Finishing painting this new (and existentialist) idea

I didn’t have the patience to finish this painting tomorrow! So I went ahead and worked on it wet. This wet on wet process will have had an affect on the look of the finished painting, which is interesting. It’ll have that glossy, visceral look.

I wanted to cover some of the bottom part of the painting with the background colour. So I used two big brushes to do this, one to apply the paint quite thickly and one to blend with no paint on the brush. I ended up blending the paint so that the gestural brushmarks blend seamlessly with the totally blurred blue. This is interesting! The viewer doesn’t know what is appearing from where. A close up:

Finished painting:

I added this final red mark in this curving shape. I mixed the paint with lots of liquin so that the paint underneath would be minimally smudged. This curving shape is great. Moving inwardly it acts as some sort of shifting frame for the mass of brush marks.

If I had more time, I would have waited for these marks to dry and added more blue background to cover the bottom bit of the mass of brush marks, to mesh the background with the mass a little better. But perhaps the fact that I don’t have time to do that is a good thing! It means I can’t overwork the piece.

This painting has been really successful as a first colour attempt at this existential idea of stepping outside of my lived experience.

The painting is very much inline with the larger charcoal sketch on the bottom right of this photo of my studio wall:

They both deal with the idea of a recorded lived experience being witnessed as an external viewer.

I am really excited about pushing this composition forward next term. I’m thinking it might be worth looking at the Surrealist painters? Since they paint objects into imaginary landscapes?
I am most excited about the digital edit I did of the painting and the sculpture:

The way the line of the studio floor marks the horizon line in the landscape, and the structure appearing and disappearing from the brushstroke mass is interesting. There is something about this edit and the painting, and the idea of the structure being photographed in a blank space to mimic a larger landscape (when there is nothing around the structure to define scale) that is an exciting starting point for next term.

Finished painting

Painting this new (and existentialist) idea continued

I am thinking of this painting as one that has many final states – captured in photographs and then reworked to keep exploring. Although the physical painting is only one final image, the other states will be recorded here in photographs.
This is a really FREE way of painting. I far less worried about spoiling what I have already done, because I am recording it before reworking it.

^ Next layer with massive dry brush in Gerhard Richter style, impersonating the squeegee marks he makes. These are surprisingly difficult to do! Ideally I would then have waited for this layer to dry before moving on, but I am limited on time so on I go!

I did a lot here. Being very playful with marks. Half consciously thinking back to Howard Hodgkin’s work and his playful array of brushstrokes.
I was thinking about brushstroke size here, adding the small brushstrokes at the top of the canvas, like I did on my past paintings.

Denser blue hazy background put in, which is much stronger. And I added some green! Because that colour was lacking.
With these layers I was thinking about where the ground of the painting is. Trying to deal with that here with the curving horizontal line that wraps around the funnel of brushstrokes. Is this the marker for where the ground is? And anything below that is what.. underground?!

I am realising this composition and experiment is very directly influenced by Amy Sillman’s painting Get the Moon. I am making my own work based on that, something I have never felt the need to do so intently before.

Adding ‘screens’ to the painting with big lines of paint. The blue marks being intentionally dry and so semi transparent. To add depth and cover things up. The beige marks at the bottom covering up the stuff below this strange ground line I put in.

So I’m thinking about my paintings from an outsider’s perspective. The structure might sit in the painting, or it might not. But it can act in this photograph as a representation of what I am painting.

I am essentially painting this:

The structure with the lived experience painting on the inside. And I am painting the outside, looking at this from afar.

It’s very helpful to have this image. I am imagining this in my head based on this model! It’s like I’m adding special effects to this basic model, to create the painting. Like this:

Editing this image helps me to figure out what I’m painting. I’m excited to see where this train of thought goes when I pick it back up next term!

All think it needs now is the same colour as the background applied opaquely on top of some of the lower marks. Am I going to wait for the paint to dry a little first?

Book: The Art of Looking Up

I saw this article on The Guardian Art weekly email and immediately knew I needed to read the book! I now have the physical book. Here are my notes from it:

THIS BOOK IS AMAZING

As humans we are hierarchical and believe that the higher up something is, the greater its importance, and we consequentially tend to desire things that are tantalizingly out of reach. As humanity we have looked up at the sky above us to understand our place in the universe

McCormack, C., 2019, The Art of Looking Up, White Lion Publishing: London, P.7.

the sky binds us to our planet but also presents a boundary that we long to break through. Looking up was led by a desire for transcendence beyond ourselves and this is, perhaps, why it is here that we have long projected our religious, cultural and social beliefs and philosophies.

