farnsworth2

  farnsworth2 
  Originally uploaded by aesop.

Farnsworth. My collapsible goat.

This is his song.

Christo/Holzer/Finlay/Space/Books

Writing at the library now. Yesterday's work at college had me in the UWE library, collecting materials on Christo and Jeanne Claude , Jenny Holzer and Tony Cragg. I've been writing about them for my visual database/cabinet. Writing about Chr & JC in particular was something of a revelation, because, as I wrote, i found myself dragged into the expression of how I interpret the work in ways I hadn't been prepared for...

I began to write about the spatial aspect of their work and the part
it plays in landscapes which are, at the same time as being real
landscapes, cultural landscapes. Then I wrote about how wrapping up a
building or erecting a lot of giant umbrellas or putting a curtain
across a canyon not only parcelled off a bit of the landscape- it
turned it, temporarily, into a sign for itself (a notion I get from the
wrapped items most of all. The curtain and the umbrellas work
differently, and I haven't explored my thoughts about that). We still
know it's the Reichstag under there, in all its lurking pungent aura of
power and history, and we encounter this new, hulking silver shape with
a sort of distressed reverence towards what it has become: a symbol for
the Reichstag. I tried to make the point that it was, somehow, like
walking into a book. This is something that perhaps the freestanding
things do better, and Jenny Holzer's projected texts and site-specific
installations, not to mention Ian Hamilton Finlay and Roni Horn do
something similar on different scales and using different objects to do
it with.

Walking across the road to a Christo sculpture, entering the valley
of the umbrellas, looking across to an island whose shoreline has been
wrapped, we enter spaces which have been mediated out of the norm. The
things in them are mediated, contained, transformed. They present a
symbol of themselves and they radiate this reflexivity to the context
around them. To be in Berlin while the Reichstag is wrapped could be to
enter a city that was reflecting on itself. The valley of umbrellas is
a geological and cultural wedge into American and Japanese history.
These sculptures are actions that prise open awareness of context by
putting the context into a temporary structure, a game that can enclose
the notions at play. Just like an artists' book does. It priveleges
meaning within contexts it can establish. The book builds a geography
from scratch, Christo and others work to transform existing real
geographies into the same sort of temporary space, radiating autonomy
and a suspension of mundane quotidian realities that would crush the
sense of history, of reverie, of here-ness that such structures can
produce and witness.

Earlier I mentioned Roni Horn. She's best known for her series of
photographs, I think. Sometimes heavily footnoted, subtle relations
creep between apparently unrelated things, or perhaps lots of pictures
of apparently the same thing gradually become charged with separate
meanings. Some of her new work involves pictures on individual stands-
an idea I am keen to steal in order to distribute a book across a
space. (My visual language is profoundly different to hers. It remains
to be seen whether or not it would work). But I also thought about
taking this idea into specific places, making a distributed book n a
site specific way that could actuate a space into a narrative space. I
thought of Christo's curtain too, and thought of a long book that would
bisect a space in a manner like a Serra sculpture, but with a different
sort of mass entirely.

The ground zero of my work undertaken in pursuit of my research is my existing body of work and knowledge.

My research, broadly speaking, involves artists’ books and my work has centred on books for almost ten years. Over that time I have lived with the many elements of usage and personal enquiry one develops as one uses a particular medium or form. My research is developing from a desire to become more conscious of what had up till then been concerns roughly experienced as problems which were overcome in particular projects or as opportunities to exploit the form that would give me cause for reflection. In short, I want to better understand the unique properties of Artists’ Books.

This description, then, of my “ground zero”, encompasses a range of
practical skills in book production, desktop publishing, image
manipulation, photography and narrative skills that were my tools as I
continued to produce a series of artists’ books. As I have said, I had
had a growing desire to examine more fully the nature of the form I had
found myself using, and a desire to make available, somehow, the
excitement I felt about what I suspected were the unusual if not unique
qualities of artists’ books.

With these goals in mind I enrolled as a PhD/MPhil candidate, and
since that point I have been trying various ways to express these goals
through my evolution of a research project that could address feasible
points of research in artists’ books and simultaneously fit in with the
areas of interest native to me and to my work.

Essentially, what my work undertaken to date so far has consisted of
has been a series of runs at developing a proposal for a research
project. This has been augmented over time by further awareness of the
existing writing on the topic of Artists’ Books. This has led to my
reading and making notes on several of these and the construction of a
reading list that will eventually see me having read the important
texts of this specialised canon.  Of course, I am continuing to develop
this reading list alongside a growing awareness of likely sources of
information, with a concomitantly expanding potential bibliography,
and, admittedly, a growing sense of urgency that I should manage
somehow to encompass the existing literature in my field. Parallel to
this, I have also tried to apply various theoretical planks to the
notional research ideas that are evolving from the notes and queries
arising from my readings.

