askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (askygoneonfire)
 Today at work I was asked to help fill a gap in staffing and help invigilate an A Level exam, which I duly did.  Turns out standing about in a stiflingly hot room for 75 mins is really dull - who knew right? Luckily, the exam was in a classroom which meant that - excepting the noticeboards whose displays were hidden under plain paper lest their contents unfairly influence the exam outcome - there was stuff to read on the walls as I paced the aisles.

This particular classroom is used to teach sociology and psychology in.  A recent homework was, evidently, for students to produce paintings which they might have painted if they had schizophrenia and were in Art therapy.  Yes.  Really.  Aside from the fact that such a task is blindingly stupid, does nothing to advance their understanding of psychology and psycho therapy, and 'paint a picture' isn't really an A Level-level piece of work the content of the work put on the wall disturbed me.

The students almost universally divided the piece of paper in half and labelled one side 'sane' and one side 'insane'.  Universally the 'insane' side was imprecisely painted and distorted in some way.  Most of the students made some sort of reference - either in subject or colour - to the now famous 'Schizophrenic Cat' pictures

The thing that distresses me most is that this is social psychology and not clinical psychology they are studying and they are being taught there is a definitive line between 'sane' and 'insane'.  It's simply stupid to suggest it it anything like that clear cut.  And here, in a popular A Level course, is the opportunity to teach a whole load of people that 'sane' and 'crazy' don't make two sets of people, one of whom should be disadvantaged and marginalised by virtue of an imprecise medical label.

There is also a disturbing lack of critical perception in the use of 'altered perception' art to illustrate the impact of schizophrenia on the way someone sees the world.  All art is, after all, a distortion of reality.  Take any visual art - even photo realism painting - and what you have is not the thing, but a representation of the thing, a mirror to the world.  That one artist over the course of his career produced paintings of the same subject which bore less rigorous resemblance to the physical reality of the subject is not definitive evidence of the impact of schizophrenia on perception for all people who have schizophrenia.  Conversely, must we conclude that all art which abstracts its subject is evidence of chemical imbalance? Patently not.

In my limited experience creating art I can state categorically that at different parts of day, in different moods, in different times the work I produce varies wildly.  I could present two self portraits I did within months of each other which differ in almost every way and whilst a proponent of "mental illness can be seen in artistic output" theory may point to my own mood disorder as an explanation of the difference I would and will only describe it as part of the creative process.  Moreover, art seeks to see the world in new ways - artists seek to find new way to express themselves and convey information about what they see - or want you, the viewer, to see. In short, if an artist's lifetime portfolio didn't develop and change I would argue they had failed in their artistic pursuit.

In summary? Teaching students that 'insanity' is about crossing a clear line is stupid.  Attempting to prove the existence of this crazy/sane line using art is idiotic.

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
As readers of my Tumblr will have worked out, I have been reading The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh. I bought the book after I watched the stunning BBC drama Painted with Words. I read it on and off for a few months but in the last fortnight I've really committed to it and flown through the remaining 250 pages.

Throughout the letters, spanning 17 years, I found the most beautiful and honest descriptions of depression and mania I think I have ever read.  And I was moved by the sameness - the oneness - of human experience in this respect.  Vincent himself acknowledges, whilst in the asylum, that seeing others illnesses helps him understand his own and allows his fear of it to be calmed.  In this respect, and many others, I felt a deep affinity and emotional connection to him.  

I particularly enjoyed looking up paintings as he spoke about them to Theo and examining them through his eyes, instead of my own.  In particular I found the contrast between Entrance to a Quarry and The Reaper to be extraordinary; they were painted within a few weeks of each other and either side of, as VIncent terms it, 'an attack'.

The clarity of expression is astonishing and, appropriately enough, Vincent even provides a description for how I feel about reading his letters some 122 years later, when describing his reading of Shakespeare he says the following;

I read without wondering if the ideas of the people of those times were different from our own, or what would become of them if you set them over against republican and socialist beliefs and so on. But what touches me...is that the voices of these people, which in Shakespeare's case reach us from a distance of several centuries, do not seem unfamiliar to us. It is so much alive that you know them and see the thing.

