Tangled Up

Finding forms and trying to find words

I have finished working on the sculptures for The Bacchae performance, and I want to return to the stony tangles I was making last year. I had been experimenting with Jesmonite (a crushed stone/concrete/acrylic composite), modelling and shaping it over a steel armature.

I previously made a linear black tangle accented with white lines. The lines dance across and between the different physical curves as you move about the form, until from one perspective it is is as if a line is slicing directly through the form. The intention is to create a relationship between the work and the viewer, where the sculpture is an active participant in a conversation.

The white vein is striking but difficult to construct. I want to experiment more and improve this technique, to get the effect I’m after- a line that only exists from one perspective. If I can figure out a good method for doing this I’ll try adding more lines.

I made other tangles in solid colours: terracotta, white, mustard yellow. Fluid forms with surfaces of sandstone, seemingly capable of movement or intention. I placed them in various relations to each other – side by side, in pairs, or entangled together – to learn how they interact. I like the scale of these works- at about 30 -70 cm across, they are nice to run your hand over and can be positioned in different ways.

Because I move them about the studio, and because they can be easily carried, I’ve imagined people walking around an urban landscape with these sculptures and placing them at different vantage points, like a flash sculpture performance.

But why would they be doing that? Blank expanses are full of potential: I imagine directing people as they move around, positioning sculptures in city squares in a similar way that I think of making marks on a blank page, or of actors performing on a stage. At times I take an idea explored in drawing and wonder what it is, how can I bring the impulse into a physical space, a form into being.

And then, once realized, how might this form relate to the world?  I’ve read of authors who talk about the act of writing in this way- they give voice to a character and then the character moves, speaks, and thinks almost independently of the writer – at these times, the writer simply seems to be a facilitator, enabling the characters to do so. Similarly I make a piece, then place it on the floor, or in a corner, or on top of, or going through another form. As the sculptures and the environment explore each other, I get to know and understand their meaning and intent, different possibilities for expression.

Though some of my studio works can be held in your arms or hands, I can also imagine these same works to be very large, as forms to climb on or through. My large flexible steel sculptures have given me ways to experiment with such scales, for example creating dynamic spaces that dancers could move through.  

During my residency at Aldeburgh Beach Lookout Tower and Art Space, I wrapped the sculptures in white cloth or in coloured mesh to add substance to them visually, while keeping the works lightweight. This was a way to work with them dynamically.

Currently I’m thinking of these tangles as pathways, or journeys or moments when something comes into being. They are spacious objects, mere lines in space yet somehow substantial. It’s always tricky to find words to describe ideas that have been developed non-verbally and expressed in form, but this is one of the ways I work to explore meaning.

I tend to stick to rather minimal forms and materials. I could introduce fur, or teeth or garish colours, or make sculptures that leak... actually, that does sound kind of fun, and maybe some day I’ll do that. But for right now, I’m finding that the simplicity of form lends an expressive ambiguity. I am captured by this sparse and alluring austerity of form.

Journal Entry: 16 May 2024

Brought sculptures to Cambridge Artworks to photograph today. Exciting getting them into the empty, echoing space. Just back from unloading van after the photoshoot, and reflecting on the day.

Thinking back to the opera workshop I attended this weekend. A director and a singer led us through lots of playing with movement, writing and singing. The director said that humans are always inventing narratives, and encouraged us to indulge this tendency. What happens when you freeze the movement of people, remove half of them randomly, then look for what stories emerge from the remaining clusters of people? This is often how I work with my sculptures, and how I approached the photoshoot at Artworks today- arranging the forms in a space in relation to each other and then considering how they can express different meanings and ideas, how conversations emerge.

The opera singer told us that there are 6 stages in any creative process: 1- This is amazing! 2-This is kind of difficult. 3- This is crap. 4- I’m crap. 5- Maybe I can salvage something. 6- This is amazing!

Not quite sure which stage I’m in at the moment. Tired.

I took ‘time lapse’ shots, taking a photo each time I positioned a sculptural form. I built up very tall stacks, first in the middle of the room, which went well, then spread the forms on the ground, then built them up again in the corner. 

The balanced forms teetered near the ceiling. I got over-ambitious. I got the photo, but then the stack collapsed with a tremendous, resounding crash. That room has a good reverb.

