and hoping they would "get it".

On the day (or the evening, actually - they got married at 7.30pm) I arranged for the picture to be taken in, wrapped in a piece of cloth. (I was walking Claire down the aisle and giving her away so I couldn't do it!) At the closing stages of the wedding ceremony, when I was invited to speak, I showed them the picture and spoke about the meaning of it.

It was great to be given the opportunity to speak so personally to them both, and to do it in front of their friends, family and church congregation.

Public speaking is my most favourite thing ever, so I was totally chuffed to be invited to take part. It rounded things off nicely for me.

I came home a proud and happy man.

2009-08-16T18:06:00.001+01:00

Check out the website of this great textile artist, Carole Waller:

http://www.carolewaller.co.uk/

2009-08-10T18:46:00.001+01:00

I'm still here.

I just don't know where 'here' is.

How Much Practice?

2009-07-12T18:43:00.000+01:00

10,000 hours, apparently.

I enjoy Malcolm Gladwell's books: The Tipping Point, Blink (my favourite) and his latest (which I'm just reading) Outliers - The Story Of Success (which I'm not enjoying so much).

In this latest book, he explores the factors that go into making some people exceptionally successful. It seems to hinge on a few crucial twists of fate, the time and culture they grow up in and the way they spend their time.

Another factor is that most of the successful people he investigates have worked at or practiced their skills for around 10,000 HOURS! On average, that's at least three hours a day for ten years. Practicing.

It seems that's what it takes.

They say that practice makes perfect.

But perfect at what?

I've been thinking about this since I wrote a few days ago about practicing the piano.

If I'd practiced for half an hour each day - as I was supposed to - I have no doubt that I would have been a better pianist. If I'd practiced for 10,000 hours, I daresay I would have been a very competent pianist. But would I ever have been great? Or successful? And is that what it was about?

With art, I like to go out sketching and if I do it often enough, I get better at it. I know this.

I could draw for 3 hours a day for a decade.

I could go to life classes and take lessons.

And I might do.

In the end I might be very competent at drawing - technically very accomplished. I could look at something or someone and produce an accurate likeness, probably in a variety of media and variety of styles. And I'm sure that would be impressive.

But would that make me an artist?

Reflections on the art market

2009-07-08T10:56:00.011+01:00

I've just realised how bad the art scene is in Cardiff. I was planning to visit a few galleries and as I went through them in my mind, I realised how many of them are not there any more!

One of the longer-established galleries has laid off its only full-time employee and cut its opening hours to just 3 days a week. Another gallery in the city centre opened for a few months and then closed. Another in the Bay - that was only open for about a year - has recently closed, though they are planning to relocate and reopen. We'll see.

I'm sure there are lots of reasons for these closures, but the bottom-line has to be that the bottom-line isn't adding up. Each of them seemed to have no shortage of artists wanting to show in them, but a severe shortage of people going to view the exhibitions and buy works of art. The 'credit crunch' has abviously exacerbated the situation, but it was a trend long before that.

I've been looking at some research carried out by the Arts Council, regarding the visual arts and crafts. It dates back to 2005 / 2006 and it indicates that the trends were already there.

The key findings were:

Those who engage with the visual arts are typically white, well educated and of high social status;

There is a strong regional effect in the case of art exhibitions, museums, galleries etc. - those living outside London are a lot less likely to attend.

The visual arts venues are not seen to be relevant or accessible to a majority of the population. This is backed up by findings which showed that a large number of people believe that the arts are ‘not for people like me’.

The conclusion is that:

"A range of different strategies are therefore required if we are to overcome both the practical and psychological barriers to engagement with the visual arts."

My aim is to make a living as an artist. I've identified a number of ways of doing this and I'm in the process of developing strategies and frameworks for making these work in practice and on a sustainable basis. This means developing new models and methods - which I hope will be useful to me and to other artists that I want to help and support.

