Thursday, 21 July 2016

Jimmy Cauty’s “Aftermath Dislocation Principle"

A view through one of the peep holes

Today is the final day that you can get to see Jimmy Cauty’s “Aftermath Dislocation Principle” at the Chemic Tavern in Leeds.
'Aftermath Dislocation Principle' is described thus…”Housed in a 40 ft shipping container, The Aftermath Dislocation Principle (ADP) is a monumental post-riot landscape in miniature. This dystopian model village is a charred landscape of broken windows, flashing strobes, and collapsing buildings where only the police and media teams remain in an otherwise deserted, wrecked and dislocated land – all in 1:87 scale and viewed through peepholes in the side of the container”.
If you haven’t been to see it do go along tonight. The 40-foot spray-painted container is parked in the pub car park at the back and you look at the installation through peep-holes that are put in at regular intervals around the container.

I have posted before on the relevance of making models in relation to the concept of drawing, see but this particular piece opens out a host of other issues not least  in relation to its location in the Leeds suburbs, rather than in the grounds of an art institution.There is a long and particular history of making illusions that can only be seen through peepholes, such as Van Hoogstraten the 17th century Dutch painter who used his knowledge of anamorphic perspectives to construct "peepshows" or "perspective boxes", which like Cauty’s “Aftermath Dislocation Principle” were viewed through peepholes in the sides of the box like container. I will be posting something on these at some point in the future, as they are an important aspect of the history of uses of illusion in art. 

The installation with the top removed

The address is:

The Chemic Tavern
9 Johnston Street
Leeds
LS6 2NG

Travel from Leeds centre out past the university until you get to the Hyde Park pub. Turn right down Woodhouse Street and go straight down the hill, the Chemic is on the left just before Woodhouse Street elbows right.




The Jacqueline and Jonathan Geststner collection of paper peepshows has just been donated to the V&A museum, this is a huge collection, beginning in the 1820s with Austrian and German peepshows, it mainly covers landscapes and historical events, not perhaps unlike Cauty’s giant version, which relies like all these objects on the special feeling we have when peeping into a closed off world. This feeling is something very special to us and may even go back to our time of being hunter-gatherers, time spent silently peeking out between the leaves of a densely foliaged bush or through a chink in a pile of rocks, there is power in being the unseen observer, especially when you are the hunter and not the hunted.


See also:



Tuesday, 19 July 2016

Collage: Part one

In a world that produces vast quantities of waste perhaps one of the best ways to deal with the issue is to work in collage. This has several advantages.
The first is that whatever you do it will have a direct relationship with the world. Whether you are going to make figurative narratives from the materials you select or abstract compositions, in either case the materials themselves will carry part of the work's meaning for you.
The second advantage you automatically have when using collage is that the materials begin to suggest ideas as you move them around and into new conjunctions with each other. There will be moments when individual elements 'fit' with each other and the more collages you make the more you become 'attuned' to what fits and what doesn't.
John Stezaker's collages are a case in point. He keeps large image files and when he is working tries out image after image, looking for that perfect fit. When it works his images feel as if they have simply 'arrived', the juxtaposition looks as if the elements were made for each other.  By choosing photographic imagery of faded movie stars he is able to question how the photograph can work as a documentation of truth, holder of memory, and symbol of modern culture, all at the same time. In his Marriage series he uses publicity shots of old film stars, often overlapping them to make hybrids of male and female characters. By using old photographs we are reminded of how photographs are stylised, the further away in time from the present the more their making is revealed as a series of choices and not a simple indexical record.


John Stezaker: From the Marriage series



The 'fit' between male and female movie stars above is very astute, the chins line up and so do the eyes and hair lines, the particular lighting in both is characteristic of studio star photographs, therefore they tonally fit and by having these two characters join to form a horizontal image, we are given a suggestion that they are lying down, in a state of 'revere' or 'daydream', perhaps each character dreaming of the other. Both of course are manufactured by the Hollywood machine, the 'theatre of dreams'. The other issue about the above image is that Stezaker simply cuts one image straight through and places it on top of the other and we can see clearly the misalignment of the two photographs because the white borders show where the images overlap. He clearly wants us to remember this is a collage and that we should not be seduced into it being anything else but that.


