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By: Richard Taylor
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www.rich-taylor.co.uk
richttdraws.blogspot.com
richtbiscuit.1@googlemail.com
As a multi-disciplinary artist [self-diagnosed], I find myself thinking about works that need to be realised and how this can be done. A blog seems to be an apt medium to use and communicate with - in the mean time and inbetween time!
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Richard Taylor, Jennifer Picken, ''lady erricson', toffee sculpture, origami', oil on paper, plastic, electrical tape, May 2012. Courtesy: artists.
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Richard Taylor, Jennifer Picken, ''Au Dessus De to Hunters Tryst'', installation shot, May 2012. Courtesy: artists, AWA Gallery.
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Richard Taylor, ''lady erricson'', oil on paper, plastic, electrical tape, May 2012. Courtesy: artist, AWA Gallery.
# 101 [28 May 2012]
So this is all for him? Introducing 'lady erricson'
We need to talk about lady erricson
>okay<
It comprises of?
>a poster, two small yellow plastic objects with inlets to slot and hold the poster's form, oil paint and black electrical tape<
In all intent and purpose it is a painting, what, or a sculpture?
>it is a prop that adheres to other drawn content in the show, which is painted and adjusted according to character and resonance with other works by Jennifer Picken and myself<
To what extend does it stand?
>it stands on its own two feet, which have been carefully cut from the rolled and then slightly unrolled poster<
What was the content of the poster?
>it was an advertisement for a Sony Erricson phone, but the content, save the lady's face, has been dis-continued with either overlaid paint or by folds and cuts in making the prop<
So, during the process of the props manifestation the original source material was left to ruin?
>yes<
"The colours of 'lady erricson' are from a page cut out from a design magazine, displaying a prototype wardrobe of sorts, which looks (and has now been collaged to look) like a tower. The pallet therefore of much of the work by Richard in the show 'Au Dessus De to Hunters Tryst', is sourced from this very page cut out and 'lady erricson' sets the scene as it were, for the installation and adornment of other found and altered pieces."
War paint?
<yes, war paint>
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Richard Taylor, 'Power Powder Castle', digital image, June 2012.
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Richard Taylor, 'Be Careful Glass Wee Three Boys', pencil on paper and found material, June 2012.
# 102 [14 June 2012]
Dogs or Kids
A shark's body had cracked in two.
Its remains were awash the steps in front of where we picnicked that day.
The tower that loomed in front of us had no bottom.
It dissolved in the surf, which licked at lower stone and iron abdomen.
The unrelenting stone of ages smacked a dull thud upon my crown as I reached the top of the watch tower. The Portuguese had build it strong and unforgiving and so I stepped out on to the ringed plateau with a shade in my eye. Dizziness took me and much of everything else dropped from my arms. Life is not Chess, but this Ruck was unmoved and otherwise straight in force. I manoeuvred to the wall to rest each buttock on the side-stone; cold in the shade I came too and saw him before me, his head silhouette blocking the sun. It was then that we turned to look below. Fragmented white and blue foam like sequins embellished in the heat and beaches that stretched as far as the curving land could go.
Slow heaps of dunes patched with green grass and glistening movement.
The door slammed and I was alone again.
We reached the shore through a thicket of sharpening knives otherwise known as gorse and rested a while on the rocks at the East end of the beach. A power station dominated the horizon and the heat arising sifted any existing foundations into bleached haze. The gargantuan build floated like a castle in the distance as we gazed at families in the foreground. Kids ran naked too and fro, from sea to sand land and back, pissing in the waves, charging at the sky.
We clambered down to walk a stretch of sand daring the waves with our toes. Soon jellyfish were more exciting and less alive washed up on the shore, drying out in the sun. My legs neck nose and forehead stung and our water supply was running low.
Its as if they had watched too many nature programmes. Their movements were exactly like the Meerkats at Butterfly World in Leeds, and they were just as exposed. But this was East Lothian and we were on the beach. The sun was shooting its rays along the coast and against the wet sand, up in to our eyes upon our foreheads burning pasty calves along the way. We turned our gaze inland away from the water to rest our eyes upon the palette of reeds and green grass amongst sand dunes. It was here the animals began to play.
One man stood all of a sudden atop the highest dune like a king set amongst cloudless skies. He was tanned and, as he started to pull down his lower garments, we could see this was an all over tan. So he was used to being naked. After a while two more men stood in the same way, but on lower dunes, and a hierarchy was played out as more nakedness appeared. Then two more men and two more and soon the dunes were full of buttocks thighs and clean shaven skin. Their obviousness matched their ability to remain as animals in a new kingdom; cruising they were and all we could do was watch as if visitors in a zoo. Thankfully we saw no intercourse, this must have happened as they dropped beneath the grass again and out of sight. And this did happen, they did drop, and all came together under the watchful eye of the top most gay man.
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