This post is part one of three discussing the research and concepts encountered leading up to and while working on this series . This post will deal with the process itself, visual effect of the work and the drawing process.
As previously stated the initial idea for this body of work came from the slogan on a Barclays’ pen ‘Borrowed from my bank’ which provided the impetus to see how much Ink I could 'borrow'.
At first I found the process exciting. A few times as a school kid I did try to keep individual pens in my possession so I could witness the drawn out but inevitable moment of exhaustion. I didn't do this regularly as a child but it did stick in my mind.I dont know why but I found he idea of witnessing the end of a pens functional life interested me, not in a negative way just to ensure it fullfilled its full function.
Over time the process of actually getting all the ink from each pen became menial like doing lines in school, a punishment for deciding to do this project and getting into debt.
This idea of school exercises reminded me of a body of work I came across a few years ago called 'Machine drawings'.
The artist Mohammad Ali Talpur re-appropriated a machine used to print the lines in school exercise books. He utilised the machine to make numerous, obsessive and repetitive lined marks on paper.
Borrowing the familiar aesthetic of exercise books to connote childhood memories of school, homework, writing notes, doodling, doing lines or the passing of time,
The memories I encountered while working on my own series reminded me of this work, particularly the idea of being kept back at school or having to do homework when I wanted to go out or watch the TV. The project felt at times like a form of regression to a simpler period of my life.
The process felt oppressive as time went on like crossing days off a wall. This sense of self inflicted oppression was compounded by the length of time each pen takes to run out and the banal blue and black office coloured monochromes produced.Which brought to mind the monochromatic work of Kazimir Malevich,Barnett Newman and Yves Klein .
Barnett Newman
I am attracted to the simplicity of the minimal aesthetic. Confronting an audience with bold monochromatic panels that cause the viewer to question the role of representational artwork, In the age of mechanical reproduction and the demise in representational artwork which the invention of photography instigated, what is art, what is it for? .
Obviously these works had a greater impact when they were first seen but they are still deeply troubling for the art consuming public now. Despite becoming ingrained in popular culture albeit usually in a derogatory way. It is becasue they are blunt minimal abstractions that troubles people. It goes against the grain of art history [representational art]. They are intimidating because they are so simplistic in appearance and lack superfical technical craft skills. For some this forms a barrier to attempting or wanting to attach 'meaning' or a rationale.
Yves Klein
It may surprise some to know that Malevich's 'Black square' was made in 1913. Way ahead of Abstract expressionism, conceptual art and minimalism.
Black circle, 1913
These morbid monochromes like the marks themselves repeat and regenerate themselves to such an extent that they bring to mind the continuous nature of routine, habit or numerous attempts to dig one self out of debt. Each square on a piece of graph paper represents a task, day, £1 paid off and one step closer to the goal. A goal which is never fully realised as pens rarely fill a single page prefering instead to embark and commit to overambitious attempts to fill multiple pages. A task which results in incomplete pages, projects started but left dwindling unfinished. This is similar to aspects of artist practice.
This idea is expressed well by Francis Alÿs' video work 'Sometimes doing something leads to nothing' which documents him pushing a large block of ice along a South American city's street over the course of a day until it eventually melts. Although in documentation accompanying the recent Tate Modern retrospective the artist states that his work, made in South America, discusses failed attempts to industrialise or globalised the continent.
Using the all the ink from each pen is an interesting exercise to go through. The process is largely the same excluding some minor variations in pen handling, ink transfer, and the image being created. You never really know when the ink will run out. Some pens are transparent and thus provide an indication to when the box filling will stop but this is not the case for the majority. You never really know how many boxes or pages you will fill and thus the outcome of each pens life’s worth. Comparisons between this and not knowing when your bank balance will run low, when will the over draft charges start to apply or when you have ultimately exhausted your funds, reminded me of when I would purposely avoid looking at my balance. In order to suspend reality for a few more days and live in irresponsible ignorance.
Filling in the squares also remindd me of my first experience of saving. As a child I used to collect stamps from the post office, stick them in a special card, filling boxes as I went, when I had pocket money. Eventually the card would fill up and I would either cash it in or deposit it. Part of the appeal of this is the idea of the collection which I think it is fair to say has preoccupied me on this project, the pens I collected, the ones I have not been able to secure and the bidding on ebay for pens from now bankrupt banks.
When approaching what is felt to be the end of the ink in a pen regardless of whether or not the ink level is visible. I experience a feeling similar to the one I encounter when approaching the final stages of a novel. A giddy sense of anticipation of the end, moving on and a sense of achievement.
