Flesh on the Bones of the Belfast Child

Smoke and mirrors. We could have done with a touch more of these last night. Bob and Roberta Smith graced the Salisbury Arts Centre with his latest work, the Salisbury Golem, alongside an exhibition of his text paintings. With the Golem bearing down on us we gathered round the makeshift creature constructed of old bits of wood, eagerly awaiting the performance when the dumb souless being would come to life as it were. What unfolded was a little ceremony whereby the artist (who towered above us himself in a handsome straw Stetson) snuck behind his Golem, and read his challenge to Michael Gove on the destruction of the arts, particularly in relation to the EBACC which had earlier been submitted by letter to the Observer this week. This is just the beginning of a series of workshops which will result in wishes and hopes for Salisbury being offered to the Golem over the coming month. Some of us were a little disappointed that we had not been routed to our chairs as some makeshift mechanism had bought the wooden monster roaring to life, but there was a certain irony in the fact that the artist had merely hidden behind his creation, providing its voice a little like the Wizard of Oz, his charge quite clearly motionless and showing no signs of stomping out of the arts centre, tracking Michael Gove down and bashing him on the head with the garden spade which hung from it’s big wooden arm.

The performance over, Bob and Roberta Smith, ran off together to catch their train but hopefully we’ll get time to meet up with him at the closing event and discuss his ideas further. After a chat with other artists I rushed off to Tesco’s to replenish our stocks of Calpol as holiday plans have been derailed by a nasty bug which is going around all the children. Studio time is suffering as in between nursing patients I am having to entertain the ones who are well and bored stiff by building a dolls house. This is distracting me though from the fact that a piece I have been working on for months is not going to plan.

As many of you will appreciate, working with materials where the outcome is unknown, as opposed to traditional artists materials, is a bit of a gamble. In this case, what actually happened when I coated this particular piece in latex was not what I had in mind at all. What immediately sprung to mind when I opened the studio door the next day can be summed up in this film clip. This is a moment that ever since I saw it years ago, I have banked in my mind and repeat to myself when the moment requires it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvbQ4wJak_c

Thinking about this later when I had calmed down, I pondered for a while on the materials that have resurfaced in my work and become part of the language which I chose to communicate with. I am absolutely drawn to liquids. Liquids that conceal, that coat, that glide over and solidify, liquids that seal a moment and stop it in it’s tracks, plaster that picks up every facet of surface, wax that transforms, with subtle alchemy written text into glorious translucency, gelatine that drips and sets into golden sheets, gloss paint that rolls along a surface and hardens like a mirror and latex which overnight metamorphosises into a perfect skin. I love them all.

I am trying to go with the flow and let this work take me where it wishes to go. I am going to try and refrain from rerunning that clip in my head. Back at the arts centre though, perhaps the child beside me, who may have expected a little more action from the Golem with her politics, may have made good use of that clip in her head. For the rest of us though, well done Bob and Roberta for the chance to see your work first hand in Salisbury and for speaking up for all of us in your inimitable style and shining a light on this critical issue.

Just a quick addition to the last post. What interested me is that the rather random comments by the twins were nearly all based on projects done at school ie. colours on top of colours, shapes on top of shapes, vomiting ideas, taking a book about another world and creating the world from your head.

Other comments again that I haven’t included on their understanding of what art is are all directly from tasks set by the teacher. As you can guess they have had a lot of exposure from attending exhibitions with me etc. but it’s interesting to see what an impact school has had on their thinking. It shows the huge responsibility teaching carries on future attitudes to art.

By the way, the studio opening visit was shortlived. After a quick circuit of the work I managed about 10 mins of a constant chorus of ‘Can we go yet?’ then gave in, picked up a bottle of wine from the supermarket and went home.

