studio. Scotland
My studio practice is mechanical. My process is calculated. I systematically work on one layer in one sitting, irrespective of scale as I want consistency. So many factors dictate the tonal uniformity that to rest for more than a short length of time destroys continuity and the image is split into obvious, unwanted sections: factors such as how the paint is mixed and the rhythm of my gesture, the speed of my movement; if I’m aggressive or gentle, if I use heavy or light pressure, how I stand, the angle of my arm.
During the making of the work, I have an immediate aesthetic response to each mark or series of marks and take only seconds in deciding to keep or re-make them. This is as basic as a like or dislike for the marks’ value and their relationship to those made before and beside. When I work my face can be as close as a few centimetres from the surface, observing and absorbing each mark as it is made, lifting my eyes to enjoy the emptiness in front and re-assess the marks beside and behind.
Contemplation, reflection, and analysis are critical components of the process. To slow down and give room for this I have a swing. The rhythm is calming. The sound of the creaking rope against timber rafters is hypnotic. I roll up a piece of paper as one would roll a cigarette and remember, as a child, watching my granda Wilson rolling and smoking his. I use the ritual, as he did, to withdraw from disturbances, to think.