Kurt Schwitters


After its early introduction in the Cubist work of Picasso and Braque, two figures dominate the early history of collage and to some extent they also set out the two main directions in which it will become used. Kurt Schwitters used to carry a suitcase around with him so that he could collect street detritus; ticket stubs, discarded papers, scraps of cardboard etc. and with these constructed what he called his 'Merz'. He wanted to both create connections with and celebrate the connections between all the various things in the world. However the underlying principle around which he did this was the formal play of abstract composition. He would bring his various collage elements together using structuralist principles and paved the way for the use of collage as a method of building abstractions. Max Ernst took a much more figurative approach, using collage's potential to release unexpected imagery and as a heightened form of imaginative play.



Max Ernst

Both these artists had an enormous influence on the development of collage as a genre, it could be argued that they stand for the two central planks of modernism, abstraction and Surrealism.
Collage has a simple way of constantly refreshing itself. Because society's waste materials are constantly changing as the relentless march of consumerism produces more and more goods, every generation of artists using collage is faced with materials which reflect the particular moment they live through. A classic example is Rauschenberg, the imagery for his Dante's Inferno prints is located firmly in the 1960s.

Strangely enough, several collage artists have resorted to using already dated imagery in their work. Stezaker in using old movie stills and Ernst himself in using old Victorian illustrations. This is perhaps indicative that many collage artists are also collectors and lovers of memorabilia. There is also an issue of how nostalgia gives renewed meaning to things. An ordinary cigarette package when seen again 20 years later tells a story of the 'design of the times'.

It was Rauschenberg who termed the word 'assemblage', which indicated a point whereby the objects collaged into art pieces were becoming larger and more three dimensional, the line between drawing (collage) and sculpture (assemblage) being somewhat blurred and always seeking definition. For instance Sarah Sze's 3D installations are clearly linked together by linear relationships and they stem from her interest in drawing.


Sarah Sze
Hew Locke is another artist that I would categorise as someone who thinks through drawing, but as an image maker, rather than a formalist.



Hew Locke, Jungle Queen II, 2003


Hew Locke makes his assemblages of the Queen out of thousands of plastic toys, flowers, fruits etc. but the underlying image could be the flat 2D image of a postage stamp. There is an interesting video of him talking about his work here.


The line between sculpture and drawing is very fine and installations often tread right on the border. For instance this collage on sticks (below) by Geoffrey Farmer uses the one sidedness of drawing and flat imagery to his advantage, which also gains presence from the fact that a virtual forest of wooden staves is used to hold the imagery in place.




















  Farmer's work also reminds us of the importance of presentation and how when given a certain type of space to exhibit in you sometimes have to be very inventive in how you think about audience engagement. In this case he has used a corridor space really well.

Finally, there are artists such as Mark Lewis that bring together traditional drawing techniques with collage. He makes graphite surfaces and drawn elements that he then cuts up and reassembles. In this way he can have the control over his materials that a traditional artist has and also benefit from the ability of collage working to allow him to 'find' a composition that suits the dynamic he is looking for. The shaped edges of his works are a natural consequence of the working process.  


Mark Lewis: Graphite and paper collage

Collage and its cousin assemblage, are ways of working that didn't exist before the 20th century, so they could be regarded as 'the' modes of expression that are particular to our times of Capitalist mass production. There are always new approaches to working with found materials and as I stated at the beginning of this post by using waste materials to make your work, you begin the process of also commenting on the state of a society that produces so much.

If you want to read more about this a good start is; The Age of Collage: Contemporary Collage in Modern Art  by Krohn, Busch and Hellige

This post on collage also overlaps somewhat with some of the comments made in an earlier post about drawing on top of photographs and the work of Robert Rauschenberg.                               


