‘A Lovers Discourse- a reply’

This is a reply to Roland Barthes ‘A Lover’s Discourse’. The original text sees Barthes writing about a single figure and the nature of their internal discourse caused by the ‘other’. The protagonist is sometimes present, sometimes absent, sometimes imagined.

The book is not organised in a linear narrative or in some form of philosophical hierarchy which moves clearly through varies levels of thought. Instead it is disjointed musings, displayed as fragments, on the condition in question. The fragments are organised alphabetically to provide a structure which does not turn the text into a singular doctrine.

The further I reached into the book the more I realised that numerous threads seem, to me anyway, to link into concerns in some of my paintings; these being predominantly desire and the single male figure and its relation to a female protagonist.

It feels important to try and make sense of the thoughts that emerged from the text. These vary from direct analyse of specific ideas to the development of an idea which derived as a tangent of reading the book but which has, perhaps, broken totally from the book as a source.

At this point I feel that the thoughts would be restricted if I either worked through them chronologically (as they came about within the book) or into some thematically (as this could limit the scope of them to what I think, in a preconceived manner, they are about.) So it seems logical to mirror Barthes. To take the fragments which have emerged as a deconstruction and reaction to the text and to reorder them alphabetically, under titles which loosely summarise the theme/content of the particular thought. Read the rest of this entry »

Interview by Tom de Freston with Antonio Santin.Painter, born in Madrid, 1978, currently lives and works in Berlin. Exhibits broadly internationally.With many thanks to Antonio for the time and thought put into the following answers Read the rest of this entry »

My works have become increasingly stage, multiple figures and sequential imagery set upon a theatrical stage set.

I tihnk i have only recently reaslied how improtant Jacques Louis David has been for me in the construction of the staged space. The manner in which he organises the events, setting figures against solid and cafefully ocmposed architectural backdrops is something i have borrowed. It allows David to direct the figures, it also allows him to split the canvas up into carefully controlled areas, often with a direct reference to the pictures frame.

 I think ‘The Blue Lady and Him’ (2008) was the first of my works which I organised in what i would call a Davidian way.

It seems this enables a discussion to be opened up between two oppositions, both of which are intrinsic to painting as an art.

The first is the painterly surface and process.  The celebration of the paint as a linguistic tool, a sign with a multiplicity of references, is something which is central to my practise. There is a whole history of painters to whom any painterly artist looks to. From Titian, through Rembrant, Goya, Turner,  Delacroix, Manet, Bacon, Rothko, Pollock and a number of contemporary painters. These painters are those to whom the substance itself, that sticky oil mess, is so crucial.

These painters are loosely labelled under a banned of romanticism.

In opposition to these painters are a group of artist’s we loosely label as classical, or neo classical. From Michelangelo, Poussin, David and Mondrian. Painters for whom the construction of space itself seems the central tennant of their work. painters for whom the intellectual planned of design, of composition and line is the foundation on which all else is built.

 Historically it is the located as a battle between Central Italian Renaissance and the Venetian rival, as design vs colortio (the act of painting, not colour itself), as Titian vs Michelangelo.

 Creating such a clear polemic and divide is false. The binary oppositions exist in eachof the painters mentions worked. None of the baove are singular, solely focused on design on the surface. What is created is a dialogue.

What has become improtant for me is the construction of a clearly laid down composition and design. A space rigourously organised and dividied up. The staging of a play if you like. The painting of the picture becomes the acting out of the performance. it is able to have adlibbed and inpromtue passages becasue it can be afforded a poetic liscence by the solidity of the structure below.

I have recently been do a series of drawing of figures who seem to be holding there own head, which is detached from there body. They begun as the product of a monoprint mistake, where I forgot to insert a neck (very neckligent…could not help the pun).

 The mistake sparked an interest, the figure made me laugh, so I started consciously pursuing these figures who seem to have inacted some kind of self decapitation. I wanted them to be a bit comic and ridiculous and called them ‘the boy whose head fell off’.

Today I made an alteration on figure in a new work which is based on Michelangelo’s David. David now appears to be holding his own head, as if having pulled it out of its socket. I suddenly reminded me of other images of David, the victor holding Goliaths head in his hand. It seemed interesting that David could perhaps holdin, victoriously, his own head in his hand. As if he was both David and Goliath, hero and villian, victim and victor, beast and man. It seemed to both deconstruct the history of the heroic male figure and play on trgic, but more importnalty, witty and comic ideas.

I have attached a photoshop mock up of an altered version of Carravagio’s David and Goliath. 

 I am currently starting on a series of drawings which look to develop a cast of character types, almost figures from some particular, currenlty unknown, race. They all seem to have pig noses. I think i might start working on a sereis of illustrations of this David like figure holding his one head, as if victorious. i like the idea of him also pushing the sword between hislegs, as if the threat of castration is present.  

Andy, you recently picked out these two Pontormo images as ones which had made really hit a note with you. I can see why but interested to know what it is specifically about them which resonated with you. The range of colour on the drapery int he second image is incredible, that shift from vibrant organse to salmon. WOW. reminds me a bit of the drapery in Carravagio’s The Inspiration of Saint Matthew
1602; Oil on canvas, 9′ 8 1/2″ x 6′ 2 1/2″; Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome.

 This waffled blurb could actually become something far more coherent, I could like to spend some time later looking into this notion…

Throughout the History of painting light has played a central and crucial role. A painters ability to excavate light from the stuff of paint has been a continuous fascination. The nature of the search and the type of light found has shifted, as if in some dialectical discussion with the zeitgeist itself.

