Paintings that describe fragmented domestic spaces populated with disintegrating walls, are timely. They come when the industrial spaces around Rosi Griffin’s Collingwood studio are rapidly transforming with new developments continually springing up for a swelling inner city population. They come at a time when massive rises in Australian house prices have turned property development and residential renovation into a national sport when glossy magazine style layouts of idealised domestic spaces cloud our image of that the home has been for most of us.
Fragmented Dwelling, Rosi Griffin, acrylic on canvas, 122x91cm
The paintings, Fragmented Dwelling and Urban Transformation, describe this time as the disintegration of the domestic space. Not only is the possibility of ownership becoming more remote for emerging generations but for those that have a home, the domestic space is now set in the context of surrounding development and unattainable images of perfection. The domestic space is being threatened on many levels as materialistic impulses cloud out communal and familial impulses. The stability and viability of that space is being torn, dislocated and shredded like the walls in these paintings. We can no longer claim to be escaping the slums, as Modernism claimed almost century ago, rather, it is now all for the sake of the new and the ideal as dictated by fake images of domestic perfection.
Urban Transformation, Rosi Griffin, mixed media on board, 60x50cm
Walls create a space that not only protect, but also provide a known place, and in that place gradually builds a narrative of belonging. The experience of a neighbourhood, the identification with a place are held by familiar walls. The walls of our home, the walls of our streets, are pages on which our stories are written. Without them we fall into a a perpetual present with no past, perpetual change eroding a language of belonging. Language of home gradually disintegrates and becomes abstracted until all that we have in its place are traces of memory of what was. As in Build after demolition, we no longer have identifiable walls, just the trace of walls that define a present space with no history and no story. Edges without containment and protection.
Build after demolition, Rosi Griffin, acrylic on canvas, 112x140cm
Opening Friday 2 June, 6 pm to 8 pm at St Heliers Street Gallery, Abbotsford Covent, 1 St Heliers Lane, Abbotsford.
Shepherd and his Flock, Vincent Van Gogh, September 1884, oil on canvas on cardboard, Nuenen
Van Gogh lived with his parents between 1883 and 1885 in Nuenen. During his time there, he met Antoon Hermans, a successful, retired goldsmith, with whom Van Gogh wanted “to remain on good terms if possible”. [1] From Van Gogh’s perspective, Hermans was “rich and has built a house that he’s filled with antiques again, and furnished with some very fine oak chests. He decorates the ceilings and walls himself, and really well sometimes.”[1]
Hermans was also an amateur painter, and Van Gogh took him on as a student. This may come as a surprise with the knowledge that Van Gogh began pursuing his artistic career only four years earlier. Van Gogh had previous teaching experience after taking up a position at a boy’s school in Ramsgate, England after he lost his job at Boupil & Cie, the Art Dealers in Paris in 1876. He really enjoyed his time teaching, so much so he questioned it, writing to Theo, “These are really happy days, the ones I’m spending here, day after day, and yet it’s a happiness and peacefulness that I don’t trust entirely, though one thing can lead to another.” [2] There was also material motivation behind Van Gogh teaching amateurs how to paint, as he told Theo, “I have a plan, though, to gradually get people to pay something — not in money, however, but by telling them ‘you must give me tubes of paint.’ [3] Van Gogh taught Hermans whilst he lived in Nuenen, and he also took on tanner Anton Kerssemakers and telegrapher Willem van de Wakker as students. Van Gogh taught them general painting techniques and how to paint still lifes.
Hermans was a particularly interesting student, because he wanted Van Gogh’s help to paint the interior walls of his house. Hermans had already painted flowers on twelve panels of his dining room, and he wanted Van Gogh to help him design images of saints for the remaining six panels. Van Gogh thought that scenes depicting the four seasons would be more suitable, and Shephard and his Flock above, is one of the images that Van Gogh created for Hermans to enlarge. This painting represented autumn. He has created a strong feeling of an oncoming stark winter with the angular, leafless trees. The contrast of the bright pasture and flock of white sheep against the dark, looming clouds and night setting in, vividly creates the feeling of a cold autumn evening.
