Becca May Collins

Hafod Uchtryd is a patch of land in Ceridigion (Wales), once a very popular destination for lovers of the Picturesque. A tragic fire at the estate's house led to the eventual selling of the land to the Forestry Commission, not after felling the trees to sell themselves, or mining the land for metals. I visited the estate in September, for a two week stay. It wasn't quite cold yet, only the tops of the trees were turning yellow. It's not so popular anymore, but just as picturesque - thanks to Dave and Simon at the Hafod Trust or restoring the paths and the views of the valley. Walking on the estate showed me silent symptoms of the lands history; the felled trees, the log piles and the stumps suggested the presence of people using it. Painting it in the make-shift studio at Cwmystwyth Village Hall presented a very clear, but gentle narrative. During my last year on my Masters at the RCA I have been, and intend to continue this project; play with memories and conversations and stories, maybe lies, to create a collection of images that tell the story of the estate, via the people who love (or don't love) it.

So, back in July I went to Italy for 10 days, just to wander a pretty rural estate and paint. It was dreamy but also, now what?

In early July, I travelled with the Royal Drawing School to Borgo Pignano in Tuscany, a luxury country hotel and organic farm. Three times a day we were presented with a buffet of amazing local food (and wine), our itinerary was all planned for us, we got to have a nap in the afternoon, and we were even told when to get ready for dinner. This left my brain with a tonne of time just to think about painting and making images. 

I’m not sure that space in my brain was totally occupied by thoughts of painting though. It wandered a lot, like it’s done for a while, not really settling on anything in particular, skimming over important things and not so important things with the same effort. Like I tried my best, I made several paintings a day and really enjoyed learning about paints and palettes and how to deal with what I saw. But nothing really took me. 

I think the Drawing Year has almost exhausted what I’ve got to get out of just looking at things. I spent 3 months looking at abstract light; how that produces space and time, another 3 looking at edges and negative space, another 3 making it all work together. I’ve been looking for something ‘more’ for the last 3 and I’m maybe just about figuring it out. 

I’ve said for a long time that my wandering brain and my wandering practice are one and the same, only I think for the last year or two I’ve been ignoring the nigglings of ‘process it do something with it what does it all mean’. Unfortunately, I am one of those people who likes a pretentious academic essay to go with a piece, and also I am one of those people who ‘wants to make a difference in the world’. I’m definitely coming to the conclusion that the passive and complaint works I’ve been making are not going to be making that difference, at least not with the demographic I want to be associated with. 

So back to the ‘now what?’. 

After coming to the conclusion that I’m ready to move on and take the next step (in October when I start my MA at the Royal College of Art), I’ve got four weeks to play with. I guess I’ve decided that I’m gonna capitalise on some things I’ve been looking at; make the most of a month of playing and making images that have no responsibility. 

There are some things I learned from painting in those Tuscan hills that I want to take forward.

- The layering thing thats been a fuzzy mess at the front of my brain: I think painting helped me figure it out. If I can draw in layers, and each layer is something different (e.g. the bottom layer is light, the middle layer is edges, the top layer is texture) then I might make something interesting and new for me. 

- Do I understand shapes a bit better? Yes, no, maybe. I think I haven’t improved my understanding of form much, but have been using it slightly differently. Maybe I can use form AND negative space and try and get a new combo on the go. 

- The uglier the colour, the better. We all know that my colour combinations are gross, and always will be. I like it; but I think I’m learning how to make ugly tasteful, or at least trendy. I’ve learned that colour is all about play. 

I think I’m going to show some of these paintings in my Open Studio in December - by then, I would have had more space and can see how they have influenced my work more. I want my Open Studio to be descriptive of my practice as a whole and maybe the Italy trip will have grounded itself in my practice by then. 

TRAIN BOOK OF THE MONTH: SAPIENS, A HISTORY OF HUMANKIND by YUVAL NOAH HARARI.

I feel like I’m becoming more and more jaded with the course. I really want to run with some things, and honestly, I have no energy to fight anymore. 

It’s often said to me that I ‘did this course so I could be challenged’. But I think what I’m experiencing is more like a wall put in front of me than a push along a (very) bumpy road. 

I tried to run with that colour thing for a little longer and really play with what I had. I enjoyed it, I had a really nice time. I think I learned a little about colour but really, it’s something people spend years and years solely working on. It’s definitely an on-going thing but so concentrate on it at this moment in time might be silly. 

