Project Me

Re-reading some more of the Artistic Research course texts, or perhaps reading them in a (literally physically) different context has been surprisingly rewarding.  Sometimes it can take a really long time for me to ‘get’ something, or to reach a level of understanding that offers some significant potential for advancement.  It has occurred to me that perhaps the wonderful, and challenging in a broad sense, opportunity that artistic research offers is a radical alternative to previously established traditions that both classify and separate things as either objective or subjective.  Being able to consider A/R like this seems to make good sense – once again I return to the image of the venn diagram and the overlap.

I continue to struggle with artworks produced prior to, or outside of the recognised canon of, A/R.  I tend to support those who claim that artworks always have had a relation to research – it is all a question of approach and perspective!

Two weeks ago two artist friends/colleagues and I began the formal process of establishing an independent platform for artistic research.  It feels very good and exciting.  The idea has been floating (incubating?) for over a year, for me it certainly feels right that it has taken time for us each to work through what and how we want this thing to be.  It was on a particularly fine summer afternoon that the three of us sat outside a café and held the inaugural meeting of “The Institute of Artistic Research”.  The serious playfulness of the name well reflects our ambition to offer an open, creative, independent, and alternative place for artists who are engaged with, and interested in, research.  We will invite a couple more artists to join us on the ‘committee’ and then begin to plan our activities.  Already the three of us ‘founding members’ have quite different ideas and practices – we see this as one of our strengths, as something that will enable us to encompass and encourage a diverse programme.

Folklore came up in discussion the other evening after dinner.  We were talking about Swedish traditions to do with death as a friend’s father has recently died.  The Swedes or at least the ones that I know are not particularly sentimental, this is not to suggest that they are not emotional, just that things are (not surprisingly) done differently here.  I was lent an ‘ABC of folklore’.  Reading the introduction at breakfast the next day I came across a passage about the persistence and significance of folklore.  The author, a respected authority, suggests that folklore offers people “hope, meaning, and comfort” [my translation], these three words struck a chord with what I had been reading, and thinking, about artistic research.

I am spending summer out in the archipelago.  I should have been working at the inn where I worked last summer but I quit after one week.  I combination of me being more tired than last summer and them being more disorganised made me realise that I simply could not work there.  Thankfully having worked over the spring term I am not in absolute dire straights.  As the house in town is being hired by a family who have ended up ‘between’ homes over the summer I am kind of forced to stay out in country.  I am looking for other work but everywhere seems to have a full quota of summer staff.  So in the meantime I have decided that I will prepare myself really well for the autumn term and returning to Stockholm after the summer – hence the re-reading of course texts!  Other things on my summer to-do-list include: preparing all the updates for my website, updating and translating my professional cv, writing an application letter (in Swedish) looking for additional part-time teaching and art-education work.

Sweden, with its free education, can be a dangerous place for someone who loves to study.  Despite saying to myself that it is time to ‘leave school’ I applied for, and have been accepted to, a part-time course in the architectural history and theory department at Mejan.

I am packing up at school. The place is almost completely disserted and it feels as though term has truly ended, though I went to a rather interesting, if sparsely attended, lecture this morning. The workshops are silent and even the students who always seemed to be working on something have not been around this week.

Very little of what I am packing feels finished. In many ways this is good, it suggests that I am simply at a point of progress rather than conclusion. On the other hand I can feel somewhat disappointed that I do not boxes full of resolved artworks just waiting to be exhibited! It is interesting to wonder why I can become so focused on the tangible signs of production.

The year has been fantastic. It feels very much a ‘first year’, which is not surprising as it has been my first year at a new school. Over the last ten days or so since the exhibition opened, and I have had time to stand back a little. I have come to realise that this is ‘just’ the beginning and that I want/need to prioritise, and to keep prioritising, my practice. This said I include teaching as an active part of my practice, so perhaps it is the contexts and opportunities for my practice that I sense would benefit from a little attention – rather than the conceptual or practical aspects of it. Without the deadline of a show it is too easy for me to keep playing with materials and processes. Shows do not just turn up (or at least one cannot rely on them to do so!), they require a certain (considerable!) amount of work on my part. It is this work that I now feel needs to be given more time, space, and energy, but not at the expense of the making!