As with a lot of Van Gogh’s work, Jean-Francois Millet’s influence can also be seen:
Jean-François Millet – Shepherd Tending His Flock, oil on canvas, 1860
Van Gogh also used this project to improve his drawing of the human figure, as he engaged various models to complete the painting studies. He initially sketched an ox-cart in the snow (which was later replaced with wood-gatherers in the snow), a ploughman, a sower, a grain harvest, a potato harvest, and the above sower. He then created oil paintings from the sketches. Van Gogh made an agreement with Hermans that he would create six compositions for him to reproduce onto his walls, only if Hermans returned the paintings to him. It is unconfirmed if Hermans ever returned his paintings, or paid Van Gogh for the work.
Written by Lauren Ottaway
[1] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 229 to Theo van Gogh. Written Monday 4 August 1884
[2] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 229 to Theo van Gogh. Written Saturday 6 May 1876
[3] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 229 to Theo van Gogh. Written Monday 17 November 1874
The Sower, Vincent Van Gogh, December 1882, pencil, brush and ink, watercolour, The Hague
After following his brother Theo’s advice to pursue art, Van Gogh went to study anatomy at the Académie Royale des Beaux-Arts in 1880. He returned to his parents’ home in 1881, where he focused heavily on drawing, and thus begun his serious artistic exploration.
Van Gogh greatly admired Jean-François Millet’s and his work had a profound influence on the emerging artist. Millet, who had quite a modest background, created nostalgic tributes to farmers, and Van Gogh identified with them and recognised the compassion in Millet’s work, which he highly valued.
Van Gogh began studying Millet’s work and produced drawings in order to learn how to paint. He drew The Sower (after Millet), pictured below, which was based on a black and white print of the painting. Van Gogh’s interpretation of the monochrome reproduction led to some interesting, minor inconsistencies; the grains that Van Gogh’s sower is scattering behind him were actually birds in Millet’s work.
That year Van Gogh also travelled to The Hague to try and sell his work, and to also meet with his second cousin, and successful artist, Anton Mauve. He returned to The Hague to study under Mauve a few months later after working in pastels and charcoal as Mauve had instructed. However, after a short month together, and a strained relationship, they had a final falling out about drawing from plaster casts. “First and foremost, I had to draw from plaster casts. I utterly detest drawing from plaster casts – yet I had a couple of hands and feet hanging in the studio, though not for drawing. Once he spoke to me about drawing from plaster casts in a tone that even the worst teacher at the academy wouldn’t have used, and I held my peace, but at home I got so angry about it that I threw the poor plaster mouldings into the coal-scuttle, broken. And I thought: I’ll draw from plaster casts when you lot become whole and white again and there are no longer any hands and feet of living people to draw.” [1]
The Sower, which Van Gogh produced at The Hague, is particularly poignant to the body of work on exhibition at the NGV, and Van Gogh himself, because it is a depiction of the seasons and the people who toil in order to maintain a meagre life. Van Gogh had lived in many rural areas and was captivated by the sowing of the wheat, the harvest, the sheaves of wheat in fields, and the haystacks, which you see increasingly in his later work in the late 1880s. The sower, amongst other working-class figures engaged in the field, formed a body of work ‘from the people for the people’, which Van Gogh thought ‘would be a good thing – not commercially but as a matter of public service and duty’[2]. He planned to produce thirty low-cost prints to create this body of work. Van Gogh sent photographs of four of his drawings of people working in the fields, including the Sower, to his brother (first image above). This is how he described the work to Theo, “Then a second Sower, with a light brown fustian jacket and trousers, so this figure stands out light against the black field, bordered by a little row of pollard willows. This is quite a different type, with a clipped beard, broad shoulders, rather thick-set, somewhat like an ox, in that his whole frame has been shaped by his labour in the fields. Perhaps more of an Eskimo type, thick lips, broad nose.’ [2]
Van Gogh wanted to show these figures in action – not at rest, because ‘there is more drudgery than rest in life.’ He worked on these series of working-class drawings because he tried ‘to work for the truth.’ [2]
The Sower (after Millet), Vincent Van Gogh, Oil on canvas, late October 1889, Saint-Rémy.
