|
My process for making has always started with collecting imagery- I suppose it's like a form of hoarding in a sense. There is no procedure or plan to the collecting process or even a conscious reason for each image, reference or significant item I collect, just a gut feeling that it needs to be archived in some way. From here, I go to my sketchbook. I’ve had many different iterations of sketchbook over the years. My absolute favourite is my Moleskine reporter’s notebook. It’s the perfect size, the paper is not too stark and I can take it wherever I go. My drawing is at the core of my practice. I have always seen it as the trunk or roots of a tree- the foundation, and painting, ceramics, lampshades and animation as the branches. There really is no bounds to where you can take your drawings. Once I have explored the new ideas in my sketchbook, I then go on to digitising the drawings and planning on photoshop- it is here I experiment playing around with colour and composition. For canvases, it is at this stage I now prepare my grounds. constructing bars, stretching and priming. I then add washes of colour, which will shine through layers of paint later on. Projection comes next, to transfer my drawings onto the larger scale, and then finally, I begin to paint. I am always a head to toe mess when I paint, my boiler suit is plastered with masses of colour and I usually have paint over my face too. I like to use short, dense, bristle brushes with spring, this way you can scrub and add texture to unexpected areas and really work the canvas. For my smaller works on paper in paint, this is an entirely different approach. It is much more loose and spontaneous. I prepare batches of paper grounds, creating washes of colour or texture and leave them to dry. Once this stage is complete, I paint freely- no sketching, no planning, no references. Just seeing where the paint takes me. For the undesired outcomes, these take on a new life when I cut them into fresh shapes, to then be collaged into other paintings and compositions. There is something so joyous to work so small. Each slight movement of the brush can transform the piece entirely in a second- small wiggles become disheveled hair and tiny dripped paint blobs- flurries of snow. When making my lamps, it was a very involved process, with each stage commanding its own challenges and experimentation. It is very different to painting in the sense that once you close the kiln, much of what happens is out of your hands, rather than being able to see a painting progress right before your eyes. For the bases, once I’d thrown and fired the forms, I translated my drawings and paintings onto the surfaces with underglaze and then finally added small details in 24 carat gold lustre, to shine in the glow of the lamp. The bases were then topped with handmade lampshades, created from scratch in organic linen and with hand painted illustrations that take on a new life in the light. I find making art is a way of life, not just in the moments where you are physically making but also in those times in between: when you are reading, watching films, observing, thinking, living. It never really stops or switches off. You sort of just become a sponge to life and often times it can be overwhelming but within everything you can discover small hidden gems, that at a certain moment in your life, then becomes your muse. Getting to work with 87 Gallery and Artlink has been an absolute joy. It has been the biggest honour to work with such a kind, supportive, inspiring and creative team on my first solo show. The process of putting together this exhibition will be something I’ll never forget and I feel so very grateful of all the support I have received along the way and the turnout for the opening night was more than I could ever have imagined, so thank you!
|
