hybrideyes

China

Wed, 24 Oct 2007 18:01:32 GMT

I am delighted to be travelling from the UK to China soon to visit galleries and arts spaces in a number of cities.

I work as Projects Director for The Forest of Dean Sculpture Trust, managing their commissioning programme and strategically developing the organisation. The Sculpture Trail is known for its permanent artworks and my wish is to extend the programme to include temporary works and interventions.

I am presently studying for a doctorate, my research focussing on the Trail and the rural context in which it exists. Since the Trail opened in 1986, art practice has changed substantially and I am particularly interested in how the Trail can continue to remain relevant.

One issue that intrigues me about art practice in China is the manner in which Western concepts are being embraced by Chinese artists, in parallel to a comparatively traditional approach to creating sculpture parks and trails. I understand that there has been a huge wave of public arts commissioning in China and would like to know more about this rise in activity, such as who commissions public and rural artworks, who funds them and are the works in them for sale on the open market?

Visit the Sculpture Trail online....

more films from Gunpowder Park.....

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 07:24:17 GMT

Having lent my real video camera to someone I'm experimenting with my mobile phone one. it's very limited but it is possible to capture something, however simplistic...

http://blip.tv/file/287409

&

http://blip.tv/file/287409

put me down

Sun, 01 Jul 2007 21:54:47 GMT

this video was made on a mobile phone at the airshow at gunpowder park, uk, on 31st June.

see it at:

http://blip.tv/file/286949

more films...

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 10:41:06 GMT

Two more films - one a documentation of the Severn Bore, filmed this weekend in Newnham.
for future bores times etc see website:
http://www.severn-bore.co.uk/

My bore film is at: http://blip.tv/file/72527/

The other a little gem, made during PVA Lab in Dorset - check them out at:
Semblance is at: http://www.pva.org.uk

http://blip.tv/file/72530/

Dear Friend......

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 08:18:06 GMT

I've uploaded a film I made last year about handwriting and intimacy. You can view it on the link below.

http://blip.tv/file/72507

Originally made for exhibiting in Georgia, it has a Georgian voice over, adding to the layering. However, this is not appropriate, or even required, for a UK site.

The film depicts a letter being handwritten, proposing intimacy. but the writing is illegible, questioning how effective it can be as a communication. Subtitles are there to transcribe the written word, which strips away any privacy from the process. We use handwriting to write intimate messages and a computer for less personal correspondence. Subtitles suggest another language.... ...

reveal - a review

Tue, 25 Apr 2006 20:46:56 GMT

Reveal

It’s the morning after the first night of the 3 day event which is reveal. Approximately 500 people walked through the forest together in small groups, stopping occasionally to gather around a work, to stand and stare collectively, often in total silence. They seemed to be mesmerised by what they saw, particularly noticeable when the arrival at the work had involved a specific journey – a walking down an avenue, such as that leading to Tabatha Andrews’ first work, ‘mesh’, or to step tentatively off-path, to move carefully between the suspended lightboxes by Nathaniel.

With regards to physical impact, Katayoun’s smoke work definitely dominated the area of the forest it was installed in. As you approached, first you saw the smoke and silhouettes of the audience, seemingly gazing down into something. As you drew closer you began to hear the dripping sound of the water. Only when you approached the edge of the viewing area did you become immersed in the soundtrack. This work created a very strange sense of presence – clearly having industrial references, yet always playing on the edge of theatre and spectacle. It implied a romanticism associated with the mining history of the area, making a cynical reference to ‘heritagisation’, whereby industrial remains are consigned to become mere museum artefacts. What was once hard, physical, graft now entertains an audience, creating awe and spectacle. The soundtrack was recorded down in Clearwell caves and reminds us of how waterways are not only created by geographic factors, but also by man-made interventions in the landscape, mineshafts fill with water, creating underground pools. The partner projection work exposed the inner surface of the mines, highlighting the rich colouration of the ochre pigments. This work was projected onto a flooded ‘bell-pit’, a hollow formed in the ground by open-cast mining, whereby a ripple in the strata has made access from above much easier than going underground. However, these bell-pits often joined up with shafts below, creating a fragile fracture, which is vulnerable and prone to collapse. A reminder that in the Forest you are only tentatively located on the surface and that there is another world below you.