The old way of doing things - particularly the gallery system - is no longer working so it's futile to continue putting time and energy into it. A lot of creative thinking, energy and effort needs to go into developing new ways of doing things that are better suited to the current zetgeist ("the spirit of the time; the taste and outlook characteristic of a period or generation").

This is some of what's bubbling away in the background as I wait for a number of things to click into place.

I Have No Style

2009-07-06T18:14:00.000+01:00

When I was young (primary school age) I took piano lessons. I was pretty good, too ... passed exams, got grades and all that. My Dad wanted to send me round the pubs, to make some money off me. Better than going up the chimneys or down the mines, I suppose. Fortunately, we moved and had to sell the piano.

My piano teacher was Hirioth Davies and she lived up "The Pitching" (an old, cobbled street up the side of a steep hill) in Llantrisant. She had a long pencil (about a foot long) that she used to annotate the music, to keep time, and to rap me over the knuckles with when I made a mistake.

That happened a lot because I didn't practice as much as I should have.

I was supposed to do half an hour's practice every day. Yeah right.

First I had to do scales. Up and down the keyboard practicing fingering and developing what I now know as 'muscle memory'. Eventually I would instinctively know where the notes were, how to get to them, how to combine them , how to transpose from one key to another.

This led on to practicing specific pieces of music. Usually classical. Starting out clunky and cacophonous, eventually I would get the hang of it and then be able to play with greater fluidity and expression.

As I developed my abilities, I was able to tackle a new piece of music more easily and get the hang of it more quickly. In the later stages, in exams, I was able to sight read pieces of music I had never seen before.

Pretty cool, huh? Imagine how good I would have been if I'd actually put in the practice!

Now I'm learning to make art instead of music.

I go out sketching most days and, to me, that's like practicing my scales. I usually sketch the same things over and over again - landscapes and tree trunks mainly.

But I've been worrying that I don't sketch in a defined style. Or rather, that I do for a while and then it changes.

Lately, my landscape sketches have been much more fluid and colourful - using ink and coloured pencils, rather than pens or charcoal. My tree trunks are more linear and I'm using ink and wash rather than pencil.

But now I'm thinking that this is all part of the process and that it's OK ... necessary, even.

When I learned to play scales, I learned different, more complicated ones as I progressed. This enabled me to tackle more difficult compositions. That's what it's like with my sketching. I'm developing a broader range of skills that will enable me to tackle different pieces of work.

Perhaps it's not so much that I don't have any style ... it's that I have many styles ... depending on what I want to do.

2009-06-29T12:27:00.003+01:00

These days are slow, work-wise. Things are humming quietly but I'm not feeling as driven as I was a few weeks ago.

Several things are about to click into place.

In a month or two I won't have much free time, perhaps for quite a while.

Well, that's the way I like it.

Different times, different rhythms.

Further thoughts on the UCA Farnham Summer Show

2009-06-20T10:39:00.006+01:00

At the Summer Show I was keen to see what was happening in the Fine Art department. Overall, I was disappointed.

A few things struck me: one was the lack of painting - there were only 2 paintings in the whole Fine Art exhibition. The second was the conceptual nature of much of the rest of the work, with no obvious point of access into it. The third was that the artists were nowhere to be seen so there could be no dialogue with them.

In the Textiles department, the preparatory work and research was an integral part of the display, with the result that you could get a handle on what was being represented. Also, the designers generally hung around the exhibition and were willing to talk about their work. Perhaps the difference is that their work is more commercial and part of their development is learning how to explain ... and sell ... what they are doing.

If that's true, then I can only guess that the fine artists are not interested in personally presenting and selling their work.

It's not easy to read a picture. Or any piece of art. There's a visual language, set in a personal and cultural context, that needs to be understood - at least to some degree - if the work is to be appreciated. I know there's a school of thought that says a picture should be allowed to speak for itself, but I don't agree with that and it's not the approach I'm taking.

All this has made me think about what I'm doing.

For me, as I've mentioned before, it's about getting some ideas 'out there' to debate and test them - and hopefully improve them. My primary medium is the visual arts - though I won't be restricted to that.

