I have been thinking about the relationships between ceramics and performance. The very nature of clay, its long trajectory and history, but especially the way ceramics are produced, makes it a material amenable to performance.
It isn't a coincidence, then, I think that there is a significant link between pottery, ceramics and performance.
If we look back at the recent history of modern and contemporary artists, we find a significant list of those that have employed ceramics and expanded its qualities on a performative level.
First, the one name that undeniably springs to mind is the American Lynda Benglis. Although not necessarily associated directly with ceramics, at first glance, Lynda's work comprises links between feminist art and performance, foremost. Her large oeuvre encompasses wax and latex casts, metal and of course, ceramics. The imaginative and tactile forms of Benglis's creations are at the core of her investigation and experimentation. Clay, also allowing her to bend and manipulate it in a free-form expression, also gave her the opportunity to explore it in what I see as a performative way.
The abundance of her works, the sheer sensual and gravity defying nature of the knotted works and draped fabrics, as well as her sparkles are at the centre of her idea of sculpture as "frozen moments" or frozen gestures.
The MoMA in New York has an exceptional piece of Benglis of 1998, GhostDance/PedMarks, that for me encapsulates the ongoing fascination with gestures and mark making.
In her ceramics, specifically, Benglis continued on one of her favourite motifs, the knotted bow. In a poignant retrospective of her work at the Hepworth Wakefield museum in 2015, I had the chance to experience these in person. Below you can see images of the ceramic works, which attest to the ever-shifting nature of the knots.
Second, of course American but of Greek heritage, Peter Voulkos.
I have always enjoyed watching the videos of him throwing on the wheel but even more, the ones where he is creating large sculptures out of clay, that are intentionally badly handled.
I was ecstatic when I visited one of these large sculptures and got the chance to see it in person, as part of the Victoria and Albert museum's extensive ceramics collection.
"Pinatubo" (1994) is a wood fired, stoneware sculpture, and it is currently on display in Room 142 of the Lydia and Manfred Gorey gallery at the V&A.
Tenmoku or Tenmokuyu or even Temoku, is a general term used for a glossy, deep brown iron glaze in ceramics and pottery.
I was introduced to Tenmoku from my early days working with clay, over two years now. Initially I didn't really like it, finding it sometimes too dark, but not quite black, either. The endearing power of the glaze, however, is that it has a depth and range of browns. Depending on how it is applied, it varies from dark brown, to warmer brown, to translucent even when applied thinly. I have used it on many occasions, especially for my coil pots.
Below you can see the results when I used it for my large coil pot, Rosey, (seen below) combined with a commercial raspberry glaze (Mayco). The result was a range of dark purples and browns, that give depth to the surface of the pot. I particularly like the glossy finish as this reflects light and adds an element of sophistication to my work.
The history: Tenmoku glazes originate from Japan, where they have a very long history. Popularised by tea bowls, initially, Tenmoku referred to both the shape of the tea bowl and the dark, glossy glaze that covered these bowls.
Introduced by Japanese monks and priests that came back from China, after visiting the sacred Tianmu Mountain, in the Heian Period (794-1185). At this time, tea drinking was reserved for the rich and the Emperor. With the rise of the popularity of tea drinking, however, by the middle ages (Kamakura and Muromachi periods) so too, the popularity of the tenmoku teabowls spread amongst the larger population.
The example below is typical example of the tea bowl, known for its distinct dark brown colour. This one is from the Kyoto National Museum,
In England, it was introduced in the 1950's by Bernard Leach and the Leach Pottery in St.Ives, Cornwall, after the visit of Japanese master potter Shoji Hamada, at St. Ives. It has been widely used since in function ware, especially coffee mugs, jugs and other tableware.
Below, you can see two examples of Tenmoku, the one on the left, is the Tenmoku tea bowl, by master Shoji Hamada, in the collection of Tate Museum, whilst the one on the left, is currently on display at the exhibition, The Art of the Potter: Ceramics and Sculpture 1930's to now, at the Hepworth, Wakefield and belongs to the potter David Leach, of the Leach family.
It has been criticised often for being old fashioned, however what draws me to this glaze its history and notoriety as well as the fact that it has withstood the test of time and remains, remarkably, a staple glaze for many pottery studios today.
During my residency at Rochester Square Arts, over the summer and autumn this year, I sought to make my own batch of Tenmoku.
Not knowing what I would get myself into, I began my adventures with iron oxides. Having only done a very short course in making my own custom glazes, equipped with raw materials like iron oxide, manganese oxide and fluxes, like nepheline syenite, cornish stone and potash feldspar, I began my very first tests.
