TRANSFORMATIONS

My rather childish response to the demolition of 51 beautiful, healthy native trees in the valley behind my house

A student using my scissors to cut the chain the chain they’re attached to

HOW THE GIANT SCISSORS CAME TO BE:

First, I spent time with an object that meant something to me, observing, sketching, thinking, exploring, making notes, taking photos, using free association to unlock ideas. The object I chose was the necklace that I’ve worn around my neck for the last 10 years.  On the chain is a little gold pair of scissors. The idea was to study this necklace and transform it, create a work of art inspired by it, using any medium.  Once I’d finished the transformation, I repeated the process several times, letting each stage inform the next. To read more about the process, you can click through the gallery below.

TRANSFORMATION NUMBER ONE: SCISSORS

TRANSFORMATION NUMBER 2

The newspaper chains of the previous sculpture reminded me of how much we are shaped, informed and manipulated by the world, media and people around us. The headlines I cut from the paper were transformed several times, first when I read and projected my own interpretation onto them, then when I removed them from their original context, and again when I placed them alongside other cuttings to form a loose narrative. Once I’d turned them into links, they were curved and the words partially hidden so that only certain parts of the sentences could be seen, and what was seen varied depending on the position of the viewer. What was visible was transformed yet again by the personal interpretation of each of those viewers ….  The only way the headlines or sentences could be seen and read in full was after the links had been broken away from each other and laid out flat on the table or wall.

This made me realise that no matter what face we think we are showing to the world, or what we believe we are communicating, no one can ever truly know or relate to the full story. What others see is profoundly influenced by their previous experiences, personality, beliefs, abilities, cultural background, education and so on.

Sometimes, the only way to make sense of things is to separate each individual thought, idea, memory, sensation, from the rest of the background noise and lay it out in isolation. While it is true that we are the sum of all our parts, each of those parts takes on an entirely different meaning when viewed in relation to any or all of the others. Exploring one at a time has been an extremely enlightening experience for me.

From this reflection I formed the idea of using blank crossword puzzles to cover the Rubix cube, a challenge I had never been able to complete as a child, but I’d always found crosswords relatively easy and fun.

While playing with the cube I noticed that no matter how many times I shuffled the segments, the central squares always stayed in the middle. I placed a printed image of the cardboard scissors (which had come to represent my self) in the middle on all six sides, to show that no matter how much background noise or chaos surrounds us in life, we can weather all the twists and turns if we are able to stay true and stable at the core.

(click on the images below for more information)

 

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Why I do what I do

For as long as I can remember, creating art of any kind has been been more about the process than the product. Even as a child, I didn’t draw to replicate what I was seeing, but to explore things emotionally. I was acutely aware of how what I saw affected me, and how what I was feeling affected the way I saw. For example, a donut would look very different to me depending on how hungry I was. When not hungry, I’d be more relaxed and inclined to notice and wonder about all the various ingredients, colours, shapes, textures, smells and tastes. I might even notice how the light reflects off the individual specs of sugar; the contoured edges of the glossy frosting; the spongy, rounded surface of the golden pastry…

When starving, I’d simply see a doughnut.

The Process

When I produce a visual representation of my internal chatter, I can see things more clearly. My muddled thoughts start sorting themselves into orderly queues instead of simultaneously clamouring for attention.

To put it another way: imagine hundreds of oddly shaped, different coloured Lego bricks scattered across the floor around you. Sharp little boobytraps everywhere you look! Each individual piece unidentifiable as anything other than part of the one big, insurmountable MESS. You can’t step in any direction without hurting your feet.

It is easy to become so focused on getting rid of or around “The Mess” that you fail to see The Bigger Picture. You might even find yourself paralysed (Procrastinators Unite!) stuck to the spot, awaiting rescue.

But what if you were to stop for a minute, crouch down, give each and every little brick your full attention; start sorting through them, finding connections and piecing them together…? You might see how each seemingly insignificant piece, while not of much interest or use on its own, transforms into something entirely different when it’s linked to others. Each little piece plays a vital role in constructing The Whole. By the end of the process, you’ll still have the same number of oddly shaped, different coloured bricks as you had before, but now there is cohesion and clarity, and more space in which to manoeuvre (For the techies: think defragmenting the hard drive on your computer)

To all those people thinking “But I don’t have time to sit around all day playing with my problems! Hand me a broom!”, think of all the time that you’ve already wasted trying to avoid doing emotional housekeeping.

So that’s how I’d describe the art-making process; forcing myself, despite the discomfort, to slow down and confront the chaos, start picking through the minefield in my head, treading carefully to avoid detonation! Examining and fitting together seemingly random thoughts and feelings until I find a common thread or an image starts to form. Because everything is related. No thought, however trivial, meaningless. Everything matters. The answers to most of my questions are hidden somewhere amid the jumble, so I just keep sifting and sorting my way through it, without any real sense of direction, until I have what I call an “AHA! moment”.

And then, there’s ….

The Flow!

Have you ever tried catching a feather or leaf that’s fluttering about on the breeze? The more you wave your arms or move your hand, the further away it will get. That’s what it feels like for me when inspiration is just out of reach. The AHA! moment comes when I have managed to grasp an idea. Then, the the hard part is over.

When in that creative zone, known as “the flow”, my mind becomes very still. I’m no longer chasing or running or flailing about desperately trying to make sense of things. I am completely tranquil, opening myself up, letting those fluttering objects drift down and settle upon me. I loose all sense of time and space, and switch into cruise control. Emerging from this flow state feels like waking from a dream, only I’ve brought something tangible back with me. A souvenir from my subconscious.

Externalising my thoughts and emotions in this way helps me gain better understanding of them and how they affect me, but it also makes my internal world accessible to others. Exposure to scrutiny and criticism absolutely TERRIFIES me, and makes me extremely vulnerable. So why do I do it??

Because my deep seated longing to make authentic connections only very slightly outweighs my paralysing fear of rejection.

It’s something I find difficult to write about without feeling a tad wanky, but there you have it.

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OHLOOKASQUIRREL!!

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