Sunday, 22 March 2026

Why My Lai still matters

My last post was written on the 16th of March, because of what is going on in the world the date has triggered a memory, one that is usually forgotten or more likely hidden under the psychic floorboards of our Western mind. On March 16, 1968, American soldiers from Charlie Company entered the Vietnamese hamlet of My Lai and what would happen would change the way we thought of ourselves.

Like many people, I found out about what happened on the 30th of November 1969, I was at the time a young art student on the Wolverhampton Pre-Diploma course and just as I am now and have done almost all of my working life, I was searching for what I ought to be making artwork about. I used at that time to listen to Alister Cooke's 'Letter From America', I loved his comforting voice and take on life, he seemed humane and deeply insightful as to what was happening in a country that always seemed to culturally lead into places where we would follow and especially if like myself you were an art student, all the interesting new directions in art practice seemed to emerge from New York.

This is a quote from Cooke's broadcast:

...it's not often possible to say that a whole nation is haunted at any one time by a single preoccupation. This is one of those times. I don’t think there is any need to go into the details of the ghastly and deliberate massacre of a village and all its inhabitants in South Vietnam, which has only now come to light.

It’s a story of almost numbing horror; what haunts Americans this weekend is why they haven’t been numbed long ago. For though the story is, no doubt, detailed and complicated and will be straightened out in the coming courts martial, the moral issue is horribly simple, it’s been there for several years, and it ought to have plagued us long before this.

Only in the last few days has it been brought home to people that the massacre at Son My is not an isolated incident but simply a brazen variation on a regular policy of modern war. In spite of President Nixon’s regretful statement to the effect that the massacre violated the American rules of war, the truth had already anticipated him; that the men of Company C 1st Battalion 20th Infantry, did with rifles what the air force and the artillery had been doing for years, as standard procedure – namely wiping out the people of any village that were suspected of harbouring, or being under the control of, the Vietcong.


At the end of his broadcast Cooke had this to say:

...the moral riddle will not go away. Is it valiant to bomb a hundred women and children from the air, and despicable to shoot them on the ground? I leave it to you, and don’t care to stay for an answer.

I was at the time deeply affected by the news and I tried to make artwork about what I had heard, but it was of course totally useless and poor, my tutors at the time advising me to make work about something I had directly experienced and they were right, I had no visualisation skills of the order needed to make sense of what I had heard. It needed an artist of the calibre of Goya to say anything of meaning in a situation of this sort.
Recently I have again been writing about the development of a moral framework out of which I try to develop an art practice and alongside that a life. For instance in my last post I was thinking about how the holding of drawn conversations could develop empathy for other people and help us learn from them. I was also trying to articulate a need to develop conversations with plants and other things, if we are to thoughtfully embrace and care for the wider world we inhabit. Without a moral compass we are all lost and our current global condition, suggests that that compass is broken or temporarily lost. Therefore I feel I need to remind myself, of what can happen if we lose track of what it is to be a humane being. The word 'humane' is defined as showing kindness, care and sympathy towards others, especially those who are suffering. Its etymological roots remind us that 'humane' was used in the mid-15th century as a word for both being human and being kind and refined, it had evolved out of the Latin 'hūmānus', meaning "of man, human," which also encompassed the idea that to be 'of a human nature' was to be also "kind, gentle, polite or refined". Humane therefore shares its roots with the word 'human', but it diverged in the 18th century to specifically denote compassion and benevolence, separating itself from the earlier meaning of being a human. Today a 'human' is defined as being a member of the species homo sapiens, that belongs to the family Hominidae (the great apes) and is characterised by hairlessness, obligate bipedality, manual dexterity with opposable thumbs precision grip, and high intelligence. As we have developed a more scientific awareness of ourselves, it would seem we have uncoupled an earlier awareness of our moral capacity to be kind or gentle, becoming 'only human'.

On March 16, 1968, American soldiers destroyed the Vietnamese hamlet of My Lai. Vernon Janick, a former US soldier when reminiscing about the way he was trained for service in Vietnam stated that, "we were trained that they were more animal than anything. You just didn’t trust any of them. We were always told that kids or women were just as much your enemy as anybody else. We never trusted any of them. I already hated them before I went over there. ...You always thought they were snakes - sneaky, which they are. Slant-eyed people, you couldn’t trust them." Janick's observations remind us that wars are not just fought with the weapons of combat, they are fought with language and imagery; how the enemy is shaped by the stories we tell, determines how far we are justified in our actions and how far those actions themselves might become divorced from any form of morality. We must never forget that Nazi propaganda used dehumanising language to describe Jews, portraying them as subhuman and parasitic, eventually calling them vermin, rats and disease-carrying agents. This rhetoric would eventually persuade ordinary people to take part in actions that would lead to the mass murder of millions. The shockwaves of that holocaust still propagate the current disturbances. The State of Isreal founded in 1948 was in many ways, a result of that horror. After discovering the extent of Nazi atrocities people in the Western World that thought they were civilised had to confront a realisation that one of the most 'civilised' nations could fall into barbarism. No nation, it seemed was immune to the committing of atrocities. When language is distorted, eventually moral failure emerges. Isreal it could be argued, evolved out of a collective guilt. After many years of unrest, on the 7th October 2023, Hamas and the Palestine Islamic Jihad, attacked Israeli civilian communities including attendees at the Nova Music Festival, where some 400 young Israeli civilians were murdered. On that day 1,189 civilians were not just killed, they were often mutilated and the perpetrators documented their own atrocities using live-streaming body cameras. We are now having to live with the consequences, consequences taken to such extremes that at the present count almost ten percent of the Palestinian population of Gaza have been killed. Barbarism incites barbarism.


