The Transmutation of the Relief

The 'wave' relief has undergone many changes since my last post about it back in October: from a turbulent breaking wave, a maelstrom of tide and currents, to an all together more settled and more 'artificial' composition, in the sense of it being 'made by or resulting from art or artifice' (OED), it being more 'contrived', more abstract as opposed to tending towards the representational/naturalistic.

This, like all the previous images of this relief, is in an intermediary stage:

Having explored the 'feel' of the swell, I've taken a step away from the 'wave' concept and am developing a composition that is still inspired by the element of water but is less closely evocative of a turbulent sea.

This came about as I began to think about what I would do with the clay form once I felt I had come to the end of my exploration of the relief for the moment. The size of this relief - about 1m square - makes it totally unmanageable in clay: it's far too heavy. Casting it in jesmonite seemed the answer - jesmonite is light-weight and strong - but I didn't want to do a simple cast from a silicon rubber mould because I didn't want it to be an ordinary relief, i.e. a 3D composition hung on the wall. I then had the idea of coating it with marble jesmonite (with a layer of quadaxial fabric to give it added strength) which would give me a true negative cast and a positive side that would need some reworking. This means the relief is viewed from both sides, back and front, positive and negative, and needs to be presented as a free-standing object.

I then set about making a couple of maquettes to try out my theory - the first measures about 30 cm and the second 50 cm.

Here are the clay forms:

And here are the jesmonite coated:

The next step is to remove the clay from the negative side and clean it up and rework/refine the postive side.

The maquettes should give me a better idea of a) how that negative space works, i.e. which shapes work and which don't work in the negative, so I can transpose that to the composition of the large relief; and b) whether the jesmonite is strong enough for this kind of method and looks good enough once rasped and sanded.

Now I just need to wait for the clay to dry out so it comes away cleanly from the jesmonite ...

Simplicity Through Complexity - Continued

Simplicity through complexity. It is in fact my middle son who first used this phrase, in relation to the second vertical form in the Metamorphosis Seminar series - Stage 8 - as I was frantically removing two horizontal elements in the form that made the whole thing far too complicated and ultimately distracted from what I felt the form was about (cf. post entitled 'Stage 8 in the Metamorphosis Seminar').
I love that phrase; I love the words and I love the concept. No surprises there.

It reminds me of another statement I saw on the dust extractor at a studio space at Fondazione Sem in Pietrasanta. It was the workspace of a sculptor called Armen Agop - http://www.armenagop.com/ (do take a look at this website), a fascinating character, both as an artist and as a person, whose work I admire greatly.

He had written this first in Arabic, followed by the English translation:

This was a highly inspirational encounter, both because of him and the surroundings in which he worked and because of this statement. I have had discussions with artists, who feel that simplicity equals boring; they need more going on in a sculpture (painting, ...) to keep their interest. I wonder whether they might be missing the point ...


Here are a couple more images:

Two other sculptors I discovered whilst in Pietrasanta two years ago: one is the Japanese artist Kan Yasuda:
http://www.kan-yasuda.co.jp/
the other the French sculptor Nicolas Bertoux:
http://www.nicolasbertoux.it/

More on them in another post.

Two Further Explorations in the Metamorphosis - Simplicity Through Complexity

The next - and for the time being the final - stage in the Seminar is this:

This is a truly fascinating form. The concept is very simple: if you run a ruler from one side of the square to the opposite side closely along/touching the top surface of the form, the line immediately beneath the ruler should be completely straight, i.e. there should be no dips or bulges in the clay surface - of course you're holding the ruler at the same angle as the gradient of the clay form. Using the fourth image (the one immediately above) for this explanation, with the ruler placed on the edge of the near side, the left side of the ruler being lower than the right side as it sits on the clay form, as the ruler moves across to the far side it gradually changes angle and the left side rises up to be higher than the right - a beautiful movement to watch through the air.
The tiny line that runs across the very centre of the square should be the only level horizontal line in the entire form. The tipping point is minute, invisible to the naked eye.
This form took me hours to create, simply because it requires very meticulous adding and taking away of tiny amounts of clay to achieve lines that don't dip or bulge anywhere.
I love the simplicity, the serenity of this form; it sits there quietly, but there is a huge amount going on;
simplicity through complexity. It also has that 'universal' element I've referred to previously, the almost mathematical dimension.


