Tate Modern:
Bruce Nauman
On 17th November 2017, I was, like a moth, instantly attracted to the bright lights of the Bruce Nauman exhibition (Tate Modern). His work demanded the viewer to (literally) take a step back and consider the purpose and context of his work. Nauman's extensive and imaginative use of media transmits a multitude of different ideas simultaneously. It is clear that his previous studies in Mathematics and Physics informed his practice and are a domineering influence on his work. One piece which caught my attention was 'Violins, Violence, Silence' (1981).
Violins, Violence, Silence
1981
Bruce Nauman
The artwork itself was made of coloured neon tubing with a clear glass suspension frame. As the letters overlap, it is hard to initially distinguish what the piece is actually conveying, proving rather disorientating. Additionally, the buzzing noise which accompanies the piece (originating from the neon tubing) is somewhat distracting. However, it is ironic that while reading 'violins' evokes a pure and unpolluted noise, in reality you are faced with a low, droning buzz. I enjoy the irony of Nauman's work and the complex ideas which lie behind the lights. There is much more to this piece than is initially apparent and I hope that other visitors to the gallery take the time to consider its complexity.
Another piece in the exhibition which caught my attention was 'Raw Material Washing Hands'(1996). The video, which documents one individual washing their hands constantly for 55 minutes is difficult viewing. It is reminiscent of a person suffering from obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) in which the individual is performing a routine repeatedly, as though it were a ritual. The video becomes painful to watch as we see the individuals skin being overworked by the soap and water and I must admit that although the video runs for just under an hour, I watched it for no longer than 10 minutes.
Raw Material Washing Hands,
Bruce Nauman
1996
After seeing Nauman's work, it is clear that he questions and stretches the boundaries of what it is to make art. He has purposefully left behind traditional notions of 'fine art' and has distanced himself from paint as a medium.
A Zoomorphic Carving
Fig. 1 Fig. 2
The idea of seeking change in my Acceptance drawings and paintings, the notion of becoming something that, perhaps, one feels one should have always been, has led me to think more deeply about change. My attention was focused on this point when I visited Gateley Church, Norfolk, and came across a fascinating late medieval bench end carving of a creature climbing up the bench arm on the south side of the nave, aisle side (Fig. 1), which I subsequently drew (Fig. 2). This is a zoomorphic carving, with such carvings being, no doubt, not uncommon in the medieval period, though, of course, six hundred years has not only reduced their number dramatically, but their meaning can now only be guessed at. The Gateley figure is a fine example, though the end of the tail is broken off, which I added in my drawing.
Fig. 3
The size of the creature and the height of the bench end ‘poppy-head’ carving can be seen in Fig. 3. The bench end behind my mother shows the remnants of what looks like another example of the creature, thought this time crawling down the bench end.
The creature portrayed is not intended as a representation of a real animal, but is, rather, a mixture of different types, a kind of multiple portmanteau animal. The body, legs and feet are reptile-like, the ‘wings’ are stegosaurus-plate-like and the head and face, mammal-like, in the form of a bear or dog. It is, most certainly, a curious beast to say the least.
Fig. 4
Fig. 5 Fig. 6
I decided to experiment with the life-size latex skin, or parts of it, that I had made (e.g. Figs. 4-6), working on the isolation of the figure on a pew. These just did not work for me and what I wanted to express.