The first recipe I tested was of the iconic Bernard Leach tenmoku. This did give some interesting results but I was disappointed, as the application of the glaze was uneven in areas and didn't yield the deep, rich browns I was hoping for.
The second recipe I tried, was from the contemporary Florian Gadsby, the ceramicist based in North London. It comes complete with a YouTube video, for fool-proof testing. 😀
I was drawn to the simple three ingredients of this recipe: definitely a lot of Cornish Stone (85%) Whiting (15%) and quite a bit of the Red Iron Oxide (16%). This one, finally, gave me the sleek, mirror-like surface of the finish I was hoping for. However, for my taste, the 16% red iron oxide is too much. Below, you can see my test tile results of this on B17 stoneware clay and Porcelain.
I found this one way too dark, so I made another test batch, with a recipe from The Glaze Book, by Stephen Murphitt.
FInally, as a last tester I tried my own former teacher's Tenmoku, Chris Crawford, at Sunken Studios.
I am not sure I got the mix quite right here as there are some delicate balances, and this one contains a lot more ingredients than the above. In the classic Bernard Leach, Potash Feldspar is used as the flux, whilst here I do like the substitution of Potash with Nepheline Syenite.
The verdict? I really like the glossy, mirror like finish that the Gadsby's Cornish Stone recipe gives. It also avoid the pin-holing that can occur with Tenmoku recipes.
I think I will settle for this one, with the Iron Oxide at 12% instead of 16%.
Further links and reading:
This exhibition will celebrate Wakefield's progressive approach to collecting ceramics since the 1930s and will shine a light on artists exp
It turns out my pots have arrived safely to Athens! and I will be flying out there soon to be with them when they launch at Art Athina.
Alkinois is run by wonderful ALix Janta and supported by Romain Britton. They have selected my work to be part of the two-person presentation as part of their booth at Project Space section at Art Athina 2023.
A couple of days before I leave to Athens, we have a mentoring session with Susan Bright.
I tell her about the women's stories and narratives behind each of the pots, how they came about. We talk about naming. There's one pot - which I have called Frothy since the beginning. It is a name that isn't quite a name that I am not sure about. I have re-named her Charlotte. After discussing with Susan and the expert advice of her daughter, unanimously Frothy is voted to stay. 🏺💕
The journey to Art Athina begins like all contemporary art fair journeys, at an airport. This time it is Gatwick on a grey and overcast day. I leave Hackney (Clapton Pond) first thing in the morning in order to get to Gatwick on time. Whilst my pots have arrived safely to Athens, not all is going smoothly on the ground as Alix and Romain are setting up the booth. You can't take out the stress of art fairs.
Eileen is a bit tricky and may have a chip on her shoulder, but I think she definitely deserves to be shown since she has travelled so far to be there. I take my flight and arrive very late on the night of 13th September into Athens airport. I can't wait to see the install!
Booth C5 is a two-person presentation together with the paintings of Marco Villard.
After the stress of installing and last minute touches, the venue is flooded by journalists and visitors. It has been a while since I've seen so many people congregating in one space at once. I am overwhelmed.
The fair is a huge success and the ladies get a lot of attention! So much that I hadn't quite anticipated. It is great to show them at my home in Greece, amongst friends who came by to visit and see them up close and in person.
Eileen is definitely the star of the show, stealing a lot of support for her leaning structure.
With many thanks to Alkinois, Art Athina, the curatorial team & Olympia Tzortzi & all the fellow artists and visitors who came by.
August in London. Hot and humid. I begin my residency as Project Space member at Rochester Square Arts, in Camden.
The first month goes by like a whirlwind, as expected! I hardly have time to catch my breath here, everything takes so much longer - need to account for travelling to and from destinations.
After a lot of anxious and eye-watering expensive accommodation options, none of which I can afford 🥹 I find a room in Hackney. And thank god for that. What is it with tourists and August in London, even an airb'n'b is ridiculously unaffordable.
I can't wait to start working on my coil pots, so I order 10 x 12kg bags of B17 Valentines clay, my go-to stoneware clay that I have used so far. That's a lot of clay to play with!
I love it here at Rochester Square! I could just spend my days sat in the garden, looking at the nasturtiums and vertical salads grow. It is a dreamy place, away from the madness of Camden Town. There are so many kilns, including a massive one. Apparently, they also have names: Green Goddess etc. Ewelina is so fast and my first test coil pots come out of the bisque so quickly.
Maria P., one of my longest term friends from back in the day, when we used to teach at Havering College in Romford, Essex, is one of the first visitors. Followed by Lucia, another one of my longest standing friends from when we studied for our PhD's at Goldsmiths.
