WELCOME TO 2023 THE FIRST ISSUE OF THIS YEAR, ISSUE 33 - WRITERS PAGE…
This month we are exploring The life of lines, through words, text, and other creative means.
We asked for your ideas, musings, and thought on this, be that marking time, journey, crossing over, or connecting, lines are everywhere, seen and unseen, in thought, and time.
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Artist name -Tamara Tolley
Title - “When the hurly burly’s done”
Media - Hand-ground Sumi ink on Japanese Kozo paper
“The Sumi Spirit of the Serpentine line” © Tamara Tolley[i]
Between June and September, I spent 100 days in pursuit of the spirit of William Hogarth’s Serpentine line[ii] “waving and winding, at the same time, in different ways…lead(ing) the eye in a pleasing manner along the continuity of its variety”. Using the medium of Sumi ink, which I hand-ground daily using a traditional stick, and employing Japanese natural brushes on Japanese papers, I explored a myriad of spontaneous, experimental ways of mark-making with a black line. I had no formal training in this medium, nor knew where I would go with this journey. I knew at the end of it, that the line was indeed pleasing in all its variety. More surprisingly perhaps, it had curled itself around taking me, not along a river in London, as it had for Hogarth, but rather, back to where I had begun, back to the very source or origin of what I am trying to do as an artist. The line would teach me about myself, my own creative potential, and my own creativity. The line would liberate and empower me. It took me to my here and now, to the physicality of the mark as a means of communication.
My Sumi line was never going to be a straight one for me, that I would “waver” rather than “wave and wind” as Hogarth surmised, was inevitable. I had never been any good at drawing a straight line, following a linear path in life from my original path in the law, a discipline that requires one to work within the “rules” of a given legal system. My creative career took me beyond the box and I saw no interest in producing a line or a story that was in any sense “perfect”. The Japanese have a concept of beauty in “imperfection” (“wabi-sabi”) and so I saw beauty in every mistake along my path. I had attempted a beginner’s online course of Sumie, the art of painting according to Japanese teachings, with Sumi ink. But my attempts at creating anything perfect along the lines this method dictates were doomed to fail. But I was not deterred. I saw scope in the simple spontaneity of the tools suddenly at my disposal. I could, I realised, use the ink in a way I wished, not following any teacher. Like the Zen monk and artist Seshu, who went to China to learn the art of Sumie, and found no master to follow, realised this was unnecessary. Instead, the universe was his master to follow. I adopted this spirit in my 100-day project, following myself alone.
I had always wanted to understand abstraction, not in the sense of abstracting landscape or figuration in any sense, but in the more autopoietic[iii] sense in which I would approach the page with no idea of what I would create. I would simply follow the line, the ink, the brush and see where, at that moment, it would take me.
In the artwork entitled “The Serpentine line”, I loaded ink onto one fine small brush and did not lift it at all from the centre all the way until it ran out of it in the bottom right-hand corner of the page. I would repeat this with different results employing medium and thicker brushes and then with different consistencies of ink and water and differently textured paper. I wish I could say that I followed a consistent path of experimentation, but there was no method in my madness. I did not take notes recording which works used which brush. Occasionally, I would refer to my method alongside an Instagram post. For example, when I created a work with a non-dominant hand or listened to a piece of music. That is all I have by way of an “accurate record” of my daily experiments. The truth is that I followed a different path daily, without planning this in advance, with no preconceptions. Each artwork came as a huge surprise. This, I thought, is finally my path towards abstraction.
My method was not entirely new to me. As a largely self-taught artist, with no formal artistic education, I had always worked in unconventional, untaught ways with mixed media, recycling old palette papers, cardboard packaging, and scraps of line. But everything had started with a subject matter – my landscape, my reading, my imagination. Here, the line taught me I did not need to follow any of these experiences. I could create art that truly came from within myself, something authentic, even if objectively it appealed to or meant something to anyone other than myself. But I was not brave enough to simply describe each effort as “Day 1” or “Day 2”. With hindsight, I should have done that.