See also:
Collage part two
Collage part three
Collage part four

Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Material thinking

Richard Long: A Line made by Walking


Continuing thoughts on material thinking.
As I was walking home the other day I took a well-trodden route over Button Hill in order to save time. The path is well worn by countless other feet taking the same short cut and it reminds me of Richard Long’s walking pieces. But in this case the line of walking is simply made in order to get from one place to another, there is no art intended. However it can be understood in several ways. It tells a story of its own making, it is evidence of how humans shape the world, but perhaps a shaping that is no different to any other encounters between things. For instance there are paths just off my route frequented by animals, these animal runs connect to places where they find food, water or cover. These runs are much narrower than the tracks made by humans, but are they any different? I can read them as signs of passage just as well as I can read the fact that humans walked this way. There are secondary signs too. In muddy places along my route I can spot both human boot prints and animal tracks. These allow me to be more specific in my interpretations. Big boot prints implying a heavy man passing, toe and heel prints implying someone running rather than walking, paw prints suggesting that a dog passed this way. However there are other material encounters with this landscape. As I work my way down the hill I pass a shallow dip which acts as a funnel for rain water. Each time it rains earth is washed down a slowly forming gulley and over the years I have walked this way the gulley has gradually widened, making a clear drainage path. People, animals and material forces are all testing themselves out against the world and each leaves traces of actions taken. These events are about material flow, the shape of the environment changing through elemental confrontations, wind and rain pushing elements against each other, a basic testing ground that includes the humans walking in curved lines to avoid large trees or too steep inclines, animals making runs through areas that give them good cover from predators, and water running down the easiest route towards the stream below. These things are just what happens.


I’m getting older and as I make these notes with a pencil I’m aware that my fingers are thickening with arthritis, the cartilage that used to cushion my finger joints has worn away, my joints no longer move smoothly and I’m slowing down. This physical change is inevitable and my body is responding to years of wear and tear, continuously reshaping itself in response to its interaction with the world. I am slowing down, until eventually I will reach the same speed as a stone.
From the stone’s point of view I’m moving at a very accelerated pace. The pebble that emerges from the path in front of me was shaped millions of years ago on some far distant sea shore only now to emerge back into daylight as the latest rain storm washes out the earth from around it. Before it was a stone it was part of a rock face, itself composed of billions of tiny compressed sea creatures, which themselves had processed other water dissolved rocks in their making.
The stone is like myself composed of a constantly changing material history. Over time the elements are rearranged into new configurations, these configurations being responsive to the environmental conditions that happen to be there during any particular time period. Whether these elements are combined into organic or inorganic relationships doesn’t matter, the line between the two being from the stone’s point of view very blurred.
So what happens when the human being picks up the stone and begins to draw with it? Looking at this from the stone’s point of view it has simply entered into another abrasive encounter with the world. It deposits some of its outer molecules onto the surface of another complex material composite. However the human may consider these traces as being of special significance, the traces may form the shape of an arrow for other humans to follow or may be combined into some form of complex drawing. But it could be argued that this is no different to the path made by walking. Some people might look at the path and interpret it as a place where people run and walk, some people might look at the marks and interpret them as an artistic drawing and others as just marks. Consciousness allows the human to think about the actions performed, but rarely about the whole situation, usually a human’s awareness is focused on how the action will benefit humans. 
Awareness is you could argue something that exists on a sliding scale. Last week I heard a sharp crying noise outside and thought it was a cat in some sort of confrontation with another feline. However when I went outside to see, the noise was being emitted from a screaming frog that a cat had trapped in a corner of the porch. The frog was obviously in distress and I rescued it and put it back in the pond, but it was a salutary reminder that we are not the only life-form that has a high level of vital awareness.
We are descended from amphibians, which are the descendants of fish, which are descended from...etc. all the way back to the moment when abiogenesis occurred. (The moment when life itself began) Every change in species was the result of an environmental shift, but so too were the changes in material formation. The atomic environment of suns shaping and creating elements by first of all fusing hydrogen atoms into helium that then fuse to create beryllium, a process that eventually will create every element up to and including iron.
This material awareness it should be hoped helps us rethink our belief in the special nature of ourselves. It should help us think about our localised experiences as being about direct physical contact with other elements, be these organic or inorganic and to by conceptual projection begin to think of the global nature of existence as being something that goes far beyond the human. Hopefully it allows us to find universal truths in everyday experiences and to become more aware that new possibilities of material formulations should not be the result of our forceful control of nature but should be the result of finding a more autopoietic* relationship with our environment. (*Autopoietic systems are "structurally coupled" with their medium and embedded in a dynamic of changes)

One way to think about drawing is as the trace of an action. This definition allows us to see drawing as an expanded field and gets us away from having to describe drawings as marks on paper. However it does raise some issues as to how drawing is also art, especially if expression is seen as a fundamental element. 

