Monday, 29 November 2010

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.

Sunday, 21 November 2010

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.

Tuesday, 2 November 2010

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?