So I guess I’ve been really stagnant the last couple of weeks. I haven’t made any drawings that I want to keep going with - I keep trying to make new things, find new precedents before the term is up and it’s feeling like a waste of time. In the end it’s leaving me bored and unentertained, meaning that when I wake up in the morning, I do not know what day it is, and quite frankly, I don’t want to get up.

I have a plan - I have made a list of drawings I want to make in the near future, inspired by certain things or to teach me something I want to learn. I want to draw some objects (busts or vases, something with weight and form) - to learn about flatness. I want to draw a portrait of my friend - to learn about looking again, not just routines. I want to draw more of that island of trees in Regents Park - to play with colour and form, and possible sequence. 

The problem is, none of these are for a reason. 

They are for nothing. To say nothing, to anyone. They just are. 

And I find that that doesn’t really stir anything in me - I have a voice, I have opinions and I want to share these with people and SAY something. At the moment, I’m not really feeling enabled to do that at the moment. 

Also, I think I want to paint. In a few weeks we’re going on a painting trip to Italy. I’m hoping to get a lot done. I feel like I’ve been setting myself up to paint (if not subconsciously whilst my conscious actively rebelled) for a while. Looking at light and form, now looking at colour. Enjoying layers and transparency. Before I go, I will have to make a checklist. These lists really keep me going - life admin is one of my small joys and I don’t need to resist it anymore. You want a list - make a bloody list!

TRAIN BOOK OF THE MONTH; WALKING WITH PLATO by GARY HAYDEN.

The last month has been a scramble. A week on, a week off. Drawing whatever just because I don’t have an opinion. 

The thing about being ‘process-led’ is that the work has to pull you around, and sometimes you wanna do your own thing. 

This term, I’ve tried to feed my process by putting myself in situations that I think it wants; all the classes I’ve taken are mostly outside, a touch of structure from Turner’s London is beginning to trickle out some new ideas and Drawing the Graphic Novel is making me itch for the future. I think these classes were the right decision but the disagreement of my conscious direction and my unconscious process’ direction, is making it difficult. 

I, me, the conscious and upfront, want to travel in the way of sequence. Sequence has always been of interest to me, and I had noticed that I had started to envision my drawings like a trailer for a film; long-shots, close-ups, panning. I think that suggests that a sequential project is something that’s in my practice, and since I haven’t even toyed with this idea for nearly two years, it was about time. 

Looking back on old sketchbooks, sequence is something that comes naturally. Like I said, I see my drawings like trailers for films. I’ve recently been trying to explore that on loose paper - just so that it’s easier and more practical in the long run. 

I spent the day at London Zoo watching the tigers pace up and down. Spending 8 solid hours in one spot makes you see things for what they are. The original plan was to tear these tiny A7 drawings up and re-order them later, but the majority voted for them to stay as objects of the morning and afternoon. 

They, them, the unconscious process, wants to go somewhere else. They’re vaguely entertained by the sequential exploration but it’s taking a lot of effort to remain concentrating. The tributaries of thought are much more exciting and allow them to sink into the meditative place that any person who draws knows is where ‘the magic happens’. The unconscious process is interested in colour. And I hate it. 

As you can tell, although they’re interested in it, it doesn’t mean it turns out well. Inexperience means that ugly combos and rookie mistakes are at the forefront; apparently you shouldn’t use black with colour, although I think it’s pretty interesting in retrospect. I should probably give in to the pull to the Sennelier corner of the art shop and invest in some tools that can help out. 

The problem with this ongoing debate is that I’m not really getting much done. Feeling that I’m procrastinating fills me with guilt that just makes me wanna get a good lunch, I can’t really give in to anything.

Last week, I had to sort through all my drawings for an assessment. Looking back, there’s been more progression this term than I thought. Unfortunately for my conscious mind, the progression has been with colour. I think I’m gonna have to just give in and go with it. 

Well done, process, ya ground me down. 

TRAIN BOOK OF THE MONTH; ON TRAILS by ROBERT MOOR.

I’ve been trying to have fun with drawing again. By have fun I mean trying to make less laboured, less considered drawings. I want to become reactive again. I think in the last year, since being on this course, I’ve become super considerate and made very accurate, thoughtful drawings. I might be looking at different aspects of the world and learning languages that I didn’t have before, but I want my drawings to be a reaction! To have feeling. 

