Saturday, 17 September 2022
Friday, 29 July 2022
Sofa Portraits is now available for pre-order from my website
(orders will deliver in October/November)
The price is £45 including delivery for the pre-order period.
There are books and prints available for £100.
And at a future date there will be limited edition books plus pairs of print/sketches by Isabels
I remember watching TV after school and when I was ill, I really loved watching TV when I was little.
When I was very young, I watched Pingu, and the Teletubbies, Bill and Ben, the Flowerpot Men. Obviously I loved Winnie the Poo. And then films like the Jungle Book. Mostly I watched them because they were quite comforting because I had a tendency to rewatch programs again and again and I was little. So when I was 6 I'd watched about 10 or 20 movies, but I’d watched each of them about like 30 times, 40 times.
Loads of kids do that because it's comforting. So you watch something again and again, and you know what's going to happen. There are no surprises. There's like stress or anxiety. And it didn’t take much to stress me out. I remember watching a Winnie the Poo movie where they’re in a dark cave wen they went to skull island. That creeped me out. I couldn’t watch that. There was probably definitely stuff that I didn't like watching, but I can't remember it, but there was definitely stuff that freaked me out.
Weirdly, I also have a lot of memory of watching the news in the evenings, but whilst you were watching it, but I don't think that happened that often. I think it's just one of those memories that's kind of exaggerated in my mind. I mostly just remember the Iraq war and Madeline McCan and the 911 memorials they had every September.
I watched TV when I was tired or when I was ill, it was a comfort and the sofa was like a place of comfort. It’s the same as watching television, it's soothing being somewhere comfortable and being able to like lie down. It's like a second bed. It was a second bed. It was like Tracey Emin’s bed but for kids, with all the toys and drawing stuff of childhood scattered around.
I liked watching it on my own, I was more engrossed in the TV than what was happening around me. And there were different moods. There still are. Now, for example, I'll watch something when I’m super tired and need to go to sleep but I can't or when I’m not going to fall asleep, but I need to basically do the closest thing to falling asleep, which is watching something on television or watching something for comfort, or watching something new, because you want to watch something new and engage with the content.I watched TV when I was tired or when I was ill, it was a comfort and the sofa was like a place of comfort. It’s the same as watching television, it's soothing being somewhere comfortable and being able to like lie down. It's like a second bed. It was a second bed. It was like Tracey Emin’s bed but for kids, with all the toys and drawing stuff of childhood scattered around.
Tuesday, 10 May 2022
Wednesday, 4 May 2022
Tuesday, 26 April 2022
Image by Diane Arbus
I love it when people write about photographs in novels. It so often reads like an example of photographic theory put into a real world/fictional setting with the moralising removed.
This is Abdulrazak Gurnah writing in Gravel Heart about how locals regard the new camera-wielding flock of tourists coming to his native island of Zanzibar.
'At that time, respectable women did not allow themselves to be photographed tor fear of the dishonour to their husbands if other men saw their image. But this fear was not the only reason to refuse as some men were also resistant. In both cases it was from suspicion that the production of, the image would take something of their being and hold it captive. Even when I was a child, athough that was later than the time of Maalim Yahya's photograph, if a tourist from the cruise ships wandered the streets with a camera, people watched warily for the moment when the foreigner lifted it to take a shot and then several voices screamed in a frenzy of prohibition, to frighten him or her off. Behind the tourist an argument would start between those who feared for the loss of their souls and those who scoffed at such nonsense. For these kinds of reasons, I had not seen a photograph of my father's mother and so could not tell for certain if he did take after her.'
I don't know. It reads incredibly close to the irresolvable polarities that pass for theory in photography, that gulf between the people who fear 'for the loss of their souls' (or have inordinate concern for the souls of others) and those who 'scoff at such nonsense.'
That's a Diane Arbus picture up top, one of my favourite. I reduce it to his legs v the first two fingers of her left hand. I don't think it's a wholely accurate reduction.
This is Susan Sontag writing about Diane Arbus. 'To photograph people is to violate them, by seeing them as they never see themselves.'
Nonsense to scoff at or have they lost their souls.
A little bit of both is not an option because it's the right answer - most of the time, or some of the time.
Go read the novel anyway - it's beautifully written, crystal clear and direct and transparent. And there is more on photography including a great little passage which reminds me of Annette Kuhn's The Child I never Was.
Tuesday, 12 April 2022
The people and the behaviour in the illustrations of Bedwyr Williams are instantly recognisable. Just look in the mirror and that is who he is talking about.
He mocks people who are constantly 'honoured,' 'inspired' or 'moved' by the inanities of Instagram. He points the finger at the constantly sycophancy of the art world. He mocks the strange rituals of the art world, its narcissism, its money-grubbing adulation of those who have, and much more beside.
He also talks about class and second-home ownership (he lives in Wales), which are things that almost nobody talks about because being an artist and responsible for homelessness and unaffordable housing is not a comfortable thing to talk about. Or renting someone's holiday home or airbnb, because that's part of the problem too.
It runs close to the bone, and if you don't recognise yourself in there, ha ha ha, who are you kidding?
'I started looking at what artists were going on about on Instagram. I realised there was this really weird fakeness (in their reactions), this blowing smoke up each other’s arses: ‘Love this!’; ‘Hoping to catch the last day of your show!’; ‘Beautifully installed’ - all this hyperbolic praise. Or liking pictures of curators’ children you’ve never met. What’s weird is, I’d never thought of artists as being that way. My experience of artists is to be quite mean. You have to have a fighting personality to do it in the first place. Nobody wanted you to be an artist. It’s either you’re up the arse of a curator or he’s up yours – metaphorically, of course. It’s a competitive world. I know in the back channels they’re as horrible about each other as they ever were. If that’s not ripe for having fun with, I don’t know what is. My thing is that I never make it about actual individuals. There are people I’ve met or who have my worst qualities injected into them. I consider myself no better than them.”