“I saw her standin’ on her front lawn just twirlin’ her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died
From the town of Lincoln, Nebraska with a sawed off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path
I can’t say that I’m sorry for the things that we done
At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun
The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest
Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor head back
You make sure my pretty baby is sittin’ right there on my lap
They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my soul’d be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well sir I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.”
Bruce Springsteen, Nebraska
Just an online conversation…
IT: “In 1967 I was sixteen and in love. Though mainly with myself…”
ALK: In 1967 I was running around naked in the cornfields of Nebraska catching bullfrogs.”
“I had seen photographs that had been made with Holga cameras, and realized that, due to their plastic lens technology with the tendency to distort light, they would serve my purposes more precisely.
The Holga cameras were key in making the Holga Horses photographs accommodate my vision.”
“When the road looks rough ahead
And you’re miles and miles
From your nice warm bed
Just remember what your old pal said
Boy, you’ve got a friend in me…”
Randy Newman
You’ve Got a Friend In Me from Toy Story, Randy Newman
“I prefer work that appears to come out of a shifting focus – not just one relationship or even a number of them but constantly changing and shifting relationships to things in terms of focus. I am concerned with a thing’s not being what it was, with it’s becoming something other than what it was, with any moment in which one identifies a thing precisely and with the slipping away of that moment.”
Jasper Johns
“Self-portraiture is a singular in-turned art. Something eerie lurks in its fingering of the edge between seer and seen.”
Julian Bell
“An act of naming should quite rightly enable me to call anything a self-portrait, not only any drawing, ‘portrait’ or not, but everything that happens to me, that I can affect, or that affects me.”
Jacques Derrida
“I envy – though I’m not sure if envy is the right word – those people about whom one could write a biography, or who could write their autobiography. Through these deliberately unconnected impressions I am the indifferent narrator of my autobiography without events, of my history without a life. These are my Confessions and if I say nothing in them it’s because I have nothing to say.”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book Of Disquiet
“I did my best, it wasn’t much,
I could not feel, so I learned to touch,
I’ve told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you,
And even though it all went wrong,
I’ll stand before the lord of song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah…”
Leonard Cohen, Hallelujah
With thanks to Anna Lee Keefer whose comments started the thought process that led to the images above.
“I usually begin with some sort of idea of what I want to do. Sometimes it is an image. I always want to see what it will make. Then I actually start working. During the process I don’t have any morality about changing my mind. In fact, I often find that having an idea in my head prevents me from doing something else. It can blind me. Working is therefore a way of getting rid of an idea.”
Jasper Johns
For the best part of a decade Jasper Johns explored the single motif of the “crosshatch”. The nature of the motif is, of course, barely relevant… it being simply the “armature” on which he hung all the ideas and issues he wished to work through. By far the greater majority of these pieces were constructed in a simple (structurally at least) mirrored diptych format. However, within this seemingly restricted format Johns managed to fashion a seemingly endless array of variations. For the images above I have taken the basic unit of my chosen motif (humble dog ends in a crosshatch pattern) and presented them in the same way… or at least as two examples of how, with even the most basic of means, variety is possible. Here I have simply used color/monochrome versions with some overall tonal variations added for good measure. Of course the game isn’t to actually produce the endless variations on this simple process but to actively select just two and present them here as sort of “base” images. From this the exploration of many other related issues become possible.
If a decade seems like an inordinate length of time to spend exploring one seemingly rather simple idea/motif then bear this in mind: as a painter, and one notorious for the slow pace at which his chosen processes (and temperament) forced him to work, Johns has had to produce by hand many large pieces. Add to this the fact that he is also among the most deliberate and cerebral of artists (there have been many pauses for contemplation) and it is easy to see how this is possible. Most of the painted pieces were produced using either oils or encaustic. Sometimes one half of a diptych would be executed in one medium, the other half in the other. Often the encaustic medium would be painstakingly applied slow stroke by slow stroke over collaged layers. So, just how many pieces? Well, you would have to peruse a complete Catalogue Raisonnée to ascertain that. Certainly more than you would ever see in one place together. Which brings me to my next point concerning the “handmade”…
For any artist, especially one with such longevity as Johns, it is vitally important to be aware of their full body of work in order to apply any judgement. Even major retrospectives will inevitably fall short here. As one of my very favourite artists I have seen much, if not most, of his oeuvre but very little of it “in the flesh” as it were. In this respect I have always been aware that looking at his work in print and “for real” in a gallery are two very different things. The truth is that for the most part I have not been looking at paintings at all. I have been looking at mechanical (and more recently digital, no doubt) reproductions; photographs that is. And more than that… as printed images I have, in effect, actually been looking at printed reproductions of photographs. No doubt my experience is not unusual. In fact it is by far the norm and is the case with the overwhelming majority of art as experienced by an overwhelming majority of people. So much for the “handmade”… for most viewers it is, in reality, little more than a notion.