So a few of them are cracked, which was disspiriting, as I need these for the rehearsals and performance with in situ: theatre next month and I don’t have time to make more. 

I switched to placing forms into compositions and arrangements, and photographing these. Oh, I forgot to say that I had switched from overhead to natural lighting halfway through the first set of photos, which gave better directional shadows from the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the gallery space.

I photographed larger stacks in relation to each other, stacks balanced along the wall, and tiled forms moving out from the corner at an angular line. I tried out some simple ‘rules’: in threes, in pairs, random across the room, arrays.

I did walls and paths but they started to look too much like those limestone rocks that people cement to the tops of their garden walls in Yorkshire. I think I started to lose some enthusiasm at this point.

So I got out my steel plinths, arranging the frames and boulders in various relations to each other. I made some tall stacks of balancing forms that reached to the ceiling. I decided I didn’t like the frames visually- in any case, not the two stacked on top of eachother, so worked more with them individually.

I got some good photos but dropped another form, cracking it, which was again disspiriting. Why do I spend so much time making things then destroying them? I suppose most of life is like that: we make things and they degrade. Just not immediately.

Admitedly, it would be exciting to smash them. One of the most thrilling moments was when the corner stack started to audibly creak as it settled, then suddenly dramatically shifted and smashed. And then all was still again as the echoes faded… but… is that just sensational, breaking something just for the thrill? What is the purpose of artistic activity?

Reflecting Later

This evocative moment of collapse would be a powerful metaphor, relevant to many contemporary circumstances. But I question how relevant this is to my own artistic aims. In the studio I am pushing meaning and exploring boundaries for myself, but then there’s the interface between what I’m impelled to make and how this may be regarded by others. If I dramatically smash artworks, am I doing it for my own art or because others might find it thrilling?

I put the frames away and spent time arranging the forms around the space and wandering through them. I’ll review the photos later. There must be at least some interesting ones to use.

I’ve been trying to experiment with how I write about my work, sometimes just collecting words that come to mind.

smash, brittle, worn, stacked, balanced, precarious, rocking, tipping, stones, ice-floes, collapse, lumped, separate, fitting, paving stones, settle, scuffed

in situ: Artist in Theatre

Last autumn I joined a theatre group.

In the past I’ve worked with dancers to combine sculptures, choreography and movement. This year, I wanted to hone in on sculpture and performance. I invited several people involved in theatre to an exhibition I held called ‘Conversations, Sculptures and Spaces’. We chatted about possibilities of using my work in performances, for example working with groups to stage impromptu or improvised “sculptural events” in various locations.

My ideas really resonated with Richard Spaul, artistic director of Cambridge based theatre group in situ:. This year in situ: were running acting courses focusing on Greek Theatre, culminating in an outdoor performance at Wandlebury Country Park. Richard invited me to be this year’s artist in residence. Since then, working with the company gave me the opportunity to explore how my art may sit within theatre, as well as expanding my understanding of how people respond and interact with my sculptures. I also joined the group as an actor! I‘ve been intrigued to revisit my interests in classics and drama, which I studied in university.

Course leader and Artistic Director Richard Spaul explains: “We’re keen for everyone to learn about Greek Tragedy and how to perform it… that said, our main aim is simply to build enthusiasm and excitement for the art of acting.” Richard himself is an inspiring actor, director as well as teacher.

REHEARSALS

Since autumn, we’ve been working together on Monday evenings.

At first we worked without objects, concentrating on ideas of devising and theatre games and explorations. We worked with fragments of texts from Greek tragedies, but each week explored different ways of approaching and engaging with it. In each session, Richard introduced a different idea or focus, for example, finding characters through breath or body work, creating a still ‘tableau’ of a particular scene. I was especially interested in our work with relationships between the protagonist and the chorus, presenting a central character and a corresponding body of commentary or reflection. We experimented a lot with moving together as a group, finding ways to mirror each other both physically and emotionally without actually looking at the leading actor. Richard creates a brave, exploratory space to transcend any inhibitions about using the body to express. I’m fascinated to see crossovers between performance devising and studio experimentation, and as well, the parallels between facilitating art activities, and teaching acting and dramatic expression, both helping people to explore creativity through daring experimentation, no matter their experience.