On Wednesday, 16th August we have our very first mentoring session with photography curator, Susan Bright. Susan has been a great support and champion of my work. She has curated key photography exhibitions, including Home Truths and is the author of photography books: Photography Decoded and Feast for the Eyes. I am actually really lucky to have her and spend in-depth one to one time discussing my work. We talk about my recent change of material, my switch to clay and ceramics.
I mention how it was the need to go back to a material, and explore the senses through touch, that led me to clay. How it has now overtaken my photographic and installation practice. I haven't given up on photography of course! I explain how I envisage merging the two - photography and clay - together.
It takes a whole first session for me to air out my fears for taking a break from my photographic practice to focus on ceramics. It is Susan who assures me it is "totally okay" and that clay is what I am here to experiment with, at Rochester Square Arts.
I show her the kilns and my very first (unstable) coil pot that I have finished here.
The rest of August is intense; not just the extremely Mediterranean hot weather in London, but also because I make about three to five new coil pots. Some evenings working until late...including weekends and Sundays. But afterall thats what I am here for. Want to finish as many as I can because I'll be away in Athens come mid- September.
Planning for Art Athina 2023, next. Excited about the art fair and a home-coming back to Greece, with my pots. First they need to get there safely and I spend a considerable amount of time and budget organising their transport and crating. (And it is something that I don't really want to go through again any time soon, at least not until a gallery takes good care of that for me).
Before August is out, I have a visit from Marina Syrmakezi, founder and curator of the photography online Gold Circle, with whom I have exhibited on her online platform previously, with my photographic project Simple Flowers.
We talk about all things up and coming and I show her my new works in progress and she takes some snaps of me, posted here.
August has been far from quiet for me. But apparently, many of the members at Rochester Square Arts have been away. What this blog post doesn't reveal is how busy the Square is, every day with volunteers and members working intensely on their projects and with clay.
I need to post more photos of all the action! What I am looking forward to next is mixing my own custom made house glazes, and experimenting with different types of clay - beyond my B17. There are all types of clay supported here, from terracotta to black to porcelain. I can't wait to play with some porcelain next and see how it may work for my coil pots alongside the stoneware clay.
🐱🫶🏻Glazing course with Simeon Featherstone at Rochester Square Arts, May 15th & May 22nd 2023 🪴
In May I took my first ever introduction to the chemistry and science behind what is the make-up of glazes for ceramics! This is something I have been fascinated with for a while, after trying and trialling many ready-made glazes that I have at my disposal at Sunken Studios, as well as brush ons, that I have bought online.
Having recently been awarded an ACE funding for Developing Your Creative Practice, i thought it was time now to look in more depth into how I can create my own glazes.
A large part of my funding will go toward a residency at Rochester Square Arts, in London a magical place in Camden. Prior to its use as a ceramics making place, it used to be a former nursery for palm trees used in film and TV industry, then became a squat during the mid noughties. You can imagine when the founders told me that they have a short glazing course that I could book myself in for 😀.
Glazing with Simeon Featherstone was a two-day course that took place on Mondays in May. This meant very early starts on the train to London from Leeds, for the day-trip.
On Day 1 Monday 15th May, the sun came out and it was a gorgeous day introduced to the alchemy of silica, fluxes and alumina.
We talked about the fundamentals of a glaze, how the powders work inside the kiln in ridiculously high temperatures to interact and thermo-expand with the clay. It is alumina that assists in sticking the glazes to the body of the clay or tile, whereas silica (Quarts or Flint) is the glass forma. I kind of thought this was responsible for sticking the elements together, but apparently, silica doesn't melt. It is the combination of the primary or secondary flux (potassium, sodium, lead, boron) that is the "activator" changing in high temperatures and causing the melt.
After the intro, it was straight into it. We chose some recipes from books and Simeon demonstrated how to create the powder mixes. After lunch, I got my P2 disposable mask on, and away we go! We were a nice group of 8 working in pairs, so it was fun but quite messy overall!
We tried mixing a classic Bernard Leach recipe:
Potash Feldspar 40
Silica 30
Whiting 20
China Clay 10
on to which we later added different elements to vary it,
like 10% Bone Ash, 1,5% Silica Carbide and 0.2% chrome.
I believe this creates volcanic effects on the result!
We had two different types of clay for the test tiles, including porcelain.
It was a very intense first deep-dive into it all.
Day 2, 22nd May: we got to see our results from the test tiles! Unfortunately due to the ever-so precise and on-time trains from Leeds to London (not) I was delayed. I missed the first part of the chat or feed-back. But I got straight into mixing.
It was all about creating lines of glazes, with one base and adding. This is the Triaxial Blend, and this is how you can test up to three different base glazes to test colour, opacity, fluidity and others.