Millet’s influence on Van Gogh was clear during the early stages of his career. When he was living in Paris in 1886-87, his focused shifted from the fields to the Parisienne cafes. However, the countryside returned to his work when he moved to Arles in 1888, and then over three months from late 1889 to early 1990, Van Gogh produced twenty-one copies of Millet’s work. During this time Van Gogh was in the asylum at Saint- Rémy, and he described to Theo his own interpretations of the Millet’s works. ‘If someone plays Beethoven, he adds his own personal interpretation; in the music, especially in the singing, the interpretation also counts and the composer doesn’t have to be the only one to perform his compositions. Anyway, especially now I am ill, I am trying to create something to comfort me, for my own pleasure. I put the black and white by or after Delacroix or Millet in front of me to use as a motif. And then I improvise in colour […] seeking reminiscences of their paintings; but the memory, the vague consonance of colours while are at least correct in spirit, that is my interpretation.’ [3]
Written by Lauren Ottaway
[1] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 229 to Theo van Gogh. Written Friday 21 April 1882
[2] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 291 to Theo van Gogh. Written 3-5 December 1882
[3] Vincent van Gogh. Letter 607 to Theo van Gogh. Written 19 September 1889
Over the three months that Melbourne is home to an awe-inspiring collection of Van Gogh’s works spanning his life and representative of the seasons through which he viewed and painted the world, we will be taking a closer look at some of his works at the NGV.
Avenue of Poplars in Autumn, 1884, Vincent Van Gogh, oil on canvas,
In October 1884, Van Gogh sent a letter to his brother Theo, along with some small photos of his recent works, so that Theo (who was an art dealer) would have something to show of his work, if the opportunity arose. In the letter, he described Avenue of Poplars in Autumn as “The last thing I made is a rather large study of an avenue of poplars, with yellow autumn leaves, the sun casting, here and there, sparkling spots on the fallen leaves on the ground, alternating with the long shadows of the stems. At the end of the road is a small cottage, and over it all the blue sky through the autumn leaves.”[1]
From this passionate and intricate description alone, you can get a real sense of Van Gogh’s love for Autumn. It was his favourite season, and he wrote in 1882, “I sometimes yearn for a country where it would always be autumn, but then we’d have no snow and no apple blossom and no corn and stubble fields.” [2]
Van Gogh was living back with his parents in Nuenen, in Norther Brabant, at the time he painted this work. A few months earlier he had been living alone in northern Netherlands, and, driven by loneliness, moved back to his parents’ house. Van Gogh was drawing and painting fervently at the time and the darkness in this image would carry through to his future work.
He began painting in oils in the early 1880s and really enjoyed the medium. You can see the liberal application of the paint in the details of the textured lines used to create the tall poplars and the woman in the foreground. The vibrant Autumn colours and soft graduated sky, combined with the tall, dark shadows, create an undisputable feeling of the season – something which Van Gogh, over his short ten-year career, translated onto the canvas with genius.
The melancholic interpretation of the painting inspired author Greg Bogarerts to write Avenue of Poplars in Autumn, a tragic story of the lone figure in the painting.
[1] [2] Vincent van Gogh. Letter to Theo van Gogh. Written late October 1884 in Nuenen.
Jude, a current MAC student, recently completed a short course with UTAS called Creativity and Ageing. It introduced existing research on the benefits of engagement with the arts during the process of ageing, and included the role of creativity in reducing risk factors for dementia.
Throughout the course, Jude was able to explore, develop and reflect on her own creativity and has generously shared her experience with us.
According to Geoffrey Petty, the creative process consists of six working phases, inspiration, clarification, distillation, perspiration, evaluation, and incubation. He suggests that the term “creative” is used broadly, to include the creative arts as well as invention, design, problem solving, writing, and entrepreneurial initiatives to name a few. I approached the Creativity and Ageing projects loosely following this model.
