Posts Tagged ‘geometric abstraction’
An automatic drawing …
… not in the same sense that the surrealists used the term.
Borrowing its title from the terminology of manufacture and law enforcement, Zero Tolerance at Lion and Lamb Gallery, focuses on the extent to which three contemporary painters, Juan Bolivar, Nick Dawes and Katrina Blannin, employ systematic methodologies, or strict sets of rules, to construct their work. For me, it forms an urgent investigation into an aesthetic, highly relevant to contemporary life, that forms an alternative to the romantic/expressionistic tendency. I think systems aesthetics are being proposed here in other ways too.
In Juan Bolivar‘s painting, Anvil, we have a system of signs, that remind me of a set of nested Russian Dolls, the outer one being the perspex framing device that functions both literally, as a transparent cover for the painting, and also as a signal to read the work as participating in the tradition of constructive art. The painting housed by the perspex frame looks like a postcard of a Mondrian, taped to a flat surface. We are presented with a construction containing a representation of a representation of a nonrepresentational painting. I think it is more paradoxical than ironic: a sign that reads “this is not a sign”.
Nick Dawes’ paintings are sign systems in a more literal sense. He appropriates ordinary road signs as subverted content in the style of the Readymade. Crossings features three gloss black “Level Crossing” signs on a matt black triangular canvas, as much recalling the “Give Way” sign as it does also the shaped canvases of late Modernist abstract paintings by artists such as Kenneth Noland or Frank Stella. Formalist painting becomes content as much as it also becomes analogous with popular cultural design. I am tempted to say that here a formalist abstraction has become a representation of a road sign that resembles a formalist abstract painting. If Clement Greenberg proposed that Modernist painting, in privileging form over content, could be defined as “the imitation of imitation as process”, I wonder whether in Post-Modernist abstraction the process becomes rather “the imitation of the imitation of imitation”.
Both Bolivar’s and Dawe’s paintings, can be situated in relation to wider systems, whether high art or popular culture, just as they can to that other sense of the word “system” as in “systematic”, i.e. following a predetermined path, a procedure. And this is true also of Katrina Blannin‘s work in, I think, a different way. Clearly, Blannin is participating in that other tradition of abstraction that is connected more to Constructivism than to American Abstract Expressionism, the tradition that includes the British Constructionists and the Systems Group where the sense of “system” is a mathematical one. However there is also yet another sense of the word, that I want to explore, at least speculatively, for a moment, in relation to Blannin’s work and that’s the sense of “system” used in cybernetics, where a central concept is that of “feedback”, the process in which information about the past or present influences the same phenomenon in the present or future, forming a chain of cause-and-effect, a circuit or loop: output becomes input.
Viewing Three-piece Suite: Red/White (Double Hexad: Contracted, Root and Expanded + 123/321 Tonal Rotation with Shift), I have an experience close to ecstasy, and I deliberately choose the word for it’s inappropriateness when considering a piece that is mathematical, logical, rational. One of the things that I tend to do whenever looking at work of this kind is to count things. Before ever reading the title on the notes sheet I have counted the system or set of canvases that forms the triptych and then counted the triangular motifs that form the expanded system, noting how the white triangles are contained by a red line and the light grey ones by a black line leaving the dark grey ones unable to be highlighted, thus more readily becoming ‘ground’ or negative space against which the other triangles become ‘figure’. I have noted how the three tone/colours are arranged so that the same arrangement of lines (that also differs across each canvas because the widths of each canvas vary) is “coloured in” such that no colour/shape is repeated horizontally, in other words, there’s a tonal rotation with a shift. So, I’m doing all this counting and working out the logic of the piece and it might all seem so rational, cerebral, cognitive, yet I am using the word “ecstasy” that seems to belong more to our experiences of feeling and emotion.