Individual expression has been a central issue for many artists, the idea of the signature work or identifiable personal style is key to the way the art market works. The 20th century saw an increasing focus on the inner life of humans. Psycho-analytical theory was an important lens through which we were led to believe we could look at our subconscious motivations and art appeared to be a way of articulating this inner world. Surrealism and Expressionism in particular were rooted in these beliefs and their offshoots including Abstract Expressionism relied on sets of values that elevated the idea of the unique individual. We have been sold the idea that we need to satisfy our inner needs and advertising has developed a whole set of tools to ensure that we are constantly craving for things that we feel will satisfy these desires. We are rarely encouraged to just be, to see ourselves simply as part of the material flow of life; we are instead treated as consumers. But as we consume the world we eat it up and if you eat more than you need you also produce waste. Our waste has now reached the point that it pollutes the whole earth, so perhaps it’s time to rethink the hubris of personal expression.
There have been artists in many cultures that didn’t sign their name to what they did, they operated more like facilitators or people with making skills that helped that particular society articulate certain ideas.
So how can a definition of drawing as the leaving of material traces help anyone to do anything? Perhaps the scratched mark that signalled the fact that someone went in a certain direction gives us a clue. A tracker moving through unknown territory may make marks on stones or trees so that others can follow, and the tracker has also provided a way of finding a way back without getting lost. These marks are both useful and can be used to communicate to others.  We can though explore unknown territory conceptually as well as physically, the things we do and make leaving traces that can both guide others towards these concepts and make ourselves aware of where we have been. It seems odd to argue that traces of our own actions allow ourselves to become more aware of what we have done, but for many of us whilst we are engaged with the flow of materials play, forms seem to emerge without any conscious control.
Others as well as ourselves can look back at the walk we have taken and see where we went, tracing our steps back by looking at the flattened grass or muddy footprints. Because that walk allowed us to get from A to B it will also allow others to do the same. The first person to ever walk the route I took over Button Hill blazed a trail that is still used every day by other people.  So was that first walk across unknown territory art? Not in the sense that we now understand it, but it would seem to me that it could be useful to bring this idea back into the way we think about what art is.
Various posts on this blog have looked at approaches to communicating information through drawing; mapping, tracing, technical drawing processes, drawing as performance, as political statement,  as document, as materials investigation or as perceptual record, the best of the drawings used as illustrations to these approaches I believe set out first of all to solve a problem or to articulate an idea, and as the drawing attempts to do this, it evolves in close relationship with the materials at hand and the ability of the maker to sympathetically control these materials.  
I am therefore suggesting that self-expression should not be the central concern of the artist. By having something to investigate that has purpose you can get lost both in the investigation and in the making. The focus should be in the ‘now’ of discovery and choosing appropriate methods and materials that can carry the ideas that arrive from your investigations, as well as developing a feel for your chosen materials or technologies, so that you can use them well.
Look at what is going on around you and examine it closely, why are the things you see and experience like they are? Try to develop a particular interest and research it in depth, and make more and more trials and tests when trying out ways to articulate your ideas, both to build up your skills and to put yourself into the situation whereby you can discover what it is that you are doing. In the initial stages of the research use as many approaches to drawing as possible.
Perhaps the most important issue is to not worry about making art; that is something that can come much later.
Joseph Beuys trained as a scientist, so was very aware of the physical properties of the world around him, later as an artist in both his teaching and in his actions he suggested that "art" might not ultimately constitute a specialised profession but, rather a heightened humanitarian attitude or way of conducting your life. The blurred territory between art and life, and the material nature of art thinking both suggest that we need to take more responsibility for a continuing re-evaluation of what it is to be an artist and perhaps in doing this will be able to embrace a much wider field of thinking. Today perhaps you need to draw and think like a geologist and tomorrow as a biologist but next week as an architectural technician. 


Joseph Beuys

See also: 

The imprint and the trace
Drawing as the trace of a touch
Drawing as material thinking

Monday, 11 July 2016

Iterative Drawing

Anthony Gormley

We are always advising you to draw more. But why? There is an aspect of drawing called 'iterative' which means that drawing is centred around trailing and testing and making variations. This allows you to discover what works and is at the core of what you need to do in order to find new imagery. It also gives essential time to the development of skills. In essence hours spent doing things leads eventually to a command of your language. John Cage wrote 10 rules for students and teachers and at their core are 'There is only make' and 'The only rule is work'.


