We walk in the temple
subterranean hang-out
of every tatterdemalion spirit under the stones Belonging doesn’t matter here
pilgrims carve their truths in concrete pillars
observe shifting angles inverted perspectives
we may or may not remember
absences filled with light
Cardiff Print Workshop members are making prints in response to the theme of the Chapter Arts Car Bootique, and the Diffusion photography festival, which is Revolution. It was suggested that we do a ‘Homage to the protests of 1968’ (50 years ago next year) using posters from that time as inspiration: simple lino prints in stark black or red.
I struggled to know what to do for this theme, and also with lino cutting which I have only done once or twice. It’s a different way of working – very precise and bold, and it takes a while to work out what you need to leave and what to take away for tone and contrast. I decided to make something in a folk art style, inspired by both the physical : the joy of growing my own food at my new allotment, and the metaphysical : planting the seeds of new ideas, visions and dreams. After all, every revolution must have started this way.
Plant seeds of change
What do I want to create? I know something wants to be born, but I don’t have many clues yet. Not many signs or tracks to follow. I look at other people’s work. I collect images and ideas that resonate. I collect pieces of wood and tiles and slate from skips. The studio fills up, takes on a lived-in feel. Now there is a space, there is possibility.
Instinct tells me to build layers so that whatever wants to can emerge. I use tile grout and tissues and glue and wax. Build strata. Make texture with glue and material.
Drawn to the mystery of transformation, the artist-alchemist transforms herself during the creative process and achieves new insights through her work.
I apply heat to initiate alchemical transformation. I scratch and scrape, trying to find doorways in, or perhaps to solve the riddle that will open the doors.
At first the work keeps transforming and won’t stop until it is finally destroyed. Keep going. Don’t give up. This is part of the process.
Some days despair crackles at the edges. Doubt seeps in about ever finding the gold.
In a dark place, I read:
– Søren Kierkegaard
I go back. I breathe and pray and try to stay out of the way of the process.
Trust. It will flow better as I start to work consistently.
The Secret Fire. The flame at work in the laboratory of the soul. Alchemists must tend it well if they are to have any hope of transformation. Nothing melts or evaporates or circulates without fire, or desire.
So, one piece at last reaches a point that I can name it, identify it. There is no beginning or end, just a pause as between breathing out and breathing in again.
Maybe, over time, getting closer and closer to what the flame cannot consume – that is where the alchemist’s faith lies.