My inspiration for my projects was based on the familiar leading to the unfamiliar. Initially I took inspiration for my first piece from a poem written for me on the day of a friend’s funeral.
“Pure clean water of Life
pours over the stones of our past years”
Excerpt from Water of Life Roger Lovesey, (2016)
This idea generated as I reflected on the poem and was inspired by the idea of running water for the setting. Through writing and drawing in my journal, I was able to experiment, take risks, use spontaneity and intuition to developing my creative thoughts.
During this stage I was inspired to include bird-like images which are connected to feelings and memories of my mother who I lost to dementia the previous year. This idea set me off to research doves and peacocks. The symbolism of vision, royalty, spirituality, awakening, guidance, protectiveness and watchfulness connected to the peacock, and in Roman mythology, where the tail has the “eyes” of the stars excited my feelings and the idea of a background of peacock feathers evolved. I was developing unconscious, emerging images, in the way Francis Bacon displayed in his art work. The area of intention was related to my instincts, or as Francis Bacon referred to as “a cloud of sensation“.
During the process, following the inspiration phase, I clarified my goals where I constantly referred to the purpose to enable me to achieve the outcome. At the same time, I was critical of some of the ideas and processes that I had thought about. It was becoming complicated and these critical thoughts changed my approach and helped me to complete the piece. It was time to leave it for a few days or so.
Following the final painting stage, I added some more elements of mixed media. I loved the process of creating the painting and was committed to it. This stage is most satisfying to me when it all comes together.
“The outcomes of creative activities can provide a sense of artistic accomplishment, and growing self confidence due to finding solutions to a challenge and the self-control practised in the process of creation”. (Cohen)
Jude Sullivan, mixed media
I selected collage for the next piece to challenge me, as it involved using skills and processes which are unfamiliar to me. It was a different experience in that there was no structure to the brief, apart from linking the theme to a feeling, emotion, or sensation. Joyfulness, colour, and spirituality were my guide and the suggested artists such as Henry Matisse and Fred Tomaselli inspired me.
The experimental stage was just that; playing with the medium, being messy, switching between wanting to clarify and continue to experiment. The best ideas were chosen for further development, and finally the light bulb moment happened. From that point on I felt in tune with the paper crafting and my connection to the work; it was therapeutic and I was happy with the final piece.
Jude Sullivan, mixed media
For the photomontage, I had a vision of a woman flying on the back of a mythical bird. I was inspired by the artist Wangechi Mutu in the way she splices things together and creates in different ways. The creative process flowed from being inspired, to clarifying where the idea could take me, building on it as I went and thoroughly enjoying the process. Leaving the art work alone for a few days or so, reflecting on the image followed by adding more to complete it, worked for me.
Jude Sullivan, mixed media
Finally, the Herbarium was my choice as a different way of creating. Again there was a link to many aspects of my life; I am connected to nature, photography and art, but I have never approached the pressing of plants, the recording or research involved as in this project.
Jude Sullivan, pressed plant
The choice and collection of many samples, finding the best plant to select for the study and developing a creative response was the brief. The process of pressing the plants and classifying them was quite scientific and easy to follow and was necessary to achieve the best result and the process suited my organised approach to documenting the plant. I experimented with different types of indigenous flowering bushland plants and discovered that some pressed easier than others. Choosing one which had a connection to the idea of food providing plants for native birds and insects became my inspiration.
Once pressed, mounted, classified and labelled, I planned the creative response. I decided to use a photocopy of the pressed plant, cut it out and mount it onto the paper including a painting or oil pastel of the native bird, though this was not as simple as I had imagined. I ignored the experimental process, and started assembling the cut-out piece.
Jude Sullivan, mixed media
I was rushing ahead without much clarification or evaluation of the process. The journal paper was not an effective basis for the pastel work which is a new medium for me, and I neglected to block in the background first. This made the process less satisfying but I persevered, learning from my hurried, non-strategic approach.