Instead, I felt I had to make my efforts look “accessible”. The 100-day Project (under the auspices of “Project Scotland”) required that one post one’s daily work on Instagram. So each day, before I posted, I tried to make sense of what I had produced. I did what we artists are always asked to do – give the work a title. This, I said, looked like Bizet’s Pearl Fishers, which had been on the radio as I worked that day. That one looks like an ancient female spirit or an ancient prayer shawl, or the ancient postal tree I’d visited in Africa as a child. Here I had created something that on reflection looked like a “cell education”, or “an anthology of floating poems”. I searched for meaning in all my lines relating each work back to something within my life – and I beseeched my audience to help me – so my flight of birds, bees or flies, became thoughts about calligraphy, the art of writing and then, asemic writing. I found myself researching and getting excited about asemic writing as an art form. My works took on the suggested titles of my Instagram audience who responded enthusiastically to my “open call for a title”. Of course, I realised nothing is purely internally created. We are all the products of our environments and our nurture, and art is no more “nature” rather than “nurture” than a child’s upbringing. But to the extent I was not setting out to portray my landscape, an object or a person, it was nevertheless interesting to see how my artworks could be interpreted. One could conclude the subconscious mind is an excellent muse.
The act of making my ink, and preparing my desk in an orderly way was a kind of ritual and for some of my artmaking, I worked quietly, slowly, and intensely as if the process was a form of meditation. But this did not last long. I soon noticed how different my lines were if I listened to different music tracks and how much I was influenced by the sounds of music, even the fauna, flora and fragrances out my window.
Mostly, I learnt the value of working in silence, and indeed even to the point where I could hear my own breath, the sound of the brush against the paper. I learnt to recognise the smell of the pine or magnolia residues of whatever ink stick I had used that day to grind my ink and to know which consistency would leave me with a painting that would last. (My first efforts have all but faded for not making the ink thick enough, ghostly memories). I discovered which papers worked best for me. I learnt to trust myself, my first, primal instincts and intuitions.
I realised that I am best suited to trusting my spontaneous creative endeavours, however imperfect, whether written or visual. This article has been written in the spirit of my Sumi project, having only discovered the open call this morning, with a deadline today. Before my 100 days of Sumi, I would have said I could not make this deadline. I would need several redrafts. Stream-of-consciousness writing is best left to the greats, James Joyce and Virginia Woolf. But my 100 days taught me I do not have to produce masterpieces. I can start from something very small, a line, here on this page, and communicate with you all around the world. Through Sumi, I made real Instagram friendships, with artists some of whom I have taught some of what I have learnt, and who teach me, on zoom, across the world. The line takes us to the most extraordinary places. Above all, as Hogarth says, “variety”. It was the very diversity of each of my 100 days that allowed me to have hope, for my future creative endeavours, wherever these lead. That, I think, is the true “Sumi” spirit of Hogath’s “Serpentine line”.
The 100th day of my project sadly coincided with the day HM Queen Elizabeth died. As long as my journey had felt, especially on days when I thought I would not find anything, it was not as long as a human journey. Think how far I could go with a line if I continued, with my art and my writing, in all its meanderings. Where at first I had wavered, doubting my journey, the Sumi line had come full circle, closing in on me, waving me on, urging me at every turn and twist, to simply continue.
[i] Copyright of this article is held by Tamara Tolley, Artist and Writer @tamaratolleyartist (Instagram), www.tamaratolleyart.com. Tamara is a London based emerging artist whose work has been exhibited and sold at the RA Summer Exhibition, RWS Bankside Gallery, two solo shows as well as group shows in London and Birmingham. Her 100 day Sumi Towards Abstraction work can be found on her Instagram feed between June and September 2022.
[ii] “The Serpentine line, by its waving and winding, at the same time, in different ways leads the eye in a pleasing manner along the continuity of its variety”, William Hogarth 1697-1764. The quotation is embedded in the paving in Barts Square, close to Bartholemew Close, London where Hogarth was born. The video I made for my project features a small video of this line where I change the word “waving” to my own adverb “wavering” indicative of my own unclear path.
[iii] Autopoiesis from the Greek “auto” meaning “self” and “poiesis” meaning “creation or production”
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Artist name
Anda Marcu
Instagram link
https://www.instagram.com/andamarcuart/
Article/Essay Title
Moonlight Musings
Abstract
Moonlight Musings is a poem in which every word starts with the letter m. The poem and the pattern idea were prompted by the title, which popped up in my mind on a moonlit, clear night last summer.
Moonlight Musings
Moonlight madness
manifesting mysteriously,
multiplying misplaced mirrors,
moulding memories, mistreating moments.