 “We start with games to help us learn to concentrate, cooperate and work as a group… we might focus on physiology, body language, voice… explore the mental and the emotional… create and perform characters… work with learned text… improvise from scratch… be asked to act within boundaries such as a tiny square space… use a single text in many different scenes with different people with different groups, and with different meanings…watch each other perform then develop a creative response to what we’ve seen and heard.”

Towards the end of the first term, I introduced a range of sculptures into the rehearsal space. I explained to participants that the objects were not to be regarded as props or sets, but invited them to regard the sculptures as fellow actors. Each sculptural element has its own presence which is both physical as well as metaphorical, and the object plays a role and shifts meaning within the performance space. The frames could be stacked, laid on their side, stood upon, passed around, traversed through… The spikes might become lines of division, or create soundscapes. The actors responded viscerally to the plaster boulders, lying on the ground with them, fitting themselves to them, or having the physical object almost become an ambiguous source of conflict being exchanged between actors. The sculptures became a prompt for taking dramatic expression in a novel direction. Objects were placed about the space, lifted in the air, or arranged together to create a strange landscape. Some of the actors have been working with the company for many years. They are fearless in their experimentation and expressive abilities, willing to push the boundaries of any suggestions the lead may give and moving beyond them.

SITE EXPLORATION

In February we did an initial site exploration for sculptural events at Wandlebury Country Park.

At this point we had not made any decisions on what sort of sculptures to use or indeed how they would tie in to the final performance. Instead, I needed to understand how different forms, shapes and colours would read in the natural environment. Which objects would disappear into the foliage and which would have visual impact? I loaded up my van with a range of sculptures, met a group of actors in the car park, and the assembled troupe carried the objects through the woods to the hill where we will perform. By this time we were all familiar working together as actors and with the objects, so it was quite fun to direct both within the woods. The weather was an interesting variable in this new environment. I’d wrapped some of the objects in plastic to keep them from rusting, and created a set of lightweight and portable objects. The weight was important, as the lightness allowed them to be balanced and stacked in a much more dramatic and spacious ways, allowing actors actors to build towering and expansive pieces that took up more space.

Studio discussion

The next stage was a discussion with Richard about which elements would best support the in situ: performance in June.

Richard and I wanted to use something simple and workable that would still contribute creatively to the salient ideas of the overall work. We settled on the white plaster boulders. The previous ones I had used were not robust enough to withstand an outdoor rehearsals and performances, so I experimented with a new and hardier construction. Stacked or scattered, the white boulders stand out in the natural environment, their bony, rounded forms simultaneously expressive and indeterminate.

Following this performance I’ll start working towards my September exhibition ‘Trespass.’ I have ideas of creating temporary sculptures in diverse spaces. Perhaps I’ll gather a new set of participants to move with objects, travelling like troubadours or itinerant Shakespearian actors, creating wandering narratives in urban and natural environments.

euripedes: the bacchae

Wormwood Hill, Wandlebury Country Park, Cambridge

Wednesday 19 - Saturday 22 June, 2024

Travelling and Drawing

Over the Easter Break I visited Tblisi, Georgia, accompanying my husband who had a conference there. He’s an academic and travels a lot with his work. I haven’t accompanied him to conferences over the years, but now that we are parents of adult children and as he does travel to some fantastic places, I hope to join him more often. With these travel opportunities, I want to find ways to develop ideas and have continuity with my studio practice. Over this trip, I decided to do just that, through drawing.

I wanted to create a portable studio, but needed to keep the materials and objectives simple. After a bit of investigation I settled on a hardback watercolour notebook, my mechanical pencil for sketching composition, several ink pens with permanent ink for sketching, and a water soluble pencil for shading. And on top of materials, some structure was needed. Setting aside an hour a day to sit in a cafe and draw, I decided to concentrate on outlines, composition and tone, and to use words to frame the sketches, with the aim of creating a coherent visual diary. I hoped to develop an approach to drawing outside the studio that I could use for future trips, abroad or even at a local museum.

I find that drawing outdoors is complicated- there is a lot of visual information to take in and select from. My work usually centres around much simpler, more focussed and (increasingly now) abstract drawings. To simplify my approach to the complicated subjects I encountered in Georgia, I decided to work with just outline and tone to reduce the choices I would have to make when observing the intricacies of the city environment. In fact, I was a bit nervous and felt like quite the novice, despite my experience with paper and ink. This might be surprising to hear, but many artists do feel that nervousness when it comes to drawing. During a three-week drawing residency several years ago, I had daily conversations with other painters, sculptors, graphic or conceptual artists, centred around the question ‘What is drawing?’. Many would blurt out ‘I can’t draw!’, including those who were sitting in front of their own artworks that suggested quite the opposite. I guess everyone has different judgements of what ‘good’ drawing should look like.