During this course and the creation of these works, I have discovered some insights into my way of creating which has given me a better idea of how my mind operates and creates. All aspects of the study have opened my mind to how we can become more experimental, and try new things as we age.
“Late-life creativity reflects aspects of late-life thinking; synthesis, reflection and wisdom” (Adams- Price).
References:
Geoffrey Petty “How to be Better at Creativity“, (1996)
Cohen, G. et al. “The impact of professionally conducted cultural programs on the physical health, mental health, and social functioning of older adults” The Gerontologist 46 (2006): 726-73
Adams-Price, Caroline E. ed. Creativity and Successful Aging. New York: Springer, 1998.
Hilmi ran our first workshop for the year – a Drawing Workshop using Ink and Shellac. It was a marathon workshop, where students created a still life, beginning with charcoal, then two layers of shellac and finished with black ink and white paint!
Hilmi began the workshop teaching students some of the fundamentals of drawing. Students were to choose a number of items of still life that Hilmi had meticulously arranged, with black sheets behind them, which Hilmi explained was important because it creates the shapes of the still life. You see the shape of something by looking at what is behind it, and a dark surface makes this easier.
After students finished the drawing in pencil, they then used charcoal to enhance the dark and light tones within the image.
Once students felt they had a finished sketch, Hilmi put down a big plastic sheet, and made sure everyone wore gloves for, what students felt, was a daunting, yet fascinating process. They laid their works on the plastic sheet and poured shellac all over the page, moving around and smoothing out the shellac with small spatulas. Students were hesitant to pour the runny mixture on the thin paper, however the shellac sealed the charcoal drawing beneath and eventually created a hard surface; changing the images instantly! Students added two layers and then left them to dry for half an hour. If you are familiar with Hilmi’s mixed media works using shellac, he normally uses at least eight layers of shellac!
Hilmi pouring the shellac over the charcoal drawingKC smoothing shellac over her drawing
Once the images were dry, the next step was to add ink in the darkest areas, and diluted ink for the mid-tones. Painting over the shellac was unlike anything they had experienced; the new texture of the paper was unpredictable; there were bubbles, rough and smooth areas, which made it very interesting, yet challenging to apply the ink! The final part of the workshop saw students adding white to the lightest areas, which was what Hilmi called creating ‘magic’. It really did lift the still life images off the page!
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If you’d like to join one of our next workshops, you can view them here.
We have been asked for a long time now, when will we be holding art classes during the day?!
Well, we are excited to announce we will be running two new Drawing and Painting (Studio Art) classes during Tuesday and Friday mornings from 2017! Finally, we hear you say!
Artist Marco Corsini will be presenting these daytime art classes and they will run the same way as our popular evening Studio Art Class (don’t worry, he will still be taking our Tuesday night class)!
Vicki Mullina, oil on canvas, 2016, Studio Art Class
Marco’s Studio Art Classes are our longest-running and are the foundation of Melbourne Art Class. We welcome people from all creative backgrounds, skill levels – anyone who needs a space to be creative, become inspired, acquire specific skills, continue an artistic project – the list goes on. The unique element about this class is that we limit enrolments to only ten students, so Marco is able to provide critical feedback, drawing and painting tuition or just help you get your idea out of your head and onto the canvas.
To get to know Marco’s classes a little better, you can read about his Tuesday evening class here.
Our classes are held at Enderby Studio, 314 Church Street, Richmond.
Daytime Art Course Dates
Term 1 Tuesday mornings: Feb 7th, 14th, 21st, 28th, Mar 7th, 14th, 21st, 28th (8 sessions)
If you have any questions about our new daytime art classes, please don’t hesitate to email Lauren at hub@melbourneartclass.com! We look forward to helping you add some creativity to your week!
We are looking to bring our artistic community closer and create a communal art studio with individual storage, and an exclusive mentor program.
From 2017, our additional space will have both teaching studios and a communal studio. We are so excited about creating a space for artists to create, connect and even collaborate.
To make this happen we are seeking expressions of interest from individuals who would like to be a part of our communal studio. As we get an indication of the interest, then we can further clarify exact costs and location.