 It seems that before now the various incarnations of light have tended to be the product of a meaningful, often spiritual search.

 A discussion with a friend yesterday made me reconsider in more depth the changing role of light in paint. He commented how the invention of electriicty must have significantly changed our relationship with light. before this point its existence, from either than sun or flame (notably in the form of candlelight) seems to be rooted to various religious belief systems. The sun as a symbol of God’s creative power, the candle as a ritulisitc tool in a various guises.

 We need only look to the type of light seen in medieval manuscripts or renaissance nad post renaissanace paintings. The type shifts hugely from an illuminated manuscript to a late Titian alterpiece or late Rembrandt self protriat. In eahc case, however, the light seems to glow from an inner depth, it seems to be conujured the medium itself. It seems weighted with a deep and moving spirituality. The light itself seems to be a manifestation of a deep and profound set of beliefs, imbued with a spiritual energy.

The invention of the electrical light bulb is a facet of the enlightenments wider program. Technological and scientific developments led to the deconstruction of previous belief systems and the arrival of doubt. Man repositioned himself as the centre of his own universe.

 The late modernist program seems, to me anyway, to be an attempt to find a new set of absolute ideals by which to measure ourselves and lead our lives. If we look to the late painting’s of Rothko it seems that this is one of the purest examples of this search for a new spirituality, a humanisitc one in his case.  The result is a form of light no less powerful, no less imbued and rising from the paint itself, than that seen in any religious altarpiece. The transformation of paint into light runs parallel and the notion of light as a motif of a deep spirituality continues. The context and framework of such a belief system seems more fragile, having been searched for rather than being the proudct of a certainty.

The biggest shift, however, for me, seems to be in the light of paintings beyond this date. The attack on the ideals and monolithic structure of the modernist program, as a whole, has led to the fracture and doubting period of postmodernism.

Along with this more philosophical and wide ranging shift have been contiued developments in the existence of light itself. We now have light everywhere and in various false forms. Television screens, computer screens, cities which never sleep in dark, mobile phones flashing constantly. We are surroudnign by a constant hum and glow of artifiically created light. Running parallel to this is a seeming lack of any credible and singular belief system to hold onto. Everything has been attacked, deconstructed, doubted and exposed as bankrupt. It feels, to me at least, a fragile and fasle existence, empty of any sense of divine prescence.

It seems both false and impossible to have the kind of light in painting now which exists, with great power, in a Rmebrandt or Rothko. Rather our light is more superficial, more surface based, more artificial. it is the light in a Daniel Richter painting, figure glows as if radioactive, burning form inside but due to some nuclear disfigurment or x-ray malfunction rather than any divine prescence.

Or the figures of Neo Rausch, a sickly sweet green or yellow glow often emminates, as if form within. it seems powerful and moving, but consciously false and unreal.

I think it is this form of light, deep and movign, yet false and artificial, which i want to imbue my figures with.

The Whale is back in town!!  Yeehaa its been a while.  Hello fans, and hello strangers, lets acquaint ourselves and be friends.

Painters who strive to remain open in their practice, where the act of painting avoids finding a solution/meaning sometimes until the very last brushstroke.  What techniques and systems do artists develop in order to reach this aim?  Matthias Weischer, Neo Rauch, Phoebe Unwin etc.

A painter whose context appears to remain open right to the death is the type of artist I most want to emulate.  Those decisions which can totally alter the direction of a work, when the work seems to be heading down a set path are the bravest of decisions, and you hear the great artists of the past talk about these moments in interviews and books.  These are defining moments in a works trancendence because they move apparently from an area of received wisdom into area’s where they end up discovering their own wisdom and resolution.

Phoebe Unwin, whose show was recently on at Wilkinson gallery in London tries to solve this issue by coming to the painting with no preconceptions of what she is going to make, this sounds like it could be a bit of a short cut or fake out, although actually when you try to follow the same path, you realise how hard it is to successfully do.  In essence the whole journey becomes about trying to resolve a problem whilst simultaneously denying yourself any notion of what it is you are trying to resolve.  Any point at which you begin to find a comfort zone, you force yourself out of it, towards the unknown.

Matthias Weischer achieves something similar, taking on board Cezanne’s principle of the questioning eye to constantly reinterpret and alter the spaces which he is creating.  Objects resolve only to be lost in memory and time.  It is interesting for me to think whether this solution in the soluble is indeed found through the constant questioning and rejigging of the spaces and objects, or whether its all in fact a clever illusion, where Weischer paints in objects, fully aware that he will again paint them out, leaving only traces of their existence.  It is probably somewhere inbetween, much like the case of the happy accident, where a good painter is able to create an environment in which he/she knows certain effects can be created, without ever having full control over the outcome.  Neo Rauch exists again within a similar space, however, he seems to be reacting almost immediately as the painting is being produced, it becomes much more about the intuitive, autonomous reaction to what is going on at that very moment.  As such, it is completely plausible that a tree can pop up sticking horizontally out of the side of the painting in an instantaneous reaction to the composition that is being developed, and then will alter the rest of the composition from then on, as Rauch strives to weave a certain sense into his dream images.

I come to this problem, just as I start to take more of an interest in the sculptural scenes that I am producing to aid in my paintings reality.  And so, the painting and sculpture are forming a symbiotic relationship, neither directly copying the other, but being produced at the same time in order to constantly throw up interesting opportunities and opening which the other disipline can take advantage of.