Alongside my acquisition of new sources and familiarisation with my
“local canon” as it were, I’ve also been attending a series of meetings
where fellow artists are presenting their work.  One of the outcomes of
this is that it has become necessary to refine and codify some of my
thoughts regarding the nature of my artwork and the strategies I use to
make it.  This has suggested various categories or keywords or
strategies (they are, in this sense, interchangeable). For example, If
I use concepts such as space, the dichotomy of interior and exterior,
the idea of a narrative space, then these are the hooks on which I hang
my conversation, my interaction, and, despite the mistakes, false dawns
and rhetorical dead-ends I may be producing,  I am gaining a vocabulary
by which to lay down a set of interests and strategies within my work.
That such a vocabulary is influenced by my reading, and that my
critical reflection on both my reading and my work steer together by a
common piloting of enquiry, is no surprise.

The aims of my research will depend on what my research project is, finally.

My most recent (undiscussed) simplification of the process has led
to the question “Are artists’ books enabling to the artists who make
them?” My own case is that I think that they are.

However, I am choosing this question as a Trojan horse for several
other concerns: from artistic intention to concerns of narrative and
presence.  I hope that such a question would pull out strands of
discussion about what Artists’ Books do for the artist who makes them.
Such a question is relatively unexplored, with many sources being more
to do with the positioning of the Artists’ Book as an artform in its
various cultural milieux. I want instead, to know whether Artists’
Books can do anything special for the artists who use them. My hope is
that I would be able to draw some conclusions about the possibilities
inherent in the artists book as a vehicle for accomplishing feats of
narrative, intention and space that are (arguably) uniquely or
not-so-uniquely to do with artists’ books. By presenting research that
outlines ways in which book forms are used by artists to produce
particular effects, I would be outlining some of the Artists’ Book’s
areas of usefulness, turning to a discussion of Artists’ Books that
comes from the artists making them and their estimations of how
successful their efforts have been. This is the other side of the
historical panorama on which Artists’ Books appear, and I would like to
make some document of what my contemporaries are using the form for,
and why (and whether) they think it works for them. I don’t want to
deny myself the pleasure of some abstruse processing of my thoughts on
the medium through the lens of various theoretical regimens, and, in
truth, I haven’t made up my mind about which particular signposts or
critical tools will best serve my purposes. Accordingly my reading
continues on a fairly wide basis in these matters. Given that I want to
give myself as much studio time as possible, I am perhaps better
advised to steer clear of anything too exotic.
My researches so far,
have, as outlined above, been at the stage of trying to draw a focus on
specific areas of enquiry, and on trying to draw up a vocabulary of
personal and theoretical practice that will answer for the evolving
notions of what it is that I’m doing.

Accordingly, I’ve been reading about Artists’ Books and trying to
apply or find suitable lines of theory to run my suppositions through.
Not always successfully. Books by well-known commentators such as
Johanna Drucker, Stephen Bury, Cornelia Lauf and Clive Phillpot and
Cathy Courtney have chimed against readings in Bachelar, Derrida,
Heidegger, John R. Searle and others. As I’ve made notes on my
readings, I’ve also been constructing applications of theory to the
evolving notion of book art that’s still, however occluded it sometimes
seems, at the core of my research. What this means in practice is that
my notes are littered with rhetorical questions and parallels of
imagery, metaphor and form that intrigue me. Of late, I’ve been looking
more at books by other artists (so far I’ve visited Edinburgh City Art
Library’s collection, and U.W.E’s collection) and other artworks to
which I have some sort of relationship, trying to write honestly about
what it is in them I feel I have some relationship to. Accordingly,
this is a widely-spread net, which stretches from Isaac Julien to
Joseph Cornell, to Helen Douglas and Nic Roeg, from J.S. Bach to Peter
Greenaway. The point of this is to expose a vocabulary which I commonly
use to describe my relationship to these artworks, in a process akin to
that which surfaces when talking and thinking about my own. As I write
just now, I’m still going over many of the other artists on this
long-ish list, making notes preparatory to a review of what my major
tropes seem to have been. Not to be too disingenuous about my awareness
of these surfacing concepts, I have already identified several areas in
my own practice that are consistently of interest to me. For example,
the notion of “temporary structure” and the attendant qualities of
games are something I see enacted in my work and in the work of others.
Reconstruction, refiguring, interpretation is also a method I’ve
frequently picked up. Notions to do with the immersion of books and a
comparison to the immersion in other media- VR and panoramic
techniques- and what these have to do with the senses and intention of
artist and reader are still-forming areas that I want my work and
writing to explore in the future.