How did it go? Fine but don't ask! It is mind boggling trying to compute in my head the variations and increments!! I am not naturally good at numbers or math. Luckily I wasn't on my own.
Overall, it was a great introduction to the basics of glazing. I also now kind of have an idea as to why my glazes look very glossy. This is something I would like to fix. The recipes we tried have given me a great starting point to continue experimenting, when I do start my residency in August. In the meantime, I look forward to seeing our results soon with the group.
"I am interested to see what happens when a poem manages to get up on its own legs, how it develops its own capacity to move itself along..."
With this as an introduction, Seamus Heaney, Irish poet writes about intuition as a working methodology in his article Sixth Sense, Seventh Heaven (2002), published in the autumn edition of the Dublin Review. It is not unusual to read about the creative process from a poet's point of view: in fact I don't believe there is a separation other than that of materials, for artists. And even so, Heaney nominates words and language as his material of choice.
What exactly is the sixth sense, that he foresees developing into the seventh heaven? It is when, as he describes, is the reciprocal state that occurs between artist and material, or in Heaney's case, words and language continue to grow in a movement, or a happy state of unexpected supply. It is a blissful state of being, as he describes it, that further expands into a seventh heaven or the stage of the reward. Heaney relies on Wordsworth's descriptions, too. Of how to take a state of pure or raw emotion and gradually transpose that into your choice of materials, be it words, photographs, paintings, sculptures.
Heaney relates the creative process to the writings of Jacques Maritain who describes the creative process as one based on the actualisation of emotion, or inspiration.
As artists also know, the happy moment or happy accident is experienced as a state of flow, where the material starts as if speaking of its own accord, it flows freely between you, the maker and its own state of being. As Heaney puts it "it develops its own legs as if magically being able to move along by itself, with minimal intervention."
The state of pure bliss or creation, the seventh heaven, is a rewarding one. You've done all the major work by now, be it experimentation, research, feeling, recording, touching, sensing, smelling and now, everything starts coming together in a poem, or a sculpture or a painting or an installation.
In this iterative process, chance, mistake and whim contribute to the creative work in progress.
Which reminds me of another of my favourite words, Serendipity, coined by the father of Gothic, Horace Walpole in 1754 inspired by a FairyTale of The Three Princes of Serendip. What once went down as a brilliant, yet useless word back in the day, was rediscovered and appropriated.
In fact, Serendipity, votes the UK's most favourite word in 2000.
It is by no chance then (no pun intended) that the word offered itself to the Hollywood feel-good movie Serendipity, (2001) starring Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack, set in New York.
In it, we see the plight of two characters whose love life is caught between the real life and the life desired. A chance encounter and a phone number scribbled inside the pages of a second hand book, forms the basis for them to eventually themselves, ten years later, and seal their love.
What is, then the definition of Serendipity? "The faculty of making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident"
Similarly to the poem standing on its own feet, serendipity leads to that seventh heaven or blissful moment of discovery and creativity, or as in the case of movie, love, magic even.
Here enter: The Magician:
Intuition and serendipity are also closely linked to card games and play. One of my favourite games is the Medieval art of Tarot and observing happy instances of synchronicity that occur in everyday life.
I have used the Magician, Card no. 1 of the Major Arcana, as a guiding principle. Transformed him on my screen, manipulating him to showcase as major star in my solo exhibition, The Magician (Gloam Gallery, 2021).
I am really happy that the work gets a second run ,this time as part of the Leeds Artists Show 2023, at the prestigious Leeds Art Gallery.
The group exhibition features the work of artists living and working in Leeds and is showcase of sculpture, photography, painting, moving image and installation.
Feel like a bit of a chance encounter with synchronicity, art and intuition? Go see the show at Leeds Art Gallery, on until April 30th 2023!!
It is autumn here in the U.K. already. Leaves are falling on the ground, a reminder of nature's cycles. Summer, for most of us is over. September comes back with a bang and back to school, back to teaching, back to whatever it is that autumn brings.
So let's pack away the flip-flops for now
I have not had a lot of time to write here on my blog since last August now, come to think about it!! I have been working a lot over this last year, behind the scenes. More than usually. I have taken a new approach into my art practice and have moved into ceramics and working with clay.
I thought of trying to cover some of the lost ground here on my blog and backtrack some entries.... but then I thought this is going to be an impossible task, best left for the time being.
2021-22 has been great to me and keeping to some rituals, I'll go by the academic year !
I'll try to summarise with the key highlights of the past year.
