Mon 25 Nov 2024
Blue Entity
notebook extracts
Shared primal language, a deep connection through form. The ancient sites and narratives across the globe connect us to something lost, something deeper, what are they representing? How can you sense the land? These works are markers planted to bridge territory and expand upon our shared story. Centering the human, stripping away, a removal, and a reconnecting. Who is this person and where are they from? I don’t know. How are they familiar? their faces from anywhere and nowhere at the same time, a connection to our ancestory, accessing a shared pool of deep time that exists in our DNA, and the vast memory stored within.
This work is an oddity [A blue head in the jungle with no ethnicity] ? I don’t know whether it will last a thousand years or have fallen by the time i finish this sentence. It is ephemeral, like everything; inkeeping with the rule of nature, of arising and passing.
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Arrival of a figure
An ‘Allowing’ not a ‘doing’
I am reminded of the idea of ‘perfection’ in nature, which exists because nothing is formed with effort. It is not ‘trying’ to be perfect, it is formed naturally, in communion with the totality of the whole. Using colour in this way feels like a breakthrough, allowing it to come through me rather than ‘doing’ it. That said, in this state of mind it becomes a very physical process that involves every aspect of my body and focus. I am aware yet unaware. Sweating, breathing, thoughts processing, subconscious archiving, realising, allowing realities to bubble up in their own abstract ways. Past experiences being understood through the body and its memory. Dormant memories processing and realising, and releasing.
Symphony in Blue
River and Tian (Seba and Ayu’s children) grew up here and have decided to take part in a small ceremony to process the indigo clay and paint the sculpture blue. Cloaked in indigo dyded sarongs, I dig a circular channel around the base of the sculpture and they carefully tread the indigo paste into the clay soil within. It turns deep earthy grey green navy. Feet fade into blue , black, our hands paint the face the ink seeping into our skin like blue oil. Under the sun there is a galaxy sparkling in the palms of our hands. It feels futuristic nd ancient at the same time.
On painting the sculpture:
It feels somewhat seperate from the form, cosmetic and skin deep. We add a thick paste of blue mud and play with spreading it in different methods, it slowly starts to weave new meaning into the piece. Pigmented powder works really well. It is matt, dull, dries the surface and freezes the texture.
Secondcoming, Rebirth
I’ve lost track of the days, my fingertips are tender, my nails are blue and my feet are beginning to change shape, toes spreading, widening, toughening from this barefoot process.
Out of the rubble arose a new figure; stronger, stable, slighter, wiser. It is smaller but holds a larger presence. The rebirth was fast, shockingly fast yet seemingly stronger. I feel this is the strongest, most solid mass yet. With no internal skeleton, the whole becomes one.
I continue to shape the form. Minimal, muted, slightly blurred and vague in expression, it’s presence represents everybody and nobody all at once. It feels too male though, too chunky,
manly. Something is not right here, it is not ready.
Putu, Made and Ben assist
Rebuilding begins with Ben and Made processing the clay adding in the fiber. The stones are removed, Putu and I rebuild the form.
In one day we rebuild the form, slightly smaller this time. I am aware that this is again far too rapid, but I follow my instinct that the hot sunlight + the fibre will hold it in place this time. If it falls again, I will accept. Working with mud is localised and there is only so much research I can apply, the rest is felt and learned through direct contact with this material. The raw material informs me, it speaks through the minds touch, its properties and limitations are communicated through experience and instinct, like an extension of my body.