Workshops with Mary Hettmansperger

Three days, two workshops back to back, spent in the company of fellow NSW Basketry Association members, inspired and led by Mary Hettmansperger – what a fabulous experience! The first two days were Sculptural Basketry – soft materials, the third Sculpture, Surfaces & alternative designs in Baskets & Vessels.

In physical terms there isn’t much to show for it:
There is some waxed linen thread, coloured with acrylic paints. This is the only thing you could term “finished” – and it’s a potential input into other projects.

Painted linen thread


A small, unfinished sample of twining. Lots of ideas here including the shaping, internal stiffening with modpodge, three rod wale, the painted linen, a bridge to create two tubes…

Twining wip


A barely started form in aviary wire, with three rows of knotting and the intended twining yet to begin.

Knotting wip


A complex form created with wire, pantyhose, glue and dress-making patterns, full of potential.

Bizarre form wip


Looping on a twisted and hammered wire form, progressing quite well.

Looping wip


All exciting in their own way and with their own potential, but the most exciting thing is my notebook, filled with ideas and lists and diagrams with arrows.

Mary’s underlying approach is just what I’ve been working on – creating components over time, ready as input to a faster, intuitive construction process. There were periods of quiet work throughout the days, punctuated with demonstrations by Mary when she threw out ideas, techniques, possibilities, alternatives… We all chose different things to experiment with over the time – I don’t think it would be possible to do it all. There was lots of metal play which I haven’t tried yet. I have lots of notes and photos, and plan to do my experimenting at home with the tools, materials and setup I already have.

A final photo – of Mary’s work with my own twist. Mary brought with her a lot of the jewellery she makes – but no earrings! Unacceptable!!! So two neckpieces came home with me and have since been appropriately modified. 🙂

Mary Hettmansperger neckpieces earrings

MoMA at NGV

MoMA at NGV: 130 Years of Modern and Contemporary Art is like an Art History course – the module on modern western art. It starts with four foundation works, by Seurat, van Gogh, Cézanne and Gauguin, then speeds through the decades, finishing with an ephemeral installation, Roman Ondak’s Measuring the universe which is growing with audience participation throughout the exhibition time. There are over 200 works in all – painting, sculpture, film, digital, plus architectural models, graphic designs, furniture and textiles…

It’s a pretty nice life when you can give three days to experiencing an exhibition. For me in practice not full days – it can be a race to see if back, feet or brain give out first – but I could spend half a day going through getting a feel for the whole thing, initial impressions and reactions, then keep returning for concentrated time with key (to me) works. In between I wandered through the NGV generally, including visits to old favourites from my week there in 2013 (21-Jul-2013 gives an overview, 23-Jul-2013, 7-Sep-2013 and 13-Sep-2013 annotations of particular works).

Paul Cézanne
Still Life with Apples
1895-98

What a luxury, to stand in front of a Cézanne still life and go “slow down, wait… what are you seeing. ..”. To take as much time as you can to focus, concentrate, and see. What is happening here? Why is it important? What am I seeing? Paint. The act of painting. The act of seeing. Of experiencing. Space. A man’s effort, struggle, belief.

At times I was absorbed, following hills and valleys of “cloth”, play of colour and light, deep shadow behind. Then listening to the conversations around me – painters, educators, general punters… We shift around each other with varying degrees of awareness of sight lines. Some give just a glance at the painting, more spend time with the wall label. Few are able to stand and look – this is only the first wall.

André Derain
Bathers
1907

André Derain
Fishing Boats, Collioure
1905

One of many great advantages to seeing actual works is the sense of scale. Bathers is 132.1 x 195 cm; Fishing Boats, Collioure just 38.2 x 46.3 cm. Both exciting to look at – the colour, the application of paint, the forming of space, the vivid worlds created, the insight into a moment of significance in art history – but one surrounds you and has a sense of sustained effort and intention.

Umberto Boccioni
Unique Forms of Continuity in Space
1913 (cast 1931)

Unique Forms of Continuity in Space is 111.2 cm high. Seeing photos of it in the past, I imagined something that could sit on a table. On its pedestal in the exhibition it has so much more force and dynamic energy than I anticipated. Folds or flames flutter and snap behind the striding figure, the powerful thighs and buttocks propelling it from the classical past into hard, fast, machinery, racing forward. There seems such purpose, such confidence and exhilaration…

I felt maudlin, missing the point, thinking of Boccioni’s death in WWI, and on to my grandparents and the impact of that war on their generation. But then, that’s part of looking at art, being taken on one’s own journey.

