Creating a Context

"This is a fundamental view of the world. It says that when you build a thing you cannot merely build that thing in isolation, you must repair the world around it, and within it, so that the larger world at that one place becomes more coherent, and more whole; and the thing which you make takes its place in the web of nature, as you make it."

-Christopher Alexander

Sand, Ruins & Kintsugi

I approached this sand paining from a different perspective. Rather than thinking of the depicted space as a bird's eye view pattern, I focused on topography as a tactile experience. I asked myself what would the landscape feel like if I could run my hands across it. Thinking of its surface as a skin or cloth over an underlying structure, I had to consider the experience of each curve and form individually. As I did this, each area took on unique characteristics that resulted in a less unified but more dynamic composition. 

When creating the ruins for this work, I thought about the practice of Kintsugi. Gold is used to repair broken pottery creating an unpredictable, decorative pattern. The philosophy behind this practice contends that when an object is damaged and repaired; it is not thought of as a destructive process but rather an important part of the object's history. So instead of creating a series of mound structures and building around them, I thought of the ruins as a rolling plain of fractured parts that required a network of seams to mend the landscape back together in a different way.

Test Prints

Print on fabric

I've been mulling over some test prints of the sand photographs. I have prints on 3 different types of paper and 1 type of fabric.  I had very high hopes for the fabric, but because it is sheer, a lot of the photo information was lost making the image looks washed out. My printer usually offers a more opaque cotton option, but it is on back order at the moment. I might revisit that later. 

The first paper print is on a bright, white etching paper that has a heavy body and prominent tooth. I like the paper very much but I'm afraid that its texture competes with the image a bit too much. The second print is on a bright white fine art paper that is more smooth, probably too smooth for my taste. It's nice but doesn't really add much to the image. The final print is on a bamboo derived paper that has just the right texture and a warmer color. The paper's hue works wonderfully with the colors in the image. It's tooth also seems to enhance the texture of the print. I'm not sure that I have completely nailed the printing method but I'm off to a good start. Now I have to think about scale for my first set of 6, full size prints on the bamboo paper.

Test print on bamboo paper

Detail of test print on bamboo paper

Test print on fine art paper

Detail of test print on fine art paper

Test print on etching paper

Detail of test print on etching paper

The Decisive Moment

I'm very excited about developments with the sand paintings. I just ordered some test prints today on paper and textile. I've also been considering how to display the images once I decide which material to use. I believe the new method of matching the landscape and ruins into diptychs drawing connections between the idealized memory of a landscape and its inevitable destruction and transformation is promising. I also have some ideas concerning how to display sand installations. Originally, I wanted to build or repurpose a table. Now, I'm planning to build a wall-mounted or hanging shelf out of plexi so that the sand can be viewed from every possible angle. I would like to know if a clear surface underneath will help to eliminate boundaries between the viewer and the work encouraging more intimate interaction.

Maybe I spoke too soon...

A couple of posts ago I said that the most important aspect of my work is time rather material or labor. Now I'm not so sure. Tonight, as I made countless slow, meditative circular motions with my hand to rub coffee ground paste into a piece of cloth, I revisited that decision in my thoughts. Perhaps the material is of little consequence. It doesn't matter whether its dyeing and drying sand, then sifting it back into its fine texture, pouring identical little piles of sand, or neatly arranging sand into smooth rows. It doesn't matter whether its carefully pressing rice paste into fabric to make a pattern or rubbing coffee into fabric to stain it. Clay, sand, newspaper, cardboard, coffee, cotton, rice, flour are all simply materials. Materials that outside of the context of art are not regarded very highly. Labor (the time, process, and effort I exert) is the agent that turns these humble materials into art.

Why Use Sand?

As I mentioned in my last post, I continue to use loose sand as the primary medium for these landscape memory pieces because of its visual resemblance to a natural landscape, references to working directly with earth (soil), and references to time and ephemerality. I will continue to create multiple works inspired by the same landscape to compare their visual elements and what they seem to communicate, to refine this language further.

Is the Work About Making/Constructing or Material?

The answer is neither.... The work is about time.

Uncovering the answer to this question surprised me. Six months ago, I would have said that my sand paintings were about the material. When this question came up during the residency, I couldn't articulate why I thought material was so important to me. I love working with sand as a medium. However, as I considered the actual themes behind my work and the ideas I want to address, I realized that sand itself really wasn't that crucial. I believe that sand has been an excellent tool for communicating what I want to say but it isn't the only one available to me. 