I've then taken this a step further - this was not part of the Seminar as such, just a personal exploration. How would this work if, instead of one plane moving at a pivoting slant as above, you have three? If you have two, top and bottom - which was in fact the proposed next stage in the Seminar - you would need to make the difference in level between the high and the low at the edge of the square slant at a very steep gradient to make for an interesting form - otherwise you get something like a slightly bent-out-of-shape tile - and you would have to go against the fundamental principle of the line immediately beneath the ruler being completely straight, i.e. no dips or bulges in the clay surface, otherwise you would end up with a very cumbersome, heavy form (but very elegant if you allow the sweep down through the dip in the middle to go deep).
I wondered whether three sides might lead to an interesting form. As you can see below, it achieves an interesting twist ... and you can enjoy the stretch of the moving plane three times over!

This form needs some more work to refine it further, but I wanted to include these images as I feel they complete the process. Not a form I would simply want to 'scale-up', i.e. take this as a true maquette, but certainly a concept that is important to have in one's repertoire of sculptural language, as elements of it will emerge in future pieces.

SIMPLICITY THROUGH COMPLEXITY.

Stage 9 in the Metamorphosis Seminar

Stage 9 is all about straight edges; the crystalline form - water turned to ice, so to speak.

I was surprised how much I enjoyed this form. Straight lines and sharp angles isn't a language I use very often, if at all. There was something very liberating about this, in that it's very logical: you simply have to picture in your mind where/how the plane of the triangle would continue as it disappears into the adjacent triangle/prismoid.
It's hard to believe looking at these images, but this form started off from the archetype saddle plane of Stage 1. I then slowly began to stretch it in two directions, whilst focussing on creating sharp angles and straight lines.
A 'universal' geometric form ...? (cf. Piero della Francesca)

Stage 8 in the Metamorphosis Seminar

As I said in a previous post, what I have found most exciting about this form is that I've reduced it to the essence of the exercise: finding the movement that the double bend brings and stretching it to its fullest. Also not crowding the form with too much complexity, so these stretches can be enjoyed at their fullest. Less is more: over-complexity just crowds the essence out; you get distracted from what it's all about.

         

Like the previous vertical form in Stage 6, this again incorporates the element of air.

Piero della Francesca and Second Instalment in the 'Discussion'

Started reading The Last Supper - A Summer in Italy by Rachel Cusk during my stay in Italy in September. In one of the earlier chapters she writes about the work of Renaissance painter Piero della Francesca as she visits the various stops on the Piero della Francesca Trail.
In the final paragraph of that chapter, one sentence in particular grabbed me and it has lingered in my mind ever since: she says she has understood Piero's message, she thinks, which is 'that you must seek a truth that lies beyond human concerns'.
Unfortunately I haven't had the pleasure of seeing any of these works 'in the flesh', but the reproduced images are clear enough to be able to ascertain that almost all the figures that feature in these paintings all have something remarkable in common: they all wear, as Cusk puts it, an abstracted, ambivalent look, full of solitude and separation. I feel it gives these paintings a meditaive quality, solemn and serene, but more importantly in this context, it gives them something 'not entirely of this world'.
Piero della Francesca is actually better known by some as a mathematician; he wrote quite a number of mathematical books. His paintings have a mathematical lucidity about them and this, I believe, is the gateway through which he comes to this 'other-worldliness'.
Mathematics, or to put it in more concrete and universal terms, geometry, 'enables its votary, like a bridge, to pass over the obscurity of material nature, as over some dark sea, to the luminous regions of perfect reality' (Thomas Taylor. [Yes, I've been reading some of Robert Lawlor's Sacred Geometry. Mind-blowing.]) Geometric diagrams, mathermatical forms, are timeless, universal, and geometry occurs everywhere in nature - take a look at some (enlarged) microscopic images of seeds for instance.
As Lawlor puts it: 'for the human spirit caught within a spinning universe in an ever confusing flow of events, circumstance and inner turmoil, to seek truth has always been to see the invariable... To enter a temple constructed wholly of invariable geometric proportions is to enter an abode of eternal truth.'
That truth 'that lies beyond human concerns'.
And this brings me to what I refer to in the title of this post as the second instalment in my e-mail discussion with DH (the first instalment was Significance, Subject and Aesthetic). The question was this: do you, as an artist, need to look towards achieving a Zen-like approach (cf. the first instalment) to gain a mastery of aesthetic presence without the need for significance, i.e. a narrative, as a vehicle, or does that become possible through a belief in the Spiritual, because, as DH puts it 'the spirit is immaterial and cannot use material things like words or objects to communicate with, you have to become able to formulate and express values, interpretations and intentions without them too'.
It seems to me that the latter applies to Piero della Francesca, although he did use a narrative, which isn't surprising given the artistic environment within which he worked. That abstracted look that the figures in these paintings wear suggests a longing for - perhaps even already a level of presence in - another world. Indeed it seems that Piero della Francesca had little interest for the banalities of earthly existence. He chose not to move to Florence or Rome like the other artists of his time; he remained in Sansepulcro, in his house, which apparently was decorated with his own magnificent frescoes (which, incidently, were all destroyed after his death). It seems he found satisfaction in the work in itself and longed for what was eternal, always and forever true. The image of Hercules, which is said to be a self-portrait, is very telling of his mind-set, I feel: again that abstracted look, full of a sense of remoteness, of separation (and of 'solitude', but then, in my view, in the postive sense of aloneness), a longing for another world or even a sense of partial belonging to another wold.
We are all part of the universe. It's very easy to become bogged down with the preoccupations of human life; it is very hard to seek out that truth that lies beyond human concerns.
We are all part of the cosmos.