However, contemplating the realities of the printed reproduction brings me to another point concerning Johns’ practice: that of printmaking (lithographic, screen etc. At one time or another he has explored pretty much the full gamut). This is where the artist has always been at his most freely experimental. No doubt this has been a function of the processes themselves which allow for much more rapid prototyping and production. And this has always been an integral part of Johns’ method; the place where many of his thoughts and ideas can be worked out before forging ahead. But not always… at times the prints represent not just an experimental or “sketch” stage but are complete pieces in themselves as refinements even of previous paint processes. Such pieces are among my very favourite of the artist’s entire output. In printmaking Johns would make much use of the concept of the variants and the potential for layering and blending separate elements on separate plates, variations in inking and application, substrates etc. It is this aspect of his work that attracts me too because of its close association with the digital methods I myself employ. It is a notion I have made use of before and intend to do so again here. Only I can prototype and produce at a rate that Johns himself could barely contemplate…
One could suppose that many (or at least some…) of the thoughts I have expressed above would be applicable to music too. I am no musician, however, so I shall leave that to those far better qualified than I to ponder (Marc Yeats?). In any case, I have selected for today a performance of my favourite of Bach’s 6 Cello Suites, No.2 in D minor, by Mstislav Rostropovich. And while you are listening and marvelling no doubt, as I do, at the sheer virtuosity, colour and tonal values coupled with the controlled but palpable emotion of the great man’s performance, you may like to contemplate this: the digital production (as opposed to recording and God knows there are many differing opinions on that subject!) of music has nowhere near kept pace with the advances in digital image processing and production; to the point where I could, if I so desired, more or less replicate, with much greater fine control, the look and feel of analog production – or “silver” (that for my friend Anna Lee Keefer!) if you prefer. Yes, I know replication isn’t exactly the point here and, yes, I know that those who still like to do it in the dark would no doubt like to disagree. They are just plain wrong. But I wonder if this will always be the case? Could electronically produced digital sound ever replicate the feel, nuance, colours and tones etc. of live performance? I don’t know… but history tells us this: if it can be done it will be done. And if it is there will be a predictable, if understandable, chorus of outrage. Initially. But musicians and composers will adapt just as they have always done. Maybe they will discover many new horizons too. Oh sure, there will no doubt be more than a few “hold-outs”. A few Cnuts (and no, that’s not a typo. See here). But he couldn’t stem the tide and neither will they be able to. The world will keep on turning in any case…
Johann Sebastian Bach, Cello Suite No.2 in D minor, Mstislav Rostropovich, cello
A little bit more “Anna Magic” today. My friend and art partner in crime, Anna Lee Keefer that is…
I was listening to “Equinoxe” by Jean Michel Jarre and something about the piece immediately brought to mind Anna’s magical series, “testament to my interior forest as deciphered from an immediate environmental map”. So I stole two of the images and made the piece shown above. Not much more to say really. Anna says she made the series for me. She said she hoped it pleased me. It does. Greatly…
Today’s post is my penultimate in this series and my final collaborative piece; made once again in collaboration with Anna Lee Keefer. For this piece I took one of Anna’s images from one of her latest series, “testament to my interior forest as deciphered from an immediate environmental map” and, as usual, blended in one of my own foliage images to add a soupçon of texture and structure. And that’s it, basically…
The accompanying music I have selected is “A Handful Of Beauty” from John McLaughlin’s Indo/jazz collaboration with the Indian musicians of Shakti. A joyous little piece that, at one point, even threatens to turn into an Irish jig! A reflection of the pure joy I always find in working with Anna.
Incidentally, I originally titled this image “Anna Magic”. And that is exactly what it is really…
As indicated by the title of today’s post, the image above is the result of a collaboration with my close friend, confidante and regular collaborator, Anna Lee Keefer. I wanted to make a piece to accompany the McLaughlin track of the same name so I asked Anna to send me an image of woodland and foliage. Beyond this I made no stipulation as to how the image was to look. Taking Anna’s image and adding one of my own (though I deliberately selected my image to add not much more than a slight overall texture with some linear elements too) the result can be seen above. To reflect the theme of a comfortable and close friendship, the image is warm, dense and a little “closed in”; almost excluding the outside world in the way many close friendships do.
