Rooftop archive 5 - Tidal Series

Continuing with the 1980s work from the rooftop archive (which I have previously blogged about here, here, here and here) I was delighted to see the pastel drawings from the Tidal Series. These drawings are all on paper 76 cm x 56 cm.

I specifically remember the summer night of 1986, in my apt in Toronto, feeling unsure of where my art was going now that I had finished my education. 

After a phone conversation with a good friend, however, I felt confident and invigorated and the drawings came to me, fast and furious, using both hands.

I did a purge of my work before I left Toronto in 1993 (again), so not all of the original pastel drawings survived.

In 1986 I had decided to create 27 paintings from these drawings before I turned 27 the following year. The large paintings (I got to 18 of them: 4 ft x 3 ft canvases) did not have the same vigour and I destroyed them all

.

I also did not keep all the pastels, just these 7 that tell the story. I always saw it as an animation and finally created a short animation related to the project several years ago. 

I have previously blogged about the Tidal Series here and have also blogged about the related collages and collage cards here and here.

With this work, I always felt indebted to and recognised the relation to Andrew Wyeth’s haunting painting Christina’s World, which I saw at the MoMA on my first trip to NYC in 1980. 

Matisse and Me!

There is a huge show at the MoMa, New York about Matisse's cut-outs, and I have been enjoying all the images of works, films, photographs of Matisse in his studio, etc. that are available on the internet (the MoMA facebook page keeps posting them, so no need for me to reproduce here). The show was originally in London's Tate Modern last year, and somehow I missed the hype, so sadly didn't see it. Apparently the MoMA show is an expansion of that one. With all this imagery and information floating around, I have been reminiscing about my relationship with the master, who I freely admit has influenced my work. I think this is obvious from some of my very early work such as this Sleeping Dee Dee, oil on canvas,122 cm x 91.5 cm, 1980. 

The picture above is a re-photograph from a polaroid - I don't actually have any other documentation of this piece. I don't know if the painting still exists or not; I gave it to the model (my younger sister!) quite a long time ago.  As well as Matisse, I was also influenced by an unknown painter who attended Parsons School of Design in New York. Before I painted this, a friend of mine had started attending that art school, and a rep from the school came to give the students in my art school a talk. The rep handed out the PS of D prospectus which included a painting where the shadows were painted light blue. At the time this was a revelation to me and it is apparent that I did the same thing with my shadows at the first opportunity!

I did so many drawings and paintings of my sister while she was sleeping that friends who had not met her asked if she was ever awake. This Sleeping Dee Dee is smaller than the one above, oil on masonite. Again, I have no documentation of this other than this re-photograph of a polaroid.

This is an oil on masonite painting, also from 1980 of a woman who I had met in a bookshop near my art school. She was looking for a house-mate and I rented a room from her for one month, my first foray away from home.

Matisse's cut-out show also made me think of how I enjoy the playfulness of  art work. In 1989 I had a residency in the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, ostensibly to create new work for my first exhibition in Dublin. However, due to availability (or lack of) at the Centre, I had all but one drawing complete for the exhibition by the time I was granted the residency. In many ways this was very liberating: I was not under any pressure, had a large studio to work in, food was provided with fabulous dinners being prepared by someone else and a variety of artists (playwrights, poets, musicians, sculptors, performance artists, other painters) on location for lots of interesting discussions over coffees and dinners,

So once I had the last drawing complete for the exhibition (a large black and white, graphite, figure drawing), I changed direction and got out colourful pastels, scissors and blue tack. Using imagery from my dreams I created an entire temporary environment in the studio.

It was at The Tyrone Guthrie Centre at Annaghmakerrig that I met and became friends with Dublin painter, Pat Moran, who dubbed my studio "The Playroom". Unfortunately Pat died suddenly in 1992 at the age of 30, and is sadly missed by the Irish art scene where his expressionist, figurative painting and drawing is known.

Further to my interest in "cut-outs" as a process, this picture of me in 1993 with some of my paintings from the My Tower of Strength series shows how I used cut-outs (the birds above the paintings) to help me figure out composition puzzles.

Sorry for the poor quality of photos in this post, but all images are re-photographs of existing photos and used as part of my training in GIMP, a free software programme which I am learning in order to replace my reliance on PhotoShop!

Encaustic

I recently read an article by Morgan Meis relating to "No Regrets" an exhibition by Jasper Johns at MoMA, New York. As well as getting me thinking about a number of artistic issues, it also got me to thinking about encaustic painting. Jasper Johns was the main artist whose work I looked at in the 80s for guidance on this medium. Johns flag paintings from the 1950s, inspired by a dream, encapsulate the visceral tendency of pure paint: with encaustic painting the immediacy of each brushstoke is preserved.

On my first trip to New York while at art school in the early 80s, I would have come across Johns's work at either the MoMA or Whitney and fallen in love with the painterliness.

I was also interested in Johns's use of newsprint layers providing extra surface texture on the canvas.

I found out that encaustic is a mixture of beeswax, oil paint and turpentine melted and mixed together and I began my own experiments with the medium. The mixture is applied while melted and therefore still warm. Although I did a few paintings on canvas they do not exist any more, nor did I photograph them. The only thing I have left to show that I ever painted in encaustic is a photograph of a large triptych on paper. This hung on the walls of several of my apartments in Toronto, until, with all my moving around, it totally fell apart.

Last year, while participating in The Big Egg Hunt Dublin (fundraiser for the Jack and Jill Foundation) I was delighted to make the acquaintance of Niamh O'Connor, whose encaustic egg I had admired. On meeting me, I remember that Niamh was surprised to meet another artist who was familiar with encaustic. She might have found it amusing to see me delightedly sniffing the heady beeswax and oil smell of her giant yellow egg, reminiscing with myself about this wonderful medium.