Stage 5, 6 and 7 in the Metamorphosis Seminar

Images of the next three stages in the Metamorphosis exploration:
Stage 5: from the thin in stage 4, which conveyed a sense of lightness and produced incredible movement through its lightness, Stage 5 is still a hand-held form, but this time there is play from thin to more voluminous masses, high and low points, narrow and wide concaves, and sharp edges and rounded planes.
I have to admit, contrary to my expectations, I didn't enjoy this form very much. I thought it would give me a great feeling of liberation, having, this time, all the variations in sculptural language at my disposal. My sense of freedom was greatly hampered by the fact I was having to work on such a small scale. This hand-held size doesn't sit comfortably with me; I like to work BIG. I enjoy the physicality of working big, the way it invites you to use the whole of your body during the working process.

Stage 6: no longer a hand-held form (but still 'small' in my book), this is the vertical, endeavouring to incorporate the element of air. In all the previous forms the element of water is predominant. This I found very enjoyable. Again, the lightness, the elegance, which I think the simplicity and slight symmetry accentuate.

Stage 7: the horizontal. My complete comfort zone. I love working in the horizontal, and time and again I'm amazed to find how many people find the vertical more appealing. I agree that verticality brings levity, which is beautiful, but I find real satisfaction is the settledness of the horizontal - like the horizon over the sea. And this one is slightly bigger: about 30 cm long and 15 cm high (That's more like it!!).

The next stage, Stage 8, I'm very excited about. Not close enough to completion to post images yet, but this one is bigger again (about 40 cm high and 15 cm wide), and best of all, I've reduced it down to the bare essentials, the essence, which, to me, in this instance is the exploration of the double bend. How far can that moving plane be stretched so it can be enjoyed to its fullest?

Significance, Subject and Aesthetic

I've been having an extended e-mail discussion with DH (fellow-sculptor, friend and mentor) about, among other things, his statement that : 'Significance and subject are merely vehicles, and just as in the saying The Medium is the Message, the quality of the aesthetic is the message.  It is the subject.'
Something I initially disagreed with, as in my own work significance and subject are the message and the aesthetic is the vehicle. I like my work to stem from somewhere within that gives it a significance (and feel inspired by others’ work that does the same) and if I can make it pleasing to the eye, that is my vehicle to enable the significance to be conveyed. 'Significance' here is not just a thematic meaning, it also includes the in -depth, genuine exploration the artist has undertaken to arrive at the final artwork. A work of art speaks to me much more if I sense it comes from that kind of place.
I then began to read up briefly about Zen Buddhist art, in my search to understand my seemingly innate urge for simplification, to seek out the essence. Basically Zen Buddhist art seeks out the ‘essence’, which is what interests me primarily in what I do sculpturally; essence, clarity, simplicity.
Zen artists accept the object, i.e. the artwork, as is and present it for what it is, not what they think it means. Their art depicts spirit; they seek to interpret the spirit of an object - unlike Western art, which tends to be more interested in photographic representation and work with man-made symmetries and super-imposed forms, manipulating nature to fit the artist's own ideas. Zen artists seek to suggest the essence, the eternal qualities of the object. And they use the simplest possible means to suggest the inherent nature of the object.
This means of course that the ‘object’, i.e. the artwork, is what it is, stands for itself, has no significance other than being itself. Which, interestingly, comes down to DH's statement. And if you go with this theory, aesthetic is the message.
A fascinating evolution in the discussion ... and much food for thought.