Another key rule from the list above is 'Do not try to create and analyse at the same time'.
However trailing and testing and making variations is not just a process of unthinking making. Every now and again you need to look at what you have done and make decisions about it. Joseph DeFazio in 'Designing with precedent: A cross -disciplinary inquiry into the design process' (2008) refers to Goldschmidt's distinction between drawing as 'seeing that' and as 'seeing as'. 'Seeing that' incorporates the process of reflective criticism and 'seeing as' represents the process of making referential analogies and interpretations. He sees this as a type of conversation and negotiation. Goldschmidt (1991) intimates that drawing is an iterative process that materialises towards a final product and can include intuitive inductive loops that cross cut through any existing body of information. He has another mantra; 'Draw, re-draw: test, re-test'.
However it's not all about new information. Schon and Wiggins (1992) have a theory of the displacement of concepts, in which you use old existing information in the creation of the new. Old concepts and working practices are restructured in relation to new situations. I.e. the more you have done in the past, the more you can draw upon these experiences to construct new ideas in response to change.
These ideas about visual thinking come from research into designers drawing, mainly because designers are thought of as people with visual problems to solve. Artists also have problems to solve, but perhaps without the pressure of an outside client. I say 'perhaps', because in reality artists have just as many outside pressures to resolve what they are doing as designers. For instance I have just been given a commission to install a site specific work in the grounds surrounding York City Art Gallery, this involves various types of drawing, both imaginative and practical, as well as lots of site testing to make sure what I make will work when placed in situ.



Two of my working drawings for York City Art Gallery project

In Richard Sennett's 'The Craftsman' he points to the fact that making exemplifies the special human condition of being engaged. He goes on to state that skilled craftsmanship needs about 10,000 hours of experience to enable the maker/drawer etc. to reach a level of competence whereby they can become much more problem-attuned, whereas people with lower levels of skill struggle just to get things to work. When a skill is fully developed its technique is no longer just a mechanical activity; the maker can feel different levels of expression and think much more deeply about what they are doing. They in effect become tuned into the materials they are working with. They don't separate themselves from what they are doing, they are in effect part of the process. A good craftsperson knows their own body and how it operates and senses how it can enable the materials used to flow into forms that 'arrive' through the process of making.
Juhani Pallasmaa looks at how touch gesture, habit and intuition are essential to our understanding of space and materials, he explores how the hand operates in partnership with the eye and the brain.
I pointed out in an earlier post that material thinking is now becoming more and more important. This is because there is a reaction against what was called 'the linguistic turn' and then a further reaction against something called 'the cultural turn'. The basic argument is this. Although it was useful for us to think about the world in relation to our codes of communication (seeing everything as language and therefore analysing it in terms of semiotics) or in terms of cultural production, what we were in effect doing was
ascribing human centred thinking to everything else; animals, plants, materials, objects, etc. We had developed a view of the world whereby the conceptual frameworks we were working with put ourselves at the centre of operations as if we were the most important things in the world and usually our concepts didn't just place us at the centre but also at the top of the pile. We elevated our own concerns, our own timescales, our own ways of being as in someway being of much more importance than anything else. We have of course recently had to rethink this. The world itself is fighting back, we begin to realise that we should have been working sympathetically with the world and not mining it for its resources and polluting it with our waste. We have slowly begun to realise that if we don't change our viewpoint the world will work to erase us. Only by being in harmony with the plants, animals and materials that we co-inhabit with on this planet will we survive, and if we are to do this we need to change our conceptual frameworks in order to become inclusive of not just others like ourselves but minerals, energy flows, organic and inorganic forms.