Why join our shared studio space?
Our communal studio offers a cheaper alternative for artists than a rented private studio.
You will be able to connect with different artists and be a part of a new, creative community.
You will have 24-hour access to the studio and your personal storage space.
You will receive a 10% discount on all MAC courses whilst you are part of our communal studio.
You can also receive one-on-one art tuition and mentoring from our teachers.
What is the communal student studio?
A communal studio which is available for individual use. Each artist would have access to personal storage space.
Proposed Timing: 24-hour access
Cost: Approximately $30-$50 per week
In addition to this, Melbourne Art Class will also be offering one-on-one art tuition and mentoring in this space.
What is one-on-one mentoring?
One-on-one meetings with your tutor (one of our experienced artists/instructors), in the communal studio.
Proposed Timing: Twice weekly, about half an hour each session.
Cost: Approximately $50-60 per week
If you are interested in being a part of our communal studio, or have any questions or feedback, please email Lauren at hub@melbourneartclass.com and help our new project begin!
Furukawa Art Museum in Nagoya, Japan is celebrating its 25th anniversary with a unique, interactive exhibition featuring a collection of Nihonga paintings from the early 1900s to today.
Feast of Masterpieces – a collection flowers and birds
The term Nihonga (literally translated “Japanese-style painting”) was coined in the Meiji Period to distinguish Japanese painting from Western-style painting, which was gaining a lot of (unwanted) interest during that time; however paintings in this style had been created for hundreds of years before the title was introduced. Nihonga, at the time was re-invigorated, ensuring a continuation of traditional painting, preserving the strength and longevity of this distinctive Japanese art; however it can be argued that modern-day Nihonga has moved far from its heritage.
Nihonga painting fascinates me; the process behind preparing the paint is ritualistic and almost a form of mediation – not unlike a Japanese tea ceremony. You can’t just get your palette out, squeeze out some paint and you’re ready to go. Medium is derived from raw materials, including minerals, shells, precious stones and coral and then ground into 16 different textures, from sandy grain to fine. Nikawa, a glue made from animal hide is then mixed and used as a binder for the pigments. Water is also added and then the mixture is left to harden overnight, or for a few days. Using the paint can be likened to watercolour. The colours are painted over and over again and according to the quality of the ores, the tones change.
White is created from cured scallop, oyster or clam shells and needs to be ground for at least fifteen minutes to create a smooth, matt texture. It is then mixed with glue, and kneaded and rolled into dough-like sausage and kept in the refrigerator for extended use.
Another characteristic of Nihonga is that it is painted on washi (hand-made Japanese paper) or silk.
Here I am making some washi paper and taking it very seriously!
Features of a Nihonga painting can be simple expression (no photo-realism), limited shadow, use of pale colours and outlines.
Another reason why I am drawn to Nihonga is that the works often express a simple moment in time – the works do not require you to try and understand what is happening in front of you – the raw beauty and simplicity of a moment in nature is there to just sit with. Motifs are enlarged against a shallow or unfigured background and there is little concern with movement or spatial depth. Whether it be a fat, fluffy sparrow sitting in a plum blossom tree during winter, or a woman admiring the deep red leaves changing on a Japanese maple from her window – these images appear in a frame of immeasurable duration because there is nothing to mark the passage of time; the moment stretches on for as willing as we are to contemplate.
Now that we have an appreciation of how Nihonga paintings are created – let’s move to the exhibition! It featured birds and flowers and of course the revered four seasons in Japan. The exhibition was over two floors of the modest Furukawa Art Museum in Ikeshita, and was the first interactive art exhibition I had been to. Each painting that depicted a bird was accompanied by a red dot next to the title, which you could press with a little device given and the bird call would sound! So as I was walking around admiring these incredible paintings of nature, I would hear the occasional bird call, which was very moving and so delicately balanced with the exhibition. After living here for a while now, I could only articulate this experience as “Japanese”, accompanied as it was, by a warm feeling inside.