Next Stage in the Relief

Some images of where I'm at in the relief. Difficult to photograph well; the surge coming from the left is not very visible in these images. So I'll point out the new developments:

- firstly the surge from the left, which I was very excited about because I've felt all along that something needed to happen from that direction but only today found what it was;

- secondly, the breaking wave - top right - is slowly growing in height. I'm letting this wave grow and rise organically and the full break, I think, will ensue from that. 

The whole composition is really beginning to move now and the water element is manifesting ever more strongly.

Wave Relief - Initial Stages

My exploration of the relief as described in a previous post is progressing. Have been reading up on how waves form, how water flows - one fascinating in-depth study of flow in nature entitled 'Sensitive Chaos' by Theodor Swenk and some publications with incredibly beautiful images of all kinds of wave forms - with the aim of beginning to really start to 'feel' the motion within. The movement comes from below the water's surface (seabed and currents) and from above (wind). Working in 2D of course makes this more of a challenge, but that, as I said, is what interests me in this approach to relief.

So, here is the initial swell - the board measures about 1.20 metres (4 ft) square:

Then the breaking wave:

which now needs to begin to rise higher. That means swell from below - the other side of the board, so to speak, and what is immediately on top of the board, i.e. the water beneath the actual breaking wave - and the forces from above, but also from other directions, to generate the swirl.

So the whole composition is created from planes coming and going in all directions and angles.

The composition is growing both upwards in relief (and downwards), but also outwards to the edges of the board. I've now reached a stage where the clay covers the entire board - pictures to follow shortly - so am slightly concerned I will run out of space.

Watch this space.

Stages 1 to 4 in the Metamorphosis

Here are some images to illustrate what I described in my previous post:

Stage 1:

 

 Stage 2: 

 Stage 3:

  



Stage 4:

The purpose of this Metamorphosis exercise is twofold:
1) to practise the double bend, i.e. convex in a concave, in such depth for such a number of repetitions that it really becomes embedded in your whole being as a sculptor. Indeed the double bend is fundamental in creating proper movement in sculpture;
and
2) to explore and experience this double bend in a number of forms all of which are different in nature, e.g. rounded/doughy, thin, ...
The reason for working through a variety of types of forms is to experience the differences in what these forms convey, how they feel, given their particular characteristics. So you start from an archetype, which determines the 'laws' within which the exercise should be performed, with which the differences as per 2) clearly manifest themselves.

