For the first time in months, all of the Herseys are taking time out to relax. Indulging in foods, drinks, games and pointless activities associated with this festival called christmas, associated for a variety of reasons from commerce to religion via custom and habit. Its the pointlessness that has appealed most, as for the first time in ages we are indulging in that which is of little benefit either physically or mentally, but which feels quite good.
Interesting however, how quickly the dark recesses of one's mind throw up nagging doubts and guilty panic's about the workload awaiting us on our return, the tasks left undone, the jobs and preparations as yet untouched... its only boxing day and they are kicking in already. Even Matilda was lamenting the end of our fun even before the sun had set on Christmas Day...
Fortunately, the panic is tinged with a sliver of anticipation and eagerness to get creating, or achieving, once again.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
New work
New show is titled 'Fakir', and aims to showcase the talents and phenomena of illusionists, magicians and fraudsters. I am returning to familiar ground with some back-to-brushes simplicity. Smaller too. This is Whistlin Rufus.
Monday, November 30, 2009
gasping
Like a fish flipping and gaping, having slipped maniacally from an infant grasp on to the grainy earth of a river bank, I feel time slipping through my fingers as air slips through the desperate creatures gills. No matter how hard it sucks at the flimsy air it cannot glean oxygen to breathe. No matter how hard I try I cannot find time to fulfil myself. Weeks slip through my gaping mouth and nothing comes of it. We speed towards our final weeks in China and beyong them I can see nothing. I can't see how I could do this anywhere else, yet what I do achieve here is so infinitesimal. I'm still thrashing around. I am not dead yet.
Friday, November 27, 2009
leaves
unusually there are leaves on the street. in any ordinary shanghai day, there would be no leaves... there would be an army of street cleaners to rectify any such inflagrancy of party cleanliness guidelines... laughable, truman showesque- but reality in China- things don't look out of place here... because the party says they shouldn't look out of place. So to my surprise I see autumnal leaves. It was, after all, 10pm... and friday. I expect the weekend shift will clock on at 5 tomorrow and rectify this injustice- not before the weekday crew are fired
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
juices flowing
well not to sound vulgar, but things seem to be clicking into place at the easel. Will I have show fodder by the 21st? fuck that, who cares Im enjoying myself for the first time in 2 months
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Placebo
The new show is entitled Placebo. It forms the second in a series of shows that begun over the summer with Synaesthesia.
I have been busy scouring my image collection for suitable reference material, and aim to continue my low-fi aesthetic approach to image making with raw canvas and monotone palette. Ill be including (hopefully) some new watercolours too.
It refreshes the soul to create, to think- as well as stressing the hell out of my frazzled self- in such a way as to remind one what one's purpose is. It also stimulates the poignancy of being located on the other side of the world (to what?) and resident in a more or less alien cultural pool, and encourages me- rather than to focus on this alienation- to express a feeling of suitablility, adaptation to any environment, not just an alien one. Its a bit like reminding yourself that by being in circus of cultural dispraxia, you are actually at home anywhere, and as such you settle down with pipe and slippers in the gutter and straw in the autumnal sun and think just how lucky you are to be so damn happy.
I have been busy scouring my image collection for suitable reference material, and aim to continue my low-fi aesthetic approach to image making with raw canvas and monotone palette. Ill be including (hopefully) some new watercolours too.
It refreshes the soul to create, to think- as well as stressing the hell out of my frazzled self- in such a way as to remind one what one's purpose is. It also stimulates the poignancy of being located on the other side of the world (to what?) and resident in a more or less alien cultural pool, and encourages me- rather than to focus on this alienation- to express a feeling of suitablility, adaptation to any environment, not just an alien one. Its a bit like reminding yourself that by being in circus of cultural dispraxia, you are actually at home anywhere, and as such you settle down with pipe and slippers in the gutter and straw in the autumnal sun and think just how lucky you are to be so damn happy.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Conception
Briefed by Jimmy now a succesful webdesigner languishing at Ogilvy, I have come up with this interpretation of 'Conception'- inspired by statues at a temple in PingYao- one is a guardian of hell, the other a fertility statue (man holding twin babies in a bucket)
Friday, October 23, 2009
funnysong lyrics of life
right now feels like shes saying back the fuck off, just until forever
never meant to say it was true
But then I said it to you
AH ah ah
never meant to say it was true
But then I said it to you
AH ah ah
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Kitchen tales
Funny, we used to have a problem with cockroaches in the kitchen. Now its Autumn we don't seem to. It's not because of the weather, its because the rats have eaten them all
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The New Cuba
I have always maintained that you can't take a bad picture in Cuba. All that flaky paint, old lady's on bicycles, kids playing hoopla etc etc. Its shooting fish in a barrel.
Well I have found the new Cuba. Its called Pingyao, its nowhere special (miles from anywhere in Shanxi Province) but it is full to bursting with photos waiting to be captured. Ive got millions, but here is one of my favourites...