The original UN approved map of the new state of Isreal

The proposal lines on a map can in future become a war zone. What at one time is a map of conjecture at another becomes a certainty. These drawings change the world; all maps are political.
Recently the United States Secretary of War, has described the ruling regime in Iran as a "death cult” driven by "prophetic Islamist delusions.” A description that suggests that the state of Iran, as far as the Secretary of War is concerned, is morally illegitimate and therefore war is the only reasonable response. This creates an idea in people's minds that it is a good thing to go to war, as Iran is an evil that needs destroying. He recently recited Psalm 144: "Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war and my fingers for battle.", as justification for his stance.
This matters because it changes how people think. Iran is no longer a state that can be negotiated with, it is now a threat that lies outside the normal rules of political exchange. This type of language, as used by the United States Secretary of War (not 'Defence' any more) is embedded with rhetoric tropes, such as repetition and the use of metaphor or irony; it is a not very subtle propaganda, but it still infects people's brains, like a virus. This language is even worse when woven into the language of a new Christian crusade against Islam. US military commanders have recently being reported as invoking extremist Christian rhetoric about biblical “end times” to justify the war in Iran to troops. It was stated that one commander had said that it was "all part of God’s divine plan." and he specifically referenced numerous citations out of the Book of Revelation referring to Armageddon and the imminent return of Jesus Christ. Whether this is true or not, (like so much information taken from the Internet it is hard to verify), this is why we should never forget the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre in1572 of Huguenots in France or the Albigensian Crusade against the Cathars or the Lisbon massacre of Jews in 1506 or much closer to home, the 17th-century Cromwellian conquest of Ireland, which resulted in a population loss estimated as up to 50%.  All of these bloodbaths were perpetrated in the name of Christ.

On March 16, 1968 the US soldiers that entered the village of My Lai were expecting to face Viet Cong fighters; instead, they found mostly women, children and elderly men. In just four hours, these soldiers systematically murdered between 347 and 504 unarmed villagers; raping women and girls, mutilating their bodies and finally burning the village to the ground in order to obliterate the horrors they had just committed.

Iran is now we are told an "existential and imminent threat.” The United States president has stated that after many Iranian civilians have already died in air strikes; “We may hit it a few more times just for fun.”
It was one of those air strikes that killed over one hundred Iranian school girls, a fact I find hard to digest. I have just returned from visiting my two granddaughters, girls of the same age as those killed in Tehran. If those girls had been in that school, I don't know if I could have carried on, their deaths would have built a fire in my soul that nothing would quench and I would have become a something other than I am now; something nasty in the world. Today in Iran over a hundred grandparents and parents will be grieving and hating and not knowing what to do with themselves, as at the same time the United States Secretary of War, tells reporters that he believes the war should have "no stupid rules of engagement".

I wonder if he had ever been asked to answer Alister Cooke's question; "Is it valiant to bomb a hundred women and children from the air, and despicable to shoot them on the ground?"

The My Lai massacre demonstrated to us what happens when moral principles are abandoned in war. Soldiers become murderers and the state becomes complicit in an unacknowledged approval of their murderous actions. After the 
My Lai atrocity those of us in the Western World that thought we were civilised had to confront the real darkness of the human condition. The massacre still stands as a warning that no nation, however exceptional it believes itself to be, is immune to committing atrocities when poor leadership and moral failure converge. 

In 2003 my wife Sue and myself joined a huge antiwar march in London, held to try to dissuade the UK Government from going to war with Iraq alongside the United States. At that time lies about the existence of weapons of mass destruction were used to drag the then Labour Government into the conflict. It feels as if we live in similar times; Tony Blair again stepping in to advise us that we should jump when the Americans say we should jump. The mind state of the man in unbelievable, he must be made of teflon or worse, especially if he has been infected with right-wing Christian fundamentalism. 

Antiwar demonstration 2003

A card I made at the time to instigate conversation about the value of antiwar protest marches

At times like this I find that drawing can still give me comfort, even though it can't offer any solution. There exists a monumental image that was drawn and printed by Mustafa al Hallaj. It fused folklore and myth with what were then the realities of Palestinian history. His images open out a visual narrative that mourns for those who have suffered after many years of conflict. It visualises the communal trauma of the Palestinian people and asserts that art can be a vessel for collective memory. It was never really finished, as he died in a fire before the idea was completed. This being perhaps the secret power of the work, in it not coming to an end, it reminds us that the suffering of the Palestinian people continues. 