I sometimes worry that I can only do one thing. Like that I can only make foggy, moody landscapes so all the work I make in the future will be based on the fact that I can draw moody landscapes and therefore I will only every draw moody landscapes. What if I want to draw a happy landscape? 

I’m not sure I can draw a happy landscape. I guess, if I’m going to draw a happy landscape, it’s going to be when summer comes and the sun is out and the world is generally happier. So far, the weather has been pretty miserable and moody, so maybe I am making a pretty good reaction to what I am surrounded by. 

Only time will tell. 

The best book in the world. 

I’ve been reading this book on and off for two years. I finished it just before Christmas but it’s taken me this long to digest things. 

I bought this book as a little introduction to the experiential side of drawing, I thought maybe I could get some ideas of where to go next. I’ve definitely found some ideas of where to go next. There are so many ideas about how we perceive the world in this books that I had very little idea about before. Even the first ten pages blew my tiny mind. 

‘To experience is to learn; it means acting on the given and creating out of the given. The given cannot be known in itself.’

“In english, ‘I see’ means ‘I understand’.”

These little quotes can be directly applied to my drawing practice. Looking and being is my experience. This is why I draw on site; the experience begins before I’m even there. My anticipations and expectations are confronted with reality when I arrive, I like to hear the sounds that make a place, feel the weather on my hands as I draw. This experience is me learning. The drawing becomes a documentation of the argument the place has been presenting to me. So therefore, for me, seeing is understanding. 

As the book goes on it becomes more complicated. Ideas about time and space, our attachment to homeland were introduced to me. They are applicable to my drawing practice but deserve their own ongoing investigation, they’re hard to process!

‘We did not become dwellers in this land by driving others out of it, nor by finding it uninhabited, nor by coming together her a motley horde...; but we are a lineage so noble... that throughout our history we have continued in possession of the very land which gave us birth, since we have sprung from it’s very soil and are able to address our city by the names which we apply to our nearest kin; for we alone of all the Hellenes have the right to call our city at one, nurse and... mother.’ Isocrates, Panegyricus.

Maybe it’s the super emotional place I’ve been in in the last year or so, but I’ve also found ideas in this book to be so emotionally comforting. Time was discussed, our changing idea of time was discussed. Nowadays time is thought of as a long, straight arrow, that we should follow forwards to our future. It was discussed that time is not long and straight, but it comes back round. Like an hour hand on a clockface or a swinging pendulum, or the sun and the moon in the sky. The seasons come back round, illness and health comes back around, happiness and sadness come back around, the world goes round.

So on this course, I can go through sketchbooks so so quickly. I went through a fifty page sketchbook in just under a week. But the next one took me the rest of term. I think there are different ways to treat a sketchbook. 

That first one, that took me a week? It was small, it was only A5, stretched out to an A4. It’s quicker to fill an A4 page than it is to fill an A3 page. It feels more secret, and then that quickens up your pace, because you have no inhibitions and then you turn the page while your still on the same thought and then you’ve got a commentary and then you’ve got a sequence and then you’ve got a narrative. All the drawings are given the same attention, they’re looked at just as hard as each other. It’s because they’re all equal that they become a narrative. Yeah, parts of the story might have less action but all parts of a story are equally important. This is a sketchbook. 

Then there was the other sketchbook, that took me ages to fill. I think it took me nine weeks, and the last bit was a push. The sketchbook was bigger, it was A4, so stretched out to A3, which is pretty big really. Each page would take me an hour or so of messing to get out right. But I treated it differently, I was trying things out in the sketchbook, making notes for bigger drawings, or playing with media, or messin’ with looking at the world a little bit differently. Unlike the last sketchbook, not every drawing was treated with the same attention or respect. It was more ‘all drawings are equal but some are more equal than others’. This is a book of sketches. 

Then there’s this, which is probably part of the reason why filling that sketchbook took so long. I HAVE ACTUALLY STARTED DRAWING ON LOOSE PAPER. A friend once described her practice of drawing on loose paper and lack of sketchbooks as ‘giving every drawing the same chance’. I think this was referring to the fact that drawings in sketchbooks become redundant once you’ve finished the drawing, they can’t be displayed easily or sold individually, the drawings life is contained in that book. 

I’ve had my friends advice floating around my head since we talked about it - I can’t say I agree, the drawings in my books are just as important as the loose ones and seeing as there are things like the Rabley Sketch Prize and the Harold Riley Sketchbook Prize etc, things are on the up. But I do understand that drawing on loose paper is different. 