Well I have found the new Cuba. Its called Pingyao, its nowhere special (miles from anywhere in Shanxi Province) but it is full to bursting with photos waiting to be captured. Ive got millions, but here is one of my favourites...
Please form an orderly queue
This is how people were boarding the train that we left at Louyang (near Shaolin temple).
Bear in mind that all the seats were taken )most with 2 or 3 extra people squeezed on) and that the isles were all choca already.
Never again will we travel hard seat...
walking the dog
A Walk.
The nightly ritual of perambulating the dog has recently taken on a more …
The walk now stretches from the corner of Huashan and Changhshou all the way down to Huai Hai, for there, a little way along at the junction with Fuxing lies a little green space, a small triangle of shrubbery, grass and low pointless hedges, mapped into some kind of pattern that is imperceptible from anywhere except the flats at one corner.
I bring the dog here with the notion that some green open space will be prefereable to endless footpaths and urban concrete enclaves that usually comprise Fudge’s outdoor life. However, the dog apparenty prefers the latter, and has no deep seeded instinct to be amogst nature, as she spends the entire time sniffing at the corners of concrete pavement and paved areas by the roadside, ignoring the lush green pastures in favour of the more regularly urinated or poo encrusted concrete spots.
Last night the usual pantomie ensued, with me standing in the centre of the grassy knoll calling the ignorant dog- whose expression I am sure could be read as ‘yeah Ill be there in one second, just have to finish sniffing the amonia’d traces of this Pekingese…’ While I patiently waited, my attention was caught by a a stimulation to a sense not usually associated with pseudo-outdoor urban experience- the ears. Usually they, and the nose, are subconsciously closed to all stimulation as Shanghai streets offer little to either that one would usually want to experience. However last night mine ears were pricked by a sweet song, a lilting delicate voice issuing from some unknown siren in the darkeness amongst the small tree and shrubs. As I strained to see (that sense on which we fall back when things really matter) I could just make out the outline of a female form, at a guess middle aged, shuffling slowly backward and concentrically around a circular motif in the urban planning. Her song was unusually beautiful- not the usual caterwauling one might find from young domestic Opera hopefulls- the likes of which I have often seen in full stage make-up, pyjamas and flip flops on my morning run- but a subtle, elegant rondo. As she emerged into the pale orange fluorescence leaking across one slice of the park, she was for a moment visible- the usual attire of pyjamas, slippers and diamante encrusted acrylic polo neck. It was, then, only her song that distinguished her from the usual urban park circus-folk.
I stood watching for 15 minutes, and Fudge was treated to an extended unrianry olfactory treat at the roadside. The lack of visual information meant that it was impossible for me to make out if the singer had seen me or not. There was a strange feeling that she was aware of my presence, that she was raising her game somewhat self consciously, for her distinguished laowai audience (it is an embarrassing fact that foreigners are revered, feared and despised in more or less equal measure). However with the limited visual information meant that any interpretation of her motives had to be gleaned from the shuffling form of the silhouette, which looked cumbersome and graceless yet told me little of her higher intentions. Was she singing a little harder for me- was she genuinely pleased to have an audience for once? As she orbited the concrete circle, I tried and tried to decipher any interaction between us. At one time I was certain she was looking straight at me, then she would shuffle further and I would be convinced that she could see as much of me as I of her. This strange magnetism lasted for a few minutes, until I regained my composure, shouted at the dog and set off for home.
As I rounded the corner, leaving the park area and setting off up Wulumuqi Lu, I was aware that the singing seemed to follow me. Well not follow, but something about its pitch or timbre changed as such to catch my attention. I turned but could not see her. She had moved to somewhere outside her regular orbit. I thought little of it and continued walking.
As I got further though, her song began to intensify. With every passing step it became louder, more desperate- even beginning to rasp and become hoarse. As the park slipped from view, the song changed altogether- no longer a song, it became a series of yelps and – yes no other phrase quite captures it- barks. As I neared the next junction, All I could her was the disappearing sound of a woman barking.
The nightly ritual of perambulating the dog has recently taken on a more …
The walk now stretches from the corner of Huashan and Changhshou all the way down to Huai Hai, for there, a little way along at the junction with Fuxing lies a little green space, a small triangle of shrubbery, grass and low pointless hedges, mapped into some kind of pattern that is imperceptible from anywhere except the flats at one corner.
I bring the dog here with the notion that some green open space will be prefereable to endless footpaths and urban concrete enclaves that usually comprise Fudge’s outdoor life. However, the dog apparenty prefers the latter, and has no deep seeded instinct to be amogst nature, as she spends the entire time sniffing at the corners of concrete pavement and paved areas by the roadside, ignoring the lush green pastures in favour of the more regularly urinated or poo encrusted concrete spots.