But after a few moments of looking (and it does require a few moments, and real looking is also necessary, a mere glance will not do justice to the piece) I find that my emotional state has been affected, I have experienced a shift in state that approaches something of what I think we mean by a word like ecstasy. Where else does this happen? Doesn’t counting and emotion get conflated in our experience of anything that has rhythm? I am thinking of music and dance, where mathematical relationships become transformed into emotion. And there’s another context that I think is even closer to what’s happening to me in front of this painting and that’s the context of hypnosis where a trance might be induced through counting.
I could speculate that it’s the tessellating, the shifting of figure and ground, that leads to this shift of state-of-mind, (or emotional state), and this is where I come back to the concept of the “feedback loop”. Surely, it’s not really the object that tessellates at all. It’s a result of what the viewer does in relation to the object. At any one time, I am likely to see a different tessellation than the one you see. The object hasn’t changed, yet I am seeing something different to what you are seeing. It’s this system of object/viewer that Blannin’s paintings emphasise for me, and I wonder if what’s going on is that output becomes input becomes output in this continuous feedback loop and I experience this as fascinating, and even trance inducing.
In all these ways it seems to me that Zero Tolerance is an invitation to “think system”. Unfortunately, my brief review here is a bit late and the show has only a few more days to run. You can catch it at Lion and Lamb Gallery until 22 Feb.
Drawing: Sixteen sets of diagonal stripes in rotation. Orange to blue and back again, multiple times.
If it looks like its folded down the centre line, that’s because it is.
Something I am working on in my sketchbook. The sequence of colours follows the pattern ABCBA, where A = violet, B = orange and C = green.
The orange is slightly towards red, the green is towards teal and the violet is towards lilac. With the greens and violets present the red/orange looks much redder than it would do if seen together with other colours or indeed against white. The photo is quite near to how it really looks.
A descriptive title for this new painting would be Pattern: Sixty Four Sets of Eighteen Diagonal Stripes in Clockwise Rotation: Sienna, Violet, Blue…
…or just Sienna Violet Blue for short
It’s tiny, almost a miniature at 9″ x 9″ and not quite finished as I have yet to erase the pencil lines.
Painting on board is new behaviour for me, I usually prefer stretched canvas. The tetractys series I am working on seems to demand a hard surface with more resistance, making it easier to achieve a crisp(er) line.
They’re small, only a few inches bigger than the drawings on paper that initiated the series. Whereas the drawings were 8″ x 8″ the paintings are 11 1/4″ x 11 1/4″. I like the non-standard size, the result of paying attention to the measurement of the central diagonals rather than the vertical/horizontal frame. From corner to corner diagonally these small paintings measure 16″.
The process of laying down, or building up, the white ground on which to paint the lines, is slow and repetitive, employing many layers of white acrylic paint before even beginning to draw the network of black lines. I am experimenting with the width of the lines, in this one they are roughly a 16th of an inch which works better than the previous painting where they were narrower. Also the length of the lines that make up the coloured asterisk-like figures (or gaps that make up the Ehrenstein figures) is a variable I am playing with. In this painting they are 1cm long, larger in scale than in the drawings but probably not quite large enough. I don’t know why I dislike the fact that I am using inches for some measurements and centimetres for others and I will change that in future.
I am enjoying the indirection of these images – that whilst there are no directly drawn circles here, it is circles we are seeing.
I also like the near repetition of certain colours, two oranges (slightly different oranges), two reds (slightly different) two greens (slightly different) and one yellow. They are based on the limited colours I had available when completing the drawing in my hotel room on a recent London trip.
I had the idea for this tetractys when I was working at Wallacespace on Duke Street, St Pancras
I was clearing away the marker pens after the day’s work when I noted this sequence of colours: yellow + blue = green, complementary = red, adjacent to orange made by adding yellow, complementary = purple. I made a sketch that same day and then during the next few days completed a version in acrylic and marker pen on acrylic paper, currently on display at First Come First Served at The Lion and Lamb Gallery. More recently I painted the version shown above, on board using narrower lines (possibly too narrow).
(The photo has a slight red cast due to the direct sunlight. My fairly good camera has a limitation of having automatic white balance only.)