Metamorphosis

The OED (yes, I know; forgive me, it's the - by now almost latent - translator in me. It has been, and cleary will remain to be, my first source of reference in whatever I write or read) defines metamorphosis as: 'The action or process of changing in form, shape or substance. Change of form in animals and plants, or their parts, during life. The change of form which goes on in the elements of living organic structures.'
As I said in a previous posting, I am currently taking part in a weekly seminar exploring metamorphosis.
We've reached stage 5 by now. All the forms up to this stage are hand-forms, i.e. they fit into the hand and are meant to be held, not presented on a base.
Stage 1: we started off with an archetypal form, the saddle plane, which is a convex inside a concave, the convex moving in one direction and the concave moving at a right angle to it (like the saddle in horseriding, or a Pringle, but more accentuated). We started from a disc,which was then pushed into a shape that resembles a Pringle and then manipulated further to obtain the saddle-like shape.
The saddle plane is totally symmertrical and the symmetry makes it feel very still, even though there appears to be a lot of movement. The trick to making this form interesting despite its symmetry is to avoid parallels.
To really get the form moving, however, you need to come out of the symmetry; that's when it begins to twist and turn. And that's when it gets really exciting - although there's also something very exciting about working with symmetry: when you achieve a stillness, a self-contained, but not restrained, quiet.
But within the remit of this exercise, there is first Stage 2 to work through:
Stage 2: taking the archetypal form and making it very young and doughy - young because it has no edges yet; like a baby all round and cuddly, maturity brings the edges. The process basically involves adding small amounts of clay to the initial archetype, and it's amazing how different the form begins to feel as more substance is added and how it begins to express something different. It sits solidly in your hand, pertly self-contained.
Stage 3: the doughy, young form comes out of its symmetry, and now it can really begin to move (although I haven't achieved as much movement as there could be, but I am working within the restraints of the exercise, i.e. a slow, gradual transformation from the basic shape into another).
Stage 4: from the fat to the thin. This was a very enjoyable experience for me, as, rather than adding clay, this required pressing the clay between the fingers to make it thinner. This brings a levity to the whole form - and within me as a person - and allowed me much more to go with where the clay wanted to move to. The movement seemed to come from the form rather than being imposed by me, which means that it is more consquential as a result.
This stage highlighted again how strongly I am affected by the form I'm working on: a gentle, quiet form makes me feel quiet and settled, and a turbulent form can bring about a maelstrom within me, so much so I sometimes have to abandon it all together.
Stage 5: a combination of thick and thin, with edges - this no longer has the doughiness of youth. A lot of movement, coming and going, a real playfulness.
Images to follow once I've had a chance to 'tidy up' the five forms. They first need to dry out (which takes quite a while in the autumnal weather) before I can start to file (using a riffler) and sand (with sandpaper) them.

Seeds, Seed Pods and Buds

Went to Wakehurst Place this afternoon for a walk in the gardens and a visit to the Millennium Seed Bank there. The MSB is a fascinating place, with amazing scientific research going on, and of course it's full of extraordinarily beautiful sculptural forms: seeds and seed pods are Nature's artwork at its very best.
Fear of being got by the copyright police prohibits me from posting the images I'd like, but ...
here is one of my own images of a magnolia pod: initially almost like a slumbering dragon, most of its eyes still firmly shut, but some just beginning to open:

And then most of the eyes fully open, the seeds working their way out:

AMAZING!
And the potential and information seeds contain! Scientific observation (and legend) tells of seeds germinating after hundreds - some even thousands - of years, if kept under the right conditions. Mind blowing!

Buds inspire me with the same admiration:
have you ever stopped to think or look at what actually comes out of, i.e. what is essentially contained in, one single bud? A whole branch a metre long can grow in one year and a huge number of leaves. All contained in that simple, unassuming form (of course, as it was pointed out to me, it needs the right conditions to grow that ... but then don't we all?)

I like to similate this process when I work in clay, starting off with a tiny seed-like shape and gradually building on that, increasing the volume and definition (as illustrated in my initial exploration of the Acceptance theme on my Work In Progress page on my website [right at the very bottom]).

Relief in the Relief

"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch, we are going back from whence we came. John F. Kennedy
The sea is a constant inspiration to me. Having grown up by the sea, it brings me peace and solace, at times, and at others, excitement and exhiliration, and those feelings are not necessarily mirrored from the mood the sea is in at that particular time.
I have, for the past two weeks, been working on relief. The OED defines reliefs as: 'the elevation or projection of a design, or parts of a design, from a plane surface in order to give a natural and solid appearance; a composition or design executed in relief.'
I personally find a relief interesting when the 'design' ensues from a motion that emanates from far beyond the actual work-plane. If you imagine that the board, which is erected on an easel, forms the concentric point of an infinite number of planes that project into infinity in all directions (not just 2D, but 3D; this is vital!), you can begin to see how the movement culimates and concentrates on the board.
The sea, of course, moves in a similar way: waves are formed far away and gradually build up from a swell to the crashing breakers.
The first stage in my exploration of the relief was simply to get a feel of how the movement comes from infinity and continues into infinity, to explore the infinite planes crossing the board.
The next step is to create that 'swell', as metioned above, and then the third and probably final step - at least for this particular relief - will be a curling wave moving across the board. (Images to follow shortly.)

