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Painting, drawing, films, stories, travel and other odds and ends
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Two pigeons- it's time to go to jail
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My friend
In Vilcabamba, in magnificent mountainous southern Ecuador (a place I`d recommend despite being stuffed full of hippies). I drew a face on this plastic spoon. I`m not sure exactly where the spoon came from. I don`t buy take-away food. My best bet is that it was in the kitchen of the little hostel and it somehow found its way into my things.
I don`t know exactly how.
Maybe I was drunk*. I rediscovered drunkenness in Colombia at the end of last year and I absolutely love it. They produce various light lagers (Club Colombia, Aguila, Poker), none of which are any great shakes but they all give just the right wooziness without making you feel too shabby the next day.
Drunkenness is my favourite mental state by a long long mile (the next down on my list being how you feel arriving in a bright hotel room in a beautiful city and there are fresh towels and the sheets are crisp and clean and everything is orderly and you feel young and special). I should add, by drunkenness, I mean mild-drunkenness, where everything goes soft focus and gilded and all women are gorgeous and conversation a good sight less tedious and your thoughts don`t have that jaggedness. I don`t mean the falling over, football hooligan vomiting sort.
The face is faint- that smooth plastic doesn`t really take ball-pen ink- but that`s fortuitous, surely?- that faintness adds to the sense of of spoon-faces reserve (it is surely a he, don`t you agree?). He is a listener, not a talker, and in a garrulous world that is something to be admired.
Later, I thought that the conical tip of the spoon very much suggests the presence of a hat- perhaps a fez, or maybe something more like a brimless bowler? -could my friend be Pierrot?
Some see passivity in spoon-face's silence. Do they they not know the immense discipline that it takes too listen, calmly withholding?
I may quote Jesus:
Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth
When I gaze into the eyes of spoon-friend I sense deep understanding, a loving presence before which I never need to justify myself. When I`m with spoon-face, the anxieties that so often haunt me are absent. I know that that I am loved despite my flaws.
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*I know you think DUH you're British, of course you were I must protest: it`s not as it used to be, especially among the youth who hardly drink at all.
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There is much that is beautiful in the world and my objective here was to create something which people will find unappealing, without resorting to obviously repellent mimetics (representations of unappetising phenomena) or recourse to unpleasant symbolism (symbols associated morally dubious groups or individuals, such as the Nazi party).
I started with an unattractive material, blue tac, which has a grey colour. It has a slightly grainy texture. It also has an odd property which is that it can be stretched if warmed and pulled very slowly, and can also snap.
Thinking about it now though, the grey is actually quite nice, its a soft, grey leaning towards yellow. It would never be my favourite colour (which for the record is a marron red, or jade green or golden yellow depending on my mood) Maybe here a dirty pink would be better?
However, I would say that the texture of blu-tack here is not very pleasant, at least to me. I don`t know about you, but I`m really a smooth surfaces person. I always say no to rustic.
My blue tac has been formed into a sphere- or rather, an almost sphere. Such an almost form is, I think basically unsatisfying. I believe incompletion and irregularity are essentially unpleasing, unless they are given a specific context - i.e. a rough path surface which serves to provide a better grip, or the dissonance used in certain pieces of music by, say Mahler.
I added a blotch of blue tac to give an additional unpleasantness. Do you see how it looks a bit like a scab? I hope so. I`m breaking my rule of avoiding obviously unpleasant mimetics- here I admit it.
I also drove several (four) small holes in the surface with the matchstick before inserting it into a fifth. Arbitrariness has, I feel, a disturbing quality, the sense that there`s no rhyme or reason for something is annoying, pointlessly provocative. It is argued that one of the definitions of the classical in art is in completion, harmoniousness- so that no element can be added or removed without destroying this balance. I hope I have, in contrast, succeeded in creating a piece in which elements can be added, moved or removed without disturbing its essential quality, leaving its meaning- its ugliness - intact.
In addition, the act of puncturing the surface of the piece conveys an aggression towards the piece (perhaps a metaphor for self harm?) which I trust views will recoil from. Of course, there is an established tradition of the fragment in art, one of the many strange borrowings from the re-discovery of Greek art by Northern Europe in the 18th century, and which resulted in the deliberate production of fragmented pieces by forgers, and ultimately detached hands, heads faces- by Rodin and Brancusi among others.
But, in contrast to the considered fractioning of these masters, my action here is merely violent, conveying nothing more than the idle idiocy of the casual vandal, and I trust viewers will recoil from the sight of these four puncture holes.