This might also explain why the blank spaces of our buildings – the domes, the vaults, the ceilings – have proved irresistable to emblazon and decorate; they act as a version of the sky that we can control and occupy to our own design. The words are linked linguistaically, after all. The English word ‘ceiling’ is influenced by the Latin term caelum meaning ‘sky’ of ‘heaven’.

McCormack, C., 2019, The Art of Looking Up, White Lion Publishing: London, P.7.

In 3000BCE we worshipped beings in the ground. Then..

The great sky-god cults emerged at the beginning of the Indo-European age and their dominance has not waned.

McCormack, C., 2019, The Art of Looking Up, White Lion Publishing: London, P.7.

looking up fosters aspirations of immortality. The ceiling is an aggrandizing space for those who have the means to occupy it in visual form.

McCormack, C., 2019, The Art of Looking Up, White Lion Publishing: London, P.7.

^ I like this idea, of a space being ‘occupied’ by power, ideas or belief.

This book is prompting some unplanned experiments in the studio:

My big paintings are so planned and thought out, it’s refreshing to paint in the studio with no idea where it’s going. I have a feeling the work I’m starting is going to involve lots of layers and reworking and some time between painting layers – very different to my usual way of painting!

Regardless of race, geography or creed, all gods occupy the sky.

McCormack, C., 2019, The Art of Looking Up, White Lion Publishing: London, P.13.

^ Looking up is universal, across cities, countries, cultures, languages.

The images in this book are so inspiring. Some of the paintings (it seems to be more the Renaissance ceiling paintings) deal with such vast ideas of distance and height, and also vast and great frameworks of belief. Like on P.135.

This book is a vivid form of inspiration that I will pick up and look through often.

Artist: Gerhard Richter

The book Godfrey, M., Serota, Nicholas & Tate Modern, 2011. Gerhard Richter : panorama, London: Tate Publishing.

Pictures by Gerhard Richter are neither documentation nor fiction. Nevertheless, they depict human life

Godfrey, M., Serota, Nicholas & Tate Modern, 2011. Gerhard Richter : panorama, London: Tate Publishing, P.6.

It’s interesting that when you put a cluster of paintbrush marks on the canvas, if the marks are condensed enough, the eye sees it as a sculptural object. Such as in the painting by Richter on P.46, Table, 1962. Is that just my eyes?!

When you put in a very soft blurred background with no evidence of paint brush marks, and then add very quick marks on top that are directly made from gesture and movement and not touched again, these marks look like they are floating in a space. Shown in the painting Coloured Grey [Bunt auf Grau], 1968, oil on canvas, P.98.
This is to do with what I always seem to go back to, that I first overheard in a conversation between artists at a gallery when I was 18, that the contrast between two visual painting extremes accentuates each side! And does something.

P.100 the painting Untitled (Stroke) [Ohne Titel (Strich)] 1968, oil on canvas. This incredibly gestural mark next to the blurry background looks like the brush mark is some great structural shape in space. The length and height of the canvas makes the shape seem very great. What would happen if I added blurryness, in the form of gradients?, into my work next to the brushstrokes I am already doing? Would it make the gestural brush strokes look more sculptural and like they are in three dimensional space?

Gerhard Richter is an excellent painter, looking at his work in depth for the first time, I realise he reminds the viewer of what to notice in the real world. He depicts something so on the brink of reality, and yet also so far from it, that it makes me want to go and stare at the real world!


Gerhard Richter in the interview at the start of the book, talking about his abstract paintings:

We describe them as more abstract, because they bear so little resemblance to reality but, nevertheless, they are exactly that: they present us with a picture of something, regardless of whether it could exist or not.

P.20

When abstract painting one could either use this to their advantage or not. A painter could embrace the fact that the viewer will subconsciously find a picture in the painting, or they could try and get away from it. In my work I embrace and try to use this to my advantage – painting abstractly with the intention that the finished result, even though the marks are truly abstract, will resemble a landscape.

abstraction. It’s so mysterious, like an unknown land.

P.20

I like that a lot: abstraction is ‘like an unknown land’.

Some later abstract paintings also started in a similar way with constructive lines and vistas, architectonic, or like science fiction.