Artists have a responsibility to think about these things as well as politicians. But small changes begin at a local level, and a first step might be a reflection on what it is to make anything. By asking a basic question such as 'how can we be sympathetic to a material?' we open the door to a series of rooms that have perhaps not yet been explored. This basic question may lead you to ask others, such as 'how does an awareness of the wider ecological or environmental issues affect your choices of action?' or 'how many recent political decisions are actually the result of climate change?' Do we anthropomorphise our concepts or not? Perhaps by doing so we place feelings in and with things other than ourselves and thus have a better link with them. A child may play with toy animals and grow up to love real animals.
Immanuel Kant said that "the hand is the window into the mind," but the nature of materials allow the hand to be what it is. Oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen make up 96% of your body mass. The other 4% of body weight is composed almost entirely of sodium, potassium, magnesium, calcium, iron, phosphorus, sulphur, chlorine, iodine and silicon. Oxygen and hydrogen are fused together in the form of water, which itself allows for the dissolving of other elements into it, in effect recreating an ancient sea inside a walking container. Early single celled organisms extracted calcium carbonate from those seas to create shells and now similar processes create bone. You are a product of material flow, the material flow is not a result of human decision making but humans can make a decision whether or not to 'go with the flow' or to interrupt it.
Therefore we both need to choose a suitable material and become tuned into the chosen material we are working with. You cant really separate these things out, they are in effect part of the process. In Gormley's case, these drawings a made with dissolved pigments in water, which means that we could read them as being metaphorically connected to the idea of the body as an ancient sea inside a walking container. The more drawings he makes, the more variations on this theme revel themselves, the body dips into and out of the pools of pigmented liquid, sometimes its edges are sharp and clear and at other times they begin to dissolve back into the paper surface. Personally I think these images could be taken much further, but of course I'm sure he has at some point, because he normally makes lots of variations, most of which we wont see.

Anthony Gormley

Anthony Gormley has commented on these issues both as an iterative drawer and maker and as someone worried about our responsibilities in the face of climate change.
'Hopefully it gives you an opportunity to put yourself in the place offered by this silhouette and to think about your connection to and dependence on the context in which we find ourselves... the most important being the elemental world that we have managed for the first time ever, for any species, to have destabilised.'
“Short termism is the way capitalism works and the way politicians work and capitalism is not going to solve this. We have to find another form of defining value that is not market value.
“Nobody wants to face the truth that actually air, water, sunlight are resources that are certainly not free.” From: The Guardian.

In Gormley's notebook pages below again we see him exploring variations, but this time of human figures made up of lots of small units. The metaphors are now very different to the dissolved pigments in liquid. These figures seem to belong to the built environment rather than being things that have evolved out of primeval seas. The individual drawn marks carrying the metaphorical weight of these images.



Gormley: Notebook pages

Coda:

A very clear example of iterative drawing can be found on Jen Roper's website. She is an ex-student of the Leeds Fine Art Degree Course and has recently been selected for the Contemporary British Painting Prize. 

Jen Roper: Drawings Jason's Coat

References

Ingold, Tim. The Textility of Making:  Cambridge Journal of Economics. 34. 1 (2010): 91 -

102. Web. 1 January 2014.

Ingold, Tim. Toward an Ecology of Materials: Annual Review of Anthropology. 41 (2012): 427 - 42.

This podcast is a very good introduction to what has been called 'the material turn.

Rebecca Jane Bennett’s book Vibrant Matter is an excellent introduction to the issues surrounding the material turn, as well as Karen Barad’s (2001), "Re(con)figuring space, time, and matter", which has a more feminist perspective.

Goldschmidt, G., 1994. On visual design thinking: the vis kids of architecture. Design studies, 15(2), pp.158-174.

Schon, D.A. and Wiggins, G., 1992. Kinds of seeing and their functions in designing. Design studies, 13(2), pp.135-156.

The Craftsman by Richard Sennett is available as a pdf here

The Thinking Hand by Juhani Pallasmaa is available as a pdf here

An article on Anthony Gormley's drawings

See also: 

material thinking
On not knowing and paying attention a talk by Tim Ingold
Letting things happen Heidegger and concept of ‘at hand’
Drawing and philosophy (More on Heidegger)
Drawing and Heidegger
John Dewey Experience and making art


Wednesday, 6 July 2016

Drawing with unusual materials



Bride stripped bare by her Bachelors, Even

Perhaps the most important individual piece of work in relation to drawing with non-traditional art materials is Marcel Duchamp’s Large Glass (Bride stripped bare by her Bachelors, Even).

The materials used are chosen very carefully as part of a complex set of meanings pre-thought through by Duchamp and detailed in his comprehensive notes which were themselves published as 94 separate documents in what was called ‘The Green Box’.