Mustafa al Hallaj: 'Self portrait as man, God and the Devil'




Mustafa al Hallaj: Details taken from 'Self portrait as man, God and the Devil'

Mustafa al Hallaj lost most of his work to bombing when he had a studio in Beirut. His 'Self portrait as man, God and the Devil' is a black and white visual narrative that is over ninety-seven metres long. It is hard to see what is going on from a small on screen image, so perhaps I can give a description of a tiny section to show how his visual logic worked. Imagine a figure bent at right angles from the waist, carrying a graveyard on his back, with an Afro-Eurasian Hoopoe or 'Stink bird', standing over him. In local folktales it was said that this bird carried its dead mother buried in its head. Mustafa al Hallaj explained his visual connection in this way; "Our friends when they die are buried in us...Their bodies go to the graveyard but their personalities stay with us. We Palestinian artists are an orchestra. We are one choir...We have many friends and many dead. We are a walking graveyard of these personalities who left." Like the bird, the man carries the dead, however on his back rather than in his head. The artist also takes the weight of the dead, a weight carried by his images. His images may not have changed anything but they remain a testament to the conditions of the place and time he lived through.

One of the strongest opponents of the Iraq war was the Labour politician Tony Benn, who's son Hilary is a current Leeds Labour MP. His House of Commons speech at the time could just as easily be used today as a warning to all those that think war is a good idea. 

Tony Benn reminds the UK Government about the reality of war

I can feel completely helpless in times like this, my internal feeling state can be of deep depression, anxiety and grief, even though I am removed by thousands of miles from the reality of the conflict in Iran. This blog is supposed to be about drawing and related matters, it is important to therefore flag up the fact that I do take comfort in knowing that artists like Mustafa al Hallaj continued to make work when much closer to the front line than I have ever been and even after losing most of his work to a bombing raid, he still had enough belief in the power of image making to continue working. If we are brought to a stop by the words of the powerful, their words will prevail, this is why remembering the My Lai atrocity still matters. Artists I believe have a moral duty to confront the sometimes dark reality of the human condition and visualise it. But to do this alongside all those other qualities of life, such as being in love, caring for others and being able to appreciate the fragile delicate reality of a Spring morning. 

Goya: The disasters of war

Käthe Kollwitz: Raped

Durer: Turf

Stella Ross-Craig: Bramble: 1955

The drawings of Goya and Käthe Kollwitz often confront the dark reality of the human condition, but still growing out of the hedgerow are clumps of grasses and brambles, the former looked at wondrously by Durer many years ago and the later beautifully if more scientifically observed by Stella Ross-Craig. We have to remind ourselves that the love and care that Durer and Ross-Craig invested in the making of their images, are the very qualities that will save our souls from the horrors that Goya and Käthe Kollwitz witnessed.

Reference:


See also:

Monday, 16 March 2026

Drawing on conversations

A visual conversation about a pain that felt like an insect or scorpion sting

The images above are from a range of drawings done in response to a conversation with someone about a pain they had, which at one point they described as being similar to being stung by an insect or scorpion. Some of the drawings were done during the time of the conversation, reminders of what had been said. Others were drawn up after the conversation was over and then taken back into a further conversation, whereby the first conversation was reflected upon and the more 'worked up' drawings were shown to the other conversationalist.  This was part of an iterative process, designed to eventually get to a point whereby the other person was able to say, "Yes it felt like that," or "I imagined the situation to look like that". This process is hopefully helping someone see what was initially invisible but felt, it was experienced but the experiencer had as yet no visual shape for it. 

A large part of my practice is devoted to listening to people in conversation. Over the years these conversations have varied, from stories about the terrible journeys people might have made to get to Leeds from often war torn areas of the world, via the drama of world politics, to more recent ones about ageing bodies or the trauma of injury. Sometimes we forget that the glue that ties us all together is made out of the grain of conversations.
Conversations are complex things and although informal, they instigate the interactive exchange of thoughts, ideas and feelings between people. Conversation is vital to the way our species socialises, comes to an agreed understanding and maintains connections between individuals and groups.

Conversations are though not always what we think they are; only part of the content of a conversational exchange derives from the actual words said. The tone of voice can be extremely influential, as can facial expressions, women may understand things differently from men, people of one generation may have a world view totally different to another, someone from another culture may have preconceptions that you don't and many other psychological and physiological factors may interfere with clear communication. Even so, without someone being prepared to listen as carefully as possible and someone else being prepared to try hard to explain themselves or their understanding of a situation, we would never be able to come to any form of coauthored agreement on the nature of our existence.