P.21

I am becoming more and more interested in science fiction as an influence to art. I want to rewatch 2001: A Space Odyssey. I have watched that film and read the book and was blown away by both. Perhaps it is influencing/ will influence my work.

NS: But painting is not about efficiency.

GR: Actually it is, in the sense that it allows us to find a form for a complicated idea, that’s to say, to make something chaotic communicable, it is efficient.

P.21

This is a wonderful idea for framing painting. My most recent ideas for painting – the existential stuff, are very much about condensing a chaotic idea into a communicable painting.

There was something appealing about it [Double Pane of Glass, 1977, P.137]. The space between.

P.23

^ Space between things being more interesting than the things themselves. That’s an interesting idea.

Richter discovered the squeegee with the painting Abstract Painting [Abstraktes Bild] ,1980, P.127.
The yellow marks across the canvas is like flat screen that blocks the depth of the scene in the painting behind. I want to use this mark marking in my work, to use screens as a way to cover things from the viewer, to then exaggerate what isn’t hidden.


The reason I was drawn to Richter’s paintings were his abstracted landscape and completely abstract paintings, that I came across by chance, I can’t remember how. They just struck me as so relevant to my work, that I was surprised I had never come acorss them before, or known Richter without knowing about this series of his.

Abstract Painting [Abstraktes Bild], 1984, oil on canvas, 50×70, P.125. The blue, soft, blended background and the muddy green bottom suggest a landscape. The paint marks he’s making are so similar to my work. He is blending the paint in places, which accentuates the gestural marks. This idea of blended marks that are removed from the painting process, next to the gestural marks that remind one of the painting process, is something Richter seems to do often, and it’s something I would like to try in the painting I am working on currently.

Pages 128-132, 147-9, 154-5 filled with abstract paintings that repeat this idea of blurred vs gestural. I have looked at these images a lot and noticed the architectural qualities of them. The planes he created in space, the movement of wind or energy through scattered marks.
The squeegee seems like an effective tool for playing with planes, screens and depth. I could try using this tool next term.

Two oil paintings both called Abstract Painting [Abstraktes Bild] and both done in 1977 on Pp.140-1. They remind me of what I think my paintings would look like if the paintings were 3D and you walked right up to the brushstrokes.

June [Juni], 1983, oil on canvas, P.155. Reminds me of Amy Sillman’s painting Get the Moon. The blurry background in this painting is interesting.

Overall

I am going to keep referring back to Richter’s work. I would like to see some of it in person as well! Some of his work in at the Tate Modern in London, which I could see over Christmas, I will look to see if there is any more of his stuff in London that I don’t know about.

His work both aesthetically (the abstract works) and conceptually feels familiar to me. Reading about his ideas lets me see what is important to me. And increasingly, sci-fi is becoming something that is intriguing me – the concepts in sci-fi of vast spaces and huge amounts of time, all just a bit puzzling.

Hanging paintings for assessment

I realise that I have been hanging my paintings a little too low in the past. Since the work is about height and scale they need to be hung so that the viewer needs to look up at them slightly, to enforce the sense of height and scale and the experience of looking up. This idea also goes back to the first cathedral painting I saw in Edinburgh when I first started painting religious interiors, this painting was hung so high up that at my eye level I was looking at the bottom fifth of the painting. This was probably partly due to the great height of the room the painting was being hung in, and my studio is not that tall! So I don’t want to be too extreme.

Too high. Looked a bit ridiculous.
Current height. Might bring right painting down a bit, still looks a bit too high and ridiculous, but I’ll sit with it for a bit.
This is how the painting looks when I stand in front of it and look up.
It’s quite nice because you have to look up at the arch of the structure at the front of the painting, as you would if the structure was real.
Brought the right painting down a couple of inches, this looks right when you are standing in front of it and fits proportionally with the left painting, but it’s high enough that you still have to look up to see the structure. Sorted.

Painting this new (and existential) idea

I was reading the book ‘The Art of Looking Up’ (blog post on it to follow) and it really makes me want to paint. Mid reading it I got some oil proof paper, stapled it to the walls and got out my oil paint! I am going off the monochrome work I have done thinking about Amy Sillman’s painting ‘Get the Moon’ (2006) and stepping out of my own recorded lived experience.

I am painting with oil paints thinned with turpentine. I want to work in a way I haven’t for so long: layers of oils with gaps of drying time between sessions, not painting with any intentions for the outcome, but painting to play!

