29.11.20 Change in control
I am often drawn to processes which involve a change in control and which dictate the final outcome of the piece of work. It seems like a madness sometimes. When I felt my hand knitting, for example, after literally hours, weeks or sometimes months of painstaking work and preparation, I then subject my work to a relatively short process which transforms the recognisable loose loops of hand knitting into something other, with a dense, sculptural surface and body. Firing is a similar process. For my first degree I experimented with painstakingly painting copper forms with enamel emulsion; the paintings would take hours or days, but the firing took a few minutes.... and that process was outside my control.
Sometimes I find that the change in control happens during the normal process of making. Recently working with materials that are new to me, I have found that something happens because of the character of the material, and not through my doing. Artists often describe this as being 'led by the material', which sounds rather strange, but there is a real sense in which that does happen. With the metal work I have been doing recently, I am very conscious that the metal behaves very differently in my hands to cloth, for example. Another student in metalwork the other day described what she was doing as 'battling' and 'a struggle', as if she had to subdue the metal into submission. I wholeheartedly recognise this frustration, when a material doesn't do what I want it to do, but for me, one part of my enquiry into materiality is precisely this; to explore the properties of a material, and work with them rather than against them.
My approach to mould-making is the same. I have recognised that change in control at several points in my recent casting. I am in awe of the different ways that materials work and what happens when they are used in certain ways. I genuinely do feel as if I am 'led by the materials' I have been using.
I see this change in control as a kind of alchemy. I know there's nothing particularly mysterious about it as many of these changes in control are rooted in the basic properties of the materials, and physics or chemistry, but it can still thrill me. Seeing the ways that different materials can be transformed, through my knowledge and skills or through a process that is outside my control is very exciting. I think it also adds meaning to the process of making, alongside the implicit meanings of the materials.
My skills are still extremely limited in both metalwork and mould-making and I am extremely grateful to the technicians for their knowledge and skills, and their patience!
Control in art is curious. Many artists are highly skilled in the processes they use, yet sometimes will choose to seek out an element of chance, as I do. For me I think it's predominantly about transformation. Maybe about curiosity and wonder too? Adding something unpredictable to my skill set can be very thrilling. But obviously, sometimes it doesn't work!
I am a high level controller generally, so it interests, surprises and pleases me that I am willing to take what some might regard as risks with my work. I do acknowledge that although there are elements of chance in some of these processes I describe as alchemy, there is also still a certain level of knowledge and skill. I learn something each time I subject my work to so called chance and adjust my preparations for the next piece accordingly. It's definitely a fine balance, a change in control rather that an abdication of control.
Sometimes I find that the change in control happens during the normal process of making. Recently working with materials that are new to me, I have found that something happens because of the character of the material, and not through my doing. Artists often describe this as being 'led by the material', which sounds rather strange, but there is a real sense in which that does happen. With the metal work I have been doing recently, I am very conscious that the metal behaves very differently in my hands to cloth, for example. Another student in metalwork the other day described what she was doing as 'battling' and 'a struggle', as if she had to subdue the metal into submission. I wholeheartedly recognise this frustration, when a material doesn't do what I want it to do, but for me, one part of my enquiry into materiality is precisely this; to explore the properties of a material, and work with them rather than against them.
My approach to mould-making is the same. I have recognised that change in control at several points in my recent casting. I am in awe of the different ways that materials work and what happens when they are used in certain ways. I genuinely do feel as if I am 'led by the materials' I have been using.
I see this change in control as a kind of alchemy. I know there's nothing particularly mysterious about it as many of these changes in control are rooted in the basic properties of the materials, and physics or chemistry, but it can still thrill me. Seeing the ways that different materials can be transformed, through my knowledge and skills or through a process that is outside my control is very exciting. I think it also adds meaning to the process of making, alongside the implicit meanings of the materials.
My skills are still extremely limited in both metalwork and mould-making and I am extremely grateful to the technicians for their knowledge and skills, and their patience!
Control in art is curious. Many artists are highly skilled in the processes they use, yet sometimes will choose to seek out an element of chance, as I do. For me I think it's predominantly about transformation. Maybe about curiosity and wonder too? Adding something unpredictable to my skill set can be very thrilling. But obviously, sometimes it doesn't work!
I am a high level controller generally, so it interests, surprises and pleases me that I am willing to take what some might regard as risks with my work. I do acknowledge that although there are elements of chance in some of these processes I describe as alchemy, there is also still a certain level of knowledge and skill. I learn something each time I subject my work to so called chance and adjust my preparations for the next piece accordingly. It's definitely a fine balance, a change in control rather that an abdication of control.
