Consolidating Summer

At first I was wondering where has the summer gone? - I was feeling guilty of neglecting my blog, until I sat down and gathered all the inspirational material that I have accrued in my summer travels.

Some lovely Norfolk coast trips had me rekindling the joy of sand, fascinated by the ephemeral rills carved by ebbing tide streams. Watching them, I added more water to fluid ink drawings. (as above)

Mid-August, my friend Laurie and I flew off to Barcelona to soak up the bright colours of Gaudi's infamous city. Many 'fragment' photographs I took on this trip have since found their way to my studio, where they fit quite strikingly amongst the geometry works.

As an Art-tourist in Barcelona, I took the time to rediscover the early works of Picasso, Miro, and Antoni Tapies. I was compelled by Tapies early ink drawings, and by the tenderness in some of Picasso's pencil drawings. Perusing Parc Mountjuic outside the Fundació Joan Miró, I was inspired by some of the less well known architecture of the city while I contemplated the geometrical elements in Miro's work.


I have just turned 30 and celebrated by attending a retreat with Chris James on the healing power of sound. It has prompted me to reconsider my studio work with a greater awareness of heart-centred expression. The studio sculptures not ready to show yet, but as a preview here is a recent sketchbook drawing from a series in sepia.

Geometry for the Heart: Update

I'm not one for showing works in progress, even when the creative process is playing out perfectly. Over the past 3 months several elements have coalesced to generate work that I am thoroughly enjoying. I have a clear idea of where it's going, I am burning to spend all my available time in the studio (sadly that is not as much as I hope for) and when I am there, I am patient and thorough, taking each step calmly, honouring the details and savouring the build up.

The Octect Truss (above) is still central to my developments. I have also been revisiting some splendid dripping wax actions - reminicent of the VSC days - in another attempt to purge some latent emotion and free up inner space for increased joy in my life!

Two friends recently gave me their new CD's reminding me that we have a birthright and a duty to express ourselves in all our unabashed glory and pain using our innate intelligent creative potential to propel us forward and to share the fruits of our labour with family, friends, and neighbours. (Thank you Rick and Bru for these insights)

Surprisingly a dart of inspiration has come from regular walks via Norwich Cathedral where I have been undoubtedly influenced by the signature 'oxford blue' gloss paint all around the Cathedral grounds. My minimalist tastes are pervading in the application of this stunning hue with a leap of faith into monochromatic surface treatment.

Currently there are 3 or 4 new pieces taking shape in the studio and now the heat has quelled temperatures are no longer curdling my fresh coats of gloss paint. The well-spring of creative endeavours is flowing but each day I am held back by the aching desire to bring into being the four pieces I have already begun, and to do this with more care, attention and love than I have ever done before.

Geometry for the Heart

During a recent image search, a strange anomaly appeared on my screen amid a page of Google thumbnails. It was a drawing of Buckminster Fuller's Octect Truss. The tiny digital scan imprinted itself on my memory and refused to go away so I have set about building some small pyramid skeletons and attempting to fashion my own 3 dimensional version out of paper, wood and wax.

This is not the first time I've used Bucky's mathematical phenomena for sculpture - a few years ago the geodesic domes in "Standing up steaming, slowly falling apart" (2007) were made from laser-cut sections of discarded cardboard adhered with duct-tape using a formula he invented. The domes acted as nodal gathering points in a systen designed to collect steam from boiling kettles. The cardboard buckled and sagged as the domes became saturated with hot moisture, the duct-tape loosened until the spheres reached the brink of collapse. It was a system based upon futility, made entirely out of trash, and ending in self-destruction after less than 24-hours in operation.

The energy I am bringing to the Octect Truss now is a lot lighter - more inquisitive and optimistic. I have been noticing variants of infinite triangle configurations everywhere and seeing the beginnings of life in these forms - in a daffodil along the River Wensum, in the crystalline formations of an Amethyst geode, and in the metaphysical trinity that Joseph Beuys held at the heart of his social sculpture practice.


Beuys' trinity "thinking, feeling, and will" was symbolized in his '3 Pots' action of 1974. One might say these are basic aspects of humanity. The triangle is a perfect form for a 'trinity' and has appeared in countless metaphors and ideologies since the beginning of time. As I awaken to this formulaic basis for all life, the afterimage of Bucky's triangular truss is emblazoned upon the world around me with endless potential.

