I left it a little late to get photos of today’s experimental gestural ‘electric’ drawings.
I now have a process that consists of many layers but all lie flat on one surface: I have paid close attention to this today as I consider taking each of these layers as a surface and wrapping them. I consider this to be the process I wish to develop further: particularly in the light of my initial disgust at this process and in the light of my research on Sally Simpson.
First comes the asemic writing in biro. I hold the pen and write, as if I were scribing a letter, or rant, or secret message – there is a consistent form of the ‘lettering’ that is now emerging and it feels so delicious to be writing and feeling yet disguising the readability. I am just focused on the feel of writing rather than the content. The movement, the sound of my pen on this khadi paper (I do love this paper) and how I can write what I want to say that has not yet found its way into words.
Then comes a pink fibretip layer of asemic (suprasemic) text. This layer is like the voice in your head that reads the words you are writing. The paper behind is the silent reader within each of us.
After that I get a big household paintbrush and black brusho in suspension, close my eyes and paint the main movement of the music I’m listening too (usually trance – I may be too old for the clubs but I still feel alive to the music and oh how I miss dancing).
Then onto brilliant red blood splatters: dipped from a height to splodge and then sweeps of this colour with a fairly beaten up brush.
Today I added a change and took some carmine ink and splattered that too, then not pleased with this I found a straw and blew the paint splots. (Necessary word invention). This became rather addictive as can be seen by my kitchen table: just adding to its history and story.
Finally, I loaded the battered paintbrush and hit it over my forearm leaving a cascade of paint splatter. It now looks like some hideous crime happened on this very table. Are these too busy, too fussy – nope because I am not looking at them as a composition I am looking at them as a feeling and me inner feelings are certainly not neat and tidy and uncomplicated. As I looked at these further it was as if they were spinning. I cannot yet determine whether they are spinning the fragmented splits of gesture together or unwinding and scattering them to the world.
I’ve been analysing all I can on Sally Simpson and this research is in the back of my mind as I draw. How will these sketches take on a 3d form through the process of wrapping and what will they become? Now, I’m excited and think I’ve found my line of enquiry. Inner movement, inner language, inner landscape: embodying the inner gesture.