I hope also that viewers will find the matchstick sticking up like that- basically stupid and pointless.
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It's nice to find something inside a box
1. A box. How curious. I wonder if it has anything inside?
Why not give it a little shake?
Ooooh...a faint rattling sound!
2. Now, push the little try. A glimpse of what's inside...
3. Whoah, what can that be?
4. A twist tie! So useful.
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Here is something I received from a shop. When the plump lady serving put my item (a small tube of green paint) in the bag I was extremely pleased.
Why were you pleased?
A. It was unexpected. In days when relations have a sorry predictability the unexpected is (almost) something to be grateful for in itself especially when it is also…
B. thoughtful. The lady obviously knew that the chances of losing the tube would be much higher if I were to carry undeveloped
C. I was so grateful that she did not use a plastic bag as I just find paper things more pleasant texturally
D. The quality of this particular envelope is noteworthy- reassuring slightly stiff- yes, a little unyielding. and dare I say somewhat old fashioned, so you might imagine that, were it to come to life, that it would speak in the manner of a retired military man, a mid-ranking officer, the sort that make appearances in David Lean films.
E. The colour is extremely pleasing. So much packaging seems to feel the need to shout, to demand attention. By contrast the self assured modesty of this envelope is so pleasing British. British, that is, in a way which does still just about exist, with that quality of calm reserve? A country whose coins and postage stamps do not carry its name.
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This is what I ate today (16 March 2023 at about 11.30 am), and it`s being served on one of my four large plates. The plate design has a certain insanity about it- characteristic of the acid-trip designs sold by the Brazilian ceramics firm which has the very un-psychedelic and stoical name "Oxford".
I admit that there is something disturbing about my spaghetti. I think it suggests a sea anemone:I feel anxious that it might stage a revolt when it realises how it is about to be consumed, when the prongs of my fork twist its tentacles and proceed to lift it to my central , open anticipating facial orifice. The piece of tomato looks like an organ too, you will agree.
You might think, and perhaps not say, except to a close confidant and not to offend, yes, really, that really isn't nice at all, or how can he put that in his mouth, or suchlike, but really it is delicious. Actually I think I like how you might not like it. It's like, I know something you don`t.
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Does modest photography have a political aspect?
In the sense that all communicative forms attempt to direct the people's attention to specific ideas, and induce changes in consciousness we can say that modest photography is political.
By increasing appreciation of the commonplace and the overlooked we likely will reduce interest in the melodramatic, the self important and showy, and gain greater appreciation of what is around us. We can argue that this is political since it eschews the celebrity culture and the cult of obvious wealth that currently belabours the west.
Can anyone do modest photography?
Yes. Modest photography is for everyone. Modest photography can be pursued with a cheap celphone, or a costly Hasselblad.
What are the favoured styles in modest photography?
Modest photography has no dominant voice. It can be in colour, black and white, square, or oblong. But obviously, the effect of a modest photography must be commensurate with its message: that is undramatic, humble.
What are the origins of modest photography?
The origins of modest photography are in the still life photography used for product catalogues, in Dutch 17th century painting and its appreciation of the ordinary daily life and the School of Paris photographers such as Kertész or Brassai.
What about titles?
Modest photography encourages the use of explanatory titles and writing. These should, naturally, be in a plain style.
Is modest photography boring?
Probably to some.
Modest photography proposes that the constant need for sensation apparent in contemporary culture is tedious and demeaning both intellectually and emotionally. Modest photography challenges the idea that what is most worth of attention is what is noisiest, most expensive or most dramatic.
Modest photography does not, however, impose itself as mainstream culture imposes itself.
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There's been a change to this corner of the living room: that is, the Croton has appeared on the stool, replacing the Peace lily, which is now on the floor on left.
The Croton plant, in the conical clay vase, has a distinct personality: insistent yet in no way vulgar.
What's it trying to say?
It's a new arrival and I'm concerned about its well-being: after I had purchased it, I was siting in the cafe area of the shop and was approached by another customer who told me about he he had purchased and planted six similar plants in his garden, all of which had been entirely consumed by ants.
But he then added that if the plant were kept in a vase he thought it would be all right. Did he say that simply to close the conversation pleasantly, or was it something he he really believed?
I don't know, and I doubt I'll ever find out.
Perhaps the plant wishes to tell us: "I'm still a stranger here, see me! Afford me the care and protection that is my due."
The detective in a Panama hat observes...
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