Wednesday, September 26, 2018

A Good Book ?

And if you can't shape your life the way you want,
at least try as much as you can
not to degrade it
by too much contact with the world,
by too much activity and talk. 

Try not to degrade it by dragging it along,
taking it around and exposing it so often
to the daily silliness
of social events and parties,
until it comes to seem a boring hanger-on.  

As Much As You Can. C.P Cavafy.

(Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard)

I recently read Penelope Fitzgerald 'The Bookshop'. This book seems to be about about the private interior life of reading and the public life of action and social interaction in the central character of Florence Green, a childless, middle aged widow who opens a bookshop in the remote and isolated town of  Hardborough. ( 'hard' by name and 'hard' by nature it turns out). Like the poem above the book expresses how the inner life needs to be protected and how it can be compromised and indeed degraded by contact with the outer world.  

Set in the late 1950s the book charts her renovation of 'the old house', a damp, dilapidated and neglected property, and her realisation of a dream driven by the direct and painful experience of love and death, (Eros/Thanatos)  The loss of her devoted husband in the war and the recollection of their shared passion for reading and books is the internal engine that gives her the courage and energy to outface the opposition she encounters, including a resident poltergeist, as she sets up both bookshop and takes up residence in the old house she has bought.  

The character of Mrs. Gamart, an upper-class woman of power and influence in this small backwater, who wants to use the old house as an arts centre, and is driven by malice and envy to oust Florence from her bookshop and destroy her by cunning and devious means, is matched by the character of Mr. Brundish.  He lives in splendid, if somewhat lonely isolation in the oldest house in the town, and offers genuine and noble support to the project from beginning to end. It is to him that Florence goes when she wants advice about whether to sell Vladimir Nabakov's controversial book 'Lolita', asking him, 'is it a good book ?'  His subsequent sudden death from a heart attack, as he returns from defending Florence by confronting and challenging Mrs. Gamart, marks the rapid unraveling of her bookshop venture and her ultimate failure in Hardborough, as she finds herself bereft of all support, even from those she has trusted and relied on most for help. 

''Everyman, I will be thy guide, in thy most need to go by thy side'' -- the words of the medieval morality play are inscribed encouragingly on the bookmarkers in the two old Everyman volumes, a Ruskin and a Bunyan, which are all Florence has left when she's been run out of town, alone, homeless, shopless and nigh on bookless. And one's heart is stopped at the ironic gap between the good old words and the awful present reality, sobered yet once more at this potently slim novel's indictment of small-time Little Englandism successfully doing its philistine worst.  

(Valentine Cunningham  in the New York Times)  

Having read the book about a month ago I was surprised to see it had been made into a film and went to see it.  The biggest difference it seemed to me was the ending. The book is much bleaker and offers little in the way of moral certainty or final resolution whereas the film provides both in abundance. 

What criteria can we use to define a 'good' book or indeed a 'good' life ? Are aesthetic, ethics or truth  significant?  Is outward popularity and commercial success compatible with or at the expense of inner contentment or satisfaction?  Are goodness in life and art the same thing ? 

 Absence, loss and the recollection of desire are powerful stimuli to artistic creation in the poetry of C.P Cavafy.

Try to keep them, poet, 
those erotic visions of yours,
however few of them can be stilled.
 put them half hidden in your lines.
Try to hold them, poet,
when they come alive in your mind
at night, or in the brightness of noon.

When They Come Alive.  C.P Cavafy.

(Translated by Edmund Keeley/Philip Sherrard)

The Simon Lee Gallery says this about the work of Claudio Parmiggiani, whose work was included in the exhibition 'Beyond Borders' which I saw recently with students at the Boghossian Foundation at the Villa Empain. This remarkable Art Deco building itself seems to be 'a house of memory and dreams', a corporeal repository of both lost and recollected pasts, spanning much of the 20th century. It almost derelict when it was bought and renovated by the current owners.

The work of Italian artist Claudio Parmiggiani is concerned with themes of absence, the inevitable passage of time, fragmentation and silence. Deeply personal meditations on life and death, the power of reflection and feelings of the sacred are realised in concrete objects, photographic and painted images, and in his signature, 'Delocazione'. Inaugurated in 1970, these haunting works use powder, soot and fire to create shadows and imprints on paper and board, resulting in a sense of absence while at the same time making manifest an unmistakable human presence, tangible, yet not corporeal. 

1997. 78.03 Claudio Parmiggiani. Delocazione. 
My own effort to explore ideas about the passage of time, loss and absence in the corporeality of an oil painted illusion can be seen below in this painting in oil on board from the series 'Fugitive Images'.

Fugitive 5. Oil on Board. 
Five daily Buddhist recollections.

1. I am sure to become old; I cannot avoid ageing. 

 2. I am sure to become ill; I cannot avoid illness. 

 3. I am sure to die; I cannot avoid death. 

 4. I must be separated and parted from all that is dear and beloved to me. 

 5. I am the owner of my actions, heir of my actions, actions are the womb (from which I have sprung), actions are my relations, actions are my protection. Whatever actions I do, good or bad, of these I shall become the heir. 

Upajjhatthana Sutta

Friday, September 21, 2018

Jigsaw Puzzle

It was a small house, and the whole point was its simplicity, as he'd known it would be, the very act of construction tempered by a longing to have next to nothing. Not much money, according to Iffy, a house for one artist built by another, both fired up with ideas about space, form economy, something mystical as well as technical in Orban's soul.

The Sparsholt Affair. Alan Hollinghurst

The exhibition of Luc De Meyer's work 'Tussen kruipend mos' (between creeping moss)which opened on Sunday afternoon at the Pinsart Gallery in the Genthof featured a series of drawings and collections of disparate fragmentary objects set into three dimensional spaces resembled small scale rooms or set designs. The subtle muted colours and carefully nuanced relationships between forms and spaces in these small 'wonder-kammern' created interesting and mysterious resonances within each assemblage of curios objects and the Pinsart gallery space itself, which appeared like a larger 'cabinet of curiosities' old and new. The stream of time and tide that  dislodges objects from their original context and dislocates them in time and space into new and often startling configurations was evoked in sensitive and whimsical visual compositions. 

It made me think of the ever changing compositions in the terrace in the house - a kind of outside/inside room or box viewed  from the windows of the kitchen or living room -which seems to balance between order and chaos throughout the ever changing seasons and processes of breaking down and building up which are such integral parts of the dynamic and organic aging and renovation processes of a house  

Working in the terrace on the giant jigsaw puzzle of recycled old bricks with their pink-ochres and bleached creamy whites is hard work but very satisfying. The weather is still good and the blue sky and golden brown beach and chestnut leaves complement the space. I find almost the same colours, forms and processes here as in the work in the gallery. Art and Life have no discernible line of separation. 

Monday, September 17, 2018

Beeswax and Books

Before the summer holiday Patrick and I constructed bookshelves in the alcoves either side of the fireplace based on rough designs and measurements. With a simple plinth and cornice and a few coats of white paint far from reducing the size of the room they seem to increase the space, especially with the hidden illumination behind the cornice, and give a better sense of scale and proportion to the room. The rhythm of the shelving creates a counterpoint to the rhythm of the ceiling beams and the horizontal lines of the plinth and cornice follow and carry over the lines of the window sills and mantle piece. They are ready to be filled slowly with the accumulation of books which has built up over the years. I am already imagining evenings in front of the fire in the depth of winter in the company of favorite writers, the act of reading requiring both quiet and comfort, one interior space supporting another. 


Upstairs I was finally able to give the new oak floorboards a stain of colour and coat beeswax This was physical hard work but one job at least that smelled nice - at least to my sense of smell. I first had to stain the boards to the right colour using a mixture of turpentine and burnt umber oil paint and then when this was dry a coat of of beeswax and turpentine. Finally the plinth was attached and painted white.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Panel painting and the interior life .......part 1

Interior space, physical and psychological, are clearly connected and the last few months have found me making wood paneled window shutters, fitted bookcases with Patrick's help, and completing the interior spaces of rooms in the house as well as experimenting with wood, rabbit skin size, gesso, clay bole, gold leaf, egg tempera and oil paint in an attempt to recreate the materials and processes involved in making and painting a Medieval or early Renaissance wood panel. The purpose behind copying these paintings is to learn the technique with the intention of adapting it to my own original creative development of collage /painting ideas that I began working on when I first started this blog. At that time I was making work like the oil painting below which attempts to play with the space, real and illusory both inside and outside the real and painted frames, and evokes the torn paper and other surfaces, real and representational, on which images are made by photographic or other painted and printed means, revealing in a fixed form their fragile and transitory states.

The Fugitive Image: No 4.  Oil on Panel.  30x40cm

 Clearly the use of devotional images was an important aspect of developing an 'interior life' of the spirit through the imaginative use of icons and iconography and as an aid to framing states of mind conducive to and as a focus for contemplation and meditation in the Christian tradition. The material nature of these images was an important part of their power to make 'incarnate' ideas and despite their inanimate state they were often attributed with agency. Their age and survival, often in a damaged state, is part of their appeal and continuing power. The larger panel I have chosen to reconstruct is the one below by the Master of the Codex of St George in the Metropolitan Museum. 

Apart from these practical experiments research has included examining at first hand examples of gilded panel painting in tempera and oil paint including this wonderful panel by Simone Martine at the Walker Art Gallery in Liverpool which I have always loved since I first saw it as a young boy. I especially identified with this picture because Simone Martini with great psychological perception perfectly communicates the human relationship and the situation - parents reasoning with a difficult adolescent. It is interesting that like the painting I am copying for the larger of the two panel's this was also painted in Avignon in the 14th century. 

Apart from careful reading of Cennino Cennini famous "Il Libro dell'arte", which gives detailed instructions to the panel painter about how to prepare the gesso and add the gold leaf and paint in egg tempera,  I have an old copy of A.P Laurie's, 'The painters methods and materials' from school days,  and have also followed D.V Thompson's 'Materials and techniques of medieval painting' and 'The practice of tempera painting material and methods'. Using authentic traditional pigments and materials from Kramer the German paint manufactures who still manufacture true ultramarine blue from Lapis Lazuli, I am able to follow closely the processes involved. I have also been carefully studying the examples of students reconstructions of early panel painting on the   Hamilton Kerr Institute  website. 