As I turned each page ever quicker as Vincent's quiet desperation and hopelessness begin to overwhelm him in the last 30 or so pages, I suddenly became aware what I was speeding towards; his end. It was at this point I began to cry. And then, as I read his last letter to his mother, wishing her 'happy days' with his brother Theo, Theo's wife Jo and their son, Vincent and speaking of his 'calmness' I cried more. Finally I read his business like final letter to Theo (to whom almost all the letters in this collection are addressed) which thanks him once again for some money sent and states that which he hints at in many letters - that Theo is also the creator of the paintings he has to his name and should also call himself an artist - I began to sob.

The postscript very nearly broke my heart as it stated what I knew of the circumstances of his death and told me something of Theo - whom I had come to 'know' through Vincent's warmth and love for him;

On 27th July 1890, Vincent went into the cornfields close by the chateau and shot himself with a revolver. Severely wounded he struggled back to the inn. At first it looked as though he might rally, although he was in dreadful pain. Theo was summoned from Paris. No attempt was made to remove the bullet. Vincent lay suffering for two days and finally fell into a coma and died in his brother's arms on 29th July.
Not long afterwards, Theo, in poor health and 'broken by grief', began to have hallucinations and violent headaches. He resigned from his job and had a complete breakdown. He died only six months after Vincent on 25th January 1891

The love between Vincent and Theo is absolutely beautiful - that Theo died so soon after Vincent is both terrible and inevitable.  At the end of the collection I feel his loss as keenly as I feel the loss of Vincent.



Postscript.

The other day I was reading the letters in the conservatory in the late afternoon sunshine.  Without meaning to, I drifted off to sleep for about an hour and a half.  The last thing I had read was a particularly vivid description of the colours in the landscape around Vincent's house and for that hour and a half I slept lightly, dreaming not in words or sounds or solid objects, but in colours.

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)


 
 
“Now for the moment it seems things go very badly with me, and this has been so already for a considerable time, and it may continue so in the future for a while; but after everything seemed to go wrong, there will perhaps come a time when things will go right. I do not count on it, perhaps it will never happen, but in case there comes a change for the better, I would consider it so much gain, I would be contented, I would say; at last! you see there was something after all!….

And men are often prevented by circumstance from doing things, a prisoner in I do not know what horrible, horrible, most horrible cage. There is also, I know it, the deliverance, the tardy deliverance. A just or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, fatal circumstances, adversity, this is what makes men prisoners.

One cannot always tell what it is, that keeps us shut in, confines us, seems to bury us, but, however, one feels certain barriers, certain gates, certain walls. Is all this imagination, fantasy? I do not think so. And then one asks; “My God! is it for long, is it for ever, is it for eternity!” Do you know what frees one from this captivity? It is every deep serious affection. Being friends, being brothers, love, that is what opens the prison by supreme power, by some magic force. But without this one remains in prison.”

 
Vincent Van Gogh - July 1880

(from The Letters of Vincent Van Gogh)

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
Crappy camera phone photo from immediately after it was done.


It took 2 and a half hours. And turns out, the warnings I received from the tattoist were correct: getting a tattoo on your ribs REALLY. FUCKING. HURTS. Although my tattoist was a sweetie and told one of the other tattoists that I was a 'trooper' and that she wished all her clients were like me.  I think this is largely a contrast thing as yesterday she apparently had a girl who screamed, wriggled and eventually nearly passed out - somewhere out there is a girl with half of a very expensive tattoo.  Lolz.

Anyway.  Off to wash, dab dry, apply bepanthen and cling film before bed. Hurray!
 
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
 So, ArtFor Pride is nearly upon us.  We have hard copies of flyers and private view invitations and a final meeting with the other artists a week on Monday.  As a result, we're looking to the future and, on my suggestion, we're almost certainly doing our next ArtFor (on the condition this one doesn't crash and burn) for Mind.  I proposed we do a call for artists specifying we're looking in particular for artists who deal with madness in their artwork, which will double up as publicity.  Art/madness is such a popular theme I really don't think we can go wrong in terms of getting people through the door, which in turn means money in the bank for Mind. I met up with Becky today, two days after I proposed Mind and she said she can't believe we didn't think of it before - it basically markets itself.