Million moons mourning missing mothers,
monstrously misled.
My mind measures miles, maps,
mazes, miracles, minutes, months,
matter matrices. Marble mountains.
Mythical mist, moving mud.
Mutated mushrooms margin meadows;
marsh mosquitoes marching,
mercifully marking musical mornings.
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Artist name
Shahina Jaffer
Instagram link
https://www.instagram.com/shahina247art/?hl=en
Article
Drawing The Line
Lines are one of the most basic and fundamental elements of art and design. They can be straight, curved, thick, thin, diagonal, horizontal, or vertical, and can be used to create a wide range of effects and meanings.
In a creative sense, lines can be used to mark time, as in a timeline or a clock. They can also be used to represent a journey, such as the path of a traveller or the trajectory of a rocket. Lines can also be used to cross over and connect different elements, such as connecting two points on a map or linking different stages in a process.
Lines can have different connotations depending on how they are used. For example, a straight line might represent order, discipline, and stability, while a curved line might represent grace, fluidity, and flexibility. Thick lines might convey strength, power, and boldness, while thin lines might convey fragility, delicacy, and subtlety.
Lines can also be used to create harmony or discord in a composition. When lines are used in a harmonious way, they can create a sense of balance, unity, and coherence. On the other hand, when lines are used in a discordant way, they can create tension, conflict, and chaos.
Lines can also be used to create different moods and atmospheres. For example, long, continuous lines might create a sense of motion and dynamism, while short, broken lines might create a sense of stasis and stillness. Diagonal lines might create a sense of energy and movement, while horizontal lines might create a sense of calm and stability.
In addition to their visual qualities, lines can also be used symbolically to convey various meanings and associations. For example, a line of thought might represent the progression of ideas or the flow of consciousness, a line in the sand might represent a boundary or a divide, and standing in line might represent patience, obedience, or conformity.
Overall, the use of lines in art and design is an incredibly powerful and versatile tool that can be used to create a wide range of effects and meanings. Whether they are used to mark time, represent a journey, or connect different elements, lines are a fundamental element of creativity and expression.
Water can have several effects on lines in art. It can soften or blur lines, creating a sense of fluidity or movement. It can also reflect and distort lines, creating a sense of distortion or abstraction. In some cases, water can also enhance the contrast of lines, making them bolder and more pronounced. Finally, water can also create new lines through its movements and flow, such as the ripples or waves it creates.
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Artist name
Barry Cottrell
Instagram link
https://www.instagram.com/thedrivenline/?hl=en
Article/Essay Title
Marking Time: A Book of All Hours
Abstract
How lines evolve through time into improvised emblems of each hour
How lines evolve through time into improvised emblems of each hour Barry Cottrell
“For we have no system, only lines and movements.”
Deleuze, G. and Guattari, F. 2004. A Thousand Plateaus, p. 386.
INTRODUCTION
1. Engraving has been the main focus of my work as an artist for almost forty years. Occupying the region between sculpture and graphic art, engraving was described by William Blake as :drawing in copper.” while the 20th century French engraver Roger Vieillard argued that to engrave is “to draw in three-dimensional space.” I have come to see the act of engraving on metal - the ‘driven line’ - as primary (taking a line for a walk), and pulling prints as a less essential by-product of that process.
2. I approach the engraving of each plate without preconceptions in order “to move into a zone of unintelligibility, the only place where the possibility of discovery lies, where the future is not at the outset already a thing of the past.”3 I see this approach as tapping, not into chance, but into invention, arising from the synchronistic meaning of each moment.
There is a fusing of two potentials – of the steel tip of the burin and the copper plate: “The moment of invention is when the two sets of potentials click together, coupling into a
single continuous system. A synergy clicks in…A threshold has been crossed, like a quantum leap to a qualitatively new plane of operation….. Invention is the bringing into
the present operation of future functions that potentialize the present for an energetic leap into the new.”4
3. In the act of engraving with a burin on copper, there is “a breakthrough in plane:”5 mind, body and materials coalesce as movement unfolds. There is a dynamic unity of opposing forces as the engraving hand, through the natural torque of the arm muscles, and the tension in the steel shaft down to the tip of the burin, meets the elastic resistance of the copper plate, gripped by the holding hand. There is an expansion of consciousness into a larger field of awareness co-existent with the physical, and which is energetically enhanced. Through the imagination, in its deepest and most dynamic sense, a vital metaphorical force bridges the timeless dimension with time. Metaphor becomes a living force “effecting instantaneous fusion of two separated realms of experience into one illuminating, iconic, encapsulating image.”6 It is an experience which dissolves, in the act, the philosophical dilemma of mind and matter.