Richard Hamilton made a full sized replica working directly from the notes in ‘the Green Box’, this is how the Tate Gallery describes how it was done:


‘The first step was to make a full-size perspective drawing from the given dimensions in the plan and elevation and other Green Box notes for the lower part of the Glass, in the hope of producing a drawing similar to the one which once existed on the plaster wall of Duchamp's studio in Paris, but which has since been destroyed. To produce this he found it necessary to do dozens of other perspective studies and to work with threads, using the vanishing points to establish the perspective construction. References were made to the original Glass more to gain knowledge of the construction of subject matter than to copy delineations on the surface of the original. Slight differences in perspective were accepted to maintain an integrity in the reconstruction equalling that of the original. Tracings were made, from the new perspective, of each of the elements with key lines added to relate them to each other. These tracings, reversed, were attached to the front of the glass to give the positioning of lead wire, formed to the drawing, then cemented to the back of the glass with mastic varnish.
Duchamp had made two studies on glass for parts of the composition, 'Water Mill within Glider (in neighbouring metals)' and 'Nine Malic Moulds', and gave permission for these studies to be repeated for the reconstruction and as a means of gaining experience in handling the medium. In addition, Hamilton made two further studies not found necessary by Duchamp: a small glass of the 'Sieves', trying out a specified dust raising process, and another of the 'Oculist Witnesses'. The 'Oculist Witnesses', unlike the rest of the Glass, demanded a technique not used by Duchamp. The right-hand area of the lower glass had been silvered on the back and a drawing transferred to the silver by Duchamp through a piece of carbon paper. The silvering was then scraped away up to the drawn lines leaving the brilliantly reflective image. The long process was shortened in the remake by means of a silk-screen made from a blocked-in redrawing of the carbon paper. Pigment screened on to the mirror formed a resist which allowed the redundant silver to be etched away. Duchamp felt that the two studies for the 'Sieves' and the 'Oculist Witnesses' were new and, at his suggestion, they were published by the Petersburg Press in editions of 50, signed jointly by Hamilton and himself. The upper half of the Glass is less precise in its drawing; 'Bride' and 'Blossoming' are free organic constructions. The outlines in these cases were taken from photographs. The 'Shots', nine holes drilled at spots located by projecting a paint-dipped match from a toy cannon, were plotted from the Philadelphia Glass in accordance with notes and measurements taken by a research graduate who went to the USA to check these and other measurements, to examine Duchamp's handling of the wire, and to make certain colour notes. In carrying out this reconstruction Hamilton deliberately avoided making a copy of the present appearance of the Glass and reproducing the severe deterioration which has occurred, partly as a result of the fragmentation of the glass itself. Instead he set out to make the glass as it was conceived, accepting that it would likewise change to some extent with the passage of time. Unlike the original, however, it will never crack, as it is made of Armour-plated glass.’

The issue here is how complex the interrelationship is between both methods of construction, (using thread to make perspective constructions, silvering the glass, firing paint dipped sticks etc.) and the actual ‘meaning’ of materials chosen, (dust, lead wire, oil paint or glass). Duchamp is playing a humorous game with his audience at the same time as testing out how allegorical meanings can be played out using imagery, composition, point of view, illusion, strategy, materials choice etc. His particular investigation into the allegorical potential of material properties probably stemming from his interest in alchemic understandings of the transformative nature of materials.

Some of Duchamp’s materials carry with them an almost ‘mythic’ story, such as the dust used as a means of filling in between the lines of his lead lined shapes.


Dust Breeding: Man Ray

This photograph by Man Ray of what looks like a landscape is in fact a layer of dust that had gathered on the surface of the Large Glass when it had been left for a while in Duchamp’s studio. Duchamp eventually wiped the dust from the surface of the work except for certain areas where it was fixed with glue, thus preserving it as an embodiment of the passage of time. While the dust was left to settle Duchamp had to hang a sign nearby to prevent cleaning attempts by well-meaning visitors: “Dust breeding: To be respected” It took several months for a thick film of dust to settle on the surface. Dust, a sign of neglect, becomes the product of purposeful inactivity.



To Be Looked at (from the Other Side of the Glass) with One Eye...


It’s interesting to examine the links between the last two posts on illusion and materials in relation to Duchamp’s work because it shows how they could be combined. He was fascinated by perspective and the idea of viewpoint, having already done work such as ‘To Be Looked at (from the Other Side of the Glass) with One Eye, Close to, for Almost an Hour’ and his final painting called Tu m’.



