Early last week I was invited to take the Desperate Artwives project to an upcoming exhibition at the Crypt gallery in London this March.
This is a great opportunity if you would like to show your work and be part of a dynamic and interesting group.
Calls are open to London based artists whose work is created entirely at home in between looking after the kids and the housework.
If you think you belong to this category please get in touch by emailing amyf.dignam@gmail.com and I will send more information!
Thank you
Amy ♥
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Sunday, 16 February 2014
Thursday, 13 February 2014
Claire Deniau ♥
I met Claire back in 2001. A fellow St.Martins student, she struck a chord with me from the very beginning.
Her work was implausibly well presented; it already looked so professional and accomplished. As far as I was concerned she was already a complete artist and I remember asking myself "What is she doing here?"... The work I most clearly remember was a big painting of two marigold gloved hands holding a sort of messy creme brule´.(Claire you might want to forgive me here if my description is not accurate but after 10 years and 3 children my memory is a bit blurred!) Claire painting skills are so on the money and her idea of combining so many different textures together in one painting was nothing short of genius.
In recent years Claire has become an acclaimed artist showing her work in some of the most prestigious galleries in London, Paris and New York.
The two paintings Claire sent me for this feature (see below), are both abstracts with bold words or statements superimposed on that demand you to action or reason. Is the writing connected to the painting beneath or are they two different bodies joined together to form one? Is the writing born before the painting or does the painting determine the writing?
Some of the questions her paintings ask are issues that as a viewer I often find myself debating. For example "What do you see?" openly supports the essence of abstract paintings. But for once, it's not for us to ask but rather it's the painting to proffer the question. "What do you see?"... Often abstract paintings leave me undecided and overwhelmed but with Claire's paintings I feel less intimidated. The viewer truly find themselves engaging and a conversation begins.
When I met Claire 13 years ago she had two young children. However in spite of her busy life she still managed to achieve a BA(hons)and a Masters degree in fine art. And now, with all these experiences to draw upon, she's out there working as a professional artist.
Claire is an inspiration to me and existing proof that art can carry on whilst caring for children and that perhaps "the pram in the hall" doesn't really exist...
To read and see more of Claire's practice please follow this link:
http://www.clairedeniau.com
Her work was implausibly well presented; it already looked so professional and accomplished. As far as I was concerned she was already a complete artist and I remember asking myself "What is she doing here?"... The work I most clearly remember was a big painting of two marigold gloved hands holding a sort of messy creme brule´.(Claire you might want to forgive me here if my description is not accurate but after 10 years and 3 children my memory is a bit blurred!) Claire painting skills are so on the money and her idea of combining so many different textures together in one painting was nothing short of genius.
In recent years Claire has become an acclaimed artist showing her work in some of the most prestigious galleries in London, Paris and New York.
The two paintings Claire sent me for this feature (see below), are both abstracts with bold words or statements superimposed on that demand you to action or reason. Is the writing connected to the painting beneath or are they two different bodies joined together to form one? Is the writing born before the painting or does the painting determine the writing?
I don’t know, but one thing is for sure, the words certainly dictated my behaviour when in front of them. I somehow started to feel curious when looking at the “Curious” painting, as if the artist was inviting me to find some important hidden detail.
Same with “Stay where you are”. I followed the instructions and didn’t move. I stayed and stayed and stared. I felt like the paintings had a real voice and were helping me in my journey of their discovery.
Some of the questions her paintings ask are issues that as a viewer I often find myself debating. For example "What do you see?" openly supports the essence of abstract paintings. But for once, it's not for us to ask but rather it's the painting to proffer the question. "What do you see?"... Often abstract paintings leave me undecided and overwhelmed but with Claire's paintings I feel less intimidated. The viewer truly find themselves engaging and a conversation begins.
Claire is an inspiration to me and existing proof that art can carry on whilst caring for children and that perhaps "the pram in the hall" doesn't really exist...
To read and see more of Claire's practice please follow this link:
http://www.clairedeniau.com
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| "Stay where you are" Oil on linen, 130x162 cm, 2012 Claire Deniau © |
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| "Curiosity" Oil on linen, 46x38 cm, 2012, Claire Deniau © |
Monday, 3 February 2014
Black hole ♥
I was very lucky with the birth of my three children. All went well and there were no complications. This allows me to look back at those moments with a sense of peacefulness.
With the passing of time, our minds often tend to magnify our memories, sometimes turning them into more intense experiences covering them with a thin layer of romanticism. That's why I remember all about those first cuddles and not so much about the pain that preceded them. Somehow, in my memories, that steady and acute pain softens and becomes almost pleasurable.