In other Pride related news, all being well, I'm going to be in the parade in Brighton Pride this year! My friend works for the Terrance Higgins Trust and they want to bulk out their numbers for the parade so they are recruiting their friends.  I'm mad excited.

In less awesome news I'm tired beyond words at the minute, no amount of sleep - or lack thereof - is fixing it.  Customers at work are even commenting on the fact I look exhausted....Not got time off again until the beginning of August, 4 long weeks away.  Mentally I've been at a low ebb and as usual that gets borne out on my face. Le sigh.

Weird dreams and confusing daydreams which merge too readily into reality abound.  They have, if nothing else, furnished me with a bit of artistic inspiration and a new journal title here on dreamwidth.  Always a bright side....or something.

I have, however, got an interview, finally.  It's for the position of science technician in a high school in the village where my parents live - aka the place I was at school some 11 years ago.  There's actually another high school job I want more that I'm applying for - Art and Design technician in the nearby town.  Can't imagine a better job than spending 20 hours chilling out with art students in the art department at a school, but we shall see whether or not I can actually get an interview for it.  Need to book train tickets for the interview tomorrow. My credit card is already groaning.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
 Started this a week ago, finally got round to finishing it this week, which is probably a new speed record.  It's mahoosive - about 3 foot by 2 foot - so I really need to sell it at the ArtFor Pride exhibition.

As usual, click for bigger.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
The NaBloPoMo prompt isn't up for today yet and I want to blog now, so I've decided to just go for a simple one and post my most recent painting. I based it on a Matisse sketch and started off with a Hopper colour palette but of course things developed and it ended up looking more like a piece by Alexej von Jawlensky that I have on my wardrobe (click if you want to see what my wardrobe looks like, art-erific! I buy one postcard per gallery visit.). As a result - because it took such a journey from conception to completion - I don't really like it. However, this isn't a popular opinion, Bex, my flatmate and my Dad all like it - and my flatmate rarely likes my paintings. So I'm posting it in a speculative way. Unless my output explodes between now and the ArtFor Pride exhibition it will probably be for sale then, so one way or another, I'm going to have to get behind it.



Oh, and this afternoon I got squawked at by a seagull when I looked out of my bedroom window - nothing unusual in that, they nest on the flat roof over my attic conversion every spring/summer. However, later when I looked out the window I realised why I was squawked at so emphatically - one of their babies had fallen out of the nest;


I checked several times over the next few hours and he was still there all on his own but I just checked again and he's gone so the parents must have put him back in the nest, thank fuck. I teared up the other day when I saw a dead starling chick on the pavement. ETA; seriously though, he was SO CUTE. All fluffy and spotty and kept stretching out his disproportionately long legs and feet and fluffing himself up with a little flutter of his tiny wings, and then stalking about on the flat roof, he so completely had the attitude of a fully grown seagull.  I was a little bit in love with him and half imagining having to hand rear him if his parents didn't return.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
I've literally just got in from an ArtFor meeting (although, obviously, I'm English, so I got in and made a cup of tea, and then I sat down and turned on my laptop) and man alive! I am so motivated to get some paintings done.

The last painting I did was this one which was like...a month ago? so I do really need to get back on the horse...or a back on a metaphorical device more appropriate to the creative process.

The meeting today was basically to say hi to the new artists who have joined us for ArtFor Pride. Becky put a call for artists in the local paper and sent a press release to Pride proper who, within 24 hours, made sure it was in all the LGBT publications in the South East. This resulted in us having more artists wanting to join ArtFor than we had space for in the forthcoming exhibition.  As it is we have 10 visual artists and 1 sculptor and everyone has paid £20 to cover the (significantly reduced because we're a charity) fee of hiring the gallery space and is guaranteed a 3 foot square exhibition space.