I want there to be a conversation and a connection about those ideas. This may or may not result in a sale (though often it does).

I'm not sure a passive gallery display will ever achieve that.

I want to have conversations about my art in the studio, in a coffee shop, around the table ... preferably with lots of food and wine.

I'm figuring out how best to do that.

At one of my exhibitions, I complained that no -one asked me any questions or made any comments. Someone told me that they didn't think they were allowed to talk to the artist. I understand that - and the gallery environment can add to that sense of intimidation and unease. That's another reason I think it's important to find different ways of presenting art - at least in my case.

When I post my pictures on my blog, I don't do it like you're supposed to. The photos are pretty poor quality (though I want them to be better); I don't give any details of size, media, price or how to purchase should anyone wish to. I'm just giving a glimpse of what I'm doing and what I'm producing. I don't want my art to be reduced to a high-res image and a set of dimensions. I don't aim to sell art from this blog. I just use it to tell stories and give a bit of background and context.

I want to create environments and opportunities for people to see my pictures 'in the flesh'; to hold them, to touch them, to feel free to ask questions and make comments.

No pressure to buy ... just bear in mind that I'll die of hunger if you don't.

University for the Creative Arts Farnham Summer Show 2009

2009-06-16T15:01:00.005+01:00

I went to view this annual exhibition at the University for the Creative Arts at Farnham. Work was being shown from all the 3rd year BA students, and included Fine Art, Interior Architecture & Design, Ceramics, Glass & Metalwork & Jewellery, and Textiles for Fashion & Interiors. It was the last category that I was particularly interested in because my daughter, Jo, was on that course and was exhibiting her work.

The Textile Design course combines print and weave. Textiles are designed for fashion, interiors, fine art and architectural contexts. It's a very innovative course that develops practical design and production skills with a strong business orientation.

It has been interesting to see how Jo's thinking, experience and skill have developed and improved over the three years. She's also enjoyed the course and has often talked enthusiastically about the other students. I was looking forward to meeting them and seeing some of their work. According to the tutors, they were a particularly good group.

And it showed in the exhibition. It was amazing. There was so much variety, so much creativity. Different types of printed and woven fabrics displayed in many different ways and intended for many different uses. There were final samples together with many of the research elements. Some of this was in sketch books, photos, and videos. So many stories were being told and ideas being explored. Two that stood out to me were the girl who designed her whole project around smoking and cancer ... producing fabrics that were beautiful but that held a powerful message ... and the girl who printed onto dissolvable fabric and then threw it into the sea. The material dissolved leaving the design on the water and the rocks until that too washed away. She captured all of this in photos and on video.

All the students were artists, who had chosen to work with textiles as their medium.

The other thing that struck me was how much mutual support, encouragment, challenge and praise there was amongst the Textiles students. Although they were all highly individual - as people and in the work they produced - they'd created a real studio environment. I was envious!

Jo's Project Aim was:

"To produce a collection of textile samples which will be used for menswear - playing on the contradictions between traditional and contemporary menswear and printed and constructed textiles; keeping an element of humour and surprise in my prints and fabrics.My collections demonstrate my varied influences such as tailoring, sportswear and streetwear. They fill a gap in men's everyday wardrobes for fashion forward clothes that are wearable in terms of design and also functional - protective, reversible, warm and comfortable."

(see some of her work at http://www.joanne-aguilar.blogspot.com)

I'm not at all biased, but her work was the best in the whole show. Obviously.

Much of the work from the Summer Show will be shown at New Designers in The Business Design Centre, Islington on 9th - 12th July. This is a commercial show where the best young designers from across the country exhibit their work and connect with industry professionals. For more info visit http://www.newdesigners.com/page.cfm/Link=1/t=m/goSection=1

Another 2 pictures

2009-06-13T18:57:00.003+01:00

I'm still producing "Images of Earth and Spirit" pictures. I'm working with my visual language, with small variations each time as my vocabulary grows.