This is stage one:

Since the first stage I have been reading about Gerhard Richter and thinking about blurred gradient backgrounds in contrast to gestural and immediate brushstrokes:

So I added a gradient background, using a big dry brush to blend things seamlessly – I have not painted like this in YEARS! I then took this big brush and swept across what I did before. It now looks disconnected to the viewer. Playing with this sweeping semi transparent brushstroke as a way to make distance between the viewer and the scene behind; a way of adding depth to the landscape(?). This works feels like I am branching into surrealist territory, but I don’t really know if that’s true because I don’t know much about Surrealists at all. I could look up some images.
I also like the way the gradient background has covered some of the thicker brushstrokes from the first layer but you can still the ghost of them because of the texture.

I guess I am playing with ideas of transparency in this painting, which I am beginning to see was intended in my practice! All part of me just following my practice as it flows to places I don’t expect.

Now I wait for this layer to dry.

This artist in the inspiration I know realise for having concentrated blue colour in a strip along the centre of my painting. This artist paints woodlands, and a lot of the time has this strip along the centre. Foresty influence identified!

Making sculpture maquettes – adding a paper model to the existing sculpture

I made two maquettes last week, but I still haven’t written them up here. This process was very material heavy and I didn’t feel inclined to write anything about them here until now. I think I was still processing what I had made!

The reason I wanted to make a maquette was to understand my painting in 3D – to build a model of the experience I have when I paint outside. Because when I paint outside, I am condensing a 360 degree experience onto a flat plane, I do this by looking all around me when I paint, but describing this 360 experience with gesture and colour on a square flat plane.
So this maquette is a way for me to think about describing my experience as a 360 degree painting/sculpture/instillation, since that would be more accurate to how I record the landscape. The sculpture, which I stand in the centre of when I paint/ have the experience outside, the becomes a frame for my lived experience, and holds up the painting that records it.
– This is all super weird!

First, I made a lil mini paper structure, with an octagon net shape:

And used thick wire (the same stuff I used for my bigger sculpture) to support the paper and hold itself up – the reason this wire is so good – it can support itself!:

I realised from this that to make the top of the shape pointed, two sides of the shape overlap, so the initial net of the paper shape needs to have more sides than the finished shape will have. So all my structures have 8 sides, so I needed to make a net with 9-10 sides, depending on how pointed I want the top of the paper model to be.

Next I made a model that would sit on top of the existing structure! I wanted to see how it would look to have the structure next to brushstrokes that encompass the structure.

MESS. Good mess.

I used acrylic paint to cover the card. I painted it once the shape was glued together, which made the process a little precarious, but it also meant I could paint knowing which sides would match up.
I made marks with colour and gesture that matched the kind of marks I make when I paint in the woods, using colours from my most recent plein air paintings.

This is the finished sculpture. Which is best viewed by holding it up and putting you head underneath / inside and looking up…

This works! And is a really interesting concept. I am building a sculptural experience that replicates my recorded lived experience for viewers to experience for themselves. Is that a bit self absorbed? Lol.

This is an interesting piece to talk with others about, and show when they are in my studio. I really like letting others hold up the maquette and look inside! Seeing how they react is fun, it’s a very childish act.

It’s interesting that this one paper mache and wire sculpture is becoming so many things:
– an independent sculpture
– a perspective tool to paint with
– a model in drawings and paintings
– a sculpture in the landscape through photographs and image manipulation
– a conceptual framework for my experience, religious buildings, etc.

I would love to make a structure like this that you could actually walk through – life sized. There would be the question of how I paint it? And probably a lot of other things to sort out, but there’s something, for next term.

New Finished Painting

I decided not to rework this canvas en plein air before adding the white structure lines. I thought that I would add the lines, and if the canvas still needed reworking I could do this after the structure in is, which is something I’ve never done before, but which could be interesting.

I decided on this image of the sculpture to add to the painting. I made this decision by revisiting the photoshopped structure images in the landscape and photos I took of the space where I was painting, and used them to pick to photograph an image of the structure from an angle that best fitted the shape I imagined when I was painting outside in the landscape.
I used a normal (not wide-angle) lens to do this, due to the investigation I did into how the wide angle lens badly affects the structure’s shape.

I felt this image was fitting for the painting because of the leg of the structure on the left, which is close to the viewer and soars up to meet the top. I thought this extreme angle and proximity to the camera would accentuate the height of the structure compositionally.