Firstly; things are bigger! I tend to start A2 on a board, just ‘cause it’s easy and I’m lazy. People tend to accept these bigger drawings as more finished. There’s no difference for me, small or big. There’s also the option of adding bits of paper on to get bigger. Or tearing bits off to get smaller. 

Secondly, you can play with colour etc a bit more. A sketchbook can be appreciated as a whole thing, a narrative. On loose paper you’ve got nothing to live up to, nothing stuck in your thoughts and you can’t leak ink onto a drawing you’re already happy with. Things can progress quicker maybe, it’s easier to move on. 

After a few weeks of drawing on big, loose bits of paper, I was a lot more comfortable with loose paper altogether. I even tried lots of small, loose bits to try out the sequential thing again. Weirdly, the bit of binding keeps my head in narrative mode a lot more; the loose ones just became a kind of unrelated series. 

I think I just need to keep a balance of them all. Big, little sketchbooks. Big, little loose papers. Although loose paper will be easier to frame for the show though. 

Train Book of the month; “LANDSCAPE AS A CABINET OF CURIOSITIES” Gunther Vogt (Edited by Rebecca Bornhauser, Thomas Kissling). 

So I’ve been thinking loads recently about what the hell my work is going to apply to. I like drawing landscapes, I dislike drawing smaller spaces, I like drawing outside, I dislike drawing people, I like drawing stuff that means a thing, I dislike drawing just pretty shit.

The Burgh Island project was a big one for me. It might have been a little retrospective and bullshitty but it was my first go, so I can forgive myself. I was really happy with being able to put an opinion forward using my drawings, even if it needed a little bit of text to go with it - I think I like writing more than I’ll let on. 

Basically, I want to observe the impact that the actual land can have on a society or group of people, and the culture they are intertwined with. This took me a billion brainstorms and lots of staring at the sky to figure out. ONLY TO FIND OUT IT’S REALLY A THING.

“The cultural landscape is fashioned from a natural landscape by a cultural group. Culture is the agent, the natural area is the medium, the natural landscape is the result.’ (Carl O. Sauer)

Or, the World Heritage Committee says that Cultural Landscape is ‘cultural properties that represent the combined works of nature and man’.

Cultural Landscape is a thing. 

I grew up in the Welsh Valleys, in an old mining village where there’s no proper mines anymore but there is a Coal Washery where my father worked. The mountain outside my bedroom window wasn’t there twenty or thirty years before, it was just a flourishing slag heap. Sometimes at night you could see the silhouettes of dumping caterpillars moving over the top. 

One, HUGE, MASSIVE realisation I’ve had over my nearly 6 weeks off and the chat in the park is that the Drawing School can only support PART of my entire practice. 

Starting somewhere new with a million ideas and a thousand new people is bound to challenge my identity a little bit, especially when I’m me and really like getting on with everyone. But I think I’m coming to see a more condensed version of myself (which I’m allowed to be, dammit!). In classical me fashion, here is a list of things I like:-

- Drawing outside; more landscapes and trees than cityscapes. I’m a big hippy who enjoys a relationship with the earth and the land.

- Drawing the same place, the same thing, recurrently; building a relationship with a place/space. More sustained than a study and then moving on. 

- Black and white: colour might be great if I need it somewhere down the line but I don’t need to accomplish what I want right now. 

- Getting inspiration from further afield than the great masters and the new painters; the world is bigger than that. 

- Illustration, drawing for an outward purpose, the bigger picture than just my own feelings.

Part of what I need to keep in mind is what I was doing before the Drawing Year. The year of 2016; the Year that Didn’t Exist? Although that time was a muddle, the time to myself and the lack of pressure from authority figured meant I was really happy with my direction, just doing what I really enjoyed and felt for. I was making landscapes and exploring a language that can communicate them in the way I want to. 

Something I’d really like to learn or get used to, is a way to make images in the studio or away from a site that still hold the feeling of a real place. The main reason I struggle with making work in the studio is because drawing is so about experiencing a place for me, being away from that place takes away the real-ness and the experience. But in actual fact, making drawings in the studio won’t make them any less real, it will just give me the opportunity to edit what I depict. 