Aleksandr Rodchenko
Non-Objective Painting
1919

My response to Rodchenko’s Non-Objective Painting is deeply subjective, personal. From this perspective its place in the chronology of art history seems irrelevant. Instead I felt it captured some of my own recent swirling thoughts and interests. I could write about the materiality of the painted lines, but what I saw was movement and depth. Lines and grids, the impact of limited colour. It was all about my own desire to be making.

The Art as Action gallery was the place I kept returning to. Two free-hanging room dividers by Anni Albers were spare and linear, using materials to great advantage. One was a spanish lace structure (I show an early sample version 24-Aug-2008) – very effective. A large mobile, Snow Flurry, 1, by Alexander Calder, moved slowly and majestically in one corner.

What absolutely captivated me was a 1949 work by Mark Rothko, No. 3/No. 13, also called Magenta, Black, Green on Orange. This was an experience. Immersion. A physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual experience. I returned to it again and again. I also wanted more, so on the first day went searching for the NGV Rothko I remembered from 2013. Confident strides to the 19th – 20th Century galleries… and it wasn’t there. I tried again on day 2, and found it. In a side gallery. Tucked away in an area focused on decorative arts.

The platform in front kept me far away. Other items impinged on peripheral vision. The ceiling was low. The lighting drab and uneven. On first attempt I didn’t even find it. On second I just couldn’t see it, couldn’t enter into it. Third attempt I went earlier in the day, before my eyes and mind were filled. Finally I got somewhere. Just a little I lost myself in it, was absorbed, expanded.

Rothko works, roughly to scale.
On the left MoMA’s No. 3/No. 13
1949.
On the right NGV’s Untitled (Red)
1956.


The works are not too dissimilar in size. One has more – is “incident” the right word? More varied in colour, and incredible vibration in the lower green/orange area.

The current presentation is entirely different.

Rothko in MoMA at NGV installation


The MoMA work is in an airy, well-lit, high-ceiling gallery, plenty of breathing space, seen in this photo with works by Barnett Newman, Louise Bourgeois and Jackson Pollock.

Rothko – NGV installation


This photo flatters the NGV presentation. As well as the single other painting, a work by Pierre Soulages, there is a chaise longue designed by Le Corbusier and Charlotte Perriand, a mannequin in evening dress by mayber Lagerfeld, then mainly furniture on that side of the gallery. All 20th century, but spread across it. I think possibly three visitors glanced in during the times I was there.

It made me cranky, and then wondering just why I was so cross. Pretty much all the galleries I went into at NGV had a mixture of what might be termed fine art, decorative art, applied art. The ratios of these varied wildly. The sequence of galleries following the NGV Rothko were heavily furniture focused, including entire room and apartment settings. A broader view of “art” seems a reasonable idea. The decorative arts were really my entry point to looking and experiencing beauty, back when I first traveled in the 70s and 80s, and it’s good to see them afforded respect in an institution like NGV. Objects of interest in themselves can also give a wider context for the traditional gallery art – for example see my comments about a cabinet of items displayed next to a still life by Jan Davidsz de Heem (21-Jul-2013). But apart from coming from the same century, the works sharing space with the Rothko had nothing to say to it in my view. It felt more like a bunch of oddments that they wanted to display but couldn’t quite fit anywhere else.

Pollock’s Blue Poles in the apartment of Mr and Mrs Ben Heller, New York.

It did start some reflection on the nature of art, how we expect to see and experience it. Pollock’s Blue Poles used to be in a living space. Work may be intended for a chapel or a restaurant (read a bit about Rothko’s works intended for the Four Seasons restaurant at the Seagram Building in New York – an article by Jonathan Jones, https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2002/dec/07/artsfeatures, and the website of the Tate, where Rothko gifted the works https://www.tate.org.uk/visit/tate-modern/display/in-the-studio/mark-rothko). A big gallery is really quite a strange idea. Then there’s seeing contemporary works in a smaller commercial gallery, in groupings and repetition/variation that won’t survive purchase and dispersal…

This post has been underway for too long already. A couple more quick notes.