Salisbury is waking up. Albeit very slowly, there are signs that it is rising from slumber. With its wealth of Constables drawing in visitors from far and wide this summer at the Salisbury Museum, the Arts Centre is kicking it’s heels with a contemporary response from artist Jonathan Parsons and Abigail Reynolds seeing Constable through 21st-century eyes. With Bob and Roberta Smith adding his contribution in August and a Gormley hanging in the cathedral, this little city is beginning to punch above its weight (or rather the weight it is always should have attained). While it is steeped in history it is always fallen short of the here and now but not any more. Tonight sees the opening of the only group studio I have ever known Salisbury to host. Started by a group of ex-MA students from Winchester everyone is looking to NewRed, as it’s called, to stir things up a bit.

As my husband is in London, I have no choice but to take the girls along with me. When I mentioned this earlier the usual moaning began. In my last blog post I touched a little on how the general public ‘see’ art and I thought it would be interesting to question them a little further. The twins are both nine and the conversation went like this.

Why do you not want to go to the art opening?

Because adult art is boring?

What is the difference between child and adult art?

Erin – Kids see art differently. Adults just put random stuff on, they don’t put lots of colours on top of colours and shapes with different shapes, you don’t understand what it means and that makes it annoying and then you don’t like it. There will probably be work with people in it tonight and kids do better people with spikey up hair and things. Kids art is really good, just better for understanding.

Maeve – When you have a book with a different world in it you can copy the world, kids can draw the world that they have in their head, Mrs Hill says you must vomit your ideas all onto the paper, not really vomit, just get them all out. When children make a picture they can make you feel a feeling, a sun will make you happy, thunder and lightning will make you scared, it can take you into their world.

How could artists make going to a gallery better?

It would be great if the artist was there to tell you what it all means, then I wouldn’t be sad if I didn’t understand.

websites…years ago we were blissfully unaware of the need for one – spending hours sticking little lables on slides and posting them off, (the only way of getting the work ‘out there).

Now websites begin to look dated before you’ve barely finished compiling them, – here’s the latest effort at my online presence –

www.susanfrancis.com

Ageing relatives, more bally fairies and how to look at art.

This morning I stood at 7 AM in my newly cleared studio with three clear hours ahead of me. My first thoughts were – what am I doing here, no really, what is it, what is the thing – what is this thing that I am doing? This art – this stuff, me, standing here,what is it?

The past week was spent hosting relatives. During the week we had two instances when we looked at art. At one point we ventured into the Barbara Hepworth sculpture centre, close to home but in another sense, it could be a million miles away. The sculpture centre hosts the big names, the heavyweights of the art world, Gormley, Caro etc. Dropping in for a few days here and there, they are cushioned and cosseted, discreetly hidden from the native villagers nearby. But kindly, and I really do mean kindly, they allow the general public freely to come and enjoy the ever-changing artwork.

Walking through the grounds, my lovely sister launched enthusiastically into her interpretation of the work she saw, (without the deadly baggage of an art education) and when she had run out of steam she asked for affirmation that her approach was ‘right’. A few more learned members of our party suggested that perhaps she ought to buy a book and learn how to look at art. I thought about this – about how her thoughts perhaps were not ‘right’ and how she could learn to make them ‘right’.

Our other art experience was at Mottisfont Abbey where high up in the upper floor of this beautiful old country home an exhibition of flower fairies ran alongside the House of Fairytales show. The flower fairies were truly lovely of course but merely served to remind me of my own flower fairy book as a child in which I had graffitied small flower fairy poos coming out of the unsuspecting flower fairy bottoms. After the flower fairies the work got much more complex, darker of course and absolutely absorbing. Tessa Farmers minute skeletons brandishing swords and riding mischievously on the backs of dragonflies and bumblebees were a wonderful surprise as I have never seen her work in the flesh.

It was at this point that my 87-year-old father (having spent most of the exhibition shuffling from window to window attempting to spot a trout in the Test below) made his critique on the show, in his uniquely raw and rather loud fashion.’ Get me out of here, I’ve seen enough bally fairies to last me all day.’ Age seems to have refined his words into a succinct few with no time wasted on pleasantries or politeness. I’m guessing somehow he doesn’t feel the need to read any books on how to look at art.