The same overall feeling is reflected, too, in the track taken from McLaughlin’s “Electric Guitarist” album and featuring a collaboration between him and Carlos Santana, a close friend. McLaughlin more than tips his hat to Santana’s more accustomed Latin rock style here and the track indeed sounds more like a Santana one than a McLaughlin one. That’s the way it is with friends…
“My grandfather used to work for your grandfather. Of course the rates have gone up.”
Igor, Young Frankenstein, Mel Brooks
One of the great joys of my life is my friendship with American artist and photographer, Anna Lee Keefer. We quite often collaborate on various projects too. Not that I have ever had much choice in the matter as she is constantly pestering me to enter into some nefarious activity or another with her. The image you see above is one such example.
I am indebted to Anna for her (not entirely reliable) account of how this latest joint effort came about (see above). The Mary Shelley quote she has selected to open with is a particularly apt choice, too. One of us has created a monster but I’m not entirely sure which way round that would be. Still, all in all, the truth is in there somewhere. Although I must object that as I am not a linguistically challenged teenage American girl it is extremely doubtful I ever actually used the word “awesome”. “Bleedin’” or otherwise. But perhaps I’m nitpicking here. However, I will hold my hands up to my probable use of the term “dog’s bollocks”, a phrase I am fond (maybe too fond) of using. I should also point out that if I ever did, in fact, wet my pants it was no doubt as much due to my advanced years as to anything else.
I have to say, too, that I have no idea where she got the title “In Praise of American Wood” from either. Seems rather ambiguous and more than a little dubious to me. Still, at least it appears heartfelt. In any case, the rest is more or less true. Especially the bit about my stealing images from her site as she slept. What can I say? I steal stuff. It’s what I do. I also lie quite a lot…
The musical piece I have selected for today is, appropriately enough, “Puttin’ On The Ritz” from Mel Brook’s “Young Frankenstein”. I have also added a second clip from the same film. Just the sort of gratuitous smut that amuses me hugely. So shoot me…
The process of making the images in this series could be summed up thus: Somebody, I think it was Gerhard Richter, once said that the process of making art was a series of small decisions followed by one big “yes”…
My starting point is usually three (a maximum of four) different images related only in that they are images of arboreal elements (branches, foliage, blossoms… you get the picture) and all fairly banal, even nondescript. Nevertheless the actual images are carefully selected in advance based on decisions informed by experience of what will work. The individual images are then taken into image editing software as discrete layers. At this point I have a vague idea of how I want the final image to look. The vaguest of ideas too as it is based on little more than a certain mood or certain associations I wish to express.
As a first rough edit I will rearrange the layer order and make a preliminary decision on which blend modes are most appropriate. The next step is to edit and adjust the individual layers. But first a small technical note: I suppose it is possible to use the ubiquitous Photoshop for this process but I actually use specialised image editing software. The most important part of the editing process is to be able to “extract” an individual layer and then “stack” the edits and tweaks and blends for that image while all the time retaining a “live” view of the overall image (i.e. all the individual image/layer blends) and the software I use allows just this. The reason for this requirement is that the process is a totally iterative one. As I said earlier, I start with a notion, nothing more, of how I want the final image to look but the process itself consists of a series of small edits (decisions) that “nudge” the overall image in the direction I desire. Along the way, however, there can be surprises and one always likes to retain the flexibility to “run” with any pleasant ones! The ability to backtrack, as it were, is also important. So… a series of small decisions leading to a big “yes”. The big “yes” being knowing when to stop. Possibly the most important step of all…
The intention of the final image is that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts; naturally, given the wholly uninteresting and banal nature of the original images. In any case, these original images end up as unrecognisable in the final piece. Something which you are going to have to take my word for as I have no intention of ever showing the “originals”! I have, however, deliberately chosen the image above as perhaps better illustrating the process than some others in the series.
From my description of the process you can probably glean that the whole method I use is very much based on a sort of “improvisation” on a theme. And as much as anything the theme is mostly based on mood. Much like Jazz in fact. And, accordingly, this is one of two reasons I have chosen today’s music accompaniment: Miles Davis’s masterpiece album, A Kind Of Blue. Surely one of the greatest albums ever made in any genre.
Oh… and my second reason? Miles Davis was the absolute epitome of cool. Do I need any other?
My name is Ian Talbot and I am an artist and photographer living in London.
This blog is intended as an insight into the research, thinking and connections that precede the projects I undertake. I will also show new and experimental work. Naturally, not all of the work shown here will eventually make the cut. These are very much 'works in progress'...
You can see a complete collection of my work at my website:
