A Many Sided Thing

A many sided thing

A residency of collaborations

Wimbledon College of Art
16th-27th October 2017


As a member of  'Drawing Connections' I am taking part in the show at Wimbledon Space
The residency begins with an exhibition of an ‘avatar’ from each participant.
I exhibit ‘Left behind’ charcoal on paper. The title is both instruction and circumstance.
I pass these two trees regularly, they are ignored by most, unnoticed in an unkept scrubby patch behind the studio.
Interested in how the eye roams around the shifting detail I need to draw and get lost in the messy tangle. I stand and make several quick charcoal drawings but it becomes to known to my hand and eye, reconstruction begins to stall in its reality.

Left behind

Collaborating together Alison and me walk through the space discussing which direction this collaboration might go.
Our conversation wanders through from an original old door stop that remains fixed in place - a floor that continues up the wall - sounds mingle of people passing through in many directions -  doors banging - fragments of conversation merge in and fade away.

Memories are linked together and I recall a mind sound...

Boinging
...and then laughter behind the toilet door on holiday...for whoever went in their it became compulsory to boing the boingy doorstop.

Boinging

Whistle
Seeing the word brings into the mind the sound of a frequent family walk... the squeaky gates crossing over the railway line with the children a sense of fear, seeing the warning signs, laughing, we whistle as we quickly cross.

Bell in a cold frame
Listening to a radio program on the burying and silencing of Russian Bells ‘ Once heard you can’t unring the bell’.      

Bell in a cold frame

Old and new whistle sign

Whistle booth

Our contribution to the show developed through conversation, linking mindsounds.

An interview with justintime
http://mailchi.mp/ce267e3fd853/just-in-time-arts-events-issues-fri-20-oct-thu-26-oct-2496017?e=9839

Lost in an art installation

On entering the Tate Gallery I notice a large section that looks as if it is closed for re-hanging, I try to find the entrance to Mike Nelson’s Coral Reef and look for the usual white space. A gallery attendant points to the scruffy and insignificant door. There are no signs, no indication of what might be inside.

It looks like an abandoned Taxi cab office. Through the next door, another neglected space and down this grubby corridor more rooms with signs of a shady past, or waiting areas for something unpleasant. I tread carefully in the dim lighting, past old worn couches, random light fittings, and assorted objects left behind after a quick exit. These objects are familiar, reference past fears and are disturbing. There is a variety of office seating and a used mattress possibly taken from a skip?  I had a couch just like that in a bedsit but had to cover it in flea powder before sitting on it. Everything has had a previous use and the feeling of hopelessness builds. I carry on past grimy carpets and temporary floor surfaces, these abandoned spaces continue to imply unease, what lies beneath the layers of old newspaper on the floor? More doors; do I want to continue on or return?

This is hard work, most exhibitions usually have a preferred route, mapping the way through from beginning to end. You know how to navigate it even if you prefer to make your own way around. At least you can be sure not to miss the good bits.
Ah I think I've been here before but now choose another door. I pass one or two people and can hear footsteps elsewhere and distant door hinges squeaking, so many small, hostile rooms seem to interconnect endlessly.

Which way next errm...

Ah here’s an attendant or is he a security guard, is he part of this … I ask, he is not.

Round a corner and through more small unpleasant spaces, (It’s quite creative how many ways you can make a room look sordid) I have seen these places before in films, bad dreams and reality, only this time it is the artist controlling my time in here. Have I been in this room before...

It’s quiet no other sounds, footsteps or squeaking doors ... it’s very quiet... it would be funny if I couldn't find the way out... I feel uncomfortable... why haven’t I bothered to notice the direction I came in... How did I get to this bit...  I acknowledge a slight unease... where was that security bloke?

Searching for the way back I find more rooms I don’t recognise and there are no signs that might help my disorientation. It’s so quiet now, where has everyone gone? I wish I was with someone in here... I wonder what would happen if I had a panic attack... err, don't know if I ever actually had a real one... don’t know how I would react if... and now with this thought I do start to feel very scared. I don't know how I would be if I lost control?

"We do not have to be long in the woods to experience the always rather anxious impression of going deeper and deeper’ into a limitless world. Soon, if we do not know where we are going, we no longer know where we are". Gaston Bachelard – The Poetics of space

Is there a door handle that might be an exit, are the fire exit signs real, if I follow them where will I end up? Every thought makes things worse, my heart is pounding and my stomach churns as the real fear of losing control gets closer, try this door, another room, another room, another room...

Here is the reception and the security bloke, I try to calmly ask “ How do I get out?”
“Straight ahead and through the door.”
This corridor is not straight and the door opens into a sort of bin storage area, do I go through the fire exit over there and possibly into a back street. It doesn't look right. I have to go back but at least I remember how I got here this time. “Yes trust me” he says encouragingly. So back into the bin room I spot a bright sliver of light under the door.

Now out in the familiar Tate corridor I remember my intention was to make a drawing in there, so feeling brave now, I almost liked the idea of being lost inside. I step back in and note each door as I walk through but after the fourth door I have had enough fear returns and I quickly retrace my steps. The attendant outside looked indifferent as I re-emerged so quickly.
I realise how easily I had ignored the fire exit signs when looking for a way out, probably because they are accepted information and never an actual part of the art?

The fear of being lost in there completely transformed my experience of an art exhibition and memories of Tate Britain. Now back to the shop!

Research Folio

Over the 2 years of the MA Drawing course I will be keeping a Research Folio of interesting things,  and probably a lot of thoughts. I have been wondering how this should look but have now decided to just get on with it and to begin here.

Anri Sala at the Serpentine Gallery in Hyde Park
An exhibition of sound/performance/film/sculpture and light.
This is the first time I had seen/heard his work and initially I am a little confused inside the installation. I try not to read too much information prior to looking, as I like to understand it on my own terms first.
A snare drum is playing on it's own, a pair of rubber hands moving in a set way in a darkened room and in the next room a film. The large windows of the serpentine are covered, cut out slots allowed light to filter in casting patterns. Looking through the slots I can see different chunks of the park. In the film somebody was slowly feeding disorganised pieces of slotted card into a barrel organ creating chopped up sound. Moving on through a dark space and into the next room, a film followed a man wandering around outside a neglected and graffitti covered building, he is carrying a box and winding the handle to play 'should I stay or should I go'.
Now that I recognise the music, I feel a little more comfortable and begin to enjoy how the sounds from each room mix as they pass through the spaces. A real saxophonist begins playing adding to this mixture, unfortunately the mini barrel organ in the window isn't working.

The visual ambiguity of slots of light (the same pattern as the music score) that create both the patterns inside the room and snapshots of outside simultaneously are interesting. These combined with the quiet visual film footage and mixture of sounds leaking through from the separate room spaces, all evoke a very specific atmosphere. It is both a moving and at the same time enjoyable experience.

http://www.serpentinegallery.org/2011/03/anri_sala.html