Next along the trail was a very experimental work by Nathaniel Rackowe. Having teething problems, the work was not entirely complete on the first night, yet still created a strong presence of architecture between the trees. What appeared to be a line drawing was suspended high in the trees, lighting up in layers, only to fade out again and return to darkness. When this work was tweaked it rewarded its audience and it’s creators for the ambitious commitment that had been invested in it, a remarkable prototype whose future I, for one, will follow with interest.

Further along was Nathaniel’s kinetic lightwork, a piece similar to previous works which have been installed in white cube gallery environments. It was completely different amongst the trees and evoked an almost reverential quietness in the audience. Approaching the site and not seeing people standing on the path, I was disappointed at first that no-one was there enjoying it. But, in turth, many people were there, standing silently amongst the works, little conversation, just watching and listening as the beams of light scanned the space. The stillness of the people contrasted with the slow movement of the boxes, drawing attention to the work and the localised sounds of creaking and nightbirds.

Leaving that work, one began to see a series of lights amongst the trees. As you progressed, more appeared, and some were very close to the side of the path. You could hear footsteps through the undergrowth, which circled around you, crunching and pacing, following the route marked out by the lights. As you approached the end of the path, the sound got louder - you could even hear someone splashing through the stream and climbing the bank. You noticed that the lights are miners lights, with metal battery canisters attached to posts below the beam. Laura Daly brought back to life the experience of the miners of Trafalgar Mine, the work became a haunting, yet felt friendly and familiar, never ominous.

As you walked up the hill beyond Laura’s overground trail, you began to notice the trees were lit up on the side of the path. Maybe it was simply ambient lighting? But you soon realised the trees had a particular colouring, the trunks loaded with what appeared to be ochre pigment – a link with the earlier works you had seen at the beginning of the journey, in the pool. As you approached the higher part of the pathway, you noticed flickering lights scanning the trees on the left – Tabatha Andrews created a huge, panoramic triptych using digital projectors. A freak electric storm, a spotlight with random programming, flashed and moved, illuminating the trees in a dramatic way. It was familiar yet unnerving – so close to weather but clearly something else. Spending sometime looking and trying to make sense of it, it was easy to forget that you were not alone and not participating in a film set.

It seemed as though the journey was over, a further climb, then a steep winding path back down towards the lodge followed, only to be startled by a huge black hole expanding and shrinking next to the pathway – a terrifying portal creating a black abyss into which you could easily fall. The trees became a screen, the film became a virus, disrupting expectation, confounding the viewer about what it is they are witnessing. An apt end to an exhibition, which was primarily about the experience of the forest at night – with a few very pointed interruptions. And back to the car park, to reality and yet another drive home through an extraordinary environment, which will never be the same again.

Nathaniel Rackowe (photograph the artist)

Tabatha Andrews (photograph Jamie Woodley)

Laura Daly (photograph Jamie Woodley)

Katayoun Dowlatshahi (photograph Jamie Woodley)

migration of website

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 17:38:18 GMT

Having decided to keep up with the digital times and transfer my website information to blog software, I am not yet clear how this site should LOOK. My practice has now moved from being an artist practitioner to a freelance arts professional, covering a myriad of activities including commissioning, project managing, writing and research. The transition from one to another was so smooth I hardly noticed it, I hope the move from website to blog is as seamless..........

I will aim to create a blog environment that reflects this diverse practice and upload information and links to various projects and interests. This may involve working backwards, so please bear with me while I acclimatise to this new place.

My most recent project was 'reveal' in the Forest of Dean. I will put up an entry about the project, but in the meantime, here's a little information about it:

The art exhibition reveal took place between Thursday 6th & Saturday 8th April, displaying new works created from light and sound in a selected area of the Forest of Dean Sculpture Trail at Beechenhurst, near Coleford, Gloucestershire. The evening event attracted around 2000 viewers over the three nights, who were delighted by the unusual experience on offer. Smoke machines, kinetic sculptures, strange film projections and haunting audio works evoked a new interpretation of the forest. Artists Andrews, Daly, Dowlatshahi & Rackowe showed new works created especially for reveal.