It was great to meet the new artists and talk about the exhibition as though we know what the hell we're doing.  For those of you picking up the story now, in February we had an ArtFor Haiti exhibition and got 200 people through the door paying £3 entrance fee but sold very little work. This time we have a bigger, more central venue, media partners, sponsorship and the phenomenal publicity machine that is Brighton Pride behind us; on paper it certainly looks like we know what we're doing!

Between Becky and me we know a lot of people; she has friends doing our website and graphics design for free. We know people who are in a band who are going to play an acoustic set at our press/preview evening on the Friday. And through various connections we have contacts at various publications in and around Brighton, charities who benefit from Pride money who can help us advertise and my most recent ex, a.k.a. The Girl who is working on getting us sponsorship from a brewery so our press preview can offer free booze! It is most certainly all coming together.  I just need to PAINT.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)

The first painting I've done since November that I've actually liked (click to embiggen). It's for our Art for Pride exhibition at the end of July. Absolutely desperate to sell something this time. Know a rich lesbian? Send them along!
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
My best friend, Becky, has come up with a Brilliant and Cunning Plan to make us rich and famous.

All being well it will launch at the end of the month in a trial form and will reach it's first moment of greatness at the end of July during the Pride festival.  I can't actually say too much now as we're still in the planning stage but...

If all goes well it will culminate in a not-for-profit organisation and an artists' co-op in a year or so.

If it doesn't go well it'll be a spectacular failure but not actually cost us any money.

I have a three day weekend this week and I was planning to read a little, sleep a lot....now I am stockpiling canvases and getting in the right frame of mind to paint.  I'm considering experimenting with reducing my meds to aid that...what's the point in suffering from mania if you don't turn it to your advantage once in a while?!

Bloody hell.  Becky's Brilliant Plan came into being at 8am on Monday morning, it's now 7pm on Wednesday evening and we have sponsors, press connections, a venue and 'contacts'.  I'm not so much going along with the plan so much as being swept along in the wake of Becky's inspiration. Bloody hell.

Wish me talent and inspiration, I've got to keep up with Becky.
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (November the 11th)
It feels a little like cheating to post a NaBloPoMo post which is predominately pictures, but if I'm the one blogging then I should be the one making the rules.



This is my most recent painting.  I painted it the afternoon of the day Dangerous died so I think I will always end up associated with that and I perhaps won't ever like it.  Like many of my paintings it ended up in a completely different place than it both started and I intended it to end up.  In some ways I think that reflects exactly the way creativity functions - it can respond to prompts, it can be forced but ultimately, it is its own master.

Having the capacity to channel and direct creativity is, I suppose, the difference between artists and the rest of us.  Being able to sit down to produce something which is exactly the production I envision when I first sit down to express my inspiration is The Dream.

I have much the same relationship with writing as I do painting - I sit down convinced the moment my fingers hit the keys perfectly chosen words will pour from me forming profound sentences and life changing paragraphs.  I fantasise about subjects I adore being perfectly expressed and my passion oozing from the screen, fascinating all who read.

Unfortunately, my usual production is merely average.  Frequently my sentences stumble, often the rhythm is all wrong.  Do I ever like the end result? Rarely. Is it ever what I envisioned? Even less often.

So why continue? Why continue painting, why continue blogging? In the hope of a moment of revelation.  In the hope that once or twice it comes together just right and is received better than you could have ever anticipated.  The only gesture I have towards this is the odd painting I do which my friends adore, or a blog post which is inundated with comments.

Is this one of those occasions? I doubt it.
 

askygoneonfire: 'Love' painted on to four fingers of a hand (love hand)
I went along to White Night tonight, the first one I have attended despite living in Brighton for the last two.

My friend and I wondered the streets soaking up the atmosphere, we stopped to watch musicians taking on various genres; dropped into the library to dip briefly into an author reading from her book; paused to watch a broadcast from the future, tried and failed (on account of it being massively popular and there being a two and half hour wait) to go to a life drawing event, stopped off at a bar on the seafront which was running a casino for the night and eventually found a gallery with a fascinating installation.