The exhibition encouraged the audience to go bird-watching, and cherry-blossom viewing, “while thinking of the excitement of the painter when they found the flowers and birds in nature”*. I am unable to include any of the images from the exhibition; however you can see four examples on the Art Museum’s website: http://www.furukawa-museum.or.jp/show_exhibit. You can see just from these paintings the difference in style – Ryuokashi’s painting has definitely moved away from the traditional Nihonga style.
The simplicity of Yasuda Yukihiko’s Iris and Kibo Kodama’s works that were featured celebrate the beauty of nature and provide us with unmarked moments in time for contemplation (please excuse the tiny reproductions). Imai Keiju’s work of pigeons beneath a cherry tree on a two-fold screen also depict the beautiful, brief but unknown moment in time. This was one of my favourites (when have pigeons been depicted so beautifully?).
Although the Japanese try to control nature (which is another blog post completely), their respect for nature and reverence for simple, beautiful moments is inspiring – and this exhibition truly celebrated this.
I’ve never really forgotten George Gittoes’ Rwanda series of works from the mid 90s. They describe the sort of thing that one can’t forget. Gittoes was present the year after the Rwandan Genocide of 1994 and witnessed the retaliatory genocide at the largest camp for internally displaced persons, Kibeho, in south-west Rwanda.
Charles Nodrum Gallery, almost opposite our studios on Church Street, Richmond has been showing some works from that series and I had to see them. This was the first time I have seen them as a group of works, consisting of some large paintings, photo-based works and drawings.
George Gittoes. Blood & Tears, 1997. Oil on canvas
I didn’t really look at the photos; at a glance I knew what I would see there. I went to see the paintings. While they seem to screen the intensity of the violence in expressionist swathes of colour, they simultaneously are a study of violence, of suffering and of what remains afterwards. They are entries into the shocked immediacy of the victim’s experience while bearing traces of the artist as witness. Mine was a quick visit, but it left me reeling for the next couple of hours.
Strange really, because art does not normally effect me much. I have a love for art that seems to exercise itself in front of the simplest of works such as a student’s painting or a child’s drawing, but I don’t know if I believe in art’s capacity to change the world anymore. I was once a believer, the idealism surrounding the art I had seen as a boy, had never left me, The hand of Christ from Michelangelo’s Pieta (another victim) fascinated me. How could something be living flesh and marble at the same time?
When Gittoes made a choice to draw survivors that had been attacked with machetes and knives, he made a very brave call. There in the midst of the carnage, with many needing help, he drew. He had decided that his role as witness and art’s ability to translate and broadcast what had occurred was of primary importance. I’ve asked myself if I could do the same, could I live with the consequences of that decision? The haunting afterwards? While I am strangely overwhelmed by the work, I have wondered whether I believe in art that much.
I cannot resolve another thought. How can paint hold such suffering and still remain paint? What intensity of suffering does it take to spill so searingly through that object on the wall that we put a price tag on? How does a painting hold and yet not hold this unanswerable suffering?
The act of painting and the intense focus on the survivors of the violence moves us from the typically documentary style representation of the crime as we see it in the media, to a more transcendent meditation upon that which lies within ourselves. We recognise perpetrator, victim and witness within ourselves and hopefully we build a greater awareness of ourselves. Gittoes has frequently ventured into violence and human suffering. He has embraced the darkest corners of our humanity and held it up to us. We need a witness to bring about justice and Gittoes’ work has been in a sense, an optimistic, possibly redemptive act in the role of that witness.
Exhibition details:
George Gittoes: Rwanda
2 – 25 June
Charles Nodrum Gallery
267 Church Street, Richmond
On the final day of this exhibition from 4pm-6pm, you will be able to hear the artist recall his experiences of the Rwandan Massacre in 1995 and how he translated these events into the paintings on the gallery walls.
Charles Nodrum will also say a few words, and both will take questions.
George’s wife Hellen Rose will perform two songs in the traditional Afghan folk style.”The Gambler” & “Black Dress” are bilingual – in Pashto and English – and are collaborations with local women of Jalalabad who work with both Hellen and George at The Yellow House.