Despite erratic weather, the works were enjoyed by all, bringing many visitors to the area - some travelling from London, Plymouth, Sheffield and beyond. The Forest of Dean Sculpture Trust believes reveal represents a new approach to commissioning for the trail, showing quality artworks in a rural environment to a new audience.

The works created by Nathaniel Rackowe for reveal transferred urban, structural work to a woodland environment, providing a challenging juxtaposition of form with forest. Lights in moving boxes which travelled slowly up and down between the trees acted as scanners of their environment and the audience too. A calmness pervaded the surrounding space, as viewers stood transfixed by the movement.

Works by Tabatha Andrews offered up another link with the built environment, but this time as potential portals to another world or place. Projections of strange abstract flashes and quivers created a visual transformation of the trees, inviting viewers to enter at their own risk. With Dowlatshahi and Daly responding to the industrial history of the forest, none of the works slipped into the romanticism of the area, which often happens in woodland environs.

work in progress

Sun, 18 Sep 2005 10:27:07 GMT

Notes about the writing project.

The writing project is developing slowly and has already gone through various stages. It began as a personal effort to improve my handwriting. Of course, realising there was huge potential that an art work might evolve in parallel, I made every effort to document the process and re-examine every stage.

The initial driving force was simply to improve my handwriting. It has always been terrible and has become noticeably worse since I have become to depend on a computer for all text work. I did research in the local library and on the internet, finding out about cursive styles of writing and methods of teaching it to children. I am left-handed and was often punished for writing with my hand ‘upside down’ as a child. I always found I dragged the ink and ended up covered in it. I also moved school half-way along learning the alphabet, which caused problems. These blog entries are an important part of this working process.

There is an intentional built-in irony in my deciding to use technology/keyboard/internet to record my progress. I also filmed all of my handwriting exercises and reviewed them on screen. I have several sequences of fascinating footage and several pages of writing exercises, learning each letter at a time then joining them up.

It was during this process that I was invited to make a work for Tblisi. I was already thinking of ways to use the writing in an artwork – what the outcome might be, how it would develop. I could write letters to people and invite a reply. But what if they can’t read it? (which often happens to me). Who would I write to? Should they be intimate or formal?

When I consider the times that I need to write by hand, it is usually something of an intimate nature – like a greetings card, or condolences. It is those moments when it would be considered rude or impersonal to use a computer. I also thought about letters from charities requesting support – how they are often a simulation of handwriting, how they add you own name to the letter, how they mimic intimacy. I was very tempted by a software package available, which you train to use your own handwriting and it creates a font package for you! Fascinating!

So to the Georgia work – Dear Friend. I wrote and re-wrote the text several times. I wanted to make it intimate, but not sexual. I want it to have a sense of humour – about the ability to read it. That is important – especially being made for a country using another language. If it was written in Georgian by a Georgian, I would have absolutely no idea whether it was legible or spelled correctly or not, as I can’t understand the Georgian alphabet. I wanted to use subtitles to translate English to English – an unexpected requirement, but a genuine necessity as my writing is so bad. The decision to have a Georgian voice over was to enable the Goergian audience to access the meaning of the text, but it was important that the voice worked aesthetically with the film. So Giuli and I agreed it should sound as if she were writing the letter, slowly forming the sentences as she speaks them.

Of course, the translation to Georgian would not be required if screened in English speaking countries. I have not thought about how that affects the work if I were to show it elsewhere. A new work would have to evolve, confronting that issue. So essentially this film is site-specific, or at least country-specific.

There was an article written in Art monthly by Sally O’Reilly which I read shortly after completing the work. It goes a long way to explain the way I have approached this project.