In my studio I am developing small skeletal pyramids and layering liquid wax upon them. I am becoming aware of the many ways Sacred Geometry is the roots, the archetypes and the rules of the Universe. As Charles Gilhurst decreed "the more this language keeps teaching me, the more I am healed."

Double Bend

When I was invited to create an outdoor sculpture for Kimbolton School I wondered what could I build in the stately grounds of a former Tudor Castle, once home to King Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon. The school was remodeled by John Vanbrugh in 1707 and is adorned with frescoes by the Venetian painter Giovannia Antonio Pellegrini.

I searched for a personal connection to the site. Large coniferous trees lining "The Mall" struck me. There are Wellingtonia trees planted along the Eastern aspect of the school grounds over 200 years ago. They loom high above the Castle in majestical cone-shapes. One tree in particular captured me with its thin foliage and undulating branches. It looks old, in the later stages of life.

I discovered that 'Wellingtonia' is the European name for the Giant Sequoia tree, one of the largest trees in the world. I decided to base a sculpture on the far-reaching roots of these giant transatlantic trees. (The roots lie only 3ft deep but cover up to half an acre of ground!) As I made some drawings I was reminded of A.M Worthington's famous discovery about the way water is displaced by mass. He charts his findings in "The splash of a drop".

I have a penchant for water and for wood, so it came naturally to work with wood to make forms that are reminiscent of both roots (water carriers) and of water patterns themselves. The final design incorporates ripples and splash-lines but the colouration links the work back to the trees.
It took two days to apply enough layers of paint to seal the wood. The sun had been shining all week, but when it came to installing the work, it began to rain. (Good old blighty!) I had 126 more stakes and 60 more strips of wood to install but the thin pieces were becoming too wet to work with.

On my final morning at the school, I discovered that the wooden geometric curves had sunk in the rain. I took a moment to survey the situation and saw my two options clearly - one to flounder and despair at this disaster, or the other: to embrace the unexpected changes in this work and lovingly accept them. I was amazed that I chose to shrug my shoulders and tell myself "It will be alright if I just carry on".

Looking from strip to strip, I noticed that they all teasingly curve in exactly the same asymmetrical way. I had left the work with a formal arrangement of geometric curves and carefully measured concentric circles. I admit it looked a bit austere and very minimalist. I returned to find each curve had become two curves, a series of double bends sprawling outwards in an organic elegance that I could not have designed myself. I laughed a little, amused by the playful curves and then took up my hammer again.

When I added the final un-soggy pieces they sprung high in the air, they rose to form an amphitheatre of rings across the lawn. Marveling at the uncontrollable forces of nature, I noticed that the alchemy of Art had occurred. I surrendered to a Universal Order greater than myself or my design. Since the heavy rain, the strips of wood have thankfully settled into stable curves. The sculpture absorbs water just like tree-roots, and has found equilibrium in the landscape. The double bends will gently degrade over time mimicking the growth and decline of the old Wellingtonia trees.

To master something, teach it

Over the past 6 weeks I have been working in collaboration with performance Artist Dot Howard to deliver a series of workshops that "explore space and encourage problem solving" with 6-11 year olds at Hainford and Frettenham Primary partnership schools in Norfolk, UK. The image above shows an example of the work that the students have created. It has been an incredible journey to illicit student-led learning by engaging youngsters in the creative process that we ourselves go through each time we make Art. Dot and I have worked together before, but scrutinising our practice and process together has yielded many insights. We have been focusing on the junction where drawing, sculpture and live art intersect to explore spatial surroundings. By using the Fischli and Weiss film "The way things go" as a starting point, we embarked on a journey with 4 different class groups to create kinetic sculptures and discover new ways of looking: From custom-made "mirror tools" and sky-walking with periscopes, to underwater photography and helter-skelter sculptures made of every-day materials, the groups have employed maths, science, DT, literacy and teamwork to question "What is Art?" I am already beginning to see how this intense exploration of space through materials is informing my own studio work while at the same time helping a younger generation to explore their own creative potential.