4. The ultimate purpose of all my artistic work and intellectual research is the ‘re-enchantment of the world’ – seeking ways of healing the Cartesian dislocation of human consciousness separating living subject (“in here) from dead object (“out there”), a compelling illusion which has “authorized the fundamental capitalist imperative to own and control nature.”7 Part of this re-enchantment involves a reconnection with the 'primal' participatory mind and I see this residency as continuing this exploration into materials and processes over time, including both our prehistoric human past and the geological nonhuman deep time.
5. I engage with a world of vibrant, living materials. In this sense, all of my work is relevant to this opportunity as it has always followed the linear flux and flow of materials, bringing them alive, or rather, revealing the life that flows through them. The world of substances and materials is a transformative world in which all life is informed by a vital, ever-moving spirit. I have called this spirit the ‘serpent current,’ ‘Earth’s spirit,’ ‘dragons lines,’ and the ‘spirit of shamanism.’8 For anthropologist Tim Ingold, “Spirit is the regenerative power of these circulatory flows which in living organisms are bound into tightly woven bundles or tissues of extraordinary complexity.”
MARKING TIME - A BOOK OF ALL HOURS
6. 'Marking Time - A Book of All Hours' is a series of engravings made by improvised movements of the burin driven through copper plate. There are twenty-four plates with each plate representing an hour of the day. This marking of time evokes the Christian Liturgy of the Hours, the official set of daily prayers prescribed by the church to be recited by believers, clergy and laity, throughout the day. The Christian Liturgy of the Hours is in effect marking time through an accord with the divine; similarly, 'A Book of All Hours' is marking time through the relationship between time and eternity evoked through the act of engraving.
The 10 x 10cm copper plate with engraved lines for the 5th stage of the 5th Hour
Each of the twenty-four plates represents an hour of the day, and is engraved and printed through six stages, with each of these stages representing a ten-minute ‘moment in time’ within each hour: 0-10 minutes, 11-20 minutes, 21-30 minutes, 31-40 minutes, 41-50 minutes, 51-60 minutes. Into each of these pockets of time, eternity enters, in the spirit of William Blake, and each sculpted, improvised moment is made visible though its graphic inscription as the prayer for that moment.
How lines evolve through time into improvised emblems of each hour
The twelve engraved copper plates
The six stages of the 5th Hour The sixth stage of the 4th Hour
All 24 Hours hung on a clothesline showing the six stages for each hour
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Artist name
Julie Brixey-Williams
Instagram link
@juliebrixeywilliams
Article/Essay Title
Meander
Abstract
These lines form part of my 2012 inked Meander series. They were drawn and stitched on very fine Chinese rice paper and in the making created their own time and space, flowing, wandering, drying, drawing and finally sewing. Mindful of their translucent fragility, I became very aware of my body and breath as a form of meditative practice, stepping attentively through stitch, as the lines explored the paper space.
Meander
Embedded ink, shiny with clusters and puckers, sweeps across the landscape, creating coastlines with the materiality of the flow. The ruckles of the paper matrix transform the ground into three-dimensional contoured mapping.
The lines journey. Navigating from unknown place to traverse the paper, the destination is not clear; instead, the process of a wandering seems to be the point. Not point and line however, but a delicate flow of tiny decisions as the pooled ink is scuffed over. As the lines repeat, the track is re-trodden, reworked like footsteps wearing down a desire line. The ink's inlets eventually lead into the heart of darkness, where being lost is valued. It is a track: a trek.
The running stitch pins down this walking meander - one foot in front of the other. Alongside the delicate, disciplined, deliberate rhythm, is an element of risk. One strong pull in the wrong direction and the whole topography will tear apart. The space is vitalized by the body’s repeated intentional sharp piercing, where breath and attention is inherent in the work of in and out, through and over, up and down, until the line moves off the page.
