Return to ropes

On my previous visit to Kent last month, I collected a whole bundle of ropes from the shoreline. They were odds and ends, pieces of rope that had been cut or discarded or lost. There were different types and lengths to choose from; orange, blue, soft yellow, thick, thin, unwound, huge coils or tufts. I decided to select orange rope mostly with one piece of yellow thrown in. For practical reasons I picked up just a few lengths. As I alluded to in my previous blog entry I love the material quality of ropes and find them fascinating. I was recently given a copy of the film 'Ropemakers; Memories of Chatham Dockyard" by Prue Waller. It explores the previously bustling Naval dockyard in Chatham through different memories and scenes but perhaps the most beautiful & mesmeric part for me is the rope making shed. Waller shows the processing of raw hemp into twines of rope in this antiquated building with original machinery that twists the hemp into long strands of rope. From a soft unprepossessing fibre, there is a magical transformation into strong coarse rope that will tether and secure the shipping world.
This pile of old rope (money for..?) has been sitting in my studio patiently waiting for me to give it attention, on the floor in a cluster of orange tangle. Even as it sits in a still life it has energy and intrigue. I have kept observing it whilst I try to wrestle with new drawings of power stations and large container ships. At the end of my last day in the studio (wednesday) I could no longer resist it. I swept it up off of the floor and took it to my scanner, placed it down on the glass bed and waited to see what the scanner would produce. The results are dream like, with the orange rope being absorbed into tones of grey. I kept moving the ropes to re-choreograph the image and new arrangements came to light. Progressively as I made the first scans, fibres were left on the scanning bed and obscured the subsequent images.

I began the process of scanning again.

With the assistance of my Dyson vacuum cleaner after each scan, I made some new images. There are still some loose rope fibres which can be detected but they are less invasive in the images than before.
After each scan of the ropes, I then scanned these loose fibres that had been left on the bed. Like a ghost or shadow of the presence of the ropes before hoovering the 'fibre drawing' up.

My next move may be to progress these rope scans onto a bigger scanner as I am working on an A3 size. I will have to take my Dyson with me though!

Yesterday I went to an exhibition called Made in the Middle which is a showcase of contemporary craft from across the Midlands. Much of the work was very exciting and in particular there was one artist called Imogen Aust who "makes one off objects that comment upon craft itself'. She worked in ceramics in strong colours but one of her pieces included rope threaded into a ceramic wall mounted disc. My rope antennae must be in full use because I came back with the images of her work in my mind and then woke up at 4am with my imagination buzzing. I began to develop rope ideas in my head until 6am.

http://www.madeinthemiddle.org/

Hello Kent

A visit to the site again was a welcome return to the place. I went down on Friday 23rd February. After a very positive meeting with a creative company Francis Knight in the morning I made my way to the estuary. It was an unseasonally mild February day and as I drove down the dusty potholed track to the site, it was a glorious feeling of relief to be back. The light was soft and picked up the textures and myriad of colours of the marsh grass. A herd of cows grazing with their calves looked like a scene from an American plain.

Driving down the track was time consuming trying to avoid all of the huge potholes and rough ground but then it made me re-evaluate time; refocus. I've been caught up in the constant overload of information and activity that seems to be required for life now. As I parked the car at the end of the track and opened the door all I could hear was birdsong and the wind. I just sat there for ages listening, not needing to move or do anything.

Using the car as a base I began drawing. I became obsessed by this tangle of bramble that grew obstinately in a field in front of my viewpoint. I was fascinated by the way it clung onto the patch of ground, its mass of deep purple thorned stems, turning in on itself, creating a clutch of growth. I just drew it obssesively for about 2 hours. In between I was photographing all of these cargo ships that I could see drifting along the sea wall. They became like modern day prison hulks, except they were moving more objects into to Tilbury and taking waste out. A constant exchange of nonsensical activity while I made primal marks on paper and looked at a bush.