Above: The final decided presentation.
Minor Claustrophobia
Minor Claustrophobia @ Backlit Gallery Nottingham.Featuring: Joseph Cerski, Rosie Burnett, Naomi Gordon, Bobby Sayers, Darren Ralphs
The barely visible man almost feels as if it’s someone I now know, it suggests at the concept of reality and existence. This barely in focus man whose exact identity is unknown to the viewer doesn’t exist on the wall when the lights are out. I was previously interested in the relationship the viewer had with the work; how the viewer might recognise or perhaps subconsciously use the stereotypes of the elderly to formulate an existence for the old timer.
I’m not sure what I think about the work now.
Below: Images from the other featuring artists.
Featuring: Joseph Cerski, Rosie Burnett, Naomi Gordon, Bobby Sayers, Darren Ralphs
It’s taken me a relatively long time to come around to uploading this! Finally I’ve found some time to get the images up from this really successful exhibition at the Backlit gallery in Nottingham.
The work for me is the projection of the face on the wall, the face cutting itself being a means to an end. The process of making work for me is always immersive; I’ve quite recently identified that there is a laborious nature to all of my practical work. Basically I’ve discovered for my own work to register as ‘art’ it has to tick a certain amount of boxes. The work has to of involved some kind of hardship or laborious element; I’m not sure why but I’m on the journey of figuring that out.
Hand cutting the paper was important, I’d made the choice not to laser cut because it didn’t allow me to get close enough to the artwork itself. I really enjoy taking time on an artwork, I like knowing its specific fragilities and understanding its strengths. It’s a getting to know you process which I have with every piece of work I make.
The work for me is the projection of the face on the wall, the face cutting itself being a means to an end. The process of making work for me is always immersive; I’ve quite recently identified that there is a laborious nature to all of my practical work. Basically I’ve discovered for my own work to register as ‘art’ it has to tick a certain amount of boxes. The work has to of involved some kind of hardship or laborious element; I’m not sure why but I’m on the journey of figuring that out.
Hand cutting the paper was important, I’d made the choice not to laser cut because it didn’t allow me to get close enough to the artwork itself. I really enjoy taking time on an artwork, I like knowing its specific fragilities and understanding its strengths. It’s a getting to know you process which I have with every piece of work I make.
The barely visible man almost feels as if it’s someone I now know, it suggests at the concept of reality and existence. This barely in focus man whose exact identity is unknown to the viewer doesn’t exist on the wall when the lights are out. I was previously interested in the relationship the viewer had with the work; how the viewer might recognise or perhaps subconsciously use the stereotypes of the elderly to formulate an existence for the old timer.
I’m not sure what I think about the work now.
Below: Images from the other featuring artists.
Interesting Insight
Anton Chekhov famously observed that if there’s a gun in the first act, it’ll go off in the third, but he was talking about plays. Life has no plot. Much of it is spent eating, sitting around, wandering aimlessly along a street or, if you’re lucky, lazily enjoying the warm sunlight on your face. This is not the tale told by popular cinema or theatre. In life it is far more likely that the gun will be put in a cupboard and gather dust. In life the drone of traffic can be oddly companionable; music floats through the air from the open windows of passing cars; groups of people talk and don’t listen; conflicts are not resolved; conversations hum around you, and it’s a relief they mean nothing. A gentle contentment can emerge from such detachment, born of the realization that the world, despite its volatility, can occasionally ask very little of you.
-From Frieze Magazine archive
-From Frieze Magazine archive
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Thursday 20 January 2011
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