Julie Brixey-Williams
www.juliebrixey-williams.co.uk
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Artist name
Jose Trejo Maya
Article/Essay Title
Transparencies in Time:
Abstract
In synthesis, this can be both an exhibition in a gallery and/or an installation of sculptures made with the two primary elements of plastic transparency films and acrylic/plexiglass sheets in very specific shapes. Installation #1 will be two hollow cylinders on whose inside surface will be placed the transparencies. In the 2nd installation I have not made models yet, but the gist is to use the same transparencies to make the shape of the X and Y chromosomes of the DNA double helix. In installation #3 the idea would be just a plexiglass screen just as Installation #2 that is approximately 8 ft by 7 ft and in this case, transparencies will be placed in the shape of a pyramid. My work is rooted in the original peoples and 1st nations so it’s original by default, therefore my visual art speaks for itself.
Artist Statement - I am a remnant of the Nahuatlacah oral tradition a tonalpouhque mexica, a commoner from the lowlands (i.e. Mexico) from a time and place that no longer exists. At present, my poetry has been reified as it has been published in the UK, US, India, Spain, Australia, Argentina, Germany, and Venezuela. I have been exhibited in different venues with a work that’s titled: Transparencies in Time: Cuahpohualli embedded in ethnopoetic language poetry: I seek to expand this work into a comprehensive exhibit in a gallery in 3D (i.e. three simultaneous exhibitions that expand into multiple levels of perception and/or dimensions).
I was born in Celaya, Guanajuato, Mexico, where I spent my childhood in the small neighboring rural pueblo of Tarimoró and wherefrom my family immigrated in 1988. My inspiration(s) include Netzahualcoyotl, Humberto Ak’abal, Ray A. Young Bear, and James Welch.
I have a work in progress of a short-story series where I interpolate the sunstone calendar (i.e. the primary source of the Cauhpohualli Computo del Tiempo Azteca y su correlation actual Anahuacayotl de Tlaxcalancingo, Puebla); to bring to life a micro-fiction project titled San Miguel de Tarimoro ca. 1546. It’s a micro-fiction work of short stories that delve into the immaterial aspects of time. It will be digitized into video with simultaneous audio in video-book view narration. Namely, it’s a bridge from poetry to narrative storytelling. The work is a catalog of the 365 days in the Tonalpohualli or count of days in hologram. My work is rooted in Mesoamerican lore and a pre-Columbian notion of time that’s extant in the poetics and as such, it’s the foundation and bedrock. While in ceremony with Chololo medicine men in the Tule River Reservation, he dreamt this written prophecy...
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Artist name
BOUGE Alexandra
Title
UNTITLED
Media
stencil
Description
I made stencils on the walls of Paris.
I practice street-art, I created stencils and tried to develop a kind of writing by sticking my images on tags, lines and drips already present in the street. I did this work in 2018. I worked on the line, its thickness, the directions it takes, its texture and its language. I tried to create a writing from my images, the expression of the street as well as the stains and lines that are on the walls.
I’m a filmmaker, poet and visual artist. In 2022, I have been selected to the International Short Film Festival accordi @ DISACCORDI, Italy, to the Black Cat Award International Film Festival, Bolivia, to the FIIN, International Nature Image Festival, Portugal, to the Festival of Electronic Music and Video, www.accompositors.com, Barcelona, to the FIVC, International Screendance Festival of Chile, to the Megacities, Festival du Film Documentaire Court, France, to the festival “Silence ça touille” - Movie and Food Festival, France, to the Neum underwater film festival, Herzegovina, to the Gaia International Film festival – Stories of Lands and Food, Italy, to the Wildlife Vaasa Festival International du film sur la Nature, Finland, to the One Earth Awards Festival in India, to the Festival del Cinema di Cefalù, Italy, to the Women’s International Film Festival Nigeria WIFFEN, and got the Honorable Mention for my film « Modern Agriculture », to the Independent Video Film festival of Youtube Art Club Pavlos Paraschakis, in Greece, to the Clapperboard Golden Festival, in Brazil and to the Rotary Short Film Festival, Rofife in Turkey. My track « Twin Vogue » composed by Vicente Saraiva (feat Bouge Alexandra) have been selected to the Rounded Radio for Going Incognito, (roundedradio.com)
The book of poetry and drawings entitled “La Peau” published by Urtica editions was republished. My poems have been published in the reviews « Haus a Rest », n° 30, theme « Boundaries » and POJAR, n° 19.