Haydn Jones, who is the artist resident in our public programme studio 17b is opening his doors for three days of studio visits, screenings and a talk. Haydn has been working on a variety of projects and this is an opportunity to see what is in progress and planned for his time with us at Chisenhale Art Place.
We are also pleased to announce that Haydn was recently selected to be part of ‘Executive Chair’ which will open the Guest Projects 2015 Programme at Shonibare Studio.
Further information: www.haydnj.com
For access please ring second floor studio, or call 07855 254 289
REBECCA GLOVER – BETWEEN WORLDS
Wednesday 25th June
Rebecca Glover will be making a presentation of her work in development which was made following her recent residency on the Isle of Dogs with Floating Island Gallery
The 7pm Performance – Navigating the channel between fact and fantasy, Rebecca will direct us through the molecular workings of The Isle of Dogs.
Studio 4 is an artist-led project space, funded & programmed by artists at Chisenhale Studios.
Drop-in, artist-led life drawing sessions
Tuesday (fortnightly) 7-9pm £8 0r £5 conc.
All levels of drawing experience welcome.
Art Materials, drawing boards and easels supplied or bring your own.
To confirm your place or for more info contact:
Andy on 07807698187 or Kate at firstname.lastname@example.org
Chisenhale Studios is running Free drop in family art workshops on Saturdays
3rd May 2014 to 12th July 2014
Each workshop will encourage children and parents to learn fun new art ideas that they can also do together at home, run by a different artist each month.
From 28th June till 12th July the workshops will be led by Kevin Harrison. Participants will be working with wood off-cuts, making relief sculptures using hammers, nails, sandpaper and paint. The theme for these workshops will be ‘Summer’
Time: 10.30am – 12.30pm
Age group: 5-12 year olds
This is a workshop for children and their parents/carers to participate and learn together. Children cannot be left alone. We advise the wearing of ‘messy’ clothes, but we have some large shirts to put over clothes too.
Further details from Yasmin@chisenhale.co.uk 020 8981 1916
A Midsummer Nights Drawing
Kate Hardy will be in Studio4 on saturday 21st of June making 12 drawings for the summer solstice.
A group of graduating Fine Art students from the University for the Creative Arts, studying at the School of Fine Art in Canterbury, made a study visit to Chisenhale Studios on Monday 26th May. They visited a number of studios including:
· Athena Papadopoulos (A recent Goldsmith’s MA Graduate) who has just start a year-long residency in May this year
· Di Livey, a long standing founding member of Chisenhale Art Place
· Tessa Whitehead, a recent graduate from the Slade MA who was just completing a three month long residency
Students were accompanied by their tutor Edward Chell, an artist member at Chisenhale and also one of the trustees.
To accompany her final presentation in Studio4, the culmination of a 3 months residence with Chisenhale studios, Tessa gave a short talk on the research that precedes making the work. Here is an adapted version:
The bulk of my research comes from literature. I am particularly interested in adventure literature and descriptions or passages about land, landscape and wild places.
I find, that a really successful description of a landscape, can assume the form of a sculpture or a painting. This is partly because I am so used to the physical format of literary writing, it is so uniform, that I can ignore it, and fully concentrate on imagining or bringing to life the space which is being described. An artwork has to somehow deal with allegory of medium; how it was made, and with what. And every medium or material that we encounter in an artwork has its own, different, complex history.
I am innately more confident in literature than in artwork. We probably all are, or at least have been taught to be. Because for the most part, the education system is set up on the principal that understanding things is important, and that in order to understand something we need to be conclusive. An artwork – a sculpture for example- is not conclusive on its own. Isolated, it might be interpretive or suggestive. But, a conclusion or understanding about the sculpture would probably be established separately in writing or a verbal exchange. And there are labels and titles and descriptions of the work confirming that just looking at it is not enough. When I read a book, however, I trust that all of the information has been presented and that the intention is in the form. It is perhaps because of this that I think that sometimes, a written description of space has the ability to create a more clear and elementary form than an artwork. That it can deal with or create space rather than referencing it.
I am interested in this idea.
I read descriptions of landscape or land to understand how we look at these spaces and how this varies depending on point of view, or whether the geography is familiar or unfamiliar.
One of my favourite descriptions of landscape, and one that is very sculptural, is from the memoir ‘Going Solo’ by Roald Dahl. In the passage, Dahl describes arriving by boat into the harbour of Dar es Salaam for the first time. The landscape is unfamiliar to him and he is looking at it from a fixed point of view, through the porthole of the boat.
“When I woke up the next morning the ship’s engines had stopped. I jumped out of my bunk and peered through the porthole. This was my first glimpse of Dar es Salaam and I have never forgotten it. We were anchored out in the middle of a vast rippling blue-black lagoon and all around the rim of the lagoon there were pale- yellow sandy beaches, almost white, and breakers were running up on to the sand, and coconut palms with their little green leafy hats were immensely tall and breathtakingly beautiful with their delicate grey-green foliage. And then behind the casuarinas was what seemed to me like a jungle, a great tangle of tremendous dark- green trees that were full of shadows and almost certainly teeming, so I told myself, with rhinos and lions and all manner of vicious beasts. Over to one side lay the tiny town of Dar es Salaam, the houses were white and yellow and pink, and among the houses I could see a narrow church steeple and a domed mosque and along the waterfront there were a line of acacia trees splashed with scarlet flowers…The whole of that amazing tropical scene through the porthole has been photographed on my mind ever since.”
Dahl pans over the entire view, illuminating its entirety without intensity or focal point. It washes over us, as it does for Dahl. There is passivity in the way that he looks. From this vantage point, he cannot make out a lot of detail in the landscape and he has no memory of the place to fill in the gaps.
This description embodies the sense of ease that you get when looking at a new and unfamiliar landscape, and its continuous coming into being. This is quite often the impetus behind an adventure story: a desire to be on the move, to find new places, to see from different perspectives (from a mountain, from a tall building, from the ocean, etc.). The act of continuously moving and being in new landscapes can offer a sense of relief from day to day life. This is partly because of the way that travelling effects how we look at things. The faster that we move, the less detail that we can focus on in our surroundings. The pace and intensity with which we look at things has to adjust and become more passive. We disengage slightly and instead, allow the landscape to pass through our line of sight. You might have experienced this when travelling by train or by car on the motorway; moving at a consistent speed, with continual abstracted landscape passing through your line of sight can have an almost hypnotic effect.
I think of these works as portraits of landscape, of spaces that I know and don’t know but have read about. A portrait, however, suggests that I have tried to personify the landscape, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, because it suggests I think that there is a mutual familiarity between landscape and myself. Which of course there is not.
My experience of what is familiar and unfamiliar, took on a new meaning recently, when I returned back to the home I grew up in, for a longer stretch of time. When I lived there full time, over 14 years ago now, my two older sisters and I looked after a farm of animals in our backyard. The different aspects of looking after a troupe of animals, like feeding and exercising them, cleaning and reconfiguring their pens, early mornings, dirty feet, tetnus shots, worrying about weather and mud and cold and heat- all contributed to a feeling of companionship with the land when I was growing up. The loss of which was not dissimilar to losing a friend. But of course, it had no notion of me.
These works respond to this experience of returning to a space that had, at one time been very familiar. They are shamelessly delicate and useless. And are sort of failures in their nature, because they can’t quite be what they are describing.