Last night the usual pantomie ensued, with me standing in the centre of the grassy knoll calling the ignorant dog- whose expression I am sure could be read as ‘yeah Ill be there in one second, just have to finish sniffing the amonia’d traces of this Pekingese…’ While I patiently waited, my attention was caught by a a stimulation to a sense not usually associated with pseudo-outdoor urban experience- the ears. Usually they, and the nose, are subconsciously closed to all stimulation as Shanghai streets offer little to either that one would usually want to experience. However last night mine ears were pricked by a sweet song, a lilting delicate voice issuing from some unknown siren in the darkeness amongst the small tree and shrubs. As I strained to see (that sense on which we fall back when things really matter) I could just make out the outline of a female form, at a guess middle aged, shuffling slowly backward and concentrically around a circular motif in the urban planning. Her song was unusually beautiful- not the usual caterwauling one might find from young domestic Opera hopefulls- the likes of which I have often seen in full stage make-up, pyjamas and flip flops on my morning run- but a subtle, elegant rondo. As she emerged into the pale orange fluorescence leaking across one slice of the park, she was for a moment visible- the usual attire of pyjamas, slippers and diamante encrusted acrylic polo neck. It was, then, only her song that distinguished her from the usual urban park circus-folk.
I stood watching for 15 minutes, and Fudge was treated to an extended unrianry olfactory treat at the roadside. The lack of visual information meant that it was impossible for me to make out if the singer had seen me or not. There was a strange feeling that she was aware of my presence, that she was raising her game somewhat self consciously, for her distinguished laowai audience (it is an embarrassing fact that foreigners are revered, feared and despised in more or less equal measure). However with the limited visual information meant that any interpretation of her motives had to be gleaned from the shuffling form of the silhouette, which looked cumbersome and graceless yet told me little of her higher intentions. Was she singing a little harder for me- was she genuinely pleased to have an audience for once? As she orbited the concrete circle, I tried and tried to decipher any interaction between us. At one time I was certain she was looking straight at me, then she would shuffle further and I would be convinced that she could see as much of me as I of her. This strange magnetism lasted for a few minutes, until I regained my composure, shouted at the dog and set off for home.
As I rounded the corner, leaving the park area and setting off up Wulumuqi Lu, I was aware that the singing seemed to follow me. Well not follow, but something about its pitch or timbre changed as such to catch my attention. I turned but could not see her. She had moved to somewhere outside her regular orbit. I thought little of it and continued walking.
As I got further though, her song began to intensify. With every passing step it became louder, more desperate- even beginning to rasp and become hoarse. As the park slipped from view, the song changed altogether- no longer a song, it became a series of yelps and – yes no other phrase quite captures it- barks. As I neared the next junction, All I could her was the disappearing sound of a woman barking.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Overdue footage
Pics I never got round to uploading from the new (now old) show 30 degrees, at island6
My picture hangs behind a surreally dressed chinese couple.
My picture hangs behind a surreally dressed chinese couple.
60 this week
As many of you may be aware, China celebrated the 60th anniversary of Communism, the dominant political and ruling force of this country, on Wednesday. 3 days before the Moon festival, another big celebration in the Sino-calendar, this celebration was earmarked to be the biggest ever, with many rapid and grandiose preparations visible in little municiple squares, large parks and other official areas.
This event impacted our lives in may ways, not least a notification arriving at school that we were to close early, as many major roads in Shanghai- and a couple of the important river tunnels that link Pudong with Puxi- would be closing to facilitate control of the huge crowds and massive fireworks, prepared around the Bund and Business district areas. The metro system also was under special measures, with an extra million passengers expected every day during the 4 days of holiday.
We duly scuttled home, fearing the worst and expecting the usual massive earthquake of pushing, shoving, shouting and selfishness that typifies celebration here.
In reality, we were shocked to discover a more or less sleeping city around us as we arrived at our home district. The only noticeable difference was the unveiling of an enourmous outdoor 270degree TV screen showing live footage from Tianenmen Square, where endless tanks and soldiers were lined to demonstrate, somehow, the success of the last 60 years. Hu Jintao passed in a car, shouting something every 200 meters or so, commanding a similar response from the lined male and female soldiers accompanying the shiny new untouched equipment. We smiled to think of how all that military hardware would fare in genuine combat, knowing that it had been made in China.
At around 8pm we heard the distant rumbling and feint pink glow of a firework display somewhere north in the city.
We slunk off to bed at around 9pm, earplugs at the ready. Clearly the real deal was scheduled for midnight or something, when people would erupt from their houses, little red flags waving, babies held aloft, while thousands of kilos of explosive propelled all kinds of radiant red beauty into the air around us. We knew what to expect- we had lived through two Lunar New Year's already.
At 7 30 the next morning we awoke, slightly puzzled, after a long and deliciously uninterrupted sleep- not even the usual 4 am dustcart or honking buses, who were still on holiday- had awoken us.