I the traced the image (which took a little guess work especially the top left part of the structure because the leg blurs all that is behind it), and then projected that onto the painting.
I was immediately excited to see how the painting would turn out. The angle of the structure using the normal lens felt like the most successful dome and religious building like shape I have ever painted.
When choosing where to place the structure in this painting I had a bit of a dilemma; I was torn between placing the structure where it fits best in the painted landscape and fully describes where I pictured it in the painting, or whether I should prioritise the aesthetics of the final painting, and move the structure down so that it fills more of the canvas.
I ended up finding a middle ground between the two, slightly favouring the aesthetic concern.
Ideally I wouldn’t have to choose between these two. The problem once again was that I had filled too much of the canvas with the ground and the tree shape forms straight ahead, but not enough of the painting was the sky / canopy. And since the structure is focused on the act of looking up, I felt there wasn’t enough perception of looking up recorded in the plein air painting.
Next time I do one of these paintings I must remember to look up more when I am painting outside.

Here’s the painting process:

This was quite quick to paint (half a day). This is because this structure felt the most natural and fitting for the painting than any shape I have added in the past. I am also familiar with the projecting & painting process by now, and so have a better eye for which lines to include and which to leave out.

The finished painting:

1.6 x 1.2m

What works

I am really happy with the finished painting, and feel like it achieves something I have been striving for for months, which is for the structure to remind the eye of a religious building, with the dome of the building seeming to contain space great space and atmosphere within it, and for this structure to harmonise with the woodland painting underneath.
I think this is achieved by these reasons:
– Normal lens (not wide angle) which captured the angles of the structure with perspective that is like the naked eye, which makes the perspective lines look believable to the viewer of the painting.
– The angle the viewer is looking at the painting accentuates the depth of the structure because the front part of the structure overlaps with the roof of the structure – the lines cross. And by putting some of the lines under paint marks that some on top, the eye is told that this structure has depth in space. The angle doesn’t look up straight up at the structure (which would make the lines look flat and decorative), and the angle doesn’t look too far across at the structure that the viewer doesn’t feel inside/underneath the structure.
– The placement of the structure: it fills nearly half of the canvas. It feel like the structure is a massive entity with great, vast presence in the painting. This gives the painting a heavier atmosphere than my previous paintings, which feel lighter and airer. This might also be affected by the colours in this painting, which are very dull and limited.

The background colour – blood red – works well. At the bottom of the canvas I would normally have had to put down a lot of red tones to counteract the cold blue background, but in this painting the red was already there, so I could focus on other parts of the canvas and leave the floor bare. The red background, I realise now, might be why the painting is more intense that previous ones. But I think this works. Since the cathedral/religious buildings I experience I think are intense, and heavy and thick with atmosphere, so it makes sense to reflect that in the background colour of my paintings!
I also think at this time of year the red works well to describe the heavy and still feeling there is to a sleeping woodland.

The size of the canvas. A little bigger than my last painting and a little squarer, which means it encompasses you more when you stand in front of it, which is effective for the atmosphere and experience I am trying to create!
I guess in a way I am trying to best and most accurately depict the experiences I am having in both a woodland and a religious building, so that the viewer, when they stand in front of my painting, experiences what I felt. Have I so clearly acknowledged this before!? This would be good as work that is trying to remind people of the wonder of religious and woodland spaces, regardless of culture or religion.

These specific sections on the canvas!:

^ The white structure line that I painted on top of the green brush mark with not much paint on the brush. This meant the white only got put down on some of the ridges of the dry brush mark. But the affect is that the thick green brushmark is semi-transparent and shows some of the white line underneath. I love this! It adds more complexity and dimension and mystery to my marks, which have always been very opaque.
I want to play with this idea of transparency and semi-transparency more (next term). It seems to be a topic that has emerged this term which I want to experiment with.

^ The layering of brush marks here, to me, makes this section look like an opening in trees/ foliage which leaves way for a scene that is further back in space (the grey marks). I love that such abstracted brush marks can suggest the opening in the forest, which is exactly what I was painting and trying to depict.

What doesn’t work

There is not enough white in the painting! The day I painted the sky was so grey, and filled more of the landscape than I have recorded here. More sky and less greeny brushwork at the top of the painting would have been better because it would have more accurately described the landscape I painted, and also give this sense of an opening the forest that the structure sits in.
This is purely me running out of white paint when I was painting outside! I won’t make this mistake again.

