There is no one way of collaboration for us except one way which is together. If one of us starts first, the other may start undoing and vice -versa before rebuilding or leaving in a different way. There is no rule about who starts first, in the case of ‘Bridge’ we started together before S moved forward and L entered afterwards, via another door and we both left together again. Sometimes it’s the other way round. The only regular feature is our unity in working together.
As we enter collaboration we leave somethings behind, there is no room for ego, conservatism or caution. There is only one coat hanger for political considerations of gender, the main one of equality. There are sympathetic considerations toward our individual styles and strengths, but just a glance through a door before sowing the seed for the surprise from our work that stimulates us to the next.
Bridge is about this ongoing story as well as the Metropolis in its marks.
Details and process
We both love staring back at Art History from our digital era. Its tempting to queue up with Artists over the centuries who have been eager to reinterpret … even link with that tradition In a way we find ourselves doing just that with a small sketch of a Rubens drawing started and finished via alteration led by chance into something beyond its origins as we sat in the conservatory working together in fading light. Whilst I’m writing this I know with certainty that an Artist somewhere is looking backwards whilst pushing forwards at the same time, there is a neat symmetry balancing on that line.
I counted two hundred million miles the other day.
A multiplication of orbits, rotations and years since we started a conversation, marked by being in the same place, with the same face.
Two hundred million marks with pen on paper is only one word of explanation, but us making marks together makes the conversation.
Stephen Kirin, December 2017.
The energy in this piece has been intoxicating for us. The richness of forms and colour has inspired an intense response to the legend of this sea dragon.
We had prepared a very complex surface of watercolour, charcoal and ink in this case and unusually for us, decided very early on that we would paint Ryōjin, as a follow on to the tale of Tamatori. I began to work into the dragon’s head and neck which in turn, gave Stephen the opportunity to unleash his powerful marks in ink around the body of the creature. We alternated several times, as is our norm, to adjust and respond to each other’s marks.
Again we have aimed to build complexity into the completed work; seeking the ambiguous, the surreal perhaps whilst maintaining the importance of the narrative. We want to be gripped, surprised and always inspired. We are both a little braver as a result of working this way too.
Ryojin will be showing at Ashdown Gallery in June 2018, as part of our ‘solo’ exhibition.
This piece is the largest work on paper that we have worked on to date. It’s 120x100cm; a thrilling scale, full of potential for gripping mark making and contrasts of bold gestures and detailed intricacy.
We have been totally immersed in responding emerging images in this piece and feel that the resulting painting is highly complex and can be read in a variety of ways.
The subject matter appeared half way through the process, as we identified the Japanese legend of Princess Tamatori and the Ryōjin (sea dragon) in the marks.
The narrative developed in response to the tale of the princess’s heroic recovery of a treasured pearl stolen by the dragon king, Ryōjin during a storm on its way to Japan in the inlet of Fusazaki. She vowed to help recover the stolen pearl that belonged to her family and after many failed attempts she was finally successful when the dragon and grotesque creatures guarding it were lulled to sleep by music. Upon reclaiming the treasure, she came under attack by the awakening sea creatures. She cut open her breast to place the pearl inside for safekeeping and escaped in the water clouded by her own blood. She died from the resulting wound but is revered for her selfless act of sacrifice for her husband Fuhito and their son.
A woodblock depicting the legend of Tamatori by Utagawa Kuniyoshi
This painting forms part of a series of work inspired by our recent trip to Japan and our deep interest in classical mythology. These will be exhibited in June 2018 at Ashdown Gallery.
Stephen and I have just got back from an amazing adventure in Japan; exploring the bonkers lights of Tokyo, the spiritual traditions of Kyoto and the most astounding city of Hiroshima. It was a trip I have always dreamt of making and we were so lucky to be able to take the family too. It was incredible.
We have returned, needless to say subtlety different, having viewed the world through a new lens. Life seems a bit chaotic back here, but marvellously individual of course. It’s taken a while for us to adjust.
We have wanted to explore Japanese imagery in our collaborative work since returning… so here’s a bit of progress..
These are the very early stages of a very large format piece. This will be a project that will evolve over the next few weeks and months and we will post how it progresses……
The excitement of creating new work is always a thrill, but Stephen and I feel that this recent body of work is really beginning to embed a language that we have developed over the last few years of collaboration. It’s intoxicating to us to explore each others marks and to respond to new interpretations of the imagery as each piece evolves.
We are currently enjoying laying down some classic drawing over textured marks and then the process of analytical deconstruction begins. We view the image from all angles, with a totally open mind. The subject is undetermined at this stage and we are lead largely by the emerging themes that we tease out and give greater form to. We work in to the image in turn, in the main, but on larger pieces, it’s possible to work in tandem.
This process requires a certain deconstruction of ourselves too, in that we have to be completely embracing of alteration, deconstruction and even total destruction of our original marks; trusting that the the reviewed image will be stronger for it. It just doesn’t work otherwise. As the themes become apparent, we discuss their potential strengths, but we do not hinder each other by being precious over particular areas. Complete freedom is essential and present always; there lies the magic for us.
It is within the last stages of the work quite often that a subject becomes apparent. Identifying a narrative is a very special moment; it intensifies the image, it provides often a deeper meaning, a contrasting interpretation perhaps, it just joins the dots.
We are bursting with ideas, so back to the brush!
Lorna and Stephen x
Izanami and the Birth of an Island (On the left) and
Watercolour, pencil and ink on St Cuthberts Mill Bockingford paper (iPad image)