"As metafiction is a text presented as if aware of its own textuality, so is
self-reflexive art aware of its own status as artefact. It is a direct
reflection on the relationship between artwork and audience, implying a
self-knowledge that the audience is aware of its status as artefact. It is
art about the act and essence of making and being art. In these terms, a
self-reflexive work, therefore, must not only know that it is art, it must
also know that it is self-reflexive and whether its self-knowledge is
adequate to interrogate itself, and so on, in an infinite regression of
self-awareness."

Sally O'Reilly - Art Monthly No. 289

Carolyn Black
18 September 2005

writing- several days later

Fri, 05 Aug 2005 13:04:55 GMT

I've stalled.
It began when I found that the microphone I was using had a nasty background hum which sounded terrible on my filming. So I had to stop filming until I resolved that, which I did by borrowing another mike from a friend. I did one session of writing with the new mike - sound quality is fantastic and I just wrote and rewrote the letters I had covered so far during my practice periods. I had got to 'l'.

That was several days ago. I've been here, I've had time, there is no reason why I should not carry on doing this project - move onto m, n etc. to the end. Only today have I recognised what the issue is here. It requires that I think back to the first time I learnt to write, when I was oo, about 8 years old. At that age I lived in Surrey, UK and was being taught to write in a lovely looping cursive style. It was elegant and flowing and very grown up. I got halfway along learning the alphabet when my parents uprooted the family (for the 5th time - and I was only 9!) and moved to the Midlands. At my new school the handwriting lessons for joined-up writing had been completed a year before, and were in block writing, very very different. So I improvised and made up m-z the best I could.

My new schoolteacher also disliked a) left-handers and b) people who wrote upside down as I did ( not literally, but with a twisted wrist). So I occasionally received raps to knuckles, or blackboard rubbers hurled across the room at me. My writing got worse and worse and more and more hopeless. I really envied everyone else their neat hand, but mine, well, I struggled. My new school also insisted on cartridge pens - hell for someone who drags their hand over their writing, smudging and sploshing the words, getting hands covered in Quink blue ink.

I hated my inability to write clearly - taking notes then revising was a nightmare. Now I look back, I suspect this whole problem had a negative effect on my education. I wasn't a good secondary student, I was surly and non-cooperative. It was many years later that I found that when using a computer I could write rather well. My use of English is ok and my spelling pretty good. Yet I had always believed that I couldn't write - which, in mechanical terms, I actually couldn't!

The computer opened the doors to my imagination - both in terms of producing texts but also in terms of openness and free access. I loved it.

BUT (there's always a but in my head) the downside is that I sort of slowly stopped writing anything by hand. Ever. So if a job requested a handwritten application, I simply wouldn't apply. Even the shopping list was typed up! It worked for a while, but the truth be told is that one does have to write sometimes - taking minutes at meetings etc. Colleagues were impressed at how quickly I always wrote up notes after meetings - not realising that I HAD to write them up quickly, as the scribble was little more than a symbolic signifier for the true words and I had to transcribe before I forgot what the marks meant.

So here I am 40 years later, stuck in the middle of the alphabet. Exactly where I got to before. And I realise that what I've done in the past week is primarily revision, not learning. But from m-z, that really is learning, because I've never been taught it before, ever. And I'm scared. It will take a massive amount of focus and concentration to persevere with this, but I will, soon. And I'll write about it here when I have done so.

writing...

Sun, 31 Jul 2005 15:49:24 GMT

The more I practise my writing, the more complex my feelings become about the process and the effect on my thoughts. What is becoming very clear is that the actual forming of the letters into a well-created shape is extremely taxing on my concentration. I really have to allow myself to become immersed in the ebb and flow as I write. What always begins with very tense, tight gripping of the pencil soon becomes much more freeflowing and relaxed - to a degree the pencil becomes an extension of my arm, as opposed to an appendage. It becomes a prosthetic.

