
Happy New Year to all our blog followers.
A research project that investigates the relationship between drawing and writing www.carolinewright.com/www.helenrousseau.co.uk
It seems only a short while since respond/reply started in early 2010 but already the four artists have met on three occasions and a fourth meeting is planned for October.
Much material has been produced by all of us, and in some cases multiple responses have built up from a small starting point. We are not being prescriptive or orderly in our responses, each of us can choose to respond at any time to any other piece of work. Already this has led to George writing about Phyllida's recent show at the Serpentine.
We are busy preparing for a show in the Town Hall Galleries that opens in September. This will take the form of a project space, with the work to date exhibited to show the changing and developing nature of the project. Helen and I plan to spend some time in the gallery, making work and also responding to visitors comments. On 1st October we are holding a public discussion event where we will hold our normal meeting in the gallery and invite the public to join us. We are hopeful that several students from University Campus Suffolk will also join us as we will be working with them in the weeks prior to the event.
Helen will be running a Big Draw workshop in October half term and we plan to visit the local library to work with the public on drawing and writing related activities.
Poem by George Szirtes responding to Caroline Wright's drawing Postcard (swan)
Postcard 5: The Swan’s Reflection
Cygnus
I am calligraphy. On salt marsh, on the village pond,
I write my name in arabesques. I speak white
To the cloud and the clouded water.
I am the furthest quarter
Of the starless night
And beyond.
I am breast
And wind and moon
And the sheer distance
Of constellations, the persistence
Of desire, the nebulae of systems soon
To vanish: cry and echo, curvature and rest.
Reverse side
Call now.
The phone is on mute.
There is no speech, no language
Lodged in those empty spaces, no gauge
That can measure a distance so silent and absolute
We cannot address it in words, because we don’t know how.
Listen to the street. The voices in shops, in the bus queue,
On the platform. Something curves back at us,
Some echo, arabesque, a kind of pageant,
Like the rhythms of an imagined
Language: sign, Cygnus,
Me, you.
Hattyú*
*Hattyú (Hutt-you) is Hungarian for swan.
Writing work – a project with Helen Rousseau and Caroline Wright.
There is a problem between words and work – and by work I mean making art and looking at art and understanding its processes of production. To begin with, why do we call the art we make ‘work’...how would someone else who works in some other profession, or with some other activity, understand this rarefied naming of art as ‘work’?
Is the naming of ‘art’ as ‘work’ a kind of avoidance of what art is? Art’s reality as a distinctive, often elitist pursuit can be troublesome, and naming ‘art’ as ‘work’ locates it , art, as a generic activity, something quotidian and on a par with what everyone does on a daily basis. Or is it to claim and make known the endeavour which making art involves: the hard slog and struggle which so often accompanies the processes of production, the thinking and the bringing to a final realisation of an art work?
Even more confusing is the expression ‘it works’ used when looking at a work of art, or when finishing an (art) work, or during its production, and frequently when teaching in tutorials when discussing a student’s work. Does this expression –it works- have its origins, for example in the industrial revolution, in relationship to machinery, and also to craft, when it was, and is, essential that things intended for use worked efficiently, without breaking down? What do we mean when we say ‘it works’, ‘it’s working well’, ‘I like the way that works in the space’, ‘That works much better like that’, etc., etc.
The drawing and writing project proposed by the artists Helen Rousseau and Caroline Wright offers an opportunity for me to locate writing at the interface between doing, looking and words. I will be given their drawings to study. I will equate my act of looking, seeing, observing, watching, scrutinising, glimpsing – so many words to describe the act of seeing and looking – with words... the drawings will equal how I write and how I use and construct with words.
I will not write ‘about’ these drawings. That is, I am not interested in the description which might match the image. Or so I think now. Instead, I will write ....what? As yet, I do not know. Perhaps I will begin with a listing, or indexing, of my responses. I know I do not want to use the words ‘drawing’, or ‘work’, or ‘paper’, or worry about how the drawings are made, or what they are of...I want to see these drawings as if they are inseparable from my experiences of the sounds of traffic, the smell of coffee, the view from this window in front of me now, the muddle of domesticity, the demands of my work and studio activity, the interruptions and anticipations of daily life...for words to be from the sentient world around me. Phyllida Barlow. June 2009.