Active Withdrawal
Time creates distance and offers an opportunity for fresh perspectives. Looking back on a body of work can develop a deeper, more conscious understanding than when it was first made. It's all there and always was, but hindsight can be a useful tool for picking out detail.
The pots made in summer 2020 and the sculpture I created for the RWA Academicians Candidates Show (Autumn 2020) appear more clearly to me now, as a response to the UK Lockdown and surrounding climate, than they did at the time when I was busy living it. I'm reflecting on this period as I am about to enter into a three-week residency at The Garage, which marks a shift in focus and attention for my practice.
What do we do when things stop?
What do we do when it is unprecedented?
Does anything ever really stop?
The three pieces of work I made for the RWA show each tapped into a part of my experience of UK Lockdown.
Early on in Lockdown, as many people found themselves at home with time on their hands like never before, there was a well-spring on social media of people sharing images of their homemade creations: banana bread and sourdough being two popular ones. I made both, as well as beer, jams, pickles and preserves.
Primarily Jars led on from this. It was an active sculpture and an opportunity to celebrate the homemade. My hand-thrown pots housed my fermenting lime pickle in the RWA gallery throughout the show. They intended to spur a series of clay and cookery workshops inviting visitors to make their clay preserving jar and then create a lime pickle to take away and ferment in it. These workshops were about (re)connecting with people through making after the social isolation of lockdown. They haven't taken place (yet).
As it played out, it all took place behind the scenes: the lime pickle fermented in the gallery (without visitors noticing the unusual scent permeating the RWA) and then transferred to jars where the preservation continues quietly in the background. Filling such a quantity of jars lends itself to sharing. One silver lining is that, as the pickle improves with age, the time will be right when shared, and the artwork will be complete when eaten. I've had enquiries from people who would like a jar, and the work has even inspired others to make their lime pickle at home. I'm enjoying it as its effect ripples out and lives on in other forms, kitchens and jars.
The modular stacking pots that make up Anyware were each tethered with neon mountain rope from both handles and clipped to the wall with quick-release carabiners. Each pot had a Japanese-inspired paint on glaze that hinted at shifting landscapes, from calm to tumultuous as the pots rose. Another Sense of Holding also explored stacking through the addition of a neon rope gasket. It opened up the possibility of different use and the suggestion of connection.
Looking back, it is possible to see all these artworks as different facets that build towards a quasi-self portrait of a very particular time. The sense of grounding that comes from working with clay, the different moods one can inhabit, from calm to storm-like, and the need for safety, feeling secured and tethered to solid ground, appears to me now palpable in Anyware. Meanwhile, Another Sense of Holding speaks of a desire for connection and collaboration - the continuous handle invites many hands to hold it. The neon gasket invites untold possibility and potential for a different way of doing things.
What I notice now, several months later, is that my focus is shifting again and will reflect in work developed during my residency at The Garage. I intend to build modular stacking pots, taking inspiration from giant concrete pipe sections on building sites. Instead of slipcasting, I plan to throw the parts, a solid base with hollow pots, each resting on the next, growing as tall as I like, then throwing a cap lid to seal the stack. I can always extend it again - nothing if not versatile.
Each clay section will have an aperture near the top for the neon rope to be tethered, each held in place by the component on top. This detail creates a different dynamic in the relationship between the pot and the rope. No longer is it just the rope securing the pot. This time the pot helps secure the rope. The intention is to free-up the rope to be more of an energetic line drawing. Where previously it felt predominantly like a functional piece of health and safety equipment, the neon mountain rope, while still suggesting adventure, can now become more playful.
I am also interested in creating a slip cast section of this new modular sculpture during the residency, bringing plaster and clay into close contact - a potentially explosive combination! My love of materials, understanding of their chemistry, and the warmth that comes through using them (plaster heats up when mixed, clay heats up in the kiln etc.) is something I am excited to explore further.
During The Garage residency, I will also be sculpturally revisiting fabric and material that began with Many Long Slow Waits, first shown at Test Space, Spike Island, then the RWA Open (2019). A contemporary, fashionable, yellow PVC and orange rubber will replace the raincoat material of that piece and is reminiscent of retro 70s fashion, shop window filters and the nicotine-stained ceilings of my youth. My attention will turn to seams and bindings as I play with this material to create sculptural forms, exploring the idea of humanness.
There is a sense with this residency of playing and exploring rather than focusing on creating finished pieces. It feels like a time to have fun and take the next step towards... watch this space...
I'll be sharing in-progress shots and further thoughts as part of my Instagram takeover of the @at_the_garage account across the three weeks of my residency beginning 2 March 2021. Please do come and find me there and also at @lisascantleburyart.