mari-in-my-pocket!

My very good friend Anita Mills has sent me a glow-in-the-dark Lego Skeleton Horse all the way from N Carolina, and I took some photographs of it last night.

Thank you, Anita, for sending this little gift. It gives me pleasure out of all proportion to the size of it. I’m wondering whether I might turn it into a Mari ‘group’ like the one you sent photographs of last month. But for the present it sits talisman-like on my bedside table, the last thing I see before tumbling into sleep each night, and the first on awakening each day before heading off to do further work on The Mare’s Tale.

Below: Anita’s Lego Mari Lwyd group.

Hunting about online I’ve found a glow-in-the-dark paint I could use to make a night-glowing sheet for the Mari. Oh Anita, Anita… what have you started?

james artimus owen on ‘thaliad’

Over at Marly Youman’s Thaliad page on Facebook, there has been handsome praise for the book from author/illustrator James Artimus Owen.

J A O: It (Thaliad) was one of the few books I’ve purchased in recent years that I think was executed flawlessly, in every way.

M Y: Oh James, thank you! That’s so, so lovely. I shall have to share that with Clive Hicks-Jenkins and Beth Adams. Collaboration with them is beautiful. I just hope it manages to keep moving out in the world.

J A O: It’s a high water-mark of what’s possible, Marly. It’s old-school book-crafter perfect.

M Y: Ah, that is so sweet to hear. Thank you. “Perfect” and “high-water-mark” are very satisfying words!

J A O: It’s all sincere. With that book you leapt from being one of my favourite writers to a game-changer. The literary sphere will have to catch up to what I and others have already seen – but there is no doubt it is a remarkable achievement.

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Thaliad is available as a paperback or hardback, and may be purchased from the following sites.

Order from the Phoenicia Publishing online store

Order from Amazon.com

Order from Amazon.UK

Order from Amazon Europe

kathe koja and the ‘chevalier’ puppet

Kathe Koja may be known to some of you as the author of the chapter on maquettes titled The Motions of Desire in the Lund Humphries monograph Clive Hicks-Jenkins. But away from ‘Clivean’ realms (a term coined by my friend and long-term collaborator Marly Youmans) Kathe is better known as the writer of Under the Poppy, that extravagant, bawdily rambunctious novel about the denizens of a Victorian brothel and puppet theatre run by siblings Decca and Istvan. (In my opinion, the perfect combination of entertainments!)

Over the past couple of years there have been a number of theatrical ‘event’s’ built around Kathe’s beguiling construct, and these have entailed the creating of several puppets featured in the book, including a hybrid horse/man puppet called  ’The Chevalier’, who conceals an extravagant surprise in his breeches. Megan Harris has been puppet-master for the Under the Poppy ‘realisations’, and the image above is one of two versions of the Chevalier she’s built. I don’t know who the person standing next to him is, but her look of surprise is not to be wondered at!

You can see that with our shared twin-obsessions for horse/man hybrids and puppets, it’s no surprise Kathe and I came to be buddies, and it’s a source of infinite regret that although I’ve read Under the Poppy  several times… and I love it… I haven’t been able to get to the USA to attend any of the Poppy-related events. Now the last of them is imminent, and for those of you who like me can’t attend, I urge you to read the book instead. It is a marvel!

Lucy and the Chevalier, made by Megan Harris for Under the Poppy.

phil cooper and the art of the collage

Red Island Night. Collage by Phil Cooper

I’ve been watching with fascination my friend Phil Cooper’s explorations of the medium of collage at his blog Hedgecrows. Recalling Phil’s early efforts, which I’d thought promising enough, it almost beggars belief to see the incredible progress he’s made in just nine months, because he’s now regularly creating images that are quite simply masterful. Today I popped in to find the glorious piece posted above. Fantastic work, brimming with character and ‘spirit of place’. Below are a couple more that I greatly like. Phil divides his time between the UK and Germany, and for me some of his strongest images are of  buildings in Berlin. I love the textures of these pieces.

