A Rack for the Box

A rack, which sits a layer of found forms on top of the stacks and bookwork, is just about there. Each layer changes the character of the whole; certainly how it might be read as a functional, learning or play thing.

It also signals for me that I need to start to author more truly spatial and dimensionally weighted works. Not at the expense of imagemaking but as a logical next step for the language. Ceramics has only added to the feeling.

I'm so used to making marks on things; it's a slow uptake to understand that the things are the marks.


Last Layer

Drawing the last layer of racks for the sourced stumps, needles, sticks, rubbers and egg–timer glass to go in the boxes. Each spurt of forms gains its own character, partly because of the time taken over this project, spliced in between other works. These are a little bit hammer anvil stirrup, a little bit universal bicycle wrench.


Nail Bars

A print for the excellent Hato Press, instigated by artists in residence efdeay, for their Tic Toc Pop Up Shop; details here. Open for 24 hours (over three days), 24 people were asked to conceive and produce an artwork for Risograph print, within the span of 24 hours. Edition, of course, of 24.

My selected colours. The image is coming from lines of thought that bond everything in progress at the moment. Bar structures from Handwerk — fingers, piano hammers and graphic notation to sound in working a chair design for Andrew — Bibendum belly bulges, crisscrossing hatching, ambiguous instructional code for ROLU — and more loosely, from recently going to and fro up and down the Walworth Road for Ceramics class. Feeling dazzled by nail bar displays; no pun intended but I can't put my finger on it. Off–the–meter innovation. And caramel, black and gold three–piece suite ludicrousness. Been trying to find a calligraphic, almost whimsical stroke in the linework; a little bit queasy, even.

That's also fed by the calligraphic briskness of Vanessa Bell's Omega Workshop textiles and this, recently discovered on Tell You Today. From Writing & Writing Patterns (1935) by artist, educator, author Marion Richardson. She is fascinating, all round, for someone whose week is split as mine, between Make and Teach and Make. An archive of her work, I think, at Birmingham Institute of Art & Design. Must go see.

Connection then, to screen manifestations of synthetic sound. Here, a Lissajous curve.

And here, Arabesque (1975) by computer–generated animation pioneer John Whitney, with sound by Manoochelher Sadeghi.