The small panel based on an early 15th century Flemish Madonna and Child in oil paint below has been a trial run for various techniques which I am refining on the larger panel including water gilding. The practical method of experimenting with both the materials and techniques by actually reconstructing the whole process is from an artist's point of view essential to understanding the works on their own terms and not just as theoretical ideas that are read about in books. Cennino Cennini writes as one craftsman to another not as a sociologist or academic. 
Laying the gold using a gilders tip and water size and alcohol liquor on top of the sanded clay bole
gilders 'leather' cushion and knife

Stages in making the panel below

Animal glue melted down to glue the wooden panel and moldings together 
Bain Marie to melt the rabbit skin glue to size the panel and glue the linen to the surface. 

gluing the wooden molding to the panel 

sizing the wooden panel with rabbit skin glue

gluing the linen to the panel with size 

The first layer of very fine gesso made from rabbit skin size and calcium carbonate.
Carefully filing and modeling the corners
Sanding back the many layers of gesso that build up. 

Scraping back the surface to make it very smooth like ivory

Tracing the image and transferring to the surface 
The faint lines of the transferred design
Working up the under-painted tonal image using Indian ink and brush 

Painting four layers of clay bole to prepare the surface for water gilding

water gilding and burnishing with a agate burnisher 

Completing the under-painting to work out tonal balance prior to painting the colours with egg tempera 

Clearly this is still a work in progress.......meanwhile elsewhere ............

I have been preparing other panels in wood and paint to model the light and colour of the living room as it filters in through the windows at the front. As the cost of having traditional shutters was expensive I decided to measure up the panels I needed and make them myself. I used some thin plywood sheets cut to size with wooden moldings glued and nailed together, gaps and holes filled with some wood filler and sanded down before being painted with several layers of satin white and attached together with several small brass hinges. Having white paneled shutters, like adding gold to a painted panel, helps to reflect and increase light in the space, especially since the old glass in the front windows is slightly rose tinted. I had to make eight paneled hinged window shutters in all. The windows like the wooden painted panels frame the transition from interior to exterior space and vis-versa and are an important part of the atmosphere of the room. Opening and closing them in the morning and evening is a daily ritual, a necessity event that mediates the ever changing cycles of natural and artificial light and sensitizes one to these profoundly ordinary phenomena.

Shutters snugly mounted into the window frame and aligned to the newly fitted bookshelves.  
Adding gold leaf by water-gilding and burnishing with a mounter agate stone

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

The colour of silence

 The last exhibition by two visiting artists at St. John's featured recent work by Audrey’s Atkinson. 

Her work incorporates life drawing, photography, printmaking, painting, ceramics and silk-screen printed textiles with ideas emerging from numerous interesting sketchbooks. Recurring human forms and themes of architectural space and the effects of time on surfaces, a suggestion of projected or transferred photographic or cinematic narrative consisting of gestural human marks, calligraphic lines and layers of transparent and opaque paint both reveal and obscure the image. This painterly technique has been transferred through printmaking processes to functional and decorative fabrics like silk and linen, creating flexible and interactive works that extend the language of the paintings into fashion and textile design.

One painting in particular (below) has drawn me back repeatedly by its quiet insistence on measuring time and space. Contained within a simple flat square the painting, built up in opaque and transparent layers of paint, collage and transferred photographic fragments, seems to frame an inner square that recalls a wall, window or floor plan in the visual language of modern geometric yet painterly minimalism, reminiscent of a Kurt Schwitters collage. The muted colours and tinted whites, both smooth and gently textured, have the feel of plaster, paper or ink and explore an association between the various acts of writing, drawing, printmaking and projecting photographic images into and onto architectural spaces and surfaces.  Like silence, which is not without the background noises which one becomes aware of when the mind itself settles down, the painting presents an 'emptiness' in the centre of several peripheral points of focus towards the corners and sides where small rectilinear 'windows' open to reveal glimpses of space behind. The more one looks at the empty, white, bland centre the more it becomes 'full' as one adjusts to the finely calibrated close tones, textures and hues from which it is constructed or rather which remain behind as 'negative space' after the peripheral action of building up positive shapes has been completed. This is a painting that rewards contemplation by drawing in and enfolding the eye of the viewer through it undemonstrative gentleness in much the same way that the ear of the listener becomes more sharply attuned to a whisper in a quiet room by craning the head to catch the faint sound. 

A visit to Audrey's 'studio' reveals a similar aesthetic sense of spatial organisation, subtle muted colour, light and contrasts and an integration of art and life, action and contemplation. The paintings and fabric prints are enhanced perhaps by being stacked against walls in layers, hiding and revealing themselves simultaneously and extending the metaphor contained within the picture's frame into the frame of the room and beyond.  Audrey's work has developed significantly over the twenty years I have known her but it retains and increases its powerful expressive aesthetic qualities by compressing complex multiple layers of significant marks and gestures into a surface that is minimalist and simple and increasingly stripped bare of inessentials.