Zitadelle Spandau. Collage by Phil Cooper

Die Alte Kindl Brauerei, Berlin. Collage by Phil Cooper

In the year he’s been running his site, Phil has regularly posted about his progress in the studio. By scrolling back to when he started, you can see for yourselves the wonderful journey he’s been on. I’m filled with admiration for his remarkable achievements.

the magical thinking of philippa robbins

Drawing by Philippa Robbins for Isabelle and the Magpie 

Artlog regulars will from time to time have seen the work of painter Philippa Robbins here. The Art Shop Gallery in Abergavenny, that beautiful space on the first floor of a labyrinthine building dating from the sixteenth century, is having an exhibition of Philipp’s work later this year. It’s a perfect setting for her work, and I know the show is going to be a treasure trove for those who love craftsmanship in drawing and painting, combined with the originality of thinking that this artist has in such abundance. The drawing of Isabelle and the Magpie (above) will be in the exhibition.

Magical Thinking will run at the Art Shop Gallery in Abergavenny from 31st August to 19th October .

Philippa produced works for the Maquette and Alphabet Soup online exhibitions at the Artlog, and she was one of the artists selected by Peter when he curated Art for Children at MoMA Wales in 2010. Philippa’s thoughts on the exhibition theme were that when she was a child she’d loved all things macabre, so as a starting point for her submissions, she planned to paint skeletons. But as a child she’d also loved collecting things, and so a second thread was added by way of the postage-stamp as her example of taxonomy. Put together the two resulted in a wonderfully eccentric series of postage-stamp designs that replaced the monarch with a skeleton queen named Dora, occasionally in company with her skeleton consort, Angel. Even their dog got in on the act in some of the stamp designs! You can see an example of one of the skeleton/stamp themed works, HERE. (In fact, I loved this painting so much that I purchased it from the exhibition, and it’s now in our dining-room.)

on cats and their names

e-mail date: 30 November 2012 09:31:17 GMT. Clive to Phil Cooper.

Phil, my sister-in-law Christine, on holiday in Germany recently, showed her German friends online images of my Hansel and Gretel alphabet. The friends were rather taken aback at M ist für Muschi, explaining that I should have use the word Miezkatz, as Muschi refers to pussy as in vagina! Could you run it past Jan for me? I’m rather surprised, as none of my German-speaking friends have said anything. (Perhaps they thought I was being mischievous!)

Love
C x

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e-mail date: 30 November 2012 09:47:44 GMT.  Phil to Clive.

Lol, well you are a bit mischievous, but in a good way of course. Jan loved the images and I asked him about Muschi, he said that it was used for both pussy-cat and pussy-vagina. He felt it had the same tone as Mrs. Slocombe’s pussy references  in Are You Being Served, so that, while it would always raise eyebrows in some quarters it’s actually pretty tame stuff. A senior politician in Germany recently referred to his wife, affectionately, as Muschi, and Jan’s dad did the same. Some people thought it rather coarse but Jan feels you’d have to be pretty prim to really object to the use of this word. Not sure if that helps but basically most people will smile and a few will object. 

e-mail date: 30 November 2012 10:01:33 GMT. Clive to Phil.

Ha ha! The perfect answer! I shall leave the Muschi image exactly as it is. A bit of vulgarity is always to be desired.

C xxx

C is for

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questions and answers

Flowering Nest

Occasionally a question posed in a private correspondence provokes an explanation about how I present my work. Rebecca Verity, who lives in the States, owns a preparatory Saint Kevin drawing I made. She asked me what I meant by the term ‘curator speak’, used disparagingly in an earlier e-mail to her, and I answered the question, though I shan’t share my reply here. But this led me on to the matter of my titles and the lack of explanations in them, and how I see their function in relation to my work.

Rebecca. ‘What is this curator-speak which you so despise?  Is it (I ask in a very small voice) when the curator tells you all about a piece, the stories behind it and such?  Because (I say in a still smaller voice) I really like that.  Having been raised culturally illiterate, I love learning about paintings and the artists who created them.  Camille on Her Death Bed, for instance – is just weird and unnerving, until you know the story of Monet and his wife, and hear his account of painting it, and then it is still perhaps unnerving, but also heartbreaking and perplexing and challenging.’