I have too many ill-defined thoughts to put into words, so I'm making art to find out what I think. My thoughts are visual, not verbal, though there is a constant commentary running through my mind.

I'm 'seeing' new (for me) concepts and constructs. I hope they will translate into some kind of reality in terms of how I see myself and what I do.

I know exactly what I want but, as yet, don't know how to do it. Actually, that's not true. I know how to do it, I just don't have the resources to do it at the moment.

When I go out sketching I'm working in a much looser style and using colour. That's how I see things. But there are still fences to get over.

I'm working on it.

2009-06-08T16:32:00.002+01:00

I'm out in the hills again - sitting beside a lake. It appears to be peaceful and calm, but the wind is blowing in the trees and the grass, and the ripples are moving restlessly across the surface of the lake. In the earth there will be all sorts of worms, bugs and creep-crawlies. (Just like in my car.) In the lake there will be fish, and ... errr ... other things that live in water. And while I can't see them, there are sure to be animals and birds around here somewhere.

It's a constant maelstrom of elements and creatures - all inter-acting, inter-relating and inter-dependent. It goes on day and night whether I'm here or not; whether I notice or not; whether I care or not.

It seems life's like that.

I've stopped here for a reason. I have a few things on my mind. I write two of them on scraps of paper, lift my hand and let them go. The wind takes them.

A butterfly flaps its wings in Patatgonia and I throw a few pieces of paper into the air in Wales. Who knows what the knock-on effect will be? What consequences will follow? Maybe my 'prayers' will be answered by some force or some fluke. Maybe not.

It was a special moment.

As I turn to go back to the car, I see a sign.

It says, "Take your litter home. Maximum penalty £2500".

That could go either way then, depending on who was watching.

I've got worms

2009-06-07T18:52:00.005+01:00

I first noticed when I was gluing sticks, grass, dirt and stones onto a piece of MDF at the side of the road in Mid Wales.
Something was moving on the surface ... wriggling in fact. I'd half glued a worm into the picture.

I now have carrier bags full of material I have gathered, in the boot of my car. When I open the boot, flies buzz around and worms are crawling.

Add that to the lingering odour of milk I spilled some time ago and my car is not a pleasant place to be.

Ah well.

Anyway, here are two more pictures from Mid Wales ... and there are more to come!

The reason I'm producing so much at the moment is because:

I'm working without excuses. I'm not waiting for the ideal circumstances ... or even slightly better ones ... I'm just "getting on with it", every day.

I'm also challenging myself more. I'm consciously doubling my output by working on 2 pictures at a time.

Next, I'm going to be thinking about how to package and present my work.

2009-06-02T18:47:00.002+01:00

Things I need to know something about:

chaos theory
quantum mechanics
gaia theory
that thing where people are physically translocated (translocation?)

I've tried reading some books about them but they are all a bit too technical for me.

Sigmund Freud said, "Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me."

I want to read things written by poets and story-tellers.

I learned a lot about current scientific thinking from the children's books by Madeleine L'Engle. I'm looking for more of that kind of thing.

For instance, has anyone read books by Philip K. Dick? I'm not really into science fiction, but are they any good? Or can you recommend something similar?

For example, with regard to chaos theory I love the analogy of a butterfly flapping its wings in Patagonia and causing a storm in Pontyclun. I get that, though I don't understand it.

I don't want to understand ... I want to be intrigued.

2009-06-01T19:06:00.001+01:00

Talking about dreams (as we were), here is an amusing article by Ariel Leve of the Sunday Times (do you think she reads my blog?):

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/ariel_leve/article6394434.ece

2009-05-30T18:27:00.005+01:00

A few weeks ago I felt the urge to make some art. Since then I've spent some time in Mid Wales taking photos, making sketches and gathering materials. I produced the first two of a number of new pictures. They are a bit rough and ready - which I'm happy with - because the bulk of them was done 'on location'. I finished them off back at base camp.