This event impacted our lives in may ways, not least a notification arriving at school that we were to close early, as many major roads in Shanghai- and a couple of the important river tunnels that link Pudong with Puxi- would be closing to facilitate control of the huge crowds and massive fireworks, prepared around the Bund and Business district areas. The metro system also was under special measures, with an extra million passengers expected every day during the 4 days of holiday.
We duly scuttled home, fearing the worst and expecting the usual massive earthquake of pushing, shoving, shouting and selfishness that typifies celebration here.
In reality, we were shocked to discover a more or less sleeping city around us as we arrived at our home district. The only noticeable difference was the unveiling of an enourmous outdoor 270degree TV screen showing live footage from Tianenmen Square, where endless tanks and soldiers were lined to demonstrate, somehow, the success of the last 60 years. Hu Jintao passed in a car, shouting something every 200 meters or so, commanding a similar response from the lined male and female soldiers accompanying the shiny new untouched equipment. We smiled to think of how all that military hardware would fare in genuine combat, knowing that it had been made in China.
At around 8pm we heard the distant rumbling and feint pink glow of a firework display somewhere north in the city.
We slunk off to bed at around 9pm, earplugs at the ready. Clearly the real deal was scheduled for midnight or something, when people would erupt from their houses, little red flags waving, babies held aloft, while thousands of kilos of explosive propelled all kinds of radiant red beauty into the air around us. We knew what to expect- we had lived through two Lunar New Year's already.
At 7 30 the next morning we awoke, slightly puzzled, after a long and deliciously uninterrupted sleep- not even the usual 4 am dustcart or honking buses, who were still on holiday- had awoken us.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
somewhere
...between folkmusic, stroytelling and drawing, there is a little glowing aura of prefection, and it is this aura to which I am currently aspiring. The home made aeshteic, the raw canvas, the back to basics approach to intellectual rigour are all traits that could summarise my latest works, but somehow they are not achieveing any sense of completion, finish or perfection as guaged by the general public.
Its a funny thing. I am going against the grain, I guess, and Im producing these big drawn studies of nothing in particular.... and Im doing it for very sophisticated and solid reasons. Yet when I turn away, and when random consciousnesses gaze upon them, they apparently wither to trite stylistic illustration.
Its a shame, but not a disaster. Like the tree falling silently in the unmanned forest (which, in itself, must by now be a misnomer or imaginary scenario)my work shines its simplicity into a dark void of fashion-obsessed ignorance. An arena in which photorealism and standing or establishment go much further to garner you with praises, than humble folk art and honesty.
I have been striving for 10 years to learn the art of drawing on a final and finished scale- to a standard that would celebrate the quality of the line, the honesty of the eye and so on- and having finally achieved it I find that nobody else can see, or wants to see such rude clarity.
Like many before me I am sure- probably even my greatest hero the Shoreham Valley legend Samuel Palmer- my vision of bounty, my glory in the achievement of simplicity- will go unnoticed or merely ignored for now, and possibly evermore... but that seems no great travesty to me now really. For in its simplicity, it demands of its creator nothing more than recognition of its creation, and still less of any one else who happens to ingest its vision- it is after all merely a drawing- a simple pure and perfect drawing- a mere record on canvas of the vision of its creator in a given concentrated period of reflection. And in that zen like simplicity, in that Palmeresque moment of clarity, I find solace, and honest humility.
Its a funny thing. I am going against the grain, I guess, and Im producing these big drawn studies of nothing in particular.... and Im doing it for very sophisticated and solid reasons. Yet when I turn away, and when random consciousnesses gaze upon them, they apparently wither to trite stylistic illustration.
Its a shame, but not a disaster. Like the tree falling silently in the unmanned forest (which, in itself, must by now be a misnomer or imaginary scenario)my work shines its simplicity into a dark void of fashion-obsessed ignorance. An arena in which photorealism and standing or establishment go much further to garner you with praises, than humble folk art and honesty.
I have been striving for 10 years to learn the art of drawing on a final and finished scale- to a standard that would celebrate the quality of the line, the honesty of the eye and so on- and having finally achieved it I find that nobody else can see, or wants to see such rude clarity.
Like many before me I am sure- probably even my greatest hero the Shoreham Valley legend Samuel Palmer- my vision of bounty, my glory in the achievement of simplicity- will go unnoticed or merely ignored for now, and possibly evermore... but that seems no great travesty to me now really. For in its simplicity, it demands of its creator nothing more than recognition of its creation, and still less of any one else who happens to ingest its vision- it is after all merely a drawing- a simple pure and perfect drawing- a mere record on canvas of the vision of its creator in a given concentrated period of reflection. And in that zen like simplicity, in that Palmeresque moment of clarity, I find solace, and honest humility.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Postcard from Shanghai : Huai hai Lu
Nothing comfier, nowhere better to put down your weary head, if you are weary enough...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
getn there
...another late night, but earlier than last night- just time to squeeze in an update. Large format canvasses going well- though the first took three times as long as I'd hoped- lots, and lots, and LOTS of drawing to do on it. Looks ok now though. Just finished a superb chinese fat kid. Well, the theme of the exhibition is 30 degrees, in honour of CHINA having opened her doors 30 years ago this year. Ill be exhibiting alongside artists from Studio Rouge as a collaboration- which is cool co they got some very cool artists on their books, like my favourite locals Chen HangFeng and Greg Girard
Teaching a full day again tomorrow, so Ill be shattered and ratty. Feeling good about the painting, though- finally resolved my urge to draw and a large scale canvas, after 10 years of trying.