Still from Pathé Frères film of Loïe Fuller

In the NGV Rothko room there was another connection to the MoMA exhibition. That included a film by the Lumière brothers which paid homage to American dancer Loïe Fuller’s ‘Serpentine dance’ (in the film performed by an anonymous female figure). In the NGV room there was a 1905 Pathé Frères film showing Fuller herself. Next to it was a lighted sculpture by François-Raoul Larche, Loïe Fuller, the dancer.

François-Raoul Larche
Loïe Fuller, the dancer
c. 1900

Interesting to compare the two sculptures of moving bodies, Larche’s and Boccioni’s, created around 13 years apart.

Also on at the NGV, Japonisme: Japan and the birth of Modern Art is a fascinating exploration of the impact of Japanese art and design upon the arts in the West in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Well worth a browse.

Mind the Gap

Plan versus Reality.
Sigh

Inspiration
A watercolour by Bela Ivanyi, Boab at El Questro (Kimberleys WA), a finalist in the Wynne Prize 2018 currently being exhibited at AGNSW. So much energy, exciting marks, texture and layering!

Bela Ivanyi
Boab at El Questro (Kimberleys WA)

Bela Ivanyi
Boab at El Questro (Kimberleys WA)
(detail)

Bela Ivanyi
Boab at El Questro (Kimberleys WA)
(detail)

Bela Ivanyi
Boab at El Questro (Kimberleys WA)
(detail)

Purpose
The build | draw response cycle, recommended by Matt Bromhead and as I was trained in the OCA classes. Matt displays his drawings together with the sculptures. I was more interested in really focusing on my samples as part of the selection process for further development.

The Gap
Oh dear. I had some ideas about how to create texture with watercolour and wax crayons. Not good.
So I tried again, just trying to create texture. Meh. Watched a youtube video by Jean Lurssen on creating texture in watercolour using acrylic ink. I quite liked the results – perhaps I’ll make some background pages to get things moving.
Went to charcoal and pencil, more directly what Matt taught. I managed a limited range of different textures, but they don’t add up to anything in this attempt.

Result
Why would I show and keep such weak work?

  • it’s my process. Writing this helps me think about what I’m doing.
  • I live in hope – maybe one day I’ll look back and see how I’ve improved.
  • I achieved my objective. I’ve spent time looking closely at my samples. I know that slanted grid from Marion Gaemer’s workshop is pulling me. I know the resin platform is important to me. I know the gentle lines and folds of the plaster warm me.
  • Next
    I can’t remember if I clearly articulated the component approach in an earlier post. I want to embrace chance, intuition, and thoughtful play. Processes I like, particularly at the moment looping, take time. So I’ve been spending time making components which are then available to incorporate quickly while I’m building.

    A mini conversation with Kath in the comments of my last post (4-Aug-2018) started a train of thought. Spending some quality time looking at and attempting to draw the samples has given focus. I’ve got some questions and ideas around combining looping and resin shards.

    Clarifying the beginning

    After the excitement of the workshop with Matthew Bromhead (10-Jul-2018) I felt inspired and keen to start working.

    I wanted to combine lots of the ideas from Matthew’s class with techniques and materials I’ve worked with in the past. For a start, from Ruth Hadlow – not knowing where you will finish, be very clear on where you start.

    A few weeks have passed since I started writing this post, there’s been some activity, but at the moment it feels like a tangle of threads and I can’t find a loose end to start work on.

    Ideas percolating:

  • Chance, intuition, intelligent and thoughtful play
  • Elegance, decorum
  • Precipice, counter balance, leverage, impetus, precarious, shimmer, shiver
  • Glide, hesitate, teeter, catch (of breath), instant of focus, moment of coherence and balance, the space between – spark, pivot point, point of balance (mobiles!), tipping point
  • Would like a build | draw cycle – keep responding
  • Maintain the energy & excitement of the class
  • Blocks of time. Make space to work in the moment.
  • Mine my history of materials & techniques. Remind myself of what I know
  • Joins. Matt showed us air drying clay for joins. I did a whole project on joins for Mixed Media for Texiles (see link). Surely there’s something there I can bring forward. Plus on reflection I’ve been searching for joins – welding, soldering, rivets…
  • a shared weight
    Elyssa Sykes-Smith

  • Scale. Personal, domestic. I thought of Elyssa Sykes-Smith – I seem to recall a video in which she talked about measuring things with her own body. Then Luke Sciberras talking about the scale of a painting absorbing him bodily (27-Jul-2018). Which doesn’t quite fit where I’m going…
  • What’s happened so far:

  • Casting plaster using a clay mould (demonstrated by Matt Bromhead).
  • Plaster, wire, mouse mesh

    Sample p5-11

    The clay was lined with ribbed plastic, thinking of sample p5-11 from the Mixed Media course (23-Feb-2016).
    I don’t like the proportions. The plaster is a bit squat. The mouse mesh is too orderly, too fixed. But there’s some movement and shimmer in the wires.