In a life-drawing session last week, we had to draw a clothed model, as if they were naked. What I really enjoyed and took from this lesson was that I can use the information I’ve been given by the subject, to create an image of what I really want to say. E.g. using the light on Matthews t-shirt to educate what I think his chest might look like. 

At the start of term, I took a few days out and went to the Peak District. I left feeling totally humbled and inspired. It’s like spending time with the land gives me my energy. I think I’d like to go back for a week - spend time collecting content and memories. Almost a mini-project I can work on when I’m back in toxic-London.

I’ve gained an interest in sequence too. Less narrative, more sequence. Page-turn and boxes have a good effect on me, I tend to imagine my drawings as if they’re cut like a video. This might me something I’d enjoy exploring, and would be a good step to take before the RCA Vis Comm in September. 

In more practical terms, things I’d like to build on are: expanding on my use of media (charcoal will get boring eventually), using tone alongside something else (it’ll be less vague and more interesting), texture and pattern (stepping away from being soooo accurate all the time, making bolder and bigger decisions will make things more interesting), drawing on loose paper (only use a sketchbook for sketchbook things!), fixing drawings properly (no hairspray), be more reflective (keep up with this blog! At least once a month!).

The first term at the Royal Drawing School was a mixed bag of emotions and intentions. Obviously I was very excited to be there, but getting to know an institution is difficult. 

I decided to be tactical and take all the compulsory classes in the first term; a studio course (The Figure in Space), Everyday in the City and Drawing from The National Gallery, an etching induction, and I chose Drawing from Film, Film Club for fun. 

What was difficult about going to these classes is that I chose them for somebody else. Yes, the point of doing a course like this is to be challenged and to mix it up a bit, but also the point of doing a Masters is to capitalise on your strengths. I felt I wasn’t doing that a lot of the time.

That’s not to say I didn’t learn anything. I’ve been learning loads - my general knowledge of Art History is on the up (but still not that great). I know more about techniques in drawing and painting to help communicate what I want.  I understand the mediums I like to use a lot more, and know a lot more about keeping drawings safe and time-proof. I think by the end of the year I will really know what’s going on with all of this, and I’ll be really happy about that. 

Something I struggled with towards the end (after the week 7 hump), was realising that the classes couldn’t help push my practice anymore. They had taught me lessons that I was grateful for, ways to perceive what I was looking that, but once they had shown that to me, they wouldn’t help me make work which I was proud of, or which I loved or which meant anything to me. Like, life drawing is great for learning new things, but honestly, how can you make a meaningful, felt image of someone you barely know in a place that means nothing to you. I can’t.

I needed to be outside; I left the one Thursday every other week feeling more inspired and ready to make things than any other day, only to have it taken away from me by lack-of-time and the next class. I think the drawings I made were in keeping with what the tutor suggested and liked... but given more time the drawings would have swayed in my own direction again. There’s something I can take from being outside and in with the world. 

So I spent the first 7 weeks of term trying my best to fit in with the school and make work that they would have liked and be really interested in and agree with the general opinions on things. Then I spent the next 3 weeks being sad that I didn’t feel like I’d fit in or it wasn’t what I expected. I spent 2 hours on the last day of term feeling like I’d been cheated and I’d made all the wrong decisions. 

After a rant in the park and nearly 6 weeks off, I made peace with the first term. It’s hard for me to remember the reason why I wanted to do this course in the first place, that this was only meant to support part of my practice. It’s taken me a lot of energy to reject things and know what I want. 

I graduated in July 2015, following six months nailing what it was I was trying to do, being fully immersed in doing it, and being completely supported in doing it. The year afterwards was unstructured, uninspired and and disinterested. 

Actually, it wasn’t that bad. 

I had a good summer, throwing darts at maps and catching buses to towns I’d never heard of in weird bits of Europe. I’d just started figuring out what drawing was again and decided to document my journey in a tiny sketchbook. I’d stuck to just drawing; I didn’t think about what I was drawing, I didn’t look properly, I didn’t make proper marks. I just drew. 

Those couple of weeks were totally unrestrained yet completely engaged. In contrast, restrained and unengaged would be words I’d use to describe London. This was the ‘bad’ bit (as was the bit that followed).