Nice.
Teaching a full day again tomorrow, so Ill be shattered and ratty. Feeling good about the painting, though- finally resolved my urge to draw and a large scale canvas, after 10 years of trying.
Nice.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
...ps
...but the new diamond formation fancied by Ancelotti is not helping our Fat Frank's strike rate- he barely gets a shot on, even against Burnley. Tsk!
Shanghai Saturday Night
The average Shanghai Saturday usually culminates, in the shanghersey household atleast, in a night of tins and football. Initially curtailed by the collapse of the filipino satellite network, or atleast its sneaky tunnel into the chinese mainland, this has been a hit and miss activity. Many a night was ruined towards the end of last season by the intermittent coverage, which eventually expired altogether over the summer.
However, the handy collapse of Setanta in the UK has been cited by some as the reason that all matches are now covered by Shanghai LIVE tv. Such a joy to witness every single game, with sedated and rambling but uninspiring chinese commentary, which by the sound of it discusses the quality of the pies in the cafe at stamford bridge more than the free flowing attacking play. None of your South American Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal over here then. Its charming in its own way, however, and I even pick up the odd Gao-le and Dao-le-ma.
However, the handy collapse of Setanta in the UK has been cited by some as the reason that all matches are now covered by Shanghai LIVE tv. Such a joy to witness every single game, with sedated and rambling but uninspiring chinese commentary, which by the sound of it discusses the quality of the pies in the cafe at stamford bridge more than the free flowing attacking play. None of your South American Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal over here then. Its charming in its own way, however, and I even pick up the odd Gao-le and Dao-le-ma.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Drowning
Oh Dear.
I am now seeing the error f my ways in taking on a few more lessons Graphics teaching- I was thinking of the money and now all I see is an endless sea of staff meetings, petty school commitments and my art sliding down the toilet.
Still worse, I have just been approached to produce a commission for an expo in Xintiandi, and don't know if Ive now got time to do it
Fight on, I say- Fight on!
I am now seeing the error f my ways in taking on a few more lessons Graphics teaching- I was thinking of the money and now all I see is an endless sea of staff meetings, petty school commitments and my art sliding down the toilet.
Still worse, I have just been approached to produce a commission for an expo in Xintiandi, and don't know if Ive now got time to do it
Fight on, I say- Fight on!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Postcard from Shanghai : Moganshan Lu
Graffiti is tolerated on one street in Shanghai, near the arts district M50.
Frog Face
Usually a playground term to describe many of my first girl friends, this blog title actually refers to what I encountered on my walk home from the gym last night. Having caught up with the family at the pool (I had been at the studio in the day) we headed home because of the torrential rains and thunder storms that have become the summer norm in this humid city.
As we passed the shops and stalls of wulumuqi lu, my attention was caught by a polystyrene tray dowsed in blood. This in itself is not unusual- nearly all the market shops at the lower end of wulumuqi lu sell live meat of one kind or another, and the patrons regularly crouch on the pavement to gut, skin or dice whatever fish or innard happens to have caught the attention of a hungry Chinese worker on their way home. This was the first time, however, that I had seen the frog seller actually preparing his fare- the huge bull frogs huddled in netted bags always seem a particularly slow seller, but I dont know whether they are priced out of the regular dinner range, or whether they just taste about as good as they look (I rather suspect the latter)- anyhow this was the first time I'd seen this marketeer in action. In his polystyrene tray were the usual pools of watery blood and random meaty scraps, but I was delighted to see neatly arranged along one edge, loosened froggy faces, deftly skinned from their neckless bodies and saved on one side, broad mouths almost smiling. Again, my limited domestic culinary skills mean that I am still in the dark as to whether they are saved as a delicacy, or because they are distasteful or poisonous. Call me Mr Fussy if you will, but I hope I never find out.