    Plaster, wire. Cast in rough clay, wood on one side, wire inserted through clay sides

    The second cast tried a couple of ideas – different surface textures, different angles for wire insertion. An ugly lump.

    I used these together with one of the experiments from Matt’s class to try some joining methods.

    Sample From Matt Bromhead Class

  • Joins

    Small lengths and pieces made by looping with florist’s wire. This version the larger wires were threaded through, in another a slightly longer, thinner looping was twisted around, almost like a bow. Stays in place fairly well. Brings a level of detail and interest that I like. It also works on a single wire, not a join, as a small focal point.


    Another variation, this time a larger, square piece of looping.

    I had great hopes of this. A hole drilled through the thick brass rod, rebar wire threaded through, a bit like an incomplete rivet.

    Drilling the hole was slow and awkward. The end result is effective as a join of two wires, but doesn’t really contribute anything else. It might be useful in some circumstances, but hardly exciting.

    Holes drilled in a shard of resin and wires threaded through. Great introduction of colour and shine. Possibilities.

    Two lengths of rebar wire were connected by weaving across them with florist’s wire. An extra length of rebar wire was added in. Lots of movement and form-building potential.

    I like the level of detail that can be achieved.


    A simpler variation of weave also works quite nicely.

    Unhappy with the mouse wire used in the earlier plaster cast, I took a couple of photos with a wrapped wire sample from a class with Marion Gaemers (26-Dec-2017).

    Sample from Marion Gaemer’s class, posed with plaster cast


    Now that gets the blood moving. I’d want to wrap the wire after it is cast in the plaster. I also like the way the wrapped wire goes to the side, below the top of the plaster. How much manipulation could be done after casting?

    I wondered about making my own variant of a larger grid.

    Some lengths of rebar wire, quickly joined with simple wrapping of florist’s wire. The sample has a unfortunate suggestion of a trussed chicken ready for roasting.

    Still feel like I’m groping around the room wearing a blindfold. I might spend some time drawing, or I might take some of my favourite things from above and throw them together…

  • Gallery Lane Cove – recent exhibitions

    The Art of Friendship
    This exhibition marked the opening of the new cultural precinct in Lane Cove. The curatorium was led by Guy Warren, and the exhibition was a selection of works by Warren and his friends and colleagues. This made for quite a mixture (almost all rectangles on walls), and I was very conscious of the choices I made, what attracted me, as I moved around the gallery.

    The standard apology for photos with odd angles. There were a lot of reflections to battle.

    Margot Goodall
    Within The Gorge


    Margot Goodall
    Secret Waterhole


    Two small collographs by Margot Goodall were modest but beautiful little worlds. Shapes, composition, texture. Quite simply, I wanted to run home and start printing.

    Jim Croke
    Slowly Falling


    Jim Croke
    Slowly Falling (detail)


    I struggled with Jim Croke’s large (160 x 150 x 10 cm) steel piece. Of course it uses material similar to material I use. It reminded of some of Tracey Deep’s work (29-Sep-2016). I had to do a lot of letting go to see it (probably not entirely successfully). The apparent horizontal lines give a stability – I find it hard to accept it as “slowly falling”. The unruly curls are tightly contained in the rows, the rectangle. I found focusing on rhythm my best entry point.

    Peter Kingston
    Zoo Ferry, 0


    Peter Kingston
    Zoo Ferry, 0 (detail)

    Peter Kingston
    Zoo Ferry, 0 (detail)


    This hand-coloured and wash etching was very exciting. The lines of the etching are so flowing and energetic. So much is done with very little. Then more energy and luminous colour from the wash, layers and depth. Plus so absolutely Sydney. I’m sure I remember seeing Kingston’s work before and being excited – I’m thinking in the Destination Sydney at Mosman – but haven’t been able to track down the catalogue on my shelves. The crisp, deep mark of the press, framing the main area of the picture, increased the thrill of the splatters of paint.

