2.12.20 Working with concrete
‘the material is always also a medium and thus a part of the message. The materiality (his italics) of the art work can thus become the carrier of multiple cultural-historical and socio-political references,.’ (Thoss, 2014, P7)
I have reflected on material and meaning elsewhere, but I wanted to revisit concrete as a medium as I have been working with it for the last couple of months.
I had intended initially to use concrete to cast my feet for the last module, but was advised to use Jesmonite instead for that project due to my inexperience in casting, the complexity of the mould, time available, sustainability and the risk of my toes breaking! I struggled with this, in a way, as I think that concrete is a much more authentic material, again ubiquitous in the built environment, with notions of grounding and solidity and built in imperfections and texture.
My Jesmonite moulds are much lighter than concrete, which obviously has benefits in terms of transport. It’s smooth and uniform in colour. There is something very uncomfortably appealing about them, but I have to confess that casting my feet in concrete has been eye opening in terms of the difference that a material can make. As I thought, concrete is much less predictable than Jesmonite or plaster. The range of colour and texture of the feet has been wonderful. Some has been within my control and some outside of it. Each pair of feet came out of the moulds with a totally unexpected purple surface. Gareth thinks it must be a reaction to the silicon, but it definitely makes them look as if they're rotting. In fact, as they have settled, and maybe dried out and been subjected to air and light, the purple has begun to fade. I also really like the fact that they aren't perfect; the blemishes, air bubbles, missing parts (due to my ineptitude, probably). It makes me think of ancient, disintegrating statues. I think that association is appropriate.
I am so interested in the transformational aspects of casting! It's like alchemy. I really like the way that I put effort, time and skills (well, Gareth's skills and knowledge mostly) and yet there are always elements that are outside my control. I have been drawn to similar processes in the past; felting, for example.
So far it hasn't seemed to make a difference to the stability of the assemblages, but actually, I think I want to do something different with these feet anyway. I still can’t help thinking of phrases like ‘concrete boots’ and ‘feet of clay’… and they are very heavy, hard to transport and to store.
There have also been phases of Csikszentmihakyi's flow within the process, which I also really appreciate. Again, too, the involvement of my whole body has been notable. I have to gather the sand from outside, carry it in, mix with cement and water, standing, mixing, pouring; it's physical labour, hard work but pleasurable too. Following the same process 3 times over the course of 2 months has been a useful experience too as I have been able to do it independently. Could I now do it at home, I wonder, if I had to?
Each time I cast a pair of feet I found that I had some concrete left over so I made a series of 3 sets of rubber glove hands too and I cast a pair of my old shoes. Now I'm casting a pair of wax feet so that I can make some more wearable/ utterly unwearable Impossible shoes.... but they will have to wait until I can get back into the Sculpture workshop....
Thoss, M. (2014) ‘Interwoven modernity’ in Frank, R. and Watson G (eds.) Textiles Open Letter, Vienna: Sternberg Press & Monchengladbach: Museum Abteiberg , p7
I have reflected on material and meaning elsewhere, but I wanted to revisit concrete as a medium as I have been working with it for the last couple of months.
I had intended initially to use concrete to cast my feet for the last module, but was advised to use Jesmonite instead for that project due to my inexperience in casting, the complexity of the mould, time available, sustainability and the risk of my toes breaking! I struggled with this, in a way, as I think that concrete is a much more authentic material, again ubiquitous in the built environment, with notions of grounding and solidity and built in imperfections and texture.
My Jesmonite moulds are much lighter than concrete, which obviously has benefits in terms of transport. It’s smooth and uniform in colour. There is something very uncomfortably appealing about them, but I have to confess that casting my feet in concrete has been eye opening in terms of the difference that a material can make. As I thought, concrete is much less predictable than Jesmonite or plaster. The range of colour and texture of the feet has been wonderful. Some has been within my control and some outside of it. Each pair of feet came out of the moulds with a totally unexpected purple surface. Gareth thinks it must be a reaction to the silicon, but it definitely makes them look as if they're rotting. In fact, as they have settled, and maybe dried out and been subjected to air and light, the purple has begun to fade. I also really like the fact that they aren't perfect; the blemishes, air bubbles, missing parts (due to my ineptitude, probably). It makes me think of ancient, disintegrating statues. I think that association is appropriate.
I am so interested in the transformational aspects of casting! It's like alchemy. I really like the way that I put effort, time and skills (well, Gareth's skills and knowledge mostly) and yet there are always elements that are outside my control. I have been drawn to similar processes in the past; felting, for example.
So far it hasn't seemed to make a difference to the stability of the assemblages, but actually, I think I want to do something different with these feet anyway. I still can’t help thinking of phrases like ‘concrete boots’ and ‘feet of clay’… and they are very heavy, hard to transport and to store.
There have also been phases of Csikszentmihakyi's flow within the process, which I also really appreciate. Again, too, the involvement of my whole body has been notable. I have to gather the sand from outside, carry it in, mix with cement and water, standing, mixing, pouring; it's physical labour, hard work but pleasurable too. Following the same process 3 times over the course of 2 months has been a useful experience too as I have been able to do it independently. Could I now do it at home, I wonder, if I had to?
Each time I cast a pair of feet I found that I had some concrete left over so I made a series of 3 sets of rubber glove hands too and I cast a pair of my old shoes. Now I'm casting a pair of wax feet so that I can make some more wearable/ utterly unwearable Impossible shoes.... but they will have to wait until I can get back into the Sculpture workshop....
Thoss, M. (2014) ‘Interwoven modernity’ in Frank, R. and Watson G (eds.) Textiles Open Letter, Vienna: Sternberg Press & Monchengladbach: Museum Abteiberg , p7