These blog posts are a type of conversation, but they are very one sided. My views are put down, but nobody is probing them, no questions are asked as to what I mean, (well not immediately, I do get questions by e mail or verbally when I meet people) and whatever I think at the time is frozen in place. If you compare this to a real time conversation you will see a huge difference. When we’re in one to one conversation, our brains literally sync up. This is something called "neural coupling" or "neural entrainment". It is when the electrical impulses in two brains become synchronised. When you talk and another person listens. you gradually find yourselves “on the same wavelength”. This is why a conversation can be transformative. But you have to leave yourself open to what the other person is saying. For instance it can be too easy to dismiss a conflicting belief or to agree with something that fits your opinion. It is in the back and forth of conversation that meaning is made.

There is something called the 'Johari Window' that was proposed by psychologists Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingham in 1955, as a way to visualise conversational and other relationships.

The Johari Window

The Johari Window is a rectangle that has within it four areas representing different aspects of self knowledge or self awareness. The Open Area is where we find the common or shared knowledge about our lives and our feelings about the world. The Blind Spot is where others know things about you and the world you inhabit, but which you don’t yet know about. The Hidden Area, is what is hidden within yourself in terms of knowledge and perspectives known only to you. Your intensions for instance, might be very different to your actions, we all have things we would like to keep private. The Unknown Area, which is what is unknown to both you and others, is the area represented in black in the diagram and in reality it would have to be of a cosmic scale, as we can only know what we experience and we can only experience that tiny, fleeting moment given to us by a conscious life, everything else that has ever existed is unknown to us. Even so, it is within that moment that conversations take place and as they do the open area can grow and become fertile ground for the development of new thought. 

But in conversations with people that you have only just met you need to build some sort of trust, especially if they are going to open up to you in any meaningful way. Therefore you need to listen closely to them, then when they finish talking, it is useful to summarise their side of the conversation. You can then ask questions about what they said, all of which makes it clear to the other person that you are listening carefully to them.

The conversations that form part of my art/research practice are usually drawing led. This means that my summaries of what is being said are quickly drawn sketches. These sketches form a kernel around which a particular understanding will grow, one that I might in some ways know more about than the other person, simply because drawing is my language of choice. However we both engage with the process of critiquing what is being drawn. The part of the conversation that is centred on, "it's more like this drawing than that one", or "this line should be darker or thinner", being where an exchange takes place that gradually builds an image in my head and in the head of the person telling me a story about themselves. Hopefully this image is new to both of us, it is something discovered through the conversational process. For myself, this helps me in terms of my own validation of a working practice, as it reinforces my belief in the importance of interactive exchanges with others in order to develop ideas. It places socialisation at the centre of my practice and most importantly I have to develop an agreed understanding of a visual language, something which I feel is often lacking when I see artwork placed within a context where non-art trained people have to encounter it. 

Even so when I show the work done outside of the conversation from which it emerged, other people who were not party to the conversation, often find it a challenge to understand what is being communicated. I have had to accept that there is no such thing as a universal language and that instead I now believe that languages are constantly evolved by some sort of social interaction, always being re-negotiated and changed in response to new experiences. 

In order to get a better theoretical grasp of what it is to develop ideas and knowledge through conversations, I have looked at the work of Gordon Pask. His  major contribution to communication research was the development of Conversation Theory.  This grew out of his work with cybernetics and his analysis of the dynamic process whereby both people and machines learn about each other. He first came to my notice because of the 1968 exhibition Cybernetic Serendipity which included his robotic courtship model, whereby biomorphic shapes moved in relation to each other, responding to a program that the audience could interact with.  


Gordon Pask: Display for Cybernetic Serendipity 


Pask believed that the more we learn about how we learn from interactions with others, the more tolerant we would become and society would be a much better thing. If only listening and sharing had become the norm, instead the role models we now have are much more about bullying and getting your own way and his early computer learning models have fostered an AI that seems to be linked to the worst of human nature, rather than Pask's idea that learning should always be beneficial and generative.  Even so it might be useful to go through Pask's major ideas and see how useful they might me, especially when it comes to evaluating a practice like my own, that relies on conversation as a methodology. 

 

 


Gordon Pask's model of conversation in the form of a diagram


The five major elements of conversation in the diagram above are:

  • Context: when and where it happens: the conversational content must suit the situation and be something agreed or at least accessed by both participants. 
  • Language: people's interests are related to their sub-group pre-occupations, such as particular words that only those involved in that sub-group would know. Language is not just about understanding English or Chinese, it’s also about tone and intention and having shared values, as well as a recognition that in my case drawing is a language too; all of which need to be dealt with in a conversation if we are to continue to…
  • Exchange: the back-and-forth of messages that we usually think of as conversation
  • Agreement: what we understand from each other and believe together, even if we agree to disagree about everything, at least we have understood that we have different points of view.
  • Transaction or action: what happens afterward as a direct result of the conversation.
In an earlier post on communication theory I pointed out that the central weakness of a transmission theory of communication is that it is not concerned with the production of meaning itself, which is a socially mediated process. This is why there are several constitutive theories, because meaning production is complicated. In particular how can we say something novel or different to one another? We need the capacity for new messages to be generated and the resultant understanding confirmed or denied. The best method I know that can deal with this is 'conversation'. In conversation we can learn new concepts, share and evolve knowledge, and confirm agreement. Diagrams can both be used to describe how this works and to reinforce the idea that drawing is a language.