Dreamer, you stupid little dreamer ...

2009-05-23T18:27:00.000+01:00

The thing I like about daydreams is that I can drift in and out of them. I can visualise something, let it unfold, then come back out to think about what I just thought about. Then I can go back in, let it unfold some more, change it, or start a new one altogether. It's fun, it gives me insights, and I feel like I'm in control.

Sometimes, if there's something I want to give serious consideration to, I'll go into a trance-like state. In this state, I'm more of an observer than a participant. I don't interfere. I let it takes it's course and observe what I see. There's less control and sometimes it feels like I'm slipping away (when I was young, I thought I would go mad doing this) but it's possible to pull myself back. So far.

But my dreams in the night frighten me. They always have done. They are so powerful, real and overwhelming. They assault me with colours, shapes, sounds, and physical feelings. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Dreaming is like slipping into another dimension where impossible thing routinely happen and the nonsensical is very plausible. It's a shape-shifting world where boundaries dissolve and merge. People, conversations, feelings and strange events all conspire to illuminate and confuse. When I wake it can sometimes take a while to work out what is real and what is dream. Often the images and feelings can linger throughout the day and affect my moods and expectations. I spend time analysing what I dreamed and searching for meanings.

(Apparently, creative people fantasise more than the norm and they remember their dreams more clearly and frequently.)

There are two main phases of dreaming during sleep. The one is hypnagogic and the other is hypnopompic.

Hypnagogic sleep is "the state of intermediate consciousness preceding sleep". It's that weird time when you're drifting off to sleep and all sorts of images start to drift across your mind. They may be related to your day or be completely random. Sometimes they will jerk you momentarily back to wakefulness, often with a physical jerk that wakes you (and I don't mean your partner). Hypnagogic dreaming is quite fun because it's often a bit bizarre, but not enough to be really freaky.

Hypnopompic sleep is "the partially conscious state that precedes complete awakening from sleep". For me, this is where the scary hard-core stuff takes place. My dreams in this state tend to be much darker and more disturbing. It's in this state that I have recurring dreams of water overwhelming me (lately, they've been so real that I can even feel the temperature of the water), of people haranguing or ... worse ... ignoring me. The anxiety, frustration and fear can be intense. Often I wake up afraid and force myself to stay awake until the feelings have subsided. But even when my dreams are not nasty, it still worries me that something so powerful can take place and yet I can do nothing about it.

Nevertheless, I'm fascinated by it ... as, I think, most people are. It's such a frequent and important part of our lives, and yet it is so little understood. You'll often hear people say ... "I had a weird deam last night ..." and then go on to describe it in such detail and with such intensity even though basically it sounds nonsensical. But it obviously meant something to them or they wouldn't bother recalling and recounting it.

My dreams are a rich source of images and ideas. They also give me insights into what I'm thinking and feeling, and what's troubling me. But it's the helplessness I feel about them, the lack of control, that scares me. So I'm curious about lucid dreaming (the experience of dreaming with consciousness that one is dreaming, i.e., experiencing a dream with waking consciousness ... I know, it's weird ... perhaps that's why I'm drawn to it!).

But that's for another night.

2009-05-21T09:18:00.001+01:00

Getting in a state

2009-05-19T18:30:00.002+01:00

I'm struggling a bit with Twitter and facebook. They seem to be a bit of a soundbite culture. They ask, "What are you doing?" and "What's on your mind?"

Usually I'm not doing anything and there's nothing on my mind.

They scarily remind me of conversations I used to have, which went ...

"What are you thinking?"

"errr ... nothing."

"You MUST be thinking something!"

"I'm really not."

That always ended in a huff.

But it's true.

It's called defocussed attention.

It's a kind of free-floating state of creative day-dreaming. On the one hand I'm thinking about nothing ... on the other hand I'm thinking about lots of things simultaneously. I have "wide associative horizons". I like the sound of that though I have no idea what it means.