In October 2021, I joined Sunken Studios at Leeds, and my journey with clay and ceramics was rekindled. It has been one of the most enjoyable yet demanding processes in my practice. You can read some of my thoughts via their blog, here:
Art imitating reality and reality imitating art: Stella discusses how we interact with so many objects everyday that could be used to inspir
Simple Flowers was a photographic project that I did in November 2021, in collaboration with the brilliant Elizabeth Simpson of In-a-gadda-da-vida flowers. The project that came out of that, titled Simple Flowers, was featured on Gold Circle, a great online curated space for contemporary photography, by Marina Syrmakezi. You can also view all the images on my website, if you go to my website links embedded here !
2022 began even better, as I was awarded an artists bursary, through A-N the Artists Information Company. My project proposal was to explore intuition in art, working with clay as a new direction in my practice as well as combining digital methods of production in my existing photographic work.
The grant supported my membership at Sunken Studios as well as a course on hand-building and throwing !!! I never thought I would have a go at throwing pots on a potters wheel, but there's always a new challenge and a learning curve. And guess what, I am still doing it and I really enjoy it. There is something so meditative when you are working on the wheel with a ball of clay.
Having said that, my forte and fascination still remains with hand-building. Working with clay is as one of the elements of my practice, rather than being the key focus of my work.
In March 2022 I was selected to be a member of the YSI Sculpture Network for 2022, amongst many other brilliant sculptors and artists.
So out of all these recent new directions, I was working on an upcoming group show, Seeing Stars, which took place at the Stanley and Audrey Burton Gallery and opened to the public in April 2022.
Ariadne Abandoned, was a project that I had been researching for a while, since as far back as 2020. I had sent out several proposals with this project in mind, for other open calls, exhibitions etc. none of which materialised.
When the time came to start working on the upcoming group show, I decided to discuss my ideas about the installation with the curator of Seeing Stars, Hondartza Fraga. And to my delight, she accepted my proposal of Ariadne the group show!
Utilising the myth of Ariadne, the Cretan Princess, I wanted to give a new interpretation, from a female perspective. Ariadne, was famous for giving her ball of thread to Theseus, to help him escape the Labyrinth, once he had slain the Minotaur. He promised to take her back with him to Athens and make her queen. Instead, on their trip back, he cruelly abandoned her on the island of Naxos. Ariadne Abandoned is a moment captured throughout the centuries in art history and literature like no other. From ceramic vases to later oil paintings, like Angelica Kauffmann's Ariadne Abandoned (1774, see here below) I was compelled to do more research.
Through my research I found that the best part of the story of Ariadne, comes after her abandonment on the shores of Naxos. It is there that she is found by the god Dionysos, who rescues her and falls in love with her. They marry, and her wedding crown is tossed into the sky, as Ovid retells in his Metamorphoses:
"So that she might shine among the eternal stars, he (Dionysos) took the crown from her forehead, and set it in the sky. It soared through the rarified sky air and as it soared, its jewels changed to bright fires and took their place retaining the appearance of a crown, the Corona Borealis."
Ariadne's story thus has a happy ending, as she is the one who becomes a constellation in the night sky. She is visible in the Northern Hemisphere in late Spring to Autumn, and her crown sits between Hercules and Bootes.
And so it began, a frantic three months of work and preparation. Ariadne is by far the most bold and multi-faceted installation that I have worked on to date. It combined hand-built ceramic objects with my material of choice, glittering space-craft Mylar. I decided to use the first drawing of constellations, made by Hevelius in the 1690's - see the image above. This was to become embedded on the top part of the installation. Her crown would then hang alongside the two other constellations that sit on either side, Hercules and Bootes.
Her earthly presence, before becoming a star in the night time sky, was marked by her flip-flops and box of thread as well as two spindles. In the middle of the installation is a tribute to Dionysos, in the grapes as he was the divine intervention that helped her.
This had to be laser-cut to precision, for which I did some tests on my own but am forever grateful to Duke Makes fabrications in Leeds as they did the final cut on the largest sheet of Mylar I have ever cut, of about 3metres in length!!! Phew
Thankfully, it all came together and after three months of hand-building, failed attempts at ceramic flip-flops, glaze tests and other fun, I installed the work at the gallery in April 2022.
Just before our group show opened for the public, I had a bonus trip to see the Venice Art Biennale for the first time during the preview week.
The Milk of Dreams - this is another chapter all-together, I should really do a separate post on it, since it will be running until November 2022. I simply can't chose what artist or whose work to prioritise here as there are so many brilliant, astounding work and by all - female cast. Instead I will put a teaser photograph of me super excited when I arrived at the Giardini
as well as the ethereal spirit of Ithell Colquhoun whose presence guided me and led me to the Biennale this year, under the guise of Richard Shillitoe.
I came back in late April full of dreams and art and love and life and feeling grateful.