With the summer exhibition season now over, what a relief to be able finally to concentrate fully on the creative process again!

Michelangelo's Mountain 2

Signing off from work for a few days; a late summer break. The end of an eventful, delightful summer. Time to take stock and so make way for new inspiration. Time to begin to gather that seed, ready to nurture it over the autumn and winter months so it may begin to flourish come spring-time.
And since this is a time for contemplation, some food for thought: another excerpt from my notes on the book about Michelangelo:
For Michelangelo, Plotinus was an especially apt inspiration, a philosopher who upheld the carver's art - 'taking away' - as a model of spiritual self-perfection. To the question 'How can one see the beauty of a good soul?' Plotinus replied: Withdraw into yourself and look. If you do not as yet see beauty within you, do as does the sculptor of a statue that is to be beautified; he cuts away here, he smoothes it there, he makes this line lighter, this other one purer, until he disengages beautiful lineaments in the marble. Do you this too. Cut away all that is excessive, straighten all that is crooked, bring light to all that is overcast, labour to make all one radiance of beauty. Never cease 'working the statue'. Thus we become our statues, and our life's work is to pare away the dross and reach the virtuous form within.

Michelangelo's Mountain

As Pietra Santa is nearing completion and my thoughts are beginning to turn to the next marble stone (retrieved from the same river in the Carrara region as the Pietra Santa stone) I've been reading through the entries in the journal I kept during my stay there. They include notes on a book about Michelangelo and the marble quarries of Carrara:
... the artist as the revealer rather than the maker, the midwife rather than creator, the modest servant of a nature ensconced in stone. Rather than imposing his will upon the marble, he draws out the life incubated in it. This suggests a paradoxical balance between willful design and spontaneous discovery: the concetto (concept) is bound within the stone, but the intelletto (intellect) guides the hand in drawing it out. ...
Also a local myth about how the marble came to be in Carrara - I particularly love the ending:
God had almost finished making the world when he grew tired. He called two angels, one smart one and one not, and directed them to finish the last remaining chore: to take sacks of ore, granite, marble and other mountain-building materials and spread them evenly over the Italian peninsula. 'I'll start at Venice and make the Alps,' the clever angel told the dunce. 'You start at Genoa and make the Apennines.' But the dumb angel dozed off at the first beach he found, below what is now Carrara. Waking in a panic, he dropped all his marble in a heap and slunk back to Heaven. 'What have you done with all that precious marble?' God thundered, but then he smiled. 'This may not be so bad after all. Now artists will come from all over the world and make sculptures for me.'

August 2010

Comments related to pages on the ropo website:

'I especially love The Sea series ... they are all amazing & they have a quality about them of transcending the earthly & reaching out into the unknown...'  K.K.

'I didn't know you were so prolific! These look terrific. Even just from photographs, I really like a lot of them.

Well done on getting shortlisted - thoroughly deserved, I'd have thought. ... I hope to come and see it.' T.R.

'The website also looking very good. Whose idea was ropo sculpture? - very clever.' K.M.

'What a beautiful website. The pieces look so good, lovely titles and photography as well.
Well done for getting into this show,well deserved.' S.H.

'The web site is clean and wonderful and looking at the Inner Room I am not surprised it has done well and maybe such a busy show will not be the best place for something so contemplative. In an ecclesiastical setting (like a lot of what you do) it would be inspiring.' J.V.

'Can I share this with my youngsters? What an education! The content, spirit and energy of this message is so powerful ... or is Powellful? It engergises even (?!) me. You have to tell me more of this episode.' T.E.

'I like your Concentration Brings Expansion.' M.B.

'... and thought I'd look at your website on the way as it were, very lovely and educational, I learnt something from your underlying philosophy, only wish I could apply it more evenly than I do .' R.B.


'I do think the kind of approach you have found, this exploration, is very valid. ... I think there is a relevance in reclaiming substantial and expressive past langauge and making it available. ...Especially now when lack of awareness has wrecked so much, there's a need for new art which can carry new thoughts, new substance and stability, especially one that can restore sound values. Finding out precisely the kind of values that need to be asserted is part of the work.' D.H.