Sometimes, when you ask me a question, it will take a while for me to answer. You'll have to put up with me being quiet and staring into space while I gather together all the various facets of my answer to the question. This happened once when I was with someone and they said "don't get autistic on me". It's a bit like that.

Have you seen "The Minority Report"? Remember the scene where Tom Cruise is in front of a big, clear screen, touching and moving various elements around with his hands? That's what my thought processes are like. I can't give you a straight-forward answer but I could probably draw you a flow diagram.

You see, when faced with a question or a problem, analytical-type people get alert, focussed and engaged. I don't. I tune out and switch off. I drift away to see what I think and feel. Eventually I may come back with an answer. But you'll have probably moved on by then.

It's all about cortical arousal. When you're excited, tense, alert, anxious your brain patterns get all excited and your cortical arousal is said to be high. When you relax, chill, daydream and take a nap your cortical arousal is said to be low.

So typically, when faced with a problem, the cortical arousal of analytical people increases, while that of creative people decreases.

To come up with an idea or a solution to a problem, my approach is to go into a dozy, trance-like state. I let my daydreams take their course and see what they show me; I allow lots of free-association of thoughts and memories that collide with half-remembered dreams and vague intuitions about possibilities; I visualise and mentally rehearse what I would like to happen.

This is great for the conceptual process but doesn't work so well when someone asks you if you want a cup of tea.

So you can see why Twitter and facebook don't work for me. Twitter asks what appears to be a very straightforward question ... "What are you doing" ... and gives you 140 characters with which to answer.

No wonder I sit and stare at the computer screen for hours on end, and then still can't think of an answer.

btw ...

2009-05-13T13:23:00.002+01:00

I'm now on facebook (as me) and twitter (as pbirch57).

I'm also on LinkedIn, Ning and Plaxo if you happen to be there.

Overindulged

2009-05-11T18:52:00.003+01:00

I'm pretty much free to be who I want to be, do what I want to do and go where I want to go.

Which is nice.

But recently I read a quote by a graphic designer who said, "I'd much rather be told I have to design a cheap paperback in two colors that can't have any imagery on it than be told I have no limits." (Book Art edited by Charlotte Rivers).

I understand that.

As an artist I follow my own path in terms of ideas and execution. It would be interesting to see how I handle a commission where I have to depict someone else's vision.

Having no responsibilities or commitments is not always a good thing. Not for me, anyway. It can make me passive, lazy and indulgent.

So that's why reading this (below) was like a smack across the head.

I made it into a poster to keep in front of me.

It comes from a book called "Stop Self-Sabotage" by Pat Pearson. In it she claims that when we get out of balance it is because we are either over-challenged or over-indulged. We can, and do, veer between the two but have a tendency toward one more than the other. There are strengths and weaknesses in both positions, and both can help us to move forward at different times and stages.

It hasn't always been like this ... indeed, for most of my working life I've been over-challenged. In the end it led to me being burned out.

Challenging myself is particularly important to me at this time, though, because I have a new sense of energy and urgency. I'm thinking my way around and through the fences that could hold me back, and I want to translate those thoughts into positive, effective actions that will move me - and others - forward.
Being overindulgent won't help. A bit of additional challenge might.

Writing this out for publication has been a curious thing for me. You have no idea how hard it has been for me to write this without making loads of snide comments. I'm obviously reacting to something ...

2009-05-08T18:59:00.002+01:00

2009-05-06T15:39:00.006+01:00

Over the course of the last few weeks, I've been mainly working on the logistics of my 'art business' ... sorting, organising, listing, labelling.

Very left brain.

In the meantime, my right brain spat her dummy out of her pram.

So I took her out to play for an hour or so.

We went to Borders, grabbed a magazine and a coffee and sat looking at lovely pictures.

The magazine we looked at was "Muse". Very appropriate, I thought. It's a bilingual magazine - Italian and English (I read it in the Ital ... the English) - and describes itself as "The Fashionart Magazine". The trouble is it's £12.50 so we couldn't afford to buy it to cut out some of the lovely pictures. We also had to be careful not to spill coffee on it because we were putting it back on the shelf after we'd read it.