Tu m'

The cast shadows in Tu m’ refer to three existing ready-mades, the bicycle wheel, corkscrew, and hat rack. Rendered illusionistically is a pointing painted hand and rip and alongside these trompe l’oeil elements are real objects: a bottle brush, a bolt, and safety pins. He uses both perspective and axonometric representational systems to depict coloured rays extending out from lines that represent an earlier work ‘3 Standard Stoppages’ and the whole image is meant to be read as an anamorphic projection which ‘rights’ itself if you look at it from the right hand side. Also included are actual objects such as a brush which itself emerges from the tromp l’oeil painted rip in the canvas which is “repaired” with a real safety pin.  

Duchamp in putting all these various elements together is in effect pointing to the various ways art can engage with illusions of reality: as technical drawing, perspective projection, shadow, trompe l’oeil, or as a re-reading of real objects designed to destabilise the way we think of reality itself.
I suppose what I’m getting at is that as an artist you can move your attention between different approaches, at one time developing a specific approach to materials and their choice, and then perhaps refocusing on the private story behind these choices and developing strategies for how the various elements are composed or brought together. You need to decide how an approach to visualisation will affect the viewer. Is the work going to be illusionistic, image based, abstract or non-figurative? If illusionistic to what level will illusion be taken, is it going to ‘fool the eye’ or are you going to give the viewer a way into seeing the illusion for what it is? Point of view is essential here, be this a physical one, as in the case of perspectives that can only be seen accurately from one place, or whether it is in the choice of a material because of a very private association, or a material chosen to reflect a scientific notion in relation to its importance to the way the world works (perhaps how certain gases cause global warming), or a chosen alternative logic, such as alchemy or economic value. Decisions like this both establish the artist's point of view and become the visual entry points for an audience eager to establish their own point of view.


As soon as you begin the most humble drawing, perhaps a small pencil sketch, possibilities open out. You can take a point of view on the subject to be drawn, the way its drawn, the type of paper its drawn on, the nature of the pencil, the proclivities and interests of the drawer, all open out avenues for an artist's investigation.
I’ll leave you with one final thought about material. How do pencil marks ‘adhere’ to the paper?
The graphite itself adheres to paper fibres using what are called London forces (click to read the full scientific description) it's not a strong adhesion because as you know the marks can be erased easily with a rubber or smudged with a finger and of course some of the graphite is just mechanically stuck between the paper fibres. We tend to forget that at an atomic level everything is in flux, there is no such thing as a fixed entity, so all the time we are ourselves exchanging molecules atoms and electrons with our immediate environment and as we perform actions, such as making a drawing, we are simply taking part in a continuous exchange of energy/matter flow. There is enough graphite deposited in a line drawn by your pencil to conduct electricity and the only reason you are able to firmly hold that pencil is that at some point calcium-binding phosphoproteins came into being following the violent moves of tectonic plates about 1.5 billion years ago which saw huge amounts of minerals, including CaCO3 being washed into the oceans. Unicellular organisms had to find ways to cope with these excessive amounts of minerals and one way was to process this new influx by creating what we now know as bone, first of all by making protective outer shells and much later by developing the same process inside of organisms, thus making the first skeletons. Without this skeleton you would not be able to hold the pencil… “and so it goes”, as Kurt Vonnegut would say.


All materials are of course unusual and fascinating, it's the artist's job to communicate that to everyone else.  


The Kurdish-Iraqi artist Hiwa K in his video and sculpture installation 'The Bell Project' calls this process of re-thinking materials, 'possibilities of transformation'. In order to make this work he followed and filmed the activities of a Kurdish scrap yard owner, who collected military waste left over from the various conflicts that had taken place in the area. The scrap dealer then had the metals melted down into ingots which could then be sold to various manufacturing centres as raw material for new products. Hiwa K, aware of the old European tradition of having church bells melted down to make weapons in time of war, decided to reverse the process and had ingots from the Kurdish scrap yard sent to a bell boundary in Italy and made into a bell, decorated with designs taken from Assyrian relief sculptures. 
By developing a new narrative for these materials Hiwa K makes us aware of the economic complexities of conflict and the need to at times reverse the processes at work if we are ever to heal the wounds of continuous warfare.