I moved to London in September 2015 to take up a mini-kinda-place at the Royal Drawing School. I’d applied for the MA a year before and was rejected, but offered a complimentary module instead. I chose Re-Drawing London; a course that would show me around London and it’s changing environment and suggest new topics and new visual languages to learn. I definitely did learn a lot; my drawing changed, it became much more focused on tonal values, being more accurate. I sneaked into a Drawing from Film class with help from a friend, and that was good for me too. Although, living in London was not for me - I think it was the combination of the change of scene, my close friends being in faraway countries, the pressure of having to work a crap job full-time just to live, knowing that I couldn’t make any plans. 

Wales is a different kind of place; cheap and happy and slow-paced. Living with my supportive (but absolutely no-chill) family was nice - it took the pressure off money, I could work and save quietly. I don’t know if it was this tolerant environment but I quietly let go of making work, concentrated on just applying for Post-Graduate courses instead. I wanted to go back to studying; I’d just found the thing I wanted to pursue and needed the support, the knowledgable peers, the structure and the push of education to catalyse me into making it work. I spent a good few months working, making portfolios and writing Personal Statements, getting involved with local arts groups and getting drunk at the local pub. It was quiet, but not quite numbing enough to keep me interested and going.

(Yes, that’s summer in Wales).

I’d applied to both the Royal Drawing School (again) and the Royal College of Art. The courses would take me in different directions; in a perfect world, I would do the Drawing School followed by the Royal College - the Drawing School would give me the understanding of my craft whilst the Royal College would show me what to do with it. I thought it would be either/or, the Admissions Staff would decide my future for me.  

So, ‘The Year that didn’t Exist; 2016′. I keep forgetting that it happened. I refer to that trip away as ‘the summer just gone’, I still call Plymouth home. I did some shows and made some friends and saved some money. But I was numb, I guess. I don’t really remember the unanticipated acceptance letter from the Royal College of Art. Or the unforeseen e-mail from the Royal Drawing School letting me know I had a place. It’s probably taken until now for me to realise what’s going on.

Obviously, I still managed to sort it out. I’m currently starting my second term at the Royal Drawing School, and have just accepted my place for the Royal College of Art for 2017 entry. 

I’ve fallen in love with Dérive.

Dérive is an unplanned journey through a landscape, usually urban, on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the surrounding architecture and geography subconsciously direct the travellers, with the ultimate goal of encountering an entirely new and authentic experience.

I’ve always been a wanderer, I’ve always enjoyed just ambling about for an afternoon or drifting through a new environment, stumbling upon weird but usually charming situations, like lost-glove speed-dating I saw in Iceland or discarded stone sculptures in India. 

The same can be applied to my Drawing practice, only the landscape is now inks and charcoal. I’ve described my relationship with drawing as ‘meditative’ in the past, the media I choose to use isn’t really thought about. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been drawing since forever and studying it for more the 5 years, so I know what mediums can do what - but it’s so innate now. That’s it - innate, ingrained, intrinsic, intuitive. 

I think that this heuristic approach to making imagery works best for me, the passion for this process that you can hopefully hear in my writing you can see in my drawings. There’s still a lot to build on: all I learned about tone in my classes has been pushed aside, more experimenting with layout and context would be beneficial, my theoretical backing can be better communicated. 

Recently, I’ve been reading a lot more. One of my favourites was Space and Place, by Yi Fu Tuan - I’m only a chapter in but I’ve already learned so much and been so inspired to create. Another that I’ve really enjoyed is Edgelands by Paul Farley and Michael Symmons Roberts. It’s beautifully written and inquisitive and descriptive, it’s really made me think about what I see when I’m out on location. 

Inspired by this sense of space, I attempted to map out Burgh Island. I did this really quickly and from what I remembered, trying to recreate a birds eye view of what I’ve only seen from my own 5′5 level. A lot of thinking is spent on recalling walks and dérives around the island, mostly the initial ones right at the start of the project - these ones are more honestly analytical, the journeys you make later on are often looking for something you’ve got a preconceived idea for, I find. 

I turned these into a screen-print, which are for sale (cheap and a bit better quality!) on my Etsy if you’d like to see. 

Word of the week: Serendipity.

A lot of the last week have been spent in the studio, getting ideas together and trying to regroup. It’s been such a long time since I’ve made drawings at a desk, I’m coming at it from a completely different way.

I’ve been thinking about my drawing process recently, and I’ve been describing it as ‘playful’, ‘experimental’ and ‘meditative’ a lot. In the past, this had only really been applicable to my drawings made out and about, but now, after my week of pleasant surprises, that has all changed. 

