During lockdown, I started taking photos of ordinary objects around the flat and using multiples of them – sometimes three, sometimes more – to create artworks. Some photos were of utensils like spoons or forks, others were close ups of glass vases or even soap bottles, chosen for their colour. From the latter I created kind of abstract triptych works. #photography #art
Tag Archives: abstract art
“When the darkness takes you
With her hand across your face
Don’t give in too quickly
Find the thing she’s erased
Find the line, find the shape
Through the grain
Find the outline, things will
Tell you their name….
I would shelter you
Keep you in light
But I can only teach you
‘Art’s whatever you choose to frame’ (Fleur Adcock)
In a local alleyway, we find a series of three abstract artworks on the side of an abandoned, boarded-up building. Each appears to be by a different (local?) artist and in a distinct style of abstraction.
From left to right in the photo above (see also individual photos below), the first artwork, Involuntary Abstraction by Nicholson Haddock, is rather raw and gestural in its forms, with graffiti layered over parts; the second, Parallel Textures by Anne Dinsky, is more textural and subtle in execution, with muted grey and sandy colours and vertical white parallel lines; the third, The Vertigo of Vision by Joan Biro, is a dense work with a fuzzy, anarchic composition that moves the eye around dizzyingly – this artwork is mainly black and white, but has spots of blue and half-erased words in red.
On the bottom corner of the third artwork (see photo below) appears the Fleur Adcock quote: ‘Art’s whatever you choose to frame’. Does this mean these artworks have been ‘framed’ by adding titles/names, so the public can see them not as abandoned, boarded-up windows but as involuntary or ‘found’ art? A Duchampian or conceptual intervention in a public space?
I’m not sure why exactly, but I like to sit by my local river and try to name the various colours on its surface – pewter, grey-blue, cup-of-tea brown, slate grey, silver, sand, diamond glint, eucalyptus-leaf green. Just as the tidal river ebbs and flows, so the colours in it are constantly changing. Perhaps this is part of the appeal for me: an awareness of a visual transience, of an ever-mutable liquid canvas. The hues relate to the quality of light and to what is reflected in the water – sky, clouds, sun, trees, boats, houses, lampposts, passing people. In these particular photographs the colours and abstract forms put me in mind of pre-Hispanic textiles. Certain pre-Hispanic peoples believed that rivers and lakes were mirrors in which the gods could behold themselves. If there happened to be any pre-Hispanic deities loitering around this corner of East Anglia (UK) that day, I like to think they’d have been chuffed that their fabrics, if not their faces, featured in the river, even if for a brief time.