On April 26th our group show, Seeing Stars, opened to the public and it was so nice to see and be with people in person after what has felt a very long time.
The show continued until 30th July 2022. In July alongside Mischka Henner and Hondartza Fraga, I have a talk as part of our exhibition
For pretty much July and August I continued working with clay at the ceramic studios, I continued writing, mostly, I haven't told anyone I write (a lot!) Its a secret but you may have guessed it.
July was a quick trip to Arles, for the first time ever for me for the Rencontres Photography Festival.
August I had a much needed break in Greece.
That's all for a bit of a whistle-stop tour of my last (academic) year's highlights.
Here below is an observation of Ariadne's Crown I did in June, aka Corona Borealis as the constellation is known in star language. The photo is taken on my phone using via the Stellarium App.
She shines in the night time sky, see if you can catch her!
On Saturday, 28th August, I held a Magician workshop at FoodHall a volunteer project in Sheffield.
Based around the themes from my solo exhibition, at Gloam gallery in July, the aim was to create a large, communal textile based work based on the figure of the Tarot Magician. 🔮🖤
When I arrived at the new premises of Foodhall project, I was immediately inspired as there is beautiful outdoor courtyard, complete with a large range of homegrown tomatoes and chilly plants. Sam from Gloam was there, as well as Nina, who was busy making Magician cupcakes !
The first participants arrived around 11am. After a cup of coffee and the magical cakes, we started by a short meditation session of around 15-20 minutes. I think that meditation is important in the creative process, as it helps gather your thoughts and calm down a busy mind. You need to create space in your mind, and time in your daily routine, to make art. A short meditation session is a great way of getting into your own space before getting creative!
One method I follow, is to set myself a short intention during the meditation session: this can be as abstract or specific as you want it to be. It can be a simple daily goal, like “feeling good” or something like “growth” “change” “new beginning” and whatever else you want.
After the meditation the group exchanged thoughts on what our intention was. It was time to introduce the Tarot Magician and the small riso prints I had made for my exhibition came into further good use for this purpose.
The Magician is Tarot card 1 in the Major Arcana. He is also known as an initiator. It is essentially, the card of new beginnings and all things creative. What I like most about Tarot cards is the fact that there is no wrong or right way of interpreting them. Tarot cards are full of symbolism and meaning and visual clues. They have a long history, but every time I use them I find new meanings and associations. Like in the creative act, the possibilities and combinations are literally endless.
Then, the large cotton printed version of The Magician appeared on the table and we were ready to start the creative craftwork. Each participant was encouraged to chose an element from the figure, whether his hat, in the case of Michelle, or his tools from the table, or in the case of Nina, his magic wand. Each of these individual elements would come together in the final piece and each one would be unique.
Utilising tracing paper, we traced out the design elements and then chose a textile cloth from the selection of offcuts that I had sourced. Each participant in this way kept adding to the patchwork by creating individual and colourful pieces. Slowly but surely, we were creating a new version of The Magician.
The session was fun and relaxed, there was a lot of conversation about art, current debates and many other things which probably don’t belong in this blog as the conversation sometimes did get quite deep and personal.
We also had a lovely lunch, a chickpea curry freshly cooked from scratch by Nina.
The workshop wrapped up at around 3:30pm, with really pleasing results as we almost finished the textile banner. Images below provided of the various stages.
Thank you for their support and co-ordination skills to Sam from Gloam gallery and Nina at Foodhall.
Foodhall are a not-for-profit social enterprise that brings people together through food. They run a contribute-what-you-can café, food delivery service and host numerous other branch projects and activities. Find out more via their website https://www.foodhallproject.org/
Recently I have been researching and thinking about the impact of black, as a colour. The philosopher Eugene Thacker in his article “Black on Black” asks: “Should we consider black a colour, the absence of colour or, he suggests, a suspension of vision produced by the deprivation of light?” In the conventional sense of colour theory, black is not considered a colour, but rather an achromatic, that which does not reflect back light, but rather absorbs it.
Caravaggio, the master of the chiaroscuro in painting, is known for painting the deepest blacks. His painting of Narcissus, dated c. 1597-1599, attracts into the deep black of the reflective waters, where Narcissus’s gaze is met by his dark reflection. It is impenetrable as it is reflective. Black has long had associations with the negative, the dark side. Death and black go together. Black is the colour of mourning. Crows, black cats, bears and wild boars form a bestiary of Satanic animals. Bats added to this, especially recently as they have been linked to spreading Covid-19. But whilst black connotes death and is associated with all the above, in more modern, recent times black started becoming the dominating colour of fashion designers, painters. The little black dress, defined by Chanel and what became the staple item in every woman’s wardrobe, is an example of a different type of black. There is room for a different kind of black, of the contemporary one.