With the passing of time, our minds often tend to magnify our memories, sometimes turning them into more intense experiences covering them with a thin layer of romanticism. That's why I remember all about those first cuddles and not so much about the pain that preceded them. Somehow, in my memories, that steady and acute pain softens and becomes almost pleasurable.
Straight after giving birth, whilst everyone is still whirling around doing all the checks, I found myself being completely still.
As a "Madonna in Maesta'" I'm sitting in the birthing pool holding my baby for the first time. We're still connecting through the umbilical cord. I can feel it and it hurts a bit. Yes, it's uncomfortable but I don't mind. I stay still and I let everybody look after me.
In that instant I become a black hole, a void in which things falls into and vanish. My worries, my fears, my future... all disappear in the abyss I created and for once only that moment existed.
This article is also featured on http://www.eggwombheadmoon.com/black-hole/
In that instant I become a black hole, a void in which things falls into and vanish. My worries, my fears, my future... all disappear in the abyss I created and for once only that moment existed.
Amy Dignam 2014 ©
This article is also featured on http://www.eggwombheadmoon.com/black-hole/
Saturday, 25 January 2014
Rachael Allen ♥
.jpg) |
| Flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone © Rachael Allen |
.JPG) |
| The anatomy lab © Rachael Allen |
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| Doctors, Health Professional and their Patients, drawing commission for Edinburgh University Medical Humanities Research Network website © Rachael Allen |
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| Untitled (medical cot) © Rachael Allen - Untitled (chemotherapy chair) ©Rachael Allen |
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| Untitled (mortuary table) © Rachael Allen - Untitled (infant casket) © Rachael Allen |
Her drawings are the result of time spent in university anatomy labs: "She strives to marry the visual, intellectual and emotional elements of these environments to render drawings that focus attention on the sensory experience of anatomy...illustrating the specifics of doctor-patient relationship, illness experience and narrative medicine".
Between the ages of 19 and 23 Rachael battled with Anorexia. Her chronic condition saw her in and out of hospital several times. "Death was my artistic interest and my reality" she says, but she had to choose to save her life in order to keep producing art.
I found writing this post an arduous but significant experience. Having myself been through Anorexia during my teens and having faced death several times in my life, Rachael's work touched a nerve. They reminded me of the precariousness of life, death and illness. Issues that most of us are not really good at facing up to or accepting. However, although these images might at first have made me feel uncomfortable, I was able to see beyond my fears.
Rachael's sculptures are appealing, fascinating and somehow...elegant. Like Rachael puts it "The reduction in size and absence of bloody hues makes what is inescapably graphic and gory, somewhat more palatable, and even beautiful."
To me, Rachael's work is not about death but about survival and therefore life. She makes existence uncomplicated and easy to understand, we are what we are. And what we are is human.
Between the ages of 19 and 23 Rachael battled with Anorexia. Her chronic condition saw her in and out of hospital several times. "Death was my artistic interest and my reality" she says, but she had to choose to save her life in order to keep producing art.
I found writing this post an arduous but significant experience. Having myself been through Anorexia during my teens and having faced death several times in my life, Rachael's work touched a nerve. They reminded me of the precariousness of life, death and illness. Issues that most of us are not really good at facing up to or accepting. However, although these images might at first have made me feel uncomfortable, I was able to see beyond my fears.
Rachael's sculptures are appealing, fascinating and somehow...elegant. Like Rachael puts it "The reduction in size and absence of bloody hues makes what is inescapably graphic and gory, somewhat more palatable, and even beautiful."
To me, Rachael's work is not about death but about survival and therefore life. She makes existence uncomplicated and easy to understand, we are what we are. And what we are is human.
Friday, 24 January 2014
Monday, 20 January 2014
Helen Sargeant - Dana and Dexter can you please show me the way back to painting? ♥
Helen Sargeant is a visual artist I met through the Desperate Artwives project. Close but yet so far apart (Helen lives in West Yorkshire), we have now become friends; communicating regularly and exchanging ideas and visions of our common worlds. We share a passion for combining art and our family lives.
Earlier this month I had the pleasure of taking part in Helen's blog www.eggwombheadmoon.com with my "Egg surprise" work and today she is featuring in mine! Thank you Helen!
Dana and Dexter can you please show me the way back to painting?
By Helen Sargeant
Earlier this month I had the pleasure of taking part in Helen's blog www.eggwombheadmoon.com with my "Egg surprise" work and today she is featuring in mine! Thank you Helen!