So I was nervous, sitting down with a coffee in public, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. Fortunately, looking closely at the landscape and letting your pen make marks has a way of pulling you out of your head and into the environment. When I give drawing lessons, especially to those who are uncertain about it, I often start with the exercise of sketching without looking at the page. You can’t possibly feel bad about the resulting strange lines and proportions if you haven't been looking at what you’re doing! But you do take more notice of the things you are looking at, becoming aware of the visual choices you make. Do you draw around an object, draw its shadow, leave the outline of one object to trace the line of another? Do you get caught up in smalll details or try for broad sweeps and composition? What if something moves? How do you draw tone if you’re using a line to draw?

With this set of drawings, I used two ink pens. Over the past month I’ve been drawing with a gel roller ball pen and have enjoyed its even, consistent line. I prefer the indelible, defiant qualities of ink to the smudgy key of pencil. But ink is a bit tricky to handle- you can’t erase, and you can’t modulate the line thickness or tone as easily. As someone who works more frequently in three dimensions, I find perspective and tone unintuitive, so with the first few drawings I concentrated on the relationships between forms. Though I did focus on outlines, I tried to let my pen move from one shape to another, using this to feel my way into perspective and composition. Towards the end I used my water soluble pencil to shade in areas of tone and a water brush to blend.

I purchased my black fountain pen just before my trip and I really like it! It gives a much greater range of line thickness, allowing me to use line more expressively. With the gel pen my drawings tend to be more graphic and flat, whereas the fountain pen enables me to bring more depth into the compositions.

Now back in Cambridge, and especially now as the weather warms up for the spring and summer, I’ll continue drawing, trying to approach my familiar environment with a traveller’s eye.

Introduction

Hi, I’m Melissa!

Image Credit Anne-Katrin Purkiss 2023

I’m an artist from the mountains of Colorado, now based in Cambridge, UK. With this blog I plan to share my artistic thoughts, ideas, and images of my work. I’d like to reflect on what I do in the studio, what it means to me and how it relates to my experiences, travels and the world we live in. By sharing my passion for making and thinking I hope to use my ideas, sculptures and drawings to connect with people who are inspired by this work and to create conversations about how art and humans interact.

I’ve come from a rather unusual and eclectic background. From reading Physics and English Literature at University in the States and racing bicycles at a semi-professional level, to studying sculpture after moving to the UK, these experiences have informed my approaches to art. Whether working with objects or ideas, my interests lie in inter-disciplinary boundaries and connections. I am drawn to how ideas are embodied in physical objects and how we relate to them. I go to the studio to play with materials, form and interactions and use artistic creation as a way of exploring my thinking.

 Because my work derives from such diverse interests, the specific artworks I create can speak to multiple origins and conversations. I try to make intriguing objects and create novel contexts for people to engage with them. A few of my favourite artworks and projects include: 

Stasis - stacked, clear blocks of ice and inky spikes of steel, exhibited at an open day at the Scott Polar Institute. The work took inspiration from tensions between volcanic and glacial forces in Iceland. I used a chainsaw to cut the ice!  

Tipping Point - a dynamic sculptural takeover of Aldeburgh Beach Lookout Tower Art Space. I used an oversize sculpture kit of seemingly static sculptural forms to animate the tower and beach. Despite the wind and waves, I managed not to spike anyone.

Interactive Spaces- I’ve created flexible sculptures for dancers and interactive sculptural spaces for arts festivals. These works give me the opportunity to invite people to participate in the excitement I find in my studio, constructing juxtapositions of materials and forms.

Art and Science- I facilitate interactions between artists and scientists and have lead interdisciplinary creativity workshops, such as Drawing on Science at the University of Cambridge, and Thinking Objects at the University of Leeds. I’ve taught sculpture workshops to all ages, including stone carving, casting, and portrait modelling.    

If you like what you’ve read or are inspired by my art, or simply have any thoughts to share, I’d really love to hear your comments and questions. Let me know what you like, what you wonder about, what may or may not resonate with you, or any other ideas this post has sparked!