Conversation for Agreement
As a result of conversation, two people believe that they agree.

Gordon Pask would suggest that conversation as a process is a bit like this:
Step one: Open a channel. When one person sends an initial message, the possibility for conversation opens. For conversation to follow, the message must establish common ground; it must be comprehensible to the other participant.

Step two: Commit to engage. The other participant must pay attention to the message and then commit to engaging with the the person that initiated the conversation. Such a commitment may amount to nothing more than continuing to pay attention. For conversation to persist, the commitment must be symmetrical and move back and forth and there must be the possibility for either side to break off from the conversation for any reason, at any time.

Step three: Construct meaning. Conversation enables the conversationists to construct meaning, including meaning that is new to one or other of the participants. This 'meaning' will though come out of a shared context, so will be to some extent socially determined. I.e. The person that opens the conversation uses it to convey what the topic of discussion is; the technical term is 'descriptive dynamics', they will often try to explain how the topic might be used to understand a new concept, (prescriptive dynamics or "what should we do next?"). The other conversationalist “takes all this in” and “puts it all together” in an attempt to reproduce the other person's meaning. In most conversations it is presumed that there is some sort of sharing, a common language is often developed, but some work is often needed for this to happen. Think of two people carrying a heavy weight, as one person shifts their grip the other person responds, until between them they have a better grip on the situation. The moving of the weight is in effect what the two of them share and without this sharing the weight would be dropped. This is the inherent coherence at the centre of the conversation concept, one that allows myself to introduce drawing as part of a conversation; it helps me 'shift my grip' and as I do so, the other person has to 'shift their grip' in order not to drop the weight. As our human nervous system has evolved especially to make sense of the messages that arrive, “meaning making”, the taking in of what both yourself and the other person are saying and putting it all together, is the most natural thing to happen.

Step four: Converge on agreement. One participant may wish to confirm their understanding of the other's ideas. To do so, they might create a different formulation of the topic(s) under discussion, to see if it holds water when reformulated. The other person then attempts to make sense of this new formulation and compares it with their original. This is an iterative process that often leads to further exchanges. When both judge that the concepts match sufficiently, they have reached “an agreement over an understanding.” It is at this point that hopefully in my work where I hold drawing conversations with people, that we stop for a while and I take the drawings done away and try to refine them, before bringing them back and resuming the conversation.

Step five: Evolve or stay. After the interaction of conversation, either one or both people may hold new beliefs, make decisions they would not have made before or develop new ways of thinking about relationships, with other things, people or themselves. On the other hand it is always possible that both people's mindsets will remain as they were.

Step six: Act or Transact. Sometimes one or both of the participants agree to perform an action as a result of the conversation that has taken place. For example, in my case I may agree to develop a series of images in response to the conversation and bring the results back in a week's time. The other person may agree to think about their situation in a new way as a result of our conversation, especially as we would have spent quite some time reflecting on their interoceptual experiences and trying to devise a language to describe them.

Conversation to Learn
Conversation is a means to convey concepts and confirm agreement.
A conversation changes one of the participants. That participant has “learned” something

In my work in the hospital it is critical to consider what can’t be talked about. Conversations may be limited in fundamental ways. For instance the conversational infrastructure may prevent certain things being talked about. If asked, “How well does the infrastructure support the conversational connection?”, I would have to respond with a few reservations. For instance a hospital ward is not private and there are constant intrusions by others wanting access to the patient. Therefore patients find it hard to be totally open about their experiences. I am also a new person in their lives so it is natural for patients to have certain reservations about opening out to myself, especially in relation to private matters.
The situation is potentially loaded with emotional dilemmas. I leave it to the clinical consultant to make the initial contact with a patient, trusting that they will only select people for the experience, that the consultant feels are emotionally robust enough to take part in conversations designed to get them to face their current situation, that of being in a spinal injury ward. Even so, I have to reflect carefully on how far to go in relation to descriptions of people's injuries, so that I don't trigger emotionally negative responses. Just as importantly the conversational participants will have different capacities for responding to the type of conversations I initiate. Each individual will contribute what they know in their own style of interaction and it can take me a while to recognise this. Even after all these considerations some drawing led conversations may go nowhere, whilst other conversations create their own energy and are generative, leading to new and unexpected knowledge but at the beginning of these conversations I never know which ones will be productive.


Conversation to Collaborate: Agreeing on goals and coordinating actions to achieve them

If the conversation is to work, it has to offer something for both participants. As a conversation develops the ongoing exchange has to identify the potential benefits in continuing the engagement. There ought to be some learning or interest stimulated, or at least some sort of delight in the situation, such as the positive experience of someone actually being prepared to listen to your story.