    Luke Sciberras
    Curlewee Point

    Euan Macleod
    Crossing Figures, (Golden Hills)

    There were works by both Luke Sciberras and Euan Macleod, and a strange mixture of familiarity and difference to the works at Manly (27-Jul-2018). General style and preoccupations could be seen, but also quite different by both artists.

    Sciberras had such Australian colours and forms, in addition to the name. I find the divide down the centre of the picture, the contrast of the two parts, disturbing, unsettling.

    There is so much more space in Macleod’s painting compared to the claustrophobic beaches of Belle Ile. The ghostly figures seem more animated to me, striding purposefully across the frame. That thin stripe of green at the bottom gives them support and solidity, and together with the golden hills and many of the colours in the water it’s bright and … well, not exactly cheerful but not gloomy and brooding.

    Chris Gentle
    Rozelle Bay


    Chris Gentle
    Rozelle Bay (detail)


    Chris Gentle’s painting zings with colour and vibrant lines. (I wouldn’t normally describe a line as “vibrant”, but here it seems right). The composition seems static – a few zippy diagonals, a jagged line, but nothing really seems to be heading anywhere. But the colour and marks fizz!

    ARTPark @ Gallery Lane Cove: An Exhibition of contemporary sculptures
    This exhibition of nine sculptures is on the terrace of the gallery. ARTPark Australia constantly runs sculpture exhibitions in Australia. Constantly in that when an exhibition ends the works are moved for display at the next venue. They are bringing sculpture to the people, which seems a pretty worthy goal. These are “high quality collectable sculpture suited for placement in commercial foyers, luxury homes and innovative garden design” (from the website).

    None of it attracted or excited or drew me. The sculptures weren’t big exactly, but they were all a bit more than domestic in scale. They were pretty much static, balanced. Durable.

    It was quite enlightening really, to go to an exhibition that I thought would grab me but didn’t.

    Book making

    For her recent birthday (2-Jul-2018) my mother was given beautiful cards, some hand-made, many with personal comments and wishes. I’ve now bound the cards together so that she can easily display them and re-read all those lovely thoughts.

    It turned out pretty well, the trickiest part being figuring out how to handle all the different sizes of card.

    Class notes

    To stitch the binding I referred back to my notes from a class with Adele Outteridge in 2014 (25-Jul-2014). I tend to make copious notes in classes. For Adele’s workshop I actually made a book of the notes, a variety of papers, an invoice for some threads I bought…

    Over the years I’ve tried lots of different book formats for storing workshop notes, visual diaries, exhibition leaflets… Some of it’s by date, some by subject.

    Cannibalizing from a draft blog post for a project that hasn’t quite taken off yet: Recently a son asked me for the name of a glass maker we had been interested in a while back. I was able to identify John Ditchfield from a photo of a glass frog in my very first visual diary – 2003, just after I drew a line under my professional studies. That’s 15 years of sometimes obsessive making, learning and experimenting. And flipping through my diaries, looking for this frog photo I had in my head, was a revelation. Some of that stuff was really interesting. I was impressed by myself. Instead of constantly reaching for the next glittery thing that catches my attention, I think it’s time to go deeper, to look around me in my workroom-formerly-known-as-the-dining-room.

    Unfortunately in some ways my notes are a bit of a mess. This blog acts as an index to find the date of a workshop, but then it’s a hunt to find the actual notes. I haven’t always worked steadily, filling up one notebook before starting the next. A visual diary is too heavy to carry around. I’ve wanted a mix of papers. There are a couple of handmade books on the shelves with paper mixes, there are lots of loose pages bundled together with string that I was planning to bind – but that’s slow and I haven’t got around to it…

    So I’ve identified value, the resource I’m continuing to build, and I’ve identified a number of problems with the way I create, store and access that value. Seeing the benefit, I’m now experimenting with a system I’ve always rejected in the past as just too ugly. A4 spiral binding with plastic combs. How is that more ugly, more office-drab, more bland uniformity than lever arch folders? Don’t know, it just is.

    Now I have a thin book with a variety of papers, light enough to live in my backpack. Roughly weekly I take out whatever pages I’ve used and refill with blanks. The used pages go into a larger consolidation folder. There are receipts and postcards and all sorts of oddments going in. At the moment it definitely isn’t beautiful, but at some stage I might play with putting more “arty” stuff in. So far it seems to working – useful. That’s enough.