Shadow Casting #2 – was well received. It worked well aesthetically and people were intrigued by it. I hope that the ideas that had been so important to me lay behind its visual appeal. Perhaps this is the crux of the matter for me: I start with ideas and concepts in order to produce something that works visually and independently of linguistic forms or theories. This is different from wanting (or needing ) the audience to see and understand my ideas in order for them to be able to appreciate the piece. For me it is the overlap of the concept and the visual form that has the potential to make good or interesting art. Throughout the Artistic Research course Rolf referred often to an essential quality of artistic research being “both and” rather than “either or”, perhaps it was this that he saw in my work and why he championed both it and me. Venn diagrams have fascinated me since childhood, I feel that my own identity could be nothing more than the overlap of very particular and distinct ‘sets’. One of the most brilliant things about Venn diagrams (and overlapping things in general) is that for all the specificness of the intersection there remains always clear distinctions between the different sets – there is always a kind of dynamic tension and complexity at the point of intersection and overlap. It is not so interesting to have sets without any overlaps, just as it is not so interesting to have sets that are no more than subsets.

Another artist described writing a text to go with the piece as “very generous”. I like this phrase and am pleased that the text was seen in this way. My intention was to communicate some of my thinking and ambitions for the work while at the same time opening it up and encouraging the audience to engage with it in a way that was meaningful for them. I was the only person in the show who had a text. It made me wonder if it revealed my confidence in the work, or my lack of confidence in it … or perhaps it is another case of “both and” …

Somewhat spontaneously I went to the graduation ceremony at school yesterday. I am very glad that I went. Not only was it a pleasure to celebrate the graduates’ achievements, it was a pleasure to attend a ceremony that was so much more personal and meaningful than the rather ‘production-line’ experience I received after my masters. Måns Wrange, the head of school, made a good opening speech about the importance of creative freedom in an increasingly frightened and frightening European context – referring to some results in the recent EU elections. This was followed by his thanks to the faculty and administrative staff, including a teacher retiring after more than 30 years at the school. What touched me most though was the palpable honesty of the handshake, or often the hug, that accompanied his presentation of a flower to each graduate. Perhaps it was particularly significant as Måns is stepping down as rector and it was the last time he will have that responsibility. How different it was from the quick, literally passing, handshake I received from someone I had never met before as I walked across the stage at UCL awards ceremony 16 years ago. The small scale and insularity of the Swedish (and Stockholm’s) art scene is often criticised (from within), however I find something very reassuring and comforting about the sense of familiarity and integrity that is so necessary in a profession that relies on what at least might be termed ‘professional friendships’ –and not just between peers, but also between different generations, disciplines and interests.

I have never heard, and cannot imagine ever hearing, the expression ‘churning out’ when referring graduate students here. Being at art school here is more akin to being welcomed into the profession, and as such is taken seriously and is seen as the beginning of a long term relationship. Such an attitude is perhaps possible in a country where students are not thought of as customers, and with a far, far, less pronounced ‘star system’ (where there will be more than likely just one graduate who is expected, if not destined, to become the next brilliant ‘star’ artist while the others do their best to resist being sucked into some artistic black hole).

Amid the excitement of the awards ceremony and the two graduate shows our show, accurately and somewhat poignantly, called The Rest of Us opened. I am quite satisfied with my piece, and it has been very interesting and rewarding to speak about it with other people. Resolving the presentation of the piece of cast glass – knowing that inserting it into a floor almost anywhere in the school building would be nigh on impossible – lead me to make something that I would not otherwise have done, and I am pleased and intrigued by the result. The tilted pale plywood sheet makes appropriate architectural references and enables the curious visitor to investigate the underside – a perspective that I had not fully considered before discussing the work with Donatella Bernardi (one of the senior lecturers at the school). The piece changes as the light throughout the day changes – on a clear day light comes first through the glass ceiling of the atrium, later on sunlight streams in from the floor to ceiling window directly behind the piece. Having worked so much with the profile of Sad Teddy’s shadow I immediately see it beneath the highly reflective surface of the glass, it is however considerably less obvious to the visitor. I like that their first experience is more aesthetic, less knowing, less directed. Beside the work is a simple leaflet (a single A4 sheet folded in half) with a text I have written. The text is on the inside facing page, as such it is something that one must seek out. Staging the encounter with something that might hint at explanation in this way is a pleasing solution for me. The presence of the leaflet indicates that there is information if one wants it, but it does not demand that it be read – as a text on the wall might suggest. Literally standing there and offering the leaflet to visitors is also a pleasant and natural way to start a conversation …

After what seems to be about a month, or maybe more, I am delighted to say that my second piece of cast glass is out of the kiln and ‘resting’. The process has taken twice as long as it should have as the piece required re-casting after setting additional glass on the first attempt. (I had underestimated the amount of glass required to make the ‘surface pool’ over the shadow form.) The pieces looks great, and I will see more detail when I remove the mould material on Monday. Glass does not like variations in volume so the form that I made is particularly challenging as it goes from large to small volumes very rapidly. I am incredibly grateful to Ulrika for her skill at programming the kiln, especially the cooling phase which is the most critical.