The art of the muse: Dora Maar and Paris exhibition at Centre Pompidou
In July, I visited Paris. The perfect place for wasting time, flanerie and walking in over-crowded city centres. The city and place of inspiring and surreal artists, and Surrealism itself, Paris attracts artists and writers today.
Contemporary art would have never really existed as we know it, had it not been for the era of Andre Breton and Man Ray. But strangely, as has been the case with many female artists of that era, forgotten, lurking in the background of art history.
Not this time. The long overdue Dora Maar exhibition at the Centre Pompidou is finally paying homage to the woman as well as others, of that famous circle of friends.
It is Friday, late afternoon. Outside the museum walls, the city has been blazing with heat and ongoing transport upgrades. The metro line four I took to get to Centre Pompidou had broken down earlier, and I walked instead. The Gallery on the sixth floor is packed. Older as well as younger people. All peering curiously into the vitrines, straining to see the physical postcards, photographs and other details of her life. On the wall, a digital projection unfurls the life of an incredible woman, a pioneer photographer. A female artist and photographer.
Dora Maar: the woman otherwise known as the “muse and mistress of Picasso.”
I get slightly angry also with myself, for allowing me to think that women like her could simply be known as “muses” and nothing more. I think back into to my university teachers – mostly male – who taught me Surrealism and never dared venture beyond Man Ray, Andre Breton, Eluard, Bataille… sigh.
The first two exhibition rooms are dedicated to her early years and that of fashion photography and collaboration with designer Kefer. I am simply blown away by the audacity and capriciousness of her photography: nothing escapes her discerning eye. Female nudes pose in a way that is unobtrusive and inoffensive. She is interested in showcasing the unexpected, the candid as well as the formal, staged. I am struck by the photographs for the Dolfar campaign from 1936, one of the earliest advertisements for hair curling irons. Amongst the tests and commercial photographs, a striking series of positive prints as well as the actual photographic negative, of a model with a coral in her hands. Perfect curls and light tests with models.
But her work wasn’t only fashion. In her “Sans titre [Main-coquillage]” (Untitled [Hand-Shell] 1934, we can see the early influences of surrealism at work. The photo-montaged hand appearing as if coming out of a shell, rivals even a contemporary digital one. The dream sequence made visible, examples of early photo-montages are proof that manipulation in photography existed long before the days of Photoshop.
Her personal and professional work takes a significant turn when she is included in the group of Surrealists. Man Ray, the father of experimental darkroom practices, makes her portrait using his unique method of solarisation out of three photographs. Her gaze is longing, yet the painted fingernails of the hands that are placed on her forehead are revealing of being struck by some creative genius. When Picasso found this photograph of Dora Maar in Man Ray’s studio, he begged him to have it.
It is in this exhibition however, that I am also struck by some other marginalia: the wedding invitations to the weddings of Andre Breton and Jacqueline Lamba. With my own impending wedding coming in August this year, I am thinking that even the Surrealists held their weddings in quite a traditional fashion. Or not? I wonder what could have taken place at that wedding of 14th August 1934? How was their love depicted? Man Ray was the chosen photographer. I wonder what a Surrealists wedding would have been like.
The invitation is simple:
“Jacqueline Lamba and Andre Breton Sont heureux de vous faire part de leur marriage”
The date: 14th August, 1934.
In the same vitrine where the invitations to their marriage, an early copy of “L’amour fou”
Jacqueline Lamba, the orphaned underwater dancer of Montamartre, becomes the everlasting muse of Breton’s mad, obsessional love. But I am drawn to the photograph of Lamba underwater, on the opposite wall. She seems beautiful, alluring and above all, free, suspended in the aquarium water. Naked, too, nevertheless, this nakedness is somehow inspiring, for it isn’t a typical reclining nude or scantily clad one. This nakedness is bold and mesmerising.
I am fascinated by Jacqueline Lamba, her slender figure and personality. Her pain and anguish as she was sidestepped by Breton, never fully achieving her place amongst the Surrealists but always referred to as “his muse” and then “his wife.”
She destroyed her own paintings, and nothing much has been preserved.
There are however, a series of “Cadavre Exquis” (Exquisite Corpse) collages, made in February of 1938. A reminder of happier times, they are signed by Andre Breton and Jacqueline Lamba and various other Surrealists of the time, including Yves Tanguy. It seems like an exquisite corpse was produced each night, in February. This one that I saw at the Pompidou dates from February 7th, 1938. Upon my return, I do some further research to find that there have been a few of these produced over the month of February, almost all of these entirely attributed to Jacqueline Lamba. They are now part of museum collections all over the world, including the National Galleries of Scotland and the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia.