Once in there with the letters, I can really focus and switch off from everything beyond making them as perfect as possible. Occasionally I hesitate, the flow is interrupted, often on one of those moments when you suddenly realise you are slipping out of control and realise that you might make a mistake any second. It's like reining in a horse, stopping it from bolting. Bolting is a good expression for that moment when my handwriting usually begins to lose it - often when writing minutes for a meeting. I suspect it's to do with synchronisation of eye hand coordination, and mind too. When it's all running smoothly, the ear listens, the mind summarises and the hand writes. But sometimes the mind moves too quickly, or the conversation too fast and the hand struggles to keep up. It starts to take short cuts, then tries to improvise, then it really bolts - it sort of ceases to create circles and loops, and the things that only moments ago could be read as words become sort of squiggly lines with tangles and peaks, with the occasional dot over what should have been an, I but is no more.

So the overall impact on me is that I'm slowing down. I'm attempting to stop my mind from running ahead without me. The slowthinking is calming, it allows thoughts to circulate, to rise and fall like the formation of the letters. I began this process thinking that technology had made me lose my ability to write. That writing is merely a tool, an action, like riding a bike. But it seems it is more. I suspect I thought my motor skills could no longer keep up with my mind and that I should improve them, so that I could make sure my writing is able to keep up with my thoughts. But it's not like that. What I'm finding is not a flaw in my motor skills, but a flaw in my mind. I am not thinking carefully, just like I'm not forming the letters in a coherent way, I'm not shaping my thoughts, they are becoming tangled and unclear. So I'm slowing them down to allow my motor skills to cope with them better. The whole process of re-learning to write is acting as a period of meditation for me and is having a knock-on affect on everything I do. I've been running for sometime now, not stopping to think or respond. Maybe it's because I haven't made any artwork for sometime now, or maybe I haven't made artwork because my mind has not been contemplative enough to do so.

Maybe I should write about it. By hand.

writing day 2

Fri, 29 Jul 2005 08:18:29 GMT

(late entry)
I've done a little more research about good handwriting skills. One person explained that the writing must come from the whole arm and shoulder - not just the wrist.

Interestingly, I'm writing these notes after practising for about an hour. I am much more aware of the the formation of each letter. However, I am already beginning to tire of that level of concentration and as my thoughts and focus move away from the task of writing the formation of the letters becomes more slack. In fact, I have just used my eraser for the first time since I began this process.

However, I do feel I am making progress. The video footage is very xxxx(cannot read the word from yesterdays notes) and physically I am very engaged with the changes of my writing action. It's all to do with tempo and structure. When I think first and get excited about the ideas the control fast disappears and the letters become more tangled.

ps that last paragraph is far less legible than the previous ones.

writing project - day 1

Wed, 27 Jul 2005 13:41:45 GMT

Writing Project
AIMS: to improve my handwriting which has got worse and worse through using technology.

Back to basics means I have to try and form my letters more carefully.

Today is the first day & I’m trying different ways of documenting my progress.

I found a lovely writing set in a charity shop and it contains this note book, 3 pencils, an eraser, notelets, a box and an address book.

I’ve used digital media already – which is somewhat against the philosophy of the project.

However, one benefit of writing SO badly is that no-one can read it – hence no-one knows the philosophy!

Hopefully, as the project develops, my writing will improve, as will my concentration.

Even sitting at a desk and clearing the surface feels ritualistic & strange.
Sharpening the pencil
Sitting at a desk with no computer on it. No cables. Just books, papers & hand tools.

It feels very solitary.

There’s something compulsive about it. The soft sound of the pencil scribbling away. The silence in the room – no ‘new mail’ pings, no flickering lights.
A pencil
A book of paper
Me
A chair
A desk

Empty paper
Empty thoughts

Quiet

Except for the scribble of the cheap pencil.

(ps this is absolutely against what I'm doing - using a blog to document my progress -but there is a good reason for this. These notes were intially written by hand in pencil in my notepad, where I will continue to write notes. However, due to the appalling quality of my writing, the handwriting serves as little more than a group of symbols, the meaning of which I forget quite quickly. So, to be sure that I have a record of my notes in a legible form, I have had to transcribe them digitally. As my writing improves, this process will no longer be required. At which point I wil stop making blog entries.)