My consciousness of and reflections on these notions and their
evolving, shifting place in my work and thought is in itself a very
affecting factor in how my work now proceeds. It will be remembered
that it was my explicit wish that I should form a more conscious set of
ideas, within the nimbus of which my practice would proceed. Indeed, I
find myself in my current studio project, Whistling Copse, attending as
much to studio journals and the mapping of potential context as I am to
the making of images. (Perhaps, for the moment, more so. I am still
coming to terms with returning to an academic environment.) In
practical terms however, I’m being drawn towards a more radical
experimentation with the book form, and a (fairly conservative)
experimentation with narrative. I’m interested in challenging my
existing, comfortable relations with “temporary structure”
“reconstruction” and “immersion” and have been drawing up notes for
bookworks which are not familiar book forms at all, and a matrix of
research material on my subject (woodlands, poaching, murder,
ballistics, evidence) that I can present as several ‘vectors” of
narrative in a series of books.
I still have a great deal to do. As
I write I feel that I am further away from developing a decision about
the exact nature of my research than ever (though I’m told that I’m
doing okay in this respect). What seems to have been happening over the
last few months has been about drawing out reflective practice and
coining a vocabulary from the material gained. This vocabulary has gone
on to shape thought and practice, whilst I simultaneously garner
together resources, both material and conceptual, that are currently
the subject of my ongoing meditations and slow accretion of a workable
problem, critical toolkit and methodology. These two more-or-less
separate activities: of reflection and review, and, on the other hand a
review of my field and the critical resources used to examine it, have
been coming together for some time. At the moment I’m not sure that
they- “my work” and “my field” will quite match up.

However, for the present, I can see that a further review of what
has gone before is imminent, that an expression of my reflections and
research to date is going to be useful, and that this should form the
basis for a new formulation of my PhD proposal. I intend to continue
with the exercises and reading I’m currently using and try to train
them towards the goal of summing up my notions what my problem is and
how I intend to solve it.

I have already characterised some rough ideas about how I am
interested in how artists’ books enable artists, and that I am
therefore interested in how artists work with them. This will certainly
be addressed by some closely recorded work of my own, and by as much
contact with other contemporary book artists as possible. I would love,
for example, to write up the whole of a book’s production from first
formal ideas to production. Interviewing and close contact would
therefore be required. These practicalities await the formal
construction of a research question before I commit more time and
thought to them, however, and so my activities now are centred more on
reading and reflecting on artists’ books and my practical and critical
relationship to them.

Short Whistling Copse film

A short film about Whistling copse, produced with the scintillatingly great Slideroll

again?

Slideshows

I'm stilll working out the interface, so my editing is a bit scraggy, but I think this could evolve, for me, into something I could use to tell short narratives like la jetee. (apologies for lack of acute e)

testing slideshow...

Create a Free Flash Slideshow

Beuys at Tate

There's going to be a big Beuys show at the Tate Modern in May. This is good, because it means I can begin to construct some better ideas of what he means to me. is he a charlatan or actually a magician? Is it lazy to expect someone else to do all the transforming for you? I'm looking forward to it. Not least because I found him a tricky winkle to pick when writing a few lines for my visual database. (I've got to find a better name for it. Some sort of "cabinet"? http://www.tate.org.uk/modern/exhibitions/beuys/

Voodoo...and Farnsworth.

Send the day futzing with VoodooPad and putting together a visual database of artists books and writing notes for things ranging from Doug Aitken's "Electric Earth", to Tony Meeuwissen's "Key to the Kingdom" deck of transformation cards. Projected work over the next couple of days, apart from the library, includes putting together the first few sketches for the ale and porter show.

I just heard that I will be paid, albeit nominally, for the piece about Spike Island Printmakers. It's great just on principle to be paid for one's work, even if it's just a peppercorn. It's not merely a question of vanity, nor indeed of the money itself, though Lord knows I've got to keep my belly from rumblin'. More importantly is the way it helps me take myself seriously as an artist and writer, and helps me envisage things all the more professionally.

I've also uploaded Farnsworth to Flickr, preparatory to invoking the mighty engines of CaféPress to produce some Farnsworth-based daftness.

bachelard notes

p 155, the chapter on miniature:

"...the miniscule, a narrow gate, opens up an entire world. The details of a thing can be the sign of a new world which, like all  worlds, contains the attributes of greatness.

Miniature is one of the refuges of greatness."

p 161

"Why should a metaphysician not confront this [miniature] world? It would permit him to renew, at little cost, his experiences of "an opening onto the world," of "entrance into the world."...Such formulas as: being-in-the-world and world-being are too majestic for me and I do not suceed in exoeriencing them. In fact, I feel more at home in miniature worlds which are, for me, dominated worlds. And when I live them I feel waves emanating from my dreaming self. For me, the vastness of the world has becomme merely the jamming of these waves. To have experienced miniature sincerely detaches me from the surrounding world and helps me to resist dissolution of the surrounding atmosphere."