"Muse" is an inspiring mix of articles and photos, covering fashion, art, style and culture. I'd love to be involved in that world though I think I'm too conventional. I'd have to let go a bit more.

Usually, this sort of thing keeps me amused for ages. But today, I was getting increasingly restless and agitated. It's almost as if there were too many ideas and images, too many words and sentences.

I was no longer sure I knew what they (fashion designers) were doing. I found myself wondering what the meaning was ... and if there was any. Don't get me wrong, I love the fashion industry and the characters who work in it.

Perhaps the trouble with the seasonal nature of fashion - and the huge number of pieces they have to design, produce and show - is that it becomes about the rapid generation of ideas and images. Perhaps, inevitably, these will be devoid of depth or meaning.

As a visual artist (sort of) I want to go a little deeper ... to incorporate layers of meaning ... to go longer-term to allow the working-out of just a few ideas.

I've got a longing lately to make some art.

It's like a sexual urge.

I want to make art with whatever I can find ... off-cuts of wood, pieces of slate, Daler boards, cardboard.

I want to go out and gather sticks, grass, moss, dirt, leaves, stones. I want to slather them in PVA and stick them to those surfaces - right there and then. I want to mix in paint ... flicking, splashing and pouring.

I want to take countless photos and make loads of sketches of everything I can see using pencils, pens, charcoal and chalks.

I want dirt under my fingernails and colour all over me.

I want to place my hands on the earth and weep and groan.

Meanwhile, my left brain is making a list of what I'll need to take.

And thinking I might need sandwiches and a flask.

2009-05-05T18:30:00.000+01:00

A couple of days a week, when I'm in South Wales, I go to Cardiff to work at the new Central Library. It's a brilliant building with 5 floors of books, CDs and DVDs and about 100 computers all linked to the internet and with a useful suite of programs on them. I can do some research, type some notes and print them out. Job's a good 'un. I'm there now, writing this.

My favourite place to sit is in a comfy chair by the window on the 4th floor. That's where the sections on marketing and personal development are. I like to read them and imagine what it would be like if I ever did anything about any of it. I take sandwiches and a flask. I may start taking a blanket to put over my knees.

Much more interesting, though, is that from here I can see the construction site for the new St. David's 2 Shopping Centre. All day long people and machines are coming and going. It's a constantly shifting scene of hi-viz jackets and different coloured hard hats.

Over the weeks I've seen them dig a huge hole, fill it in, dig it again, fill it in again ... so many times. Now they've levelled it ... though I've seen them do that before so I don't really believe them.

The logistics are amazing with so many elements being co-ordinated (or not). It amazes me that if they need a massive JCB, one appears. If they need a small hand-brush, they get one of those too.

I've been thinking a lot about the logistics of what I do, and itemising the materials I use. When you work for yourself you have to provide pretty much everything yourself.

It occurred to me when I blogged before about the idea of a kaleidoscope. I realised that the randomness and the changing patterns are the result of numerous individual pieces of different shapes and sizes. They don't change, only their pattern does.

Previously, whenever I started a new job, I was given a desk and access to all the resources I needed. I used a lot of elastic bands because we used to have wars across the dividing screens. I customised a wooden ruler with 6 notches at one end so I could load it up with 6 elastic bands and fire an onslaught. I had a colleague who was a photographer so I also used a lot of elastic bands when I put them on my head for him to do a portrait of me.

Anyway.

To make art, I need numerous things. For example, as a base I might use canvas, wood, paper - and there are loads of different types. I've even painted onto slate, stone and crockery. To create images I use pencils, pens, inks, paints (of different types - such as poster paints, acrylics, enamels, emulsion), photos, collage and found items. I apply media using brushes, rollers, palette knives, string, paper towel, rags, cling film and my hands. Then there are primers, glues, varnish (matt and gloss), frames, fixtures, fittings, labels, packaging, promotional materials ... and so it goes on.

