Chapel Arts Cheltenham - printmakers talks

Chapel Arts Cheltenham

A beautiful new art gallery opened last week in Cheltenham - Chapel Arts.  The building used to be a Baptist Chapel, then the Mormon's took it over, the the Christadelphians ( I hear the cries of 'splitter' in my head from the Python's 'Life of Brian').  The clear open space has a gallery with movable walls, a lift, wide glass balustraded stairs, an excellent little cafe, and a determined, inventive and witty owner.  The first show is Contemporary Royal Academicians, and includes prints of many types and some small sculptures.  An artist talk by Emma Stibbon and Anne Desmet produced an interesting insight into the impact of both Rome scholarships and being elected to the Royal Academy.

I used to be a member of the Royal Academy- an annual fee allowed entrance to all their shows and, even more important, to the Members Room.  Not only was this a good place to stop for a rest on a busy day in London, but one was almost guaranteed an excellent and amusing insight into the life of some of London's eccentrics.  The little cafe with its sofa is already producing some of the same delight- yesterday I met a woman who got an entire first class honours degree from the Open University using Tesco Vouchers.  I have a Certificate in Science from the OU gained the same way (done for amusement), but I've never met anyone before who even realised that the OU used to be a partner with Tesco and the vouchers could be used for four times their face value for courses. As an outcome of that conversation I am now going to be helping her find a home for a large slide archive.

The artists who spoke were Emma Stibbon and Anne Desmet.  The both spoke about their processes and motivation.

The election to the Royal Academy was a very significant moment for both of them.  Anne talked about submitting year after year to the Royal Academy Summer Show, with some success.  Her work was rejected one year and she was wondering whether to continue but submitted two small prints, having one chosen.  The next year she was elected- which brings with it the right to hang six images without any selection process, and that shift being enough to mean she could give up an editorial job which had been essential for her financial stability (she hastened to say she had enjoyed the job, but had done it for a long time).

Anne said she wanted another 200 years to be able to work thorough the ideas she wanted to explore.  When she talked in detail about the works hanging in the show she explained some of the processes she used to modify prints to get different images from the same block.  One useful tip for collaging was to use Pritt Stick ( a child-friendly glue) rather than 'archival' glue. The Prit holds well, is a pH of 9 so won't damage the paper, and allows immediate work without buckling the paper.  If she used archival glue then each time a piece was added to an image she would have to put it in a press for a week to keep it flat, and would forget what she was trying to achieve between stages.

At university people have talked about 'materiality', and I have been struggling to understand what they mean and why they think it is important.  I hadn't really got past 'it's the stuffness of stuff', which is fun to say but doesn't really advance my understanding.  Listening to these two artists talking I begin to glimpse a different form of relationship with their materials - Anne talked about the " deliciousness of ink".   Her favourite drawing tool is an old Bodyshop bottle filled with diluted Quink ink- it fades rapidly, but allows her to sketch strong light/darks in a scene.  She explained how  woodcarving was a process of carving with light - each stroke of the carving tool takes away from the black of the image, rather than starting with the white page and adding black.  She wants her (usually) small images to pull people into a miniature world.

Emma uses polymer resist plates as her primary medium.  She has produced works which refer to her time in the Antarctic and Arctic, and large prints of icy flat vistas are included in this show.  She aims for a theatrical sense of immersion.  One of the challenges of working in these places is not only that she gets cold when outside but that ink freezes - adding salt or gin were suggested as effective solutions.  She also incorporates found materials, so, for example, images of volcanic eruptions may include ash in the final print.  Emma described the process of working with photographs, photocopying to get grainy images, collaging, painting, mono prints, manipulating in various ways- creating a fiction that has the essential qualities of the place she is documenting.  She also said it is possible to spend three weeks on a work and then decide it is not working and needs to be abandoned- leave the studio and shut the door.

Both artists use photographs, but agreed that drawing in situ imprints the scene in a way a camera doesn't do.  When looking at a drawing can remember what they were thinking at the time, how the breeze felt like, how the air smelt.  Photographs are useful data but the attention given during a sketch produces a very different relationship with the scene.

(this piece was extracted from an earlier blog)

Ya Ya Ya

I am in a darkened room.  Through the gap between chairs along the aisle I can see a small black-draped stage.  On it sits a white turntable.  A Nordic woman walks slowly to the front with a white record, takes it out of the sleeve, places it in on the machine and sets it going.  She pauses a moment, as one does after lighting a candle to be sure it is lit, then moves gracefully away and down the aisle to the back of the hall.

Behind her the spinning record emits the sound of a deep male 'Ya-Ya’, interspersed and overlaid with a female ‘Ya-Ya’, higher pitched, less regular, and often very excited.  The spotlight shining on the turntable bounces onto the rear wall, so we can see the square, the circle, and a diffraction image caused by the grooves.  It looks as if the sound is made visible.

We sit, quiet, polite, it is impossible in the dark and from behind to tell if people are quiet and still because they are engrossed or because they are trapped – rapt or trapped?  The Ya Ya Ya continues.  The male voice sounds the same, a droning tired ya ya ya.  The woman crests and falls, with pauses between her ya yas.  I think of a boring businessman at dinner, narrating his petty office squabbles, while his female companion makes encouraging noises, perhaps because she hasn’t been paid yet.  I am reminded of the diner scene in 'When Harry Met Sally', where the character played by Meg Ryan demonstrates the ease with which she can make it sound like she is having an orgasm.  A minor mental ramble through Meg’s movies uses up a few more moments – minutes or seconds, I cant tell in this strange trapped-in-nightmare space.

The attention in this meaningless space also reminds me of a Pentecostal revivalist meeting, where the speaking in tongues is met with reverence and envy and praise, without anyone knowing what the sounds mean.  I’ve always been wary of crowds and fervor, always worrying that I’ll somehow be induced to go up and Be Saved.

I watch the almost but not sufficiently hypnotic pulse of the reflected image.  I wish I could see the position of the needle, so I knew how much longer the thing would go on.  I have a sudden fear there is a side B.  I recollect sitting in concerts where I crane to see how thick the music is on the unplayed side of the sheet, getting caught out by repeats. I also remember an evening at the Wigmore Hall where Ravi Shankar placed his watch in front of him on the mat and then seemed to seemed to play until his watch told him to stop. I remind myself that many people chose knowingly to sit there, rather than just using a free ticket from a flatmate.

The sounds stop.  The elegant woman goes slowly to the recorder, picks up the record, and pauses facing the audience.  She is waiting for the applause.    We pick up the cue and clap.  When we stop she tells us about the piece.

These two voices were recorded in the same studio but at different times.  The man, in his eighties, was asked to say Ya until he couldn’t any more.  He seems to see the brief as continually saying Ya, which he heroically did without pause for 22 minutes.  Unknown to him, the artist has also stopped at 22 minutes, though her Yas were much more varied and with longer gaps. Fewer Ya’s, more verve-.  Perhaps the same amount of effort then.  These two tracks are overlaid and became a record.  At the first performance the setup accidently produced a reflected image on the red curtain behind.  It is noticed,  and a visual performance is born.  

Such is art.