In this very one sided conversation I suppose it's now time to see if I can convince the reader that there is more to it than a simple break down and exploration of the stages that make up conversations and how they help in the production of meaning.

Tim Ingold has pointed to the fact that all we are is an intermingling. We are part of an ever forming universe where everything is enfolded into everything else. He argues that we live in a ‘con-crescent’ world. (Concrescent: in biology, a growing together of initially separate parts or organs). In response to this situation he further argues that when seeking the truth a conversation will be everything, not just between people but between all the possible things that you might be able to connect with. The process he states is fundamentally democratic and is concerned with conjoint actions; bodies in correspondence being engaged in democratic conversations forming communities of open-endedness. He finally argues that ‘Commoning’ or the joining with others will be the key drivers behind sustainability. The holding of conversations 
being not just about how we develop empathy for other people and learn from them, we need to develop conversations with plants, other animals, minerals, electrons, quarks and energy forces, if we are to overcome the hubris of thinking that we have any form of separation from or dominance over nature. In her book, 'Finding the Mother Tree', Suzanne Simard establishes that trees not only 'talk' to but co-operate with mycorrhizal fungi and that they are central to an interconnected eco system that at one time always included human beings. She reminds us that the indigenous humans understood this and that the Secwepemc, the first nation people who inhabit the interior of British Columbia in Canada, have a word Kw̓seltktnéws (pronounced kw-selt-kt-news), a fundamental principle that translates to "we are all related", a worldview that acknowledges that all people, animals, plants, water and soil are interconnected, requiring stewardship, respect, and reciprocity. 

I am I know repeating myself when I write about these ideas but perhaps that's a good thing, the art of rhetoric suggesting that repetition is very useful if you want to convince your audience that you strongly believe in the message you are trying to deliver. 

References:

Pask, G. (1976) Conversation Theory: Applications in Education and Epistemology London: Elsevier Science Ltd

Simard, S. (2021) Finding the mother tree: Uncovering the wisdom and intelligence of the forest London: Penguin

See also:

Drawing conversations
Drawing and communication theory
Is drawing a language?
Is drawing a language? Part 2
Is drawing a language? Part 3
Is drawing a language? Part 4
Tim Ingold democratic conversations

Sunday, 8 March 2026

Sam Keogh: From collage to performance

Sam Keogh, The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden Cartoon, mixed media installation with performance, 2024. Photo credit: Kerlin Gallery 

Sam Keogh has work on exhibition at the moment at the Warburg Institute. His collages are attached to the walls and at times he will visit the gallery and animate his work. I have posted in the past on collage as well as animated collages, as extensions of contemporary drawing practice, but looking at Sam Keogh's work gives me an opportunity to look at how collage can quite naturally be extended into performance.

The great thing about collage is that it brings with it the various histories and associations connected to the context out of which the pieces of collage emerge. This approach can also lead to a way of thinking about research. In Keogh's case the research is itself a form of collage, whilst his work uses the cut up and put together forms of collage, but he usually makes the elements himself in response to the research. This sounds complicated I know, so it is probably easier to describe what he actually does in detail.

The Hunt of the Unicorn

The Unicorn in Captivity

The installation in the Warburg institute is a re-staging of some of Keogh's collages that were responses to 'The Hunt of the Unicorn', a series of seven tapestries normally housed in The Met Cloisters, a New York museum whereby medieval architecture is incorporated into a modern building, purpose-built to evoke the Middle Ages. Made in Flanders at the turn of the 16th century, these tapestries have a very complex iconography and provenance. Taken from their aristocratic owners during the French Revolution, they were at one point used to protect fruit trees and potatoes from frost as well as being used as blankets to keep horses warm in the winter. Rediscovered in a barn in the 1850s, they were returned to the La Rochefoucauld family, who then sold them in the 1920s to JD Rockefeller Jr, who subsequently sold them to the Metropolitan Museum in New York. Keogh is obviously fascinated by this history as it challenges our notion of quality and the meaning of art. Something that can at one time be a horse blanket in a stable, can at another time be a million dollar artwork, hung in a major museum. This is perhaps echoed by the artist’s use of blue painters’ tape as a material to both attach his collage to the wall and join together its components. His imagery includes figures from The Lord of the Rings, ‘The Secret Identity Stamp of the Peasants’ from an old edition of Friedrich Engels’s The Peasant War in Germany, Anduril’s Sentry cameras (which operate along the South-East coast of England, an elusive and secretive physical AI border consisting of 5.5 meter tall towers which are fitted with radar as well as thermal and electro-optical imaging sensors which continuously scan the sea for people seeking safety in the UK), as well as other images taken from the Warburg institute's photographic archives. He redraws from his researched sources, using coloured pencils, graphite, watercolour and acrylic, which means that as he cuts and organises the collage, there is a certain 'handiwork' to the surface that gives coherence to its visual appearance.
On March the 11th there will be a performance when Keogh will "activate his collaged drawing in the exhibition with a live performance which brings two of its characters into dialogue as they search to find the origin of ‘The Secret Identity Stamp of the Peasants’." (Taken verbatim from the Warburg Institute advertising copy) In effect the 'script' for his performance, emerges out of the research for the imagery; the "stamp" represents a form of secret identification or clandestine communication used by peasants during the 16th-century German Peasants' War and I suspect that Keogh found in the Engels text, a foreshadowing of what was to become the French Revolution. Peasants, at the time of the French Revolution, comprised 80% of the population, and their involvement was critical to its success. While the revolution was led by the bourgeoisie, it was really the involvement of the peasants that forced the abolition of feudalism, allowed them to acquire the land they had worked on for hundreds of years. The killing of the unicorn is a complex symbolic fantasy narrative, Keogh's decision to remind us of the redistribution of land back to the people after the French Revolution, perhaps representing an even more fantastic fantasy, one where the aristocratic ownership of land in the UK is finally ended and returned to common land.