This one, that I have seen as part of the Dora Maar exhibition at the Pompidou, is a collage and drawing on paper.
The “Cadavre Exquis” was a technique introduced by the Surrealists, and since a favourite for artists. It is a game of participants, where each one draws or adds their part on the collage, then passes it on to the next, without seeing what the previous one has done. What emerges is usually a strange, “surreal” depiction of a body that has swapped limbs for antennas, a head for a monster, a mechanical clock instead of a torso.
In these collages, it is interesting to see that the “exquisite corpse” transcends any notion of gender, place, time. What emerges is a hybrid, or fusion of undetectable parts.
I thought that those were perhaps the happier times for Jacqueline Lamba. I can visualise her at the dinner table, after a meal, instigating yet another round of an exquisite corpse game. Initiating it and allowing her participants to take part, equally.
Jacqueline Lamba and Andre Breton separated soon after they arrived in New York, after fleeing war torn Europe, in 1941.
Apart from the Cadavres Exquis, now in many public collections and museums wordwide, Jacqueline Lamba destroyed most of her paintings.
In my mind however, she will forever be dancing underwater, free from constraints of Surrealists and the artistic movement she was expelled from.
I wander on to the next rooms, the final ones of the exhibition. Experimental works by Dora Maar on negatives, including scratched, punctuated, darkroom photograms. Works that were done away from the artistic limelight, yet fuelled by observation, rigorous and extensive experimentation and testament to someone who knew the art and practice of photography so well.
It is a shame that this exhibition has taken years to emerge despite most of the material being at the Pompidou collection; a much needed and anticipated one. Curated by two women, Damarice Amao and Karolina Ziebinska-Lewandowska, this is an extraordinary account of a woman and her life achievement. Indeed, it shows that women were at the heart of making as well as, inspiring, Surrealist art.
All images are taken on the occasion of the exhibition Dora Maar, and contain material from the Centre Pompidou. Photographs taken by author.
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Delighted to be part of the chroma #exhibition #Velorose collection Featured #Whitechapel top 5 recommendations ..... I’ll be at the Private View this Thursday 02.01.19 Details on the @vel0r0se website Come by ! (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bw4EzRQF7NV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=etr9h4n8lceo
We hold our time as being so precious, we value it, especially in today’s Western world of high end production and commodification. “Time is money” , “don’t waste my time”, “no time wasters” etc. the list goes on. Yet, what do we love most of all other than ...wasting precious time. Surfing the internet, doing our shopping online, contacting friends via WhatsApp and Messenger, Instagram. A paradoxical situation has emerged where high-end technology meets with super-busy and excitable folk. When it comes to conversations about time and wasting time, there is no better place than Kenneth Goldsmith’s “Wasting Time on the Internet” (2016). The renowned conceptual artist and poet, most famously known for his “Uncreative Writing” techniques and tropes, in this publication takes the act of surfing and browsing to a whole new level.
I only recently finished reading it and was elated and amused by the nature of Goldsmith’s insightful and totally absorbing observations on the internet and our time wasting era. For one, it is relieving to have someone to tell you that there is nothing wrong with wasting your time on the internet: the opposite. Nothing to feel guilty about when clicking from news stories to shoe shopping then. Goldsmiths asserts that in fact we are in an era where we read more, interact more and engage far more than before with what is going on around us. What has changed is fundamentally, how we do it, via what media, but that doesn’t mean that the internet should be castigated for being the mother of all evils.
What began as a taught class of his at the University of Pennsylvania, led to curatorial activities, like his 2013 installation at Mexico’s LABOR gallery. The attempt was to print out the entire internet with the help of volunteers. As absurd as this seemed, the gallery and artist put out an open call.
“LABOR, UbuWeb and Kenneth Goldsmith invite you to participate in the first-ever attempt to print out the entire internet.
The idea is simple: Print out as much of the web as you want - be it on a sheet of paper or a truckload - send it to Mexico City and we’ll display it in the gallery for the duration of the exhibition, which runs from July 26th to August 31st, 2013″ (Goldsmith, 2016, p. 108).
As long as it exists on the internet, you can print it out. The response was overwhelming with 20,000 submissions worldwide. It is what made for perhaps, his notoriety and inclusion at the forthcoming 58th Venice Biennale. Goldsmith will be exhibiting Hillary Clinton’s infamous leaked e-mails during the 2016 presidential campaign. All 60,000 in an artwork titled “Rainbow Hillary” (2019).
I’m looking forward to perhaps visiting the Venice Biennale, if I can make it in time. Otherwise, I will have to content myself to wasting more time on the internet and visiting it through social media websites, browsing the Biennale on Instagram.
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