Drawing on location doesn’t really allow you time to think, it forces you to make gestural, expressive marks that make the drawing take on the atmosphere of your surroundings. 

I have found that the opposite occurs when I work at a desk: my lines become unconfident and my textures become less drifting. The inquisition of media becomes lifeless and flat. My thoughts tell me ‘this is how you use a pencil’, ‘acrylic is for painting’, ‘that ink is bad’ - all of which is lost when drawing out. Your thoughts become absorbed in the experience of your surroundings instead, you have more to look at and more to feel. This is where the meditative aspects of drawing come in for me: you begin to care less about the drawing and more about the experience of making it. This holistically makes (my) mark-making more relatable and communicative. 

The realisation of all of this has made my studio practice completely different. Plugging in and powering through is no longer an option for me - it results in static, overworked and overthought drawings that have no character or expression. Instead, I’ve transferred some elements of drawing out to making work in the studio:-

Stand up - throw your chair away and use your whole body to draw, don’t limit yourself.

Listen to your drawing - possibly the most artsy-fartsy thing I’ve ever said and I never want to say it again, but listening to the noise the pencil makes as it runs over the surface or the disgusting wetness of your brush helps to concentrate on the making, not on Scroobius Pip.

Have your materials around you - when I draw out I often take things ‘just in case’. And then I have this to hand, this sponge I’ve never used before is part of my equipment and eventually curiosity will take you there. Keeping media stashed away in a cupboard and pulling out only ‘what you need’ is restrictive.

Fuck it - do whatever, it’s only a drawing, no pressure. Being on location gives you an excuse for a drawing that doesn’t quite go to plan - the sun was in your eyes or there was a loud child distracting you. A studio is a place to work, so you should make perfect things here, yes? Yeah, no, it doesn’t work that way. Drawings are hit and miss, so just do it. The amount of time you’ve spent thinking about making this drawing perfect, you could have made 10 by now, with one or a few of them ready to go. 

So be curious again! Immerse yourself in what you’re making and don’t worry about it. The drawing below was made in the studio, with this attitude. I did ‘the same’ drawings in the studio, on location and again in the studio when I got back from location. The first one was ill-informed but had the exaggeration an illustration might need to communicate an idea, the second was good - it had life and soul but might be a bit too ‘straight’ to really get at what I was saying, the third was ‘perfect’; informed by the illustration and the drawing made before it, it was a balance between well-informed and exaggerated, making an emotive piece that made my point.

So fortunate happenstances all round!

Bye, 

So I had a great time at the Reportager Award Exhibition on Monday night! I was really impressed by the range and the quality of work at the exhibition and am so grateful to everybody involved for the opportunity. It was great to see such a big gathering of reportage artists and having the chance to mingle with everybody and share ideas was brilliant. 

This is me with my work, printed just under their original size. And also just a picture of my work, incase my face offends you too much.

I was really inspired by the work there, and getting to talk to the artists themselves was really great too. Location drawing tips were being spread everywhere, so instead of losing drawings to the wind next time I’m on the island, I’ll just invest in some better bulldog clips (Thanks, Lucinda Rogers). 

There was a few bits of work that particularly sparked my interest. There was a great range at the exhibition, so my taste for monochromatic texture is showing through, but here’s some close ups of work I’ll probably be referring to in the near future: (by Leah Fusco and Lucy Runge)

I think what I’ve cottoned on to, is the use of contrasting tone and texture in imagery. I’ve always struggled a bit with tone but I’m so intrigued by it. I’ll be referring back to old life drawing lessons and exercises next time I’m on location to help bring this out. Looking at the descriptions of these projects and the process that made them has been really interesting too. It’s going to be nice to get back on location over the next few days!

Hello!

So this weeks been very exciting. You might have heard already, but my work has been up in the Impressions 4 Exhibition in Plymouth University, organised by the Printmaking society. My neon prints were exhibited among some great work, it was really exciting to see it up on a wall! It’s nice to see my work expanding contexts, maybe I can get some more work in exhibitions in the future! Some of my favourites from the show were Ruby Roberts - her lovely neon colours meant that she was my exhibi-neighbour! I also enjoyed Luke’s letterpress work and Sauls epic screen prints.

Mine and Rubys work

I was very happy with the outcome and would like to thank everybody who helped out and organised the fab exhibition!