The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle,

The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle, 2023: colouring pencil, graphite, watercolour, acrylic, painters tape and gold leaf on 70gsm acid free layout paper, mic stands + recording of performance: Installation at The Paper Biennial 2024, Museum Rijswijk, The Netherlands

When you look at his installation for 'The Unicorn is Killed and brought to the Castle', you can see that his installations can also act as stage sets. I was reminded of those cardboard and paper cut out play stage sets for children, that used to be popular during the first half of the last century. 

Children's play stage set

These model theatres were often used to stage Shakespeare's history plays, and I sense that Keogh would be happy for his audience to see themselves as if confronting a scene from one of them. 

Elden Knotweed NPC, 2022
colouring pencil, graphite, watercolour, acrylic and gold leaf on 70gsm acid free layout paper

Orcish Palisade NPC, 2022

The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden

The Unicorn Surrenders to a Maiden: Cartoon: 2024: acrylic, watercolour, coloured pencil, gold leaf and painter’s tape on 70gsm acid-free layout paper

Keogh's response to the The Hunt of the Unicorn is to fill in some of the gaps in our knowledge, not by giving us some sort of historical reminder of what has happened over time to the tapestry, but by creating what his gallery terms, "an indeterminate space in which materials, memories and affects begin to smudge into each other." I.e. he tries to make an analogy, whereby he reminds us how the messiness of history is often cleaned up by historians and artists, who themselves, whether they like it or not, are always caught up in the messiness of life.  

I also think that Keogh wants to highlight the fact that writers such as Tolkien and their obsession with recreating history via fantasy, have given us all a certain narrative against which our histories are both compared and inlaid into. In images such as Orcish Palisade NPC, Keogh reminds us that all is in fact narrative and that it is mainly through story that we understand both ourselves and our world. Keogh's story overlaps with my own, I read Lord of the Rings when I was eleven years old. I was entranced by it and even now over 60 years later, that experience still lives with me and shapes my own narrative and how I envisage the stories of war that I hear and see in contemporary news footage. I now understand that Tolkien when writing his grand narrative, had in mind what was then the recent Second World War conflict. The book being a powerful anti-totalitarian narrative, the ultimate defeat of evil, not coming from superior military might or tyrannical power, but through the courage, resilience and voluntary sacrifice of "ordinary people".

These stories are I feel not that dissimilar to those we invent in relation to our bodies, something that makes me thoughtful as to how I might continue to develop work done in response to making my own versions of anatomical flap books.

See also:

Sunday, 1 March 2026

Drawing Experience

'Spinal Pain 2', digital drawing.

I have had an image selected for the online 'Drawing Experience' exhibition, hosted by Loughborough University. Work submitted had to respond to the research question, 'how can lived experience be translated into drawing?'. The image selected is from my work in the spinal injuries unit and the fact it was selected means that the work communicates to others beyond the confines of the medical environment. 

This is the 'Drawing Experience' curatorial statement:

The theme Drawing Experience had its inception in the impromptu discussions about drawing that took place between Deborah Harty (Loughborough University, UK), Isabel Herrera-Gonzalez (University of Seville, Spain) and Fan Ye (Hubei Institute of Fine Arts, China), who were both Visiting Scholars at Loughborough University in 2025. Having not previously met, whilst discussing our own drawing practices and interests, sometimes through the aid of translator app, at other times through bodily gestures and emphasised expressions, we came to realise that we all had an interest in the potential of drawing to trace lived experience. The crossovers in our practices and approaches, alongside an interest in the potential of drawing to be able to bridge language barriers and highlight cultural differences, led us to begin the curatorial collaboration. We conceived the research question, how can lived experience be translated into drawing, to be investigated through the format of an open call for drawings for an online exhibition. This format enabled us to extend the discussion to others from across the globe, whose work sits within a context of drawing in the expanded field. From the call, we received a high volume of drawings in a variety of formats and media, including works on paper, moving image and performance drawings.