    Exhibition: Belle ÃŽle: Luke Sciberras & Euan Macleod

    This exhibition is on at Manly Art Gallery & Museum until 2 September 2018. If you’re anywhere near Sydney I recommend getting yourself organised and over there. Apart from the works themselves there is the story of the genesis of the exhibition, plus insight into the artists’ processes in developing the works.

    This exhibition of very recent works – all 2017 and 2018 – is linked to John Russell: Australia’s French impressionist which opened last week at the Art Gallery of NSW – www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/john-russell/. I’ve blogged about Russell once or twice before (11-Nov-2013). The AGNSW website’s potted history includes “John Russell was a close friend of Vincent van Gogh and Auguste Rodin, taught impressionist colour theory to Henri Matisse and dined with Claude Monet.” A group including the curator, filmmakers and others visited Belle ÃŽle off the coast of France as part of the lead up to the AGNSW retrospective. Belle ÃŽle was Russell’s home for many years and where he met Monet. Sciberras and Macleod joined the expedition and spent a week or so on Belle ÃŽle last year, painting in locations that may be familiar to many from works by Monet and Russell. So it will be fascinating when I get to the AGNSW to view Russell’s works with the contemporary responses in mind.

    However just now I’m focused on the Manly exhibition, and the work process that it exposes. Preliminary sketches and more developed studies are shown, as well as the major works which were painted later at the artists’ studios in Sydney.

    A selection of work by Luke Sciberras. Note the size increases and materials change over development. Also apologies for odd angles, which still didn’t avoid reflections.:

    Luke Sciberras
    sketchbooks


    Luke Sciberras
    Plein Air Study, Belle Ile
    gouache and pastel on paper, 29.5 x 42 cm


    Luke Sciberras
    Study For High Tide, Belle Ile
    gouache on paper, 56 x 75 cm


    Luke Sciberras
    Study For Bangor, Belle Ile
    Oil on board, 60 x 85 cm


    Luke Sciberras
    Pinnacles Between, Belle Ile
    Oil on board, 160 x 240 cm


    Luke Sciberras
    Pinnacles Between, Belle Ile (Detail)

    In the catalogue Sciberras writes of thrill of being in the actual place, the sound of the pebbles tumbled by the sea. “The challenge is to harness an energy; some spirit that comes back with you to the studio, to slough the coating of expectations and anticipation and immerse the imagination into the moment.” Then over time working in the studio versions of memory develop, a reflection on the experience of the place, works “about” the place but with their own energy.

    In the documentary film showing in the exhibition space Sciberras talks in front of a particular picture – I think it might be Pinnacles Between, Belle Ile (photo above). He describes how the scale of the painting absorbs him bodily, in a way like the location. The cliffs abbreviate peripheral vision, close and claustrophobic, with fantastic views. Standing in front of the works is such a different experience to a tiny photo.

    Next very different work from Euan Macleod.

    Euan Macleod
    Sketches drawn and painted at Belle Ile


    Euan Macleod
    Belle Ile People and Needles 7/5/17
    acrylic on paper, 38 x 58 cm


    Euan Macleod
    Large Cave Entrance 11/5/17
    acrylic on paper, 58 x 76 cm


    Sorry, the photo above is particularly bad, but I wanted to show that right from the start Macleod was inventive, not entirely descriptive, putting in stairs where he wanted them. From the documentary film I gather Macleod wanted to emphasize the precariousness of getting down the cliffs, the feeling of being trapped on the beach.

    Euan Macleod
    Beach (Belle Ile)
    acrylic on polyester, 120 x 84 cm


    Euan Macleod
    Guillotine
    oil on acrylic on linen, 168 x 112 cm

    In the catalogue Macleod notes that as he works later in the studio, although memories are important “the paintings become less specific in regard to place and more about an internal, emotional place.” There is a freedom for the work to determine where it goes.

    I found the exhibition invigorating and inspiring. Seeing the movement of marks and ideas through different stages of development, using different materials, was very interesting. Some of the initial and clearly very quick sketches, visual note taking, looked not entirely unlike something I might attempt. The idea of landscape as a beginning, a core of memory, not a thing to copy, makes more sense when you see the series of works.

    An ink on paper work by Sciberras, together with the work I saw recently by Matt Bromhead (22-Jul-2018), has me wanting to make my own experiments…

    Luke Sciberras
    Toul Rock, Belle Ile
    Ink on paper, 56 x 75 cm


    Luke Sciberras
    Toul Rock, Belle Ile (detail)


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