My thoughts on temporary structures, meaning, for me in this study, books, would tend towards enclosure, but also towards a miniaturisation of the life-support-systems of cultural operation (the systems pertinent to the ontology of making artworks, if you will). I relate strongly to Bachelard's words here, and his words later on the commerce between inner and outer that is a containment, a predicate, a problematic that encloses the miniature whenever it occurs- for it occurs as a virtual world within a real world. But that does not mean that the phenomenology of the miniature is altered. It still harbours imaginations like Bachelard's and the poet's (and the maker of books) in a nurturing, enabling structure.

I want to mention a thought that occurs to me now on Tarot. That the world of relations in the Tarot is a miniaturisation of the real world, a schematic of an individual's understanding of his surroundings, past present and future. But the Tarot paradoxically asserts that it has not only a miniature view, but a wider view than that afforded by reality. It purports to be a window onto a universe with further dimensions. So the Tarot asserts a triple identity:  as a miniature, as a comprehensive scheme of the real, and as an indicator of something beyond normal reality. My understanding would be that these identities are furnished by imagination rather than by some supernatural force (unless one allows that imagination itself is super-natural). I wonder if the Tarot's model of input and output, and its agglomeration of an identity by our questing interpretation of it, by our interaction with it, can tell us something about how we encounter artists' books. There are many differences to be sure, but I want to note this observation to myself.

p 184 "intimate immensity"

"Immensity is within ourselves. It is attached to a sort of expansion of being that life curbs and caution arrests, but which starts again when we are alone. As soon as we become motionless, we are elsewhere; we are dreaming in a world which is immense, Indeed, immensity is the movement of motionless man. It is one of the dynamic characteristics of quiet  daydreaming."

Isn't reading a way of producing this state of aloneness? Isn't the book's act of enclosure tantamount to the study of Saint Jerome: a paradoxical immensity and openness achieved by enclosure and miniaturisation. A comparison, also of the differences in presence of a panorama or virtual reality artwork and one which is actuated by a reader through a narrative immersion. Different immersions. One is foisted on the sensorium of the viewer, the other depends tenuously on the quiet daydreaming intention of the viewer and is all the more immense for it, since it enlists the imagination, the inner senses.

quotidian reality

I bought an external drive the other day: the lacie 250gb thing "designed by porsche" although, how much design can go into an anonymous grey box that makes barely perceptible whirrs when it gets really overwrought is something I am not qualified to speak on. Suffice it to say that it almost doubles my capacity and introduces my firewire ports for the first time to something other than dust. Would I be correct in thinking one can daisy chain powered firewire devices? That would be theoretically interesting. Anyway, I now have a way to work with larger projects on my laptop, with its measly 30Gb disk.

Today I'll be working on some stuff to do with a personal visual/textual database of book artists and people/stuff/films/events I find inspiring or important. It started out as an assignment in the methodology course, but- partly thanks to freemind- it has become an interesting contraption for me, and in a way a manner of conducting research, since many of my picks- Roni Horn...Isaac Julien...Bookworks as a publisher...were kind of fringe presences to me about whom I could have put forward vague feelings of approval but no opinions as such. I'm not sure I'll conquer this grey empire of cultural fogginess but I shall certainly generate a lot of writing. This is good because it shows I am Industrious and Serious About My Studies. It may be useful. At the moment I am considering a policy of doing whatever interests me (with some sense of guidance and steering) with the understanding that it'll do one of two things a) it'll become part of my PhD studies b) it'll get me kicked off the course: either of these two outcomes are potentially the correct one in the sense that they would reflect my preoccupations' suitability for this type of research (as if I knew what type of research it was) and my readiness to undertake it. I don't want to give the impression of being unable to take the rough parts of things on. I'm not declaring a policy, merely meditating the position, that, under a regime of total imaginative and research freedom, things would fall out in this way. The reality is much more guided, moderated and hedged about by both my own cognisance of my putative research and the guidance I receive in fits from others. I'm loosening myself from a sense of doom about it, and trying to reclaim my own interests. It would be impossible to visualise an outcome, I think, without knowing what one wanted. I must find this out, and this may mean thinking about other ways of achieving it. I'm not merely having "second thoughts" (although that's one way of putting it). I'm hoping that I'm giving my creative, research and compositional skills the freedom to find a better way to express themselves.

underthewire_03

underthewire_03
Originally uploaded by aesop.

A final group from "Under the Wire". Images from my traipsing around Whistling Copse in 2004 and bits from the original newspaper reports of the murder of the gamekeeper in the 30s.

underthewire_02

underthewire_02
Originally uploaded by aesop.

More pages from Under The Wire.

Thank-you to the people at Bristol Museum for trusting me with guns.

underthewire_01

underthewire_01
Originally uploaded by aesop.

A preview from my new book "Under the wire", related to my whistling copse project.

Shown are approximately 6 pages. The whole thing's done on a wide-format printer and accordion-folded. Kittle work with the bonefolder and scalpel!