And I always go and research your saints; the stories of their lives make the paintings so much more thought provoking then if they’re just unknown figures.  

Clive. Never fear, what you’re talking about is a quite different thing to the despised ‘curator speak’, and of course can be helpful, though with my paintings I prefer explanatory text panels to be placed some distance away, because I want eyes on the images and not on any words. But the fact that when confronted with one of my paintings you go off to do some research, is heartening to me, because that’s exactly the kind of curiosity I aspire to provoke. When my ‘saints paintings’ appear in galleries, often with their slightly elusive titles that don’t explain the events depicted, the absence is because my job is to ask questions, not to provide immediate explanations. My hope is that the susceptible viewer  will go away and think on what’s been represented, perhaps to look for answers elsewhere. The important thing when seeing a painting for the first time is not the specific, as in ‘this is a representation of the Irish Saint Kevin in his cell with the blackbird of legend’, but rather the sense of a non-specific, universal encounter between man and beast that has a mystery at its heart. In many ways it’s unimportant who is represented or what event is described in the image. What matters is that the viewer be allowed to think and then draw a conclusion, and afterwards to explore elsewhere if moved to do so. The work is intended to be the first crumb in a trail that leads away to other, and perhaps even more interesting discoveries.’
 
I should add that there is an exception with regard to my aversion to text panels in proximity to my paintings, inasmuch that when a panel holds a poem, then the proximity is a good thing. I don’t see poems as being ‘explanations’, but companion works.
Postscript: Sometimes the comment boxes at the Artlog get to be more interesting than the posts.  That’s proved to be the case with this one, and so if you’ve the time, do scamper along to see if there’s anything to interest you down there.

eve and her avian alphabet

Young Eve, whose work has previously featured HERE on the the Artlog, was invited to take part in the Alphabet Soup exhibition. She’s been busy preparing her ingenious alphabet of birds, and today I’m posting her mirrored S is for Swan drawing by way of an encouragement to those of you who have yet to complete (or even start) your submissions. You have just a week to the deadline, and so if you haven’t already done so, take a lead from Eve, put your skates on and get alphabetting!

catriona and the summer sky

When Peter and I and his brother Andrew acquired the cottage over a decade ago, one of the first things we planned to do was change the blue-enamelled bath for a white one. Not long after we’d taken possession our friends Catriona and Ian arrived, and the rooms were filled with exclamations of delight as they explored every last corner of the old place and its garden. In the distance I heard the latch of the bathroom door click open, followed by the sounds of Catriona cooing with pleasure. ‘Oh will you look at that bath!’ she called out in her melodious Scottish accent. ‘What a wonderful thing it is. Why taking your ease in that would be as good as floating in a summer sky’.

And in a moment we went from thinking the blue bath must go, to it being a treasure to appreciate. Catriona was quite right. Taking a bath in it is like floating in the sky.

phil gets creative with a porcelain pen and a 50p purchase

Over at Hedgecrows, my friend Phil Cooper has been making his submissions for the forthcoming Artlog Alphabet Soup online exhibition. He’s using ‘Islands’ as his theme, and with collages snipped from paper he’s monoprinted for the purpose, he’s been producing simply fantastic images. They’re beautifully assembled, with dynamic shapes and compositions full of the sense of wind and air and the tumult of sea and weather. His monoprint textures capture the eddies of water streaming over sand, and masterfully conjure the rearing flanks of rocky outcrops in inky seas.

I’m simply in awe of his abundant creativity at this time, because he’s also taken up the ‘porcelain pen’ challenge, transforming a little milk-jug with a tonal drawing on his current theme of islands. I’ve cheekily ‘grabbed’ an image from Phil’s blog to show it here. Too small I fear to effectively illustrate the detail, but it gives you an idea of what he’s achieved for the cost of  a thrift-shop jug and an inexpensive Marabu pen! Phil is an inspiration to us all! Pop over to his site to cheer him on.