Even If things are broken they are not they just HAVEN'T found THEIR purpose yet,
I started the MA in September 2017 already my work had undergone a dramatic shift from my BA work, The scale of my work and its inspiration simultaneously shifted. Overall ideas remain connected to larger concepts yet have become more intimate and refined as forms and pieces. Porcelain works well for me and I feel I have really gotten to know a medium, which is something that is always key for me personally to help drive my practice.
Throughout this year I have been struggling with how to display my work and create pieces or collections of works which create meaning. Today I have stepped away from the studio and revisited collecting allowing me the space to think and clear my mind. After a conversation with a tutor the other day they are pushing me to address what the logic is behind the placement of my work, as of his moment I’m unsure, by logic does this mean some kind of system, this notion of exhibiting my pieces and working them together using something suggestively pre-defined is somewhat alien to me, I am unsure of how I can work like that.
I question if there is a “right answer” I am told there is, but what if there are instead multiple good answers which give different meanings, not necessarily just a “right one”. My other question is why do we get so obsessed about the meaning, are we just using art as a kind of therapy, a strange philosophy which we stand a chance to unpick, unlike the bigger questions that face every human being?
My work is a reflection of my headspace, an outlet where a few ideas get boiled down into a shape or a series of forms, not to directly show or posses where my mind is but contain an essence of it.
The wind on my face, there’s heat on my neck, my back aches, wish I hadn’t brought the hammer and chisel. My flip flops rub where I’ve walked through pools of salt water the sand has stuck to my wet feet rubbing my skin red, I’m several miles from my destination. The sea is cool and saltwater wraps itself around my ankles as I try to get rid of the sand. Walking, I can feel the gentle splash of water drops as my flip flop meets my foot splashing the backs of my legs. The sun is getting hotter it is nearing mid day, I should have worn something cooler my clothes are beginning to stick to me as I carry the rock filled bag along the beach it digs into my shoulders and I tell myself its worth it.