Although this second cast* is now finished I will only be showing the first one in the show that opens here next week. The glass will be presented embedded in a sheet of plywood. Ideally I would like to install the pieces directly in the floor however this was simply not realistic to attempt with my other commitments at the moment. I am rather pleased with the more sculptural solution that the plywood provides. I am also rather pleased with myself for working out how to make, and fit, supports for the uncut sheet (2.5 x 1.25 m) that tip it up at an angle while making sure that it is secure. Some of those 33 year old geometry lessons came in really useful while I was scrabbling about on the floor working out exactly how to position the three different height legs.

The next day was the first of my final two in Gothenburg. It was really interesting to see the students’ presentations. I was impressed by the range of their individual projects and where the projects have taken them. During the discussions after each presentation I was often reminded that coming from fine art, and the UK, gives me a different perspective which I think students found both challenging and enriching. My enthusiasm for them making ‘discursive objects’ seemed a good counterpoint to others’ responses about the technical aspects of textile processes and the aesthetics of pattern. It was the combination of these lines of discussion that I hope will enable all the students to make critical and informed choices about how they tackle their future assignments and projects.

In the evening Karin and I discussed which London colleges she and her colleagues might visit, we found a short promotional film about what was Central St Martins presented by Caroline Broadhead. As part of the University of the Arts London a student attending a course at the new Kings Cross building is one of over 4000 students registered at the school, Karin remarked that she grew up in town which had less inhabitants! The film is very slick and well produced, mentions all the now famous former students and the international fashion house where (nameless) students are now working … it was all so very very promotional! A timely reminder of how different things can become when students pay for their education and become art schools begin to operate like multi-national corporations. Meanwhile here in Stockholm, at Mejan, students prepare for their MA show after five years of free education and in the knowledge that most if not all of them will receive some kind of graduate stipendium from the school to help them continue their practice ….

http://www.kkh.se/index.php/en/exhibitions/spring-…

*this second piece is actually in the first mould that I made, so I think of it as the first piece.

Uploading my photographs from visiting the art museum in Gothenburg produced some images that I find fascinating and intriguing. My recently updated i-photo programme now automatically applies its ‘face recognition’ feature to all my pictures. Having taken photographs in the museum’s Painted History exhibition there were a number of faces … I attach a particularly good example of the outcome.

The painting is one of many depictions of Karl XII being returned to Sweden after losing his life in battle in Norway. I love the way in which twenty-first century technology has indiscriminately assigned a, wholly inappropriate, utterance to members of the royal entourage. I keep returning to the (updated) image and find myself looking, and looking again, at the complexity of it – somehow it suggests something very performative. It may become the start of a new work, or at least something to look further in to.

At the moment though I should be concentrating on making something from my year at Mejan presentable. The year, as I have already mentioned, has been quite different from the year that I had imagined. As I am still not entirely sure exactly what will be achievable during the next couple of weeks, I have decided to propose a relatively modest and simple installation for the end of year show. We have to submit our ideas to the ‘hanging group’ by Monday. The spaces around the school are not inspiring – or rather the spaces that inspire me are either off limits (fire exit routes) or so remote that I fear visitors will never find them. I am reminded of my MA show at the Slade where my intentionally discrete, subtle works were completely overlooked by all but the keenest of eyes. I do not wish to make the same mistake again; it was not really a ‘mistake’ in terms of placing the work, it was however not the best thing to do under the conditions of a very competitive show. So instead of the beautiful old stone staircase – where each step bears traces of the centuries of men stationed in the building when the island was a naval base – I will perhaps suggest locating my work in the architecturally and emotionally sterile main entrance in the 1980s extension.

I have always been attracted to staircases – as places to show work, and more generally! – I remember a photograph from my childhood in which my aunt, who has lived in America since before my birth, was standing in the middle of a very glamorous sweeping staircase, as I remember she was in a white cocktail dress (above the knee), pointed white slingbacks, and had big (almost Dusty style) hair – it was the sixties. The staircase was carpeted in deep red, it was the kind of staircase that had balustrades on both sides, it may even have bifurcated and swept round to both the left and right. I could have misremembered this terribly, but that is not really the point. Years later a colleague gave a lecture about Art Nouveau through examples of its staircases, he was a brilliant teacher and thinker, his presentation was fantastic. Previously I thought that the staircase was a space between places, now though I wonder if it has perhaps more to do with being simultaneously here and on the move …

As this (academic) year draws to a close I am already drawing up an autumnal ‘to do’ list. There are so many things that have been neglected in the excitement, stress, and now-ness of the last few years(!). I am looking forward to having time not only to be at the studio but also to really re-engage and re-invigorate my practice in the light of the courses that I have taken and the ones that I have taught! And speaking of courses I have discovered an adult education Art History course in Swedish, its going to be a way to improve both my written Swedish and my knowledge of Swedish art history – perfect!