As we passed the shops and stalls of wulumuqi lu, my attention was caught by a polystyrene tray dowsed in blood. This in itself is not unusual- nearly all the market shops at the lower end of wulumuqi lu sell live meat of one kind or another, and the patrons regularly crouch on the pavement to gut, skin or dice whatever fish or innard happens to have caught the attention of a hungry Chinese worker on their way home. This was the first time, however, that I had seen the frog seller actually preparing his fare- the huge bull frogs huddled in netted bags always seem a particularly slow seller, but I dont know whether they are priced out of the regular dinner range, or whether they just taste about as good as they look (I rather suspect the latter)- anyhow this was the first time I'd seen this marketeer in action. In his polystyrene tray were the usual pools of watery blood and random meaty scraps, but I was delighted to see neatly arranged along one edge, loosened froggy faces, deftly skinned from their neckless bodies and saved on one side, broad mouths almost smiling. Again, my limited domestic culinary skills mean that I am still in the dark as to whether they are saved as a delicacy, or because they are distasteful or poisonous. Call me Mr Fussy if you will, but I hope I never find out.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
At last
Back in the big dirty one. Loving it!
Humidity is around 90%, its 36 degrees, thunder storming noisily and raining hard... Having been away my eyes are opened once again to the wondrous victorian street life here, its like a phizz cartoon on every corner.
Off to the studio this morning to do some interviews for a visiting film company, though i suspect as usual thy will be looking to interview ninky nonk artists not boring european ones. I may sellotape my eyes into slits, to complete my racist slander and disenfranchisement.
Oh, and Ive found a way round the Firewall/greenDam. Very happy now.
Humidity is around 90%, its 36 degrees, thunder storming noisily and raining hard... Having been away my eyes are opened once again to the wondrous victorian street life here, its like a phizz cartoon on every corner.
Off to the studio this morning to do some interviews for a visiting film company, though i suspect as usual thy will be looking to interview ninky nonk artists not boring european ones. I may sellotape my eyes into slits, to complete my racist slander and disenfranchisement.
Oh, and Ive found a way round the Firewall/greenDam. Very happy now.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Behind the Plastic Lens
Have been storming around the country with my trusty Diana F+. My kids have been particularly patient as I have used them repeatedly as part of a new project. Bless 'em!
Blimey
t's been such a long time. Its been impossible to post since tightening of laws and strategies here and there. Still, back in the UK temporarily, so have the liberty of making a post or two.
Unfortunately there's not much to tell. Despite travels aplenty, merrymaking and happiness do not a story make.
The gallery have just increased the wallspace by a thrid, so the walls are looking empty... I have a couple of projects on the go, but only in my head. A nice photography number, based on some fantastic pictures I have seen of the photography of charles lutwidge dodgeson. Using the kids as models, and plenty of storytelling, thought the thread I am unsure of.
Back to watercolours too. Probably Chaim modelling, holding animals and skulls and witchcrafty stuff like mobile phones, trainers and chopsticks in polystyrene tubs...
Unfortunately there's not much to tell. Despite travels aplenty, merrymaking and happiness do not a story make.
The gallery have just increased the wallspace by a thrid, so the walls are looking empty... I have a couple of projects on the go, but only in my head. A nice photography number, based on some fantastic pictures I have seen of the photography of charles lutwidge dodgeson. Using the kids as models, and plenty of storytelling, thought the thread I am unsure of.
Back to watercolours too. Probably Chaim modelling, holding animals and skulls and witchcrafty stuff like mobile phones, trainers and chopsticks in polystyrene tubs...
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
The great Dr Lee
Topo much to say here right now, about how great this man is, but needles to say anyone with a doctorate in graffiti and youth culture is pretty ok in my books. Here's how the man drops science...
Nicholas Hersey
Synaesthesia
Sofia Coppola’s 1993 Lost in Translation, is a story of alienation in a foreign country and is the story of an attempt by Bob Harris (Bill Murray) and a lone female, Charlotte (Scarlett Johansen) to find for a short moment, a kind of transcendent coherence within a foreign cultural space that has left them both losing their grip on the local reality. Synaesthesia is about the translation of one sensory form into another, but it is also about creation because in translation one register is always incapable of exhausting or even managing to communicate that of another. There is always the creation of something else, a kind of third space where another meaning appears.
Malcolm McLaren knew about this too with the creation of Punk. The bringing together of domestic icons into a new context manifested a new countercultural meaning, this was a new space created, not out of nothing, but of the myriad of cultural baggage swimming in our own heads.
Hersey explores this third space. Using a range of images– some edgy, some ambiguous, some personal– he creates a palette of ‘imagery for redeployment’. These images created over a period of time are both Hersey’s own images and monikers for our own.
Whiling one’s way through the forty images one finds each one striking a chord to a greater or lesser degree, begging the viewer’s own desire for order, coherence and meaning. This is a primordial moment, a deep-seated desire for order amongst chaos, searching for the gestalt, the synchrony, the moment where it all gels. This is the essential human conundrum: to find meaning in the chaos of the everyday.
In the work, the viewer’s own selection of images does not leave them alone. Instead the viewer is unnerved by them, the way their patterns interfere and the way comfortable combinations become uncomfortable as the third space, new messages in this moment of bricolage miraculously appear.
Hersey’s images catch us unawares. They seduce us into liking and disliking things we don’t quite understand, naturally we romp through the images imposing order on them, and magically and unexpectedly we are revealed.