It featured several screens suspended from the ceiling with short films of one person (per screen) simply staring at you, these short films were on a loop with the joining shot being the person with their eyes clothes. Some of the faces were relatively stationary, others went through a myriad of emotions in a few seconds. On the floor were pieces of paper of various sizes and scattered about the room were pieces of dowling about a metre long with pieces of charcoal attached to the end. Those people viewing the faces were implicitly invited to sketch the faces staring at them. Being forced to produce these sketches with the handicap of what was essentially a metre long pencil produced some interesting results.

The finished sketches were displayed on the walls around the gallery and scattered where they were made, across the floor.

There were some truly phenomenal pieces of art produced in response to the installation.

The thing which I enjoyed the most was the way in which people were invited to respond to the art they had come to view - the only way it was practically possible to keep the paper in place whilst sketching with the most inelegant of tools was to place one's foot upon the paper - effectively defiling one's own creation.  Furthermore, everyone is invited to contribute to the installation by discarding what they produce - the gallery is more waste paper bin than it is sacred display of creativity.  Most strikingly, in one corner papers which had been drawn on on both sides were piled up - every single piece of paper had been drawn on on both sides and reflected a vast range of talents and styles.

One of the things I most enjoy about both galleries and installations is watching how people move through the space - in this case there was an even wider range of ways than usual - some people drew and some did not.  Of those who drew a picture in response some took it very seriously and looked reverently at what they were trying to commit to paper whilst others joked and laughed and drew with their friends on the piece of paper.  Some rejected the mode of drawing presented to them and sat on the floor with a piece of charcoal liberated from the end of a piece of dowling and drew in the typical way.  Some interpreted the images before them literally, others abstracted them.

Of those who simply moved through the gallery observing and not drawing some interacted exclusively with the video screens; squaring up to them and scrutinising the full loop of the film, some peered over the shoulders of those drawing and compared them to the image their sketch was taken from, some gravitiated immediately to the sketches stuck to the walls walking over and ignoring completely those sketches which remained on the floor - not yet rescued by the custodians of the installation, some sorted through the confettied sketches on the floor as though they and they alone had discovered these works.

It was both a confrontational and simultaneously nurturing installation and I was absolutely taken by the whole experience.

Well done Brighton.

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
Two new paintings below, obviously. Both done in the last 3 weeks. Both done when I was in very different moods. I don't really like the second one (I did it first) so much, seems a bit...soulless/boring. It is BIG though, about 3 feet across.

As usual, click for bigger.




askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
This afternoon I have mostly been painting, with limited success. The picture this was taken from is taken at a funny angle and I think as a result I've messed up the proportions slightly. Nonetheless I've achieved what I set out to do: paint a portrait rather than a body/nude. It's the fourth self portrait I've ever done which is...well, fairly irrelevant. Anyway, thought I'd confront you all with my mug this fine Saturday afternoon. So there...


Art/Money

Jun. 4th, 2009 04:58 pm
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
Just reviewed my finances and discovered I have a lot less money 4 days into the month than I thought I had. This could be an issue. My options seem to be prostitution or sell some paintings. Selling paintings would involve finding someone willing to pay money for them, hmm....


Click for bigger.


I don't really like the pink background but housemate K assures me it looks good. Jury is pretty much out. I don't really like this image that much, some how it feels a bit soulless....I dunno. Not liking much today, in a foul mood...
askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
Well actually, it's just one painting. Did it on Monday, or 'painting day' as it is rapidly becoming. It's nice, I get all my errands and general life-housekeeping done during the week and Monday is used exclusively for painting. Without a doubt it's my most zen day of the week.


(Click for bigger)
 

Quite pleased with it.

askygoneonfire: Red and orange sunset over Hove (Default)
 About time I started actually posting, so I thought I'd break myself in easy with a photo post.

If I could say it with a straight face/without laughing myself stupid I'd describe myself as an aspiring artist.  As it is, I'll just say I dabble.

I also dabble in shameless attention whoring, so if you like what you see, be a dear and say so.  Ta very much.

(Click any for bigger)





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