To evaluate the submissions, the main criterion was to what extent the work responded to the question posed in the call. For this, the curators considered the information provided in the short textual statements and the drawings themselves. These provided lively debate, as we negotiated the line between interesting drawings, personal responses and drawings we all agreed were convincing as traces of lived experience. The curators considered drawings that evidenced innovative approaches, which challenged the notional limits of drawing to consider lived experience. We particularly valued those proposals which looked for indirect ways to answer the question. Whilst acknowledging the aesthetic quality and the technical virtuosity, we prioritised the coherence between form/material and discourse. We leaned into works where the trace of lived experience felt tangible, whether through subtle textural choices, personal symbolism, or the emotional resonance of the imagery. We also selected works that felt authentic in translating intangible experiences into visual form, as this alignment between intent and execution made the theme feel alive.

In the works selected for inclusion in the exhibition, the artists pose fascinating reflections on what it means for them to translate experiences and sensations of the body into a graphic code. An interesting consequence of viewing the group as a whole, was seeing and comparing the multiplicity of different answers to the same question; all whilst using the economical means of drawing. Some resort to visual syntax to express (or, better said, 'narrate') the tacit part of their experience, as in the colours of Mahsa Makki Alamdari or Deepani Seth. Some use intense, precise forms to convey profound experiences, as in the evocative drawings of Helen Goninon or Lauren Arnott. Whilst others, such as Ellen Bell and Janice Nadeau, use sparse lines to evoke the quiet repetition of daily life. These powerfully evidence lived experience traced into drawing. The drawings do not shout, but rather linger, just like many of our most intimate memories. Others use a more figurative language to give concrete form to sensations and impressions that are abstract and difficult to verbalise (sometimes barely remembered), as perhaps in the case of Garry Barker, Camille Courier, Rachel Gadsden-Hayton & Jeremy Hawkes, or Lisanne Sloots. Some transform drawing itself into a medium or space for encounter with others, capturing dialogue and exchange in line, such as in the drawings of Mary Yacoob or Joanna Leah and Orla Bates. While others focus on the immediacy and honesty of drawing as to directly convey embodied knowledge in real time, like Ipek Yeginsu or Caroline Wright. As a whole, these works seek to confront traditional conceptions of drawing, with artists like Rachel Colley (through material experimentation), Sarah Tutt (through performative encounter), or Helen FarrellElla Emanuelle (through technology), expanding its limits beyond what is expected and predictable. The works in the exhibition emphasise the breadth of contemporary drawing practices evidencing the ability of drawing to be a living trace of experience.

One of the most rewarding aspects of curating this exhibition was reflecting on how cultural contexts not only shape each artist’s way of approaching the theme, their inclusion in the exhibition, enables a sharing of diverse experiences to a wide audience.  Whilst the central question remained the same, how can lived experience be translated into drawing, the responses were filtered through diverse traditions, personal histories, sensibilities and materials. These different cultural frameworks influenced the metaphors used in the drawings, some artists drawing on collective cultural symbols, while others focused on hyper-personal, yet universally relatable, moments. This reinforced the idea of drawing as a universal yet deeply individual language, one capable of bridging cultural differences while highlighting unique perspectives. This mix showed that while lived experience is personal, drawing acts as a common thread, allowing us to understand perspectives that might otherwise feel distant, simply through the language of line and form. Perhaps the best proof lays in the fact the curators all come from different cultural backgrounds and use different spoken and written languages, but we have still been able to read and understand the meanings behind each drawing.

Curating these submissions has been both humbling and inspiring, as it has reminded us of the power of drawing to make the invisible tangible, and to connect us through what cannot easily be put into words. The selection of works has highlighted how drawing can be a silent conversation between artist and viewer. During the process of selection, we were not just curating works, we were witnessing artists sharing personal experiences that words might fail to capture. The contrast between the ephemerality of experience and the potential permanence of drawing felt particularly poignant. It is a reminder that this exhibition is not just about art, not just about evidencing how lived experience be translated into drawing, it is about preserving and connecting human stories. 

Taken directly from the Drawing Experience online exhibition   

This exhibition is hosted by the Drawing Research Network, an organisation that I have always found extremely useful when trying to think through my role as both an academic and artist. The important thing about networks is that you can see how your peers are thinking and find out what is happening in terms of contemporary practice. I was particularly pleased to find that they had accepted a digital image, as my point in making it, like others that have been generated as part of this project, was that it would be seen mainly online, either on a computer screen or on a mobile. The first audience for these images being patients and medical staff who need to see them in a clean hospital environment. I am very aware when drawing competitions are announced, that at times digital imagery is regarded as less authentic than drawings made using traditional art materials, but if I am to be fully inclusive in my awareness of audiences and the appropriateness of communication media, I feel that working both analogically and digitally, is the best way forward for myself. The question, 'how can lived experience be translated into drawing?', being one that at times we all need to ask ourselves, if drawing is to remain central to our practice as artists.

Reference: 

Drawing Experience 

See also:

Garry Barker Exhibitions

Speculative Grace

From making votives to visualising interoception