The completed pages of whole pieces from the series at first glance seem minimal and do not provide an insight into the effort or time invested into each one. Which itself is a metaphor for the art product in a gallery as the process is not always visible. However a closer inspection conveys each pieces individuality, the effect of continuous mark making on the pages and the flow of ink.
I have been drawn to Eva Hesse's work since stumbling across it in a magazine while studying. I remember visiting the Tate retrospective of her work and feeling an affinity with it. In an article I read about her work the writer described Hesse's practice as appearing minimal but on closer inspection it became the 'antithesis of minimalism' because of the irregularity of the forms repeated within individual works. I feel this idea is particularly apt for my series. Something which appears to be simpler until a closer inspection reveals a more complex and imperfect reality. While each square at first seems nondescript from the whole, almost mechanical. The individuality of each squares marks increase in proportion to the scrutiny of its examination. Each box is filled during an individual possession and thought process.
This theme also runs through the work of Agnes Martin.I came across her work for the first time at The Douglas Hyde gallery in Dublin during the summer. As an aside to the Stephen Shore exhibition Martin had three drawings on graph paper. Martin was a spiritual person and her work could be read as the manifestation of a process in the exploration of a meditative state, this reading is in line with her Eastern philosophical beliefs. This kind of reading is not suitable to my drawings in fact the opposite is true. As stated previously the process has become laborious, repetitive and insulating. At times it reminded me of various mental health problems or learning difficulties; depression, anxiety, autism and asperges. The repetitive and laborious marks I was making brought to my mind images of hasty, obsessive 'Outsider art' drawings. I have never really liked the term 'Outsider' or 'Naive' art, I have heard it used in a derogatory way and I have been guilty of this offence. I suppose if I am honest it is because the notion of outsider art, someone somewhere is making art without any intent, no concept. Which troubles my taught definition of art as idea driven produce.
While on the topic of 'Outsider' art I recently read a book called 'Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close' by Jonathan Safran Foer . It was about a young boy with autism in New York who’s farther died during 9/11. Throughout the child befriends various older individuals in his adventures. The book was not simply text. It comprised of photographic imagery, flip book sections, found objects, notes, newspaper cuttings, pages where typo’s had been circled in a similar way to Tom Phillips graphic narrative work.
The estranged grandfather, of the boy, was deaf. He communicated via YES and NO tattoo's on each of his hands and a series of notes in a sketchbook. Gradually throughout his life he began to reuse these books. Eventually resulting in the text becoming obscured due to the layering of words on top of each other. I like the idea of a lifetimes communication being scribed down and over time through repetition gradually erasing the content and making the communication indecipherable. This obsessive, manic behaviour could be read as an attempt to erase the past. Or in relation to my drawings to erase debt.
Il Lee is a Korean artist who works solely with ball point pens. He makes large drawings sometimes using multiple pens. There is a freedom and ferocity to the marks made that I admire and envy as I have to date not been able to attack the pages with as much rigor despite the urge to. As I am forced to adhere to the rules I set and fill the squares with a mechanical repetitive action.
These machine printed patterns consists of two main varieties. One being a simple pattern repeated [above] that reminds me of a study Rachel Whiteread made for her sculptural work 'floor'.
The other type below is an apparently random patterns of knitted black lines like scribbles on a page.
Another body of work that I came across whilst working on this project was this series of large drawings made using a spirograph set by Lesley Halliwell.
I remember instantly liking the work when I saw an image of one of the works. I traveled down to an exhibition called 'Superabundant' in the Turner contemporary, Margate last year specifically to see some of the work in the flesh. When I did I was instantly struck by the effect of the continuous pen use on the paper, tearing and wearing it away in parts.
There are obvious similarities between my work and this series. The use of and effect of Biro on paper, the repetitive and obsessive nature of the work and the slight variations and problems encountered during the mechanised process that provides the individuality of each mark made.
I came across the work of Tina Jonsbu, in a really good magazine devoted to drawing called Fukt. Her images are delicate despite. However despite this fragileness there is a strong mechanical and mathematical feel. One of the first things that went through my head when I saw them was fractals.
The artist seems to start each piece with a divisional rule for each series of lines made. This results in the lines becoming closer and more compact until they cannot progress any further resulting in a culmination of the drawing producing a final dark edge. The mathematical feel of the work reminded me of the financial information being used to determine the frame work for some of my drawings. The finality present in the way each drawing comes to an end is similar to the culmination of my work kwhich is dictated to by the amount of ink in each pen.
To be continued.....