Dana and Dexter can you please show me the way back to painting?
By Helen Sargeant
Both kids
at school. PHEW. A mad morning, they always are, but this one was especially
bonkers as Sydney my eldest son forgot
his cooking ingredients so probably too nice mum made a mad dash to high school
for him to drop off his ingredients, so he didn’t get a formal warning. Kettle
on the boil, washing up still piled up in the sink, hair still wet and in a
tangle, front room looking like world war three has hit it. Friday has arrived.
Yesterday
evening, led by the fullness of the moon, with the rush hour against me, alone,
I drove to The Hepworth in Wakefield to
listen to Dana Shutz in conversation with Dexter Dalwood. Her exhibition
currently on at The Hepworth is her first in the UK. Dana is an amazingly cool
american painter, one who I have always admired. I enjoy the humour and
naughtiness in her work, how she combines figuration and painterly gesture. I
loved this painting in the exhibition of a woman shaving her pubic hair the marks
in the work are beautifully crafted, I can see how she has rehearsed the marks,
how it has been orchestrated.
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| Dana Shutz, Shaving |
The
conversation between the two painters about their shared practice and
experiences of painting was joyous. Their words, looking at her paintings,
being in the gallery, was so inspiring, and it whisked me back to a world of
turpentine and canvas. I have a burning desire, a yearning to get back to being
a painter. My old canvases lie like sleeping beauty under my bed gathering dust
waiting to be woken up and unravelled.
Will I ever get back there ? I have my studio, my canvas, my paint, tons
of drawings, ideas, collages to work from, but I can't afford stretcher bars
yet, not until I get a new job, some funding, a pot of gold at the end of a
rainbow. Its always a money and time thing. A chicken and an egg situation. I
thought that I might just staple the canvas to the walls of the studio then
move it onto stretchers when I am able, but really I need the bounce and resistance
of the canvas. I want to be professional. When I begin, I want everything to be
in place, planning is part of it, part of the process of making.
So why
has it taking me so so long to simply paint? How many excuses have I made to
myself, the drawing cannot go on for ever, there has to be some resolution,
some transformation. Its what I feel passionate about, what really drives my
thinking, my desire to make. I need to smell the turpentine, mix the colours,
feel the alchemic qualities of the media, play with paint.
Dexter
Dalwood said “Paint doesn’t care how you feel”. This really struck a cord with
me. I have been allowing feelings to get
the better of me, to sabotage what needs to be done. Creating art work is a
critical, intellectual activity that requires perseverance, passion and hard
graft. Thing is being a mum is very
very physically and emotionally draining
and it too is just as demanding as arts practice, you can't just clock off.
It's a challenge to compartmentalise, to order, to find space and time to be
creative. But have I used becoming a mother as an excuse ?
I am
interested in what is possible, how creative processes and ways of making
change on becoming a mother. How being a mother effects and affects my
practice. I am interested in working towards finding ways to incorporate my
children, being with them, caring for them into the work that I make. Trying
not to get frustrated with the interruptions, learning to be with my children
in the moment, to learn from them. I love watching Naoise draw, at four he is
especially uninhibited and just loves to move marks around a piece of paper,
sometimes they become cars sometimes people. I want to make childish paintings
about an adult world. About the world that me and my sons inhabit. I want to
reinvestigate ideas around the body the body of the woman the body of the
mother, the body of the child.
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| Helen Sargeant, Grinding your teeth, Digital Collage, 25cmx25cm, January 2014 |
When I
was a student in my final year of the painting programme at Winchester School
of Art, I made a terrible and hilariously naïve painting. It was of a woman
giving birth. The birth comprised of a ginger bread baby dropping out
into the space of the canvas from grossly enlarged fleshy pink labia opening wide like shopping mall doors. Sacha Craddock
kindly pointed out to me that the image that I had depicted was nothing at all
what birth is like. She was spot on, it was awful. I was trying to paint about
a subject that I had no direct experience of. At the time I was interested in
the body, identity, sexuality, transgression. Yes the painting was rubbish, but
the fact that I wanted to investigate a universally important subject, was
ambitious, it was heartfelt.
This is
where I want to go back to. I want to pick up the paints from where I left
off together with the experiences that I
now hold as an artist who is a mother of two boys muddling through life, making
it up as I go along.
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| Helen Sargeant, Bird Woman, oil painting on canvas, 180x150cm, 1994 |
I paint, I draw, I make, I write, I mother, I am.
Helen Sargeant
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