Perhaps the painting doesn’t have enough height? I made the structure’s top pretty large in the painting, which as I have written above, works really well. But I feel this means there should be more painted space below the structure. This would also eliminate the problem that I seem to not have enough vertical room on the canvas for both the ground and the sky above. Perhaps I need to build a stretcher that is vertically longer? (Next term)

Overall

This is the most successful painting for fulfilling my intentions I have ever made, which has been exciting to watch coming together!

The painting reminds me Giovanni Paolo Panini’s work, especially these two by him:

This is exciting because I feel like his work has been in the back of my mind all term, and I can now see the influence of his work plainly in my painting.

This painting was also the first time that I felt a little bored by the plein air process, since this is something that I am familiar with now. I feel like I need to move forward with my process, and challenge the materials I am using to a new form of expression.

Talking about these sketches

Kasia thinks these two drawings have the strongest composition. They fill the canvas in a way that feels right, whilst other compositions feel disjointed and the mass of black is a square shape in the painting with no flow to the rest of the painting.

I’m surprised she picked these two tests above others. The observation thats some of the masses of black look like squares on the paper is something I hadn’t noticed before. I am asking myself whether I want the mass to sit like a block in the canvas, which would be more abstract and flat then a shape that sat in a space in a weird landscape.

I wanted to record this conversation here. It’s good to have another eye give opinions on my work.

Anselm Kiefer Article

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2019/nov/25/anselm-kiefer-when-i-make-a-truly-great-painting-then-i-feel-real

I read this article, and it’s interesting to hear of a painting who is inspired by such scientific topics.
It’s amazing that work so seemingly unordered, messy, crazy, intense, can be inspired by such clean, definitive theories.

“These advanced mathematicians are attempting to find a theory of everything,” he says, when we sit down for a chat in a back room of the gallery, “but each time they open a door, many other doors reveal themselves. It is all abstract mathematics, of course, so nothing is really yet proved. The more I read about it, the more I think they will never find the answer.”

for Kiefer string theory is a relatively new big idea around which all the old big ideas can coalesce.

^ An art practice can have the same structure?

[Kiefer’s work] Described in the show’s press release as an attempt “to articulate the known fundamental interactions of the universe and forms of matter”

^ Interactions with the universe, translated as forms and matter. Sounds similar to my work?

I need to see this show when I am in London!

He is a rationalist who is fascinated with the mysterious, an agnostic whose work is full of references to ancient belief systems,

^ I love this! Similar to me?

“These are such fantastic systems of thought because there is so much hard work put into proving that there is a big meaning to everything. But, of course, the reason that there is so much hard work is because there is no meaning.”

^ Rather dire.
Kiefer’s art seems like his response to these systems: art with no system at all. His work seems so chaotic and so evenly observed (there is no focal point, no ‘point’ of focus conceptually or visually to his work). Unlike the systems of belief that is interested in.

[Keifer says] “He, too, wanted to find this theory of the world.”

This exhibition at the White Cube in London sounds fantastic. Dealing with systems of thought and of course the works are landscapes. Exactly up my street!

“In a way, science is like mystery,” says Kiefer, “insofar as it does not make me sure of anything. I remember when I did my baccalaureate at high school my statement was, ‘Wisdom should make us sure; art should make us unsure.’ Smart, no?” So, as an artist, he is working in a state of perpetual uncertainty? “Yes, except for when I make a truly great painting, then I feel real.”

[Keifer says] “I have placed myself outside of the art market because it is all about speculation now. I don’t like it. I still know a few collectors who are not like this, but most of them are…”

[Kiefer says] “If you look at the cosmos, it is so huge and it has existed for so long. So, in that context, it is really devastating to think about that big question and realise that you have no idea why you are here. There really is no meaning. But, when I work, I give a meaning to what I do. That is enough.”

^ I like this.

Thinking about my blog and what I am writing:

I feel my blog is/ has always been a place that put stuff as an act of not forgoetting – to use Hans Ulrich Obrist’s words! I am copying and pasting quotes from the stuff I’m reading and I sometimes question why I am doing this. Why not just write my own notes? But I like adding snippets of what I am reading, because it’s like putting pins on writing. Once the pins are here on the blog I can then link them together and think about them as part of the whole ‘board’ of quotes and ideas.