For the past two weeks I have attempted to begin and complete one painting a day, ad so far, I am ecstatic to report that such attempts have been successful.
The initial reason for undertaking such a feat was simply attain a sense of solidarity and rhythm to my practice. But then it hit me that the very process of completing one painting a day comes with its own set of challenges which perhaps can be attached to a concept. It emerged that parallels existed between this energetic, hurried yet somehow hollow approach to making work and the processes involved in preparing and eating lunch: And so lunch, and the concepts that exist within lunch, have ultimately been attached to this particular strand of my practice.
Lunch is seemingly a diminished meal, it can consist of anything, and it has no definition, no identity and no authority. It can exist virtually any time in the afternoon and often exists whilst at a place of work. It is devoured over a desk, in the formal and contrived environment of a staff room, or purchased from an outlet and guzzled down on the move. Lunch has no lasting joy, but is penetrating within its own time frame.
This rushed experience of lunch is reflected and exploited in my work, whereby I have depicted the lunch I have eaten that day within the time it took to eat it: Therefore, captured in my ‘one painting a day’ is a superficial sense of vibrancy, without definition or authority. Brush-strokes contain energy without quality. Form is not fully realised and addresses the social disregard for lunch, relative to other meal times.
I have placed these works on my Timeline on my Facebook Page. This serves to further reflect the temporary and disposable nature of lunch: Timeline posts appear in news feeds instantly; they explode onto the screen and are readily accessible. However, the passing of time sees my post disappear from immediate regard – incessantly shifted into obscurity and replaced by new posts, from other individuals, all of which are interchangeable and often concern disposable social themes.
So, think of my ‘one painting a day’ images the next time you attempt to gobble down your lunch whilst trying to brave the elements. And enjoy the penetrating yet fleeting burst of joy lunch time has to offer.
I love to criticise and bitch. It fills part of my moral conscious probably technically reserved for, I don’t know, being able to tolerate children. Problems with this, however, arise when reflecting upon my own practice: I am never fully satisfied with my work because I always seek to criticise my rate of conceptual progression. Upon completing a piece of work, the first thoughts that enter my mind are ‘well, ok, I’ve done that, what can I do now to further the idea? What’s next?’
I now find myself unsatisfied with simply making paints, and one direction I have been attracted to is the idea of converting the paint I have made back into food. This will add a substantial sense of narrative to my work, and highlight that, although food is able to transcend its original purpose, it also remains true to itself: It exists in a state of being between something old and something new.
‘Paint, Then Jam, Then Paint Again’
I see this as a fairly natural progression from the processes and connotations involved in making paint out of food, and there is something curiously indefinite about the whole process: I could spend the rest of my days concerning myself with converting food into paint, then back into food, then back into paint, then into food again until my blood vessels surrender and explode. But because I know that I can do this, there is no point, as professional development would become compromised and new, more engaging directions would not flourish.
So, what’s next?