Making art can be a spontaneous, intuitive process. But it can only be that if the materials and equipment are there to be used as tools for getting the job done. With much of my 'stuff' still in storage, it's become more important for me to be organised. I need to know what I've got and where, and have ready access to it. I've never made so many lists and labels

Sitting in the Library, and watching other people work, is a great visual reminder that I need to be doing things EVERY DAY ... even if they are small, routine and repetitive ... and I need the resources to do those things ... otherwise nothing will ever get built. And sold.

Solid Conclusions

2009-04-29T13:50:00.014+01:00

A comment on my previous post asked what "solid conclusions" I'd come to regarding my 100 DAY experiment.

I like questions. I like to be challenged. So here goes ...

Firstly, I don't really do "solid conclusions". I enjoy ideas, concepts, conversations, discussions. But wrapping them up and coming to conclusions frustrates me. I'm aggravated by people who ask me "So, what are you going to DO?" The trouble is, those people are essential to me and I need them in my life and experience ... as long as they don't expect to be loved and appreciated for it. So the comment about conclusions annoyed me at first, and then provoked me ... and now I'm really glad of it! Fickle, eh?

Secondly, it wasn't a scientific experiment. I deliberately didn't set specific goals or clear parameters. It was more of an intuitive thing. I wanted to change the shape and structure of my life in terms of my location, my work, my relationships. I was feeling stuck and wanted to shake things up to see how they landed. Overall, I think that happened and I'm happy with the outcome, though it hasn't been all that I secretly hoped for.

My aim was "to develop and explore a new plan and framework together with some guiding principles that would influence and determine decisions and actions regarding my future." (I just made that up).

So, having waffled around for a while, here are some specific outcomes from my 100 days.
I moved out of my flat in Cardiff. I was feeling increasingly isolated there and the costs were becoming unmanageable. This was a big thing for me as the flat had been a 'bolt-hole' for me for the last 3 years. Also, I hadn't moved house on my own before. You may recall I blogged about all that.

I wanted a more mobile lifestyle - moving, living and working between South, Mid and North Wales. I wanted to explore whether such a lifestyle was possible, and how it would feel in practice. I didn't intend to put anything permanent in place during that 100 days. From the outset, this mobility proved to be feasable (feasible? - I haven't found the spellcheck on Google Docs yet!) and enjoyable, though often tinged with insecurity and loneliness. However, due to other factors, I haven't been able to sustain this. I intend to get back on track, though, as this was the most successful outcome. The friends I've made and the support I've received has been amazing. It will require money and momentum to do long-term but it's the direction I am taking. I'm bound to get lost along the way - because that's what I do - but I can see where I want to go.

I guess my main disappointment, to be honest, is that some of the relationships haven't yet developed as well as I'd have liked, and some of the collaborations that seemed possible may take a while longer to work out.

Also, working "on-the-go", as it were, has been difficult though I've managed to produce a surprising amount of work! Maybe challenges and constraints are good for me! (I so hope that's not true ...)

In terms of the building blocks for living and working like this, a few are being put in place and I'll blog about them in the future. They involve accomodation and studio space, but the signs are good that things could come into place.

During the 100 days I obviously thought a lot about things. I looked at where I am - physically, emotionally and spiritually - and where I want to get to. I identified fences, or barriers, that I have to overcome and I've begun to work out how to do that. I also realised that I'm now seeing further that I have done for a long time. I used to be able to see clearly but I lost that. It's good to think it may be coming back, albeit in a different context.

I'm writing all this while I'm feeling fairly positive about things - as you can probably tell! There are on-going problems and pressures and I'm leaving out some of the crap. Also, I know it may seem a little vague and inconclusive, but that's partly because I try to avoid identifying specific events, places and people.

On the whole, though, I think it's a fairly reasonable assessment.

I'm glad I did it.

Now I want to to find ways and means of making it happen longer term.