As I continue to move forward with the sand work, I do so with the awareness that the crux of my creative exploration includes the ideas of ephemera, time, and change. I want to replicate/document fleeting moments in time and create temporal experiences. Methods that I use to construct work and material are important, but the act of making and the process of unmaking through entropy are pivotal. The ruins of the sand paintings I've been working on, in my mind, are of equal importance to the original creations. They become a metaphor for processing childhood memories and feelings of nostalgia and loss. After creating idealized landscapes, deconstructing them serves as a springboard for a new landscape; one that is a combines idealized patterns with more realistic forms.

Where am I? Part 3: The Field

It's been a while since I've posted and I have a lot to catch up on. In the past month, I've been working to find answers to some of the questions that were raised during the residency. In some cases, the answers revealed themselves. In other, they remain elusive.

One thing that I'm continuing to work through is exploring landscape through personal connection. So far this semester the imagery in my work was limited to my grandmother's back yard, but I'm beginning to expand a bit, moving forward in time from early childhood to adolescence and the end of childhood. That brought me to my family's move to rural Georgia when I was in middle school. Although I had a rather introverted childhood, I felt especially isolated during that time. One of the most vivid (and pleasant) memories I have is spending time reading and daydreaming while sitting in the middle of the field at the top of the property. It was an extremely rich, sensory experience. I distinctly remember the smell of the wind, the sound of cicadas, the dust rising up from the occasional car driving down the dirt road and the way the lavender wildflowers swayed in the breeze. The contrasting feelings of near isolation while also being connected with my surroundings remain with me.

Also, with this sand painting I numbered the images using the orthographic projection method I discussed earlier: 1-front, 2-back, 3-left, 4-right, 5-top, 6-alternate. Since I cannot photograph the painting from underneath (yet), I use an alternate view, in this case from the top, as a substitute for the sixth image. The 7th image is a bird's eye view of the entire work, for documentation purposes only, which will only be shared on this blog. I've been thinking a lot about the fact that these works will never been seen by the public except through the images I take of them. I would like to use my role as liaison between art and viewer more to my advantage. The work itself is an exercise in ephemera, its documentation, and sharing a fleeting moment with the viewer through the image. So the viewer, will experience my imaginary landscape much like an actual landscape; from a particular point of view, instead of all at once. It is my hope that will help create a more intimate connection between the viewer and the image and dissolve the separation between the two.

Landscapes & Relics

I've been playing around with the idea of adding permanent sculptural objects to my temporary installations. I would like to create a dialogue between natural material and man-made (or in this case "woman-made" relics. These biomorphic forms are intended to be ambiguous, at the same time referencing bodies, organic structures, land forms, or abandoned artifacts. I have always been attracted to working with multiples, building increasingly complex patterns out of simple shapes. These forms are made of cast porcelain. I love the interplay of light on the surface of unglazed porcelain. Its color and texture bears a resemblance to bone, stone, and fungi. 

I am working with porcelain slip for the first time and figuring out what needs to be addressed as I go along. From this first set of forms, I realized that I need to experiment with different methods of burnishing the clay before I fire it to improve its surface texture. I also found that I shouldn't be afraid to conceal parts of the form under sand. When I built unfired clay structures to submerge in sand, I thought the interplay between what was revealed and concealed was very interesting. I don't feel that this first attempt in using permanent sculptures was as successful. Maybe because I spent so much time in the process of sculpting the form, creating the mold, casting and firing it, I was a little more reluctant to cover it up.

Landscapes into Ruin

I like the way the Ruin series is developing. Having an unplanned starting point where I have to develop the work intuitively is something that I have come to enjoy. In some ways I feel this series is more successful than the planned work that it’s derived from. Looking for ways to reference time and a sense of loss, I’ve been considering combining the images from this series with images of the original work, show them as diptychs. 

I also made a new discovery, orthographic projection. When I first started working on post-residency sand paintings, I made a decision to depict each landscape through six photos. The decision was instinctual. Being drawn to multiples of 3, I thought 3 views were not enough, but 6 would give the viewer a more accurate sense of the piece. Orthographic projection is a method for making a 2D representation of a 3D object. It includes 6 views: top, bottom, left side, right side, front, and rear. When photographing my work, I have starting using this method as I choose camera angles. This will give me a tangible guideline to use when pairing the images into diptychs.