I’ve been using the screenprints featured in Impressions 4 to make some small sketchbooks. As well as been screenprinted by hand, I also letterpressed them - they look great! The letterpress really adds something and contextualises them. They’ve all been made by hand, using my screenprints and recycled paper. They’re staple bound and 11.6cm x 16.2cm. I think I’m going to be putting them up for sale soon, so if you are interested, keep an eye out! 

I’m really pleased with this weeks outcomes and plan on being just as productive in the next few weeks! I’ll be heading back to Burgh Island on the weekend so do some more drawings, so keep an eye out for them too! 

I’m also very excited to say that my work is going to be featured in the Reportager Award Exhibition in Bristol tomorrow! They’ll be in the Block F gallery on the UWE Bower Ashton Campus from tomorrow until the 15th May, so pop in if you’d like to see! (They’re also in posh frames, hehehehe).

If you’d like to keep more in touch, I have a twitter and a facebook and an instagram too!

April 24, 2015

Hello!

I've had a brilliant few weeks off and I'm feeling more than ready to get back into things again. I've missed drawing and my trips to the beach! Burgh Island I'm ready for you.

I came back after Easter to a wonderful surprise...

I've been shortlisted for the Reportager Award 2015!

The award is intended to encourage new, existing and emerging talent and projects in reportage and documentary drawing. I'll be exhibiting in Bristol from the 8th to the 15th of May, on the Bower Ashton Campus in UWE.  I'm feeling really pleased about this, it's so brilliant to even be considered, and especially to be surrounded by such brilliant artist! Congrats to everyone exhibiting and thanks to the people selecting!

I've been catching up on some archiving and I've just taken some photographs of design work I've been doing for Plymouth City Museum and Art Gallery. It was the first time I've worked on such a heavy design project, but I had great fun and I learned so much! I'm really pleased with the way it's turned out. The book is an aggregate of the prints in the very important Cottonian Collection, and it's housed on a plinth in the museum, so visitors can have a flick through and hopefully find it very interesting. Thanks to my good friend and design-teacherLuke, I finally understand InDesign and the rules of book design. I'm very happy to see it in print and in situ, I think it looks pretty good myself! (I might be biased).

Over the next few weeks, I'll be working on some promotional things, like my website and my portfolio: it's going to be nice to spend some proper time updating these! I'll be spending my spare time at Burgh Island doing some more drawings. I'm hoping to start making it into a book soon! The satisfaction of seeing the museum book has spurred me on. I can't wait!

Hope everyone else has had a great Easter and hopefully had some time off!

March 31, 2015

So this week I've been busy writing some things for competition entries and applications. I've found it very difficult to write about, but I think mostly because I have so many ideas rolling around in my head that haven't come into being yet, I'm wasn't sure where I was! The Burgh Island blog has really been helping me to get some initial thoughts out, but writing my description for the reportager competition really got me! It really made me think about what I was doing and what my clear path was, and it's really motivated me to get on with the project more! I'm feeling so inspired. Here's what I wrote, if you can be bothered to read it...

A description of my Burgh Island project.

The same goes for my appliation to The Drawing Year - I've never thought about drawing this much, or seen how much I love it. I have so much curiosity for it and find it so incredibly interesting and intriguing! I think I'm definitely becoming a draw-er rather then an Illustrator. Who knows though, maybe I could come full circle one day and finally answer all the questions I've spent the last 4 years asking?

I've also been doing some screen-printing this week! It was a spur of the moment thing, after thinking that no form of print was applicable to my drawing style, and as it turns out, screen printing is great! I drew with graphite and chinagraph on a special film which allowed me to get my image onto the screen, which then allowed me to print as many versions of my drawings as my paper-stock would allow me! It gave me a good chance to play with colour - I'm so afraid of using colour, I don't really understand why, it could be that I'm terrible at it, it could be that I find it difficult so I'm avoiding it, it could be that I just prefer greyscale (this would make sense as all of my clothes are black, white and grey), but I finally used a colour in one of my drawings AND it's NEON PINK.

NEON PINK SCREEN PRINTING

'm not sure the neon pink is entirely relevant the Burgh Island, but as a developmental and experimental print, I think it works really well! Although I enjoy the pink, I think it would destroy my eyes after a while, so I layered a dark grey/black print on top to make it look like this...

Pink and black layer

The layer is offset so you can see the pink underneath, which makes it a bit blurry but I like it! I'm hoping to make these into sketchbook covers for some editions to mail out or sell, which should be fun!