Dr. Andrew Lee
Nicholas Hersey
Synaesthesia
Sofia Coppola’s 1993 Lost in Translation, is a story of alienation in a foreign country and is the story of an attempt by Bob Harris (Bill Murray) and a lone female, Charlotte (Scarlett Johansen) to find for a short moment, a kind of transcendent coherence within a foreign cultural space that has left them both losing their grip on the local reality. Synaesthesia is about the translation of one sensory form into another, but it is also about creation because in translation one register is always incapable of exhausting or even managing to communicate that of another. There is always the creation of something else, a kind of third space where another meaning appears.
Malcolm McLaren knew about this too with the creation of Punk. The bringing together of domestic icons into a new context manifested a new countercultural meaning, this was a new space created, not out of nothing, but of the myriad of cultural baggage swimming in our own heads.
Hersey explores this third space. Using a range of images– some edgy, some ambiguous, some personal– he creates a palette of ‘imagery for redeployment’. These images created over a period of time are both Hersey’s own images and monikers for our own.
Whiling one’s way through the forty images one finds each one striking a chord to a greater or lesser degree, begging the viewer’s own desire for order, coherence and meaning. This is a primordial moment, a deep-seated desire for order amongst chaos, searching for the gestalt, the synchrony, the moment where it all gels. This is the essential human conundrum: to find meaning in the chaos of the everyday.
In the work, the viewer’s own selection of images does not leave them alone. Instead the viewer is unnerved by them, the way their patterns interfere and the way comfortable combinations become uncomfortable as the third space, new messages in this moment of bricolage miraculously appear.
Hersey’s images catch us unawares. They seduce us into liking and disliking things we don’t quite understand, naturally we romp through the images imposing order on them, and magically and unexpectedly we are revealed.
Dr. Andrew Lee
still at it
...a few days to go to the opening of the new show, and im still scratchin away! Bought some nice big sheets of aluminium dibond coupla days ago, and spent this evening arousing some textures, then tickling in some imagery that should arouse suspicion and confusion. Having been lucky enough to have a press release written for me by the amazing Dr Andrew Lee, I have been inspired to complete some larger format pieces to complement the smaller ones already set for the show. You can read his release later, as I havent got it to hand right now :(
Anyway, from pseudo biblical references to girls holding kittens, all the allegorical imagery is in there, hopefully proving some more 'transcendent coherence' as Dr Lee puts it. Will upload pics soon!
Anyway, from pseudo biblical references to girls holding kittens, all the allegorical imagery is in there, hopefully proving some more 'transcendent coherence' as Dr Lee puts it. Will upload pics soon!
Sunday, May 3, 2009
work in progress
Have been feverishly slapping out the turps for the new show- transformed the dining table into a makeshift studio while we unpack the spare room still... things are going ok, just need to buy some more materials and crack on with the 30 squares. Kelly and I came up with some great ideas for the stickers and painted installation elements today, more on that soon...
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
a quick douche
Not quite working for my latest painting, so I threw it in the shower on hot for 5 mins and gave it a quick rub down. seems to have done the trick...
Monday, April 27, 2009
glimpse
work for new series- contextual works... a modular painting that you mix and match made of 30 pieces...
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and one more for the punx
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
An average night
...Kelly and I just put the kids to bed, dog is wandering around chewing random stuff while she waits for an evening trundle, tv on showing the budget, jeering fat old men who are out of touch listening to another fatcat man about numbers that sound like they are from star trek. What will Matilda be listening to when she hears a budget in similar situations- berquillions, noodle-illions?
Meanwhile I am eager to get back to painting tomorrow, as a week has gone passed and I have half a painting to show for it... have earned myself another weeks salary from school,and have been on to Joe about building the ramp at the gallery, but I still have 39 pictures to paint, 5 watercolours, a whole set of stickers and some signs. Maybe t shirts too... I should pop over to the gallery to see Thomas, ease his mind as to my progress, get some feedback, get inspired.
Then crack on, I guess, and get over to collect the kids from school.
May take a load of photos of the fake phones available at the phone market- snoy erikson, iPhone air, nokio, molarota- they are all there- their beautiful!
...
Meanwhile I am eager to get back to painting tomorrow, as a week has gone passed and I have half a painting to show for it... have earned myself another weeks salary from school,and have been on to Joe about building the ramp at the gallery, but I still have 39 pictures to paint, 5 watercolours, a whole set of stickers and some signs. Maybe t shirts too... I should pop over to the gallery to see Thomas, ease his mind as to my progress, get some feedback, get inspired.
Then crack on, I guess, and get over to collect the kids from school.
May take a load of photos of the fake phones available at the phone market- snoy erikson, iPhone air, nokio, molarota- they are all there- their beautiful!
...
Sunday, April 19, 2009
old school
bought iggy and myself new boards this weekend. Iggy has a fetching Ben Wei mini, I have some unbranded indy thing.
Work update
Thing are about to get pretty busy. Following discussions with Thomas (owner at the gallery) I am to take over a large part of the gallery for the next show, as a sort of Nick Hersey Room one off special. Its kind of a solo show for me, though there will of course be all the other Island6 artists exhibiting in the next room. I have a large space to fill and free licence (within reason) to adress the theme of 'synesthesia' (see press release elsewhere!). To this end Im planning on building a mini-ramp at the gallery, hiring some skaters, commissioning the punks to come and play and getting my stencils and spraycans out, as well as badges, stickers and posters. All this on top of a series of paintings (around 30 I hope) on a small scale and on a variety of media- wood, metal, perspex, childrens bedsheets etc etc.
As soon as I have any work to show, or more details, you'll be the first to know I promise!
As soon as I have any work to show, or more details, you'll be the first to know I promise!
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
New Projects
Selling art and belonging to a gallery is all very well, but when all the dust and bank notes settle, and the parties are over, what remains of the artist and his legacy? In a dramatic turn from my usual meager self image, and in an attempt to market myself better, I am convinced that I need togo donw in history, and not just exist in this lifetime. After all, after all this investment by my wife, my family, and my own pathetic efforts, what is to remain>? Its certainly not very Zen, not very humble, but as I said its time I marketed myself better after all my family and supporters have done.
So I have decided to artifically manufacture an art movement- to precipitate a group of creatives and to document their activities- to engineer a media frenzy and falsify a hysteria around a collective and body of work, that may or may not exist. After much deliberation, and some decision making that is still ongoing, I have settled on the catchy moniker of 'The Sidcup Discount Arts Club'. It sums up everything I believe in... the end of over-commercialisation in contemporary creativity, a harkening back to my geographical roots, a loose and fun movement that does not take itself, or anyone else, too seriously- after all... nothing is more appealing to me than and representative of me than iconoclastic laughter (and maybe therelies the zen!
So behold,
A slew of logo making, and delicious pointless branding. Much like Hersoid previously, this will absorb much of my time and in all likelihood amount to nothing. But its terrifi fun, and a good laugh. Which is all there is in this world anywya really is there not.
'There is holy laughter...' 'Then there is merely silence, and a finger pointing the way' Zen Flesh, Zen Bones.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
ACAMIS Beijing arts workshop
Should have put these up ages ago. good fun ot do, students got a lot out of it... as did I...
Out of touch
LAck of updates as life has taken over. Plans and strategies are now being put in place to rectify this. All that marketing rubbish about working smarter not harder. I am refraining from swearing too as I think some of my students now read this blog, along with Auntie June.
Worked last night djing at a party for some french bloke. I was doing it alone but it was interesting keeping the music going for 5 hours on my own- thats quite a set. Ended up playing clash and communards pop trash to get the lazy french off their arses but it was short lived so I went back to playing gritty electro mash like DC recordings just cos I liked the sound of it on a loud system.
Teaching getting right in the way of the art at the mo, so Im going to set up a studio at school to allow some creativity between lessons, like maltesers between meals... just want to crank out some drawings as Im a bit bored of heavy oils of kids, and I need to get my productivity up.
Have a few projects on the go, some signage style stuff and a fake profile of and imaginary art group. also setting up the Sidcup Discount Arts Group- an art movement based nowhere near sidcup and not commercially viable in any way so no reason to call it discount really. done a great logo for it...
Worked last night djing at a party for some french bloke. I was doing it alone but it was interesting keeping the music going for 5 hours on my own- thats quite a set. Ended up playing clash and communards pop trash to get the lazy french off their arses but it was short lived so I went back to playing gritty electro mash like DC recordings just cos I liked the sound of it on a loud system.
Teaching getting right in the way of the art at the mo, so Im going to set up a studio at school to allow some creativity between lessons, like maltesers between meals... just want to crank out some drawings as Im a bit bored of heavy oils of kids, and I need to get my productivity up.
Have a few projects on the go, some signage style stuff and a fake profile of and imaginary art group. also setting up the Sidcup Discount Arts Group- an art movement based nowhere near sidcup and not commercially viable in any way so no reason to call it discount really. done a great logo for it...
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Xi'an postcard
Just spent the weekend in Xian. Main purpose for visiting this town is usually the exposed and highly exploited excavation site of the now famous 'terracotta warriors'. however, these proved to be far less stimulating or engaging than the general life of the city, with its muslim quarter, arts district and chinese style mosques. The culinary treats and street cuisine on offer were worthy of my postcard series in themselves, as you can see...
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Bootleg Poster for the Big Party
More mayhem for us all, this saturday, at the studio. Even my Dad is getting his Van Gogh outfit sorted...
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Friday, January 30, 2009
postcard from shanghai
Toy seller, Yu Yuan Market... her expression so beautifully complements the garish cheapskate plastic plethora that sprouts from her little cavern...
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