THE ZEN OF GIVING UP SOMEWHAT GRACEFULLY

Antoni Tàpies: Hieratical, 1990

I spent a couple of days looking at commissions for disabled artists but I had to concede it's all out of reach and that I am not cut out for any of it. Of course one would like to make a difference, but one can really only do that through art by participating in society and making socially relevant work that gets seen by a lot of people. One has to be one of those people who are able to conform to the expectations people now have on contemporary art. I don't feel that any of it is wrong, it's just the way it is. As a contemporary artist you're just another cog in the great big social wheel, you are doing a job and you get paid through commissions and grants to respond to people's needs. Gone are the days when people just made art and would pride themselves that it wasn't their job to explain it to anyone! It also seems to me that the value of expressive gesture, i.e. making a mark with pen or brush and putting one's signature on a surface, has been reduced because of the prevalence of mind centred (and often very narcissistic) art.

Of course people who are able to engage in this kind of socially encouraged art practice sometimes do make meaningful work that make us think about ourselves from a new angle. I should sit back and enjoy what other people do instead of allowing myself to be so frustrated about my own lack of opportunities (to the extent that I can afford it, of course). I do feel segregated because I can't even begin to explore such possibilities. Chronic illness sets you apart from other people who may have physical and mental obstacles but don't suffer from a lack of energy. I am unable to work and thus naturally also unable to sustain focus and energy in order to apply for the big money, let alone execute the work in accordance with the expectations on a job well done. Since I can't do this in the first instance I can't build a track record that would make it easier to carry on pursuing a career. So I think it's best to realise that this is not part of my reality, even if it reduces my practice to a mere hobby. Conceptual art is not something I ever envisaged in the first place, and though it's possible to become passionate about new things in life, I think the fundaments of your psychological make up is often evident from an early stage in life. It's not that I am devoid of ideas, it's that I keep asking myself why I would want to bother. Some different way of expressing my creativity might be possible, though. It may not even be through art, as scary as that is to someone who feels it's their only way of self expression. I'd like to think that the crisis I've been ploughing through for a while now will lead to a new realisation and so the act of giving up is more a case of letting go of the old self and old fixations.

Antoni Tàpies: Large Grey Painting No III, 1955

Antoni Tàpies: Grey Relief in Four Parts, 1963

Antoni Tàpies: Double Beige Door, 1960

Antoni Tàpies: Matter in the Form of an Armpit, 1968

Antoni Tàpies: Red and Black, 1981

I came across the artist Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies (1923-2012) while studying art in Perpignan in 1991, but never actually looked into his work (a lack of internet made it so much more difficult in those days). I felt somewhat interested in the colour and texture of the work I saw then, but then forgot all about it. A friend reminded me of him recently and that prompted me to look up the work on the internet. I was really blown away. It was far more intricate and beautiful than I had imagined. Martin then got a couple of books out for me from the University library. As I worked my way through them I felt that the ideas I've had for abstract work based on texture aren't worth pursuing because he did it all so much better than I ever could. It's in fact too similar to what I had in mind - only better, since my ability to be spontaneous is quite limited (not least due to a lack of energy and work space).

I feel such deep kinship with the mysterious and tactile aspects of his work - to me his evocation of the material is deeply mystical, emotionally intelligent and very sensual, with an aesthetics that speak of the barely contained chaotic nature of matter and its rough naturalness. To me, matter is inherently spiritual. He was initially inspired by the Surrealists, read the authors I also enjoyed when I was younger, and was interested in Eastern philosophies. The ideas that void is an ontological fact and that all aspects of reality are equal, are pillar stones of his world view. He seemed to have wanted to convey a sense of Zen, that is "shock and contemplation". The values of Taoism and Zen come through very strongly in this work, in containing meditative and expressive gestures, a colour scheme that encourages contemplation, a pronounced equality between all aspects of reality, and a profound communion with organic matter. These are semi-abstract matter paintings with an autonomous presence as Shamanic things in themselves rather than windows onto a different reality. They are infused with traces of human emotions, and therefore never detached from subjective reality and human universalities. Interestingly, my feeling of resonance with this work was there before I was made aware of the Eastern link.

Tàpies' art would escape geometry - albeit retaining some of its fundamental forms - in order to explore the world of organic life, the 'amorphous', ambiguous and unfinished, the expressiveness of pure gesture inspired by Chinese and Japanese traditions. (Jean-Luc Chalumeau: Tàpies)

Antoni Tàpies: Montesy - Montenegre (Detail), 1988

Antoni Tàpies: Breathing In, Breathing Out, 1991

Antoni Tàpies: Matter Spiral (Detail), 1991

Tàpies was clearly able to ride on the wave of art trends in order to synthesise an approach that was deeply personal and esoteric in a way that is rarely seen in modern art. When this kind of connection with contemporary currents doesn't occur, an artist will find themselves in a difficult position that ultimately leads to serious questions about the validity of their practice. Such resonance with surrounding currents has at times been there in my own life, but not in any big way. Perhaps things would be a bit different if I felt more confident in pursuing fine art as a career. Passion is a sign of the prevalence of a true life path, and when that motivation is somewhat tattered you feel that this particular path of destiny is called into question. Too many concerns are distracting me and keeping me from feeling a really deep sense of artistic purpose.

The strange thing is that my abstract photography series "Traces" is so evocative of Tàpies's work, and that I had explained the experience of the video work based on the photos as a form of Asian koan. In 2013 I wrote:

The viewer is also encouraged to contemplate the way we inadvertently leave our personal marks on the many layers that constitute our reality - some of our marks get erased as new people leave theirs. The enigmatic contents with its Cyrillic lettering and random numbers can serve to disrupt “functional fixedness”, breaking old cognitive patterns and helping the brain make new connections. Inspiration has been derived from the ancient Japanese tradition of the koan, a story or statement that is ultimately absurd, offered to Buddhist disciples as a way of breaking out of mental ruts, to drop their rational minds and become susceptible to the greater mystery of life and question the rationale behind the frantic process of dashing about the planet in a state of semi-functionality.

My photographs with their highly gestural and coded content bear an almost uncanny resemblance to his work in general. Even the frequent occurrence of letters like "X" and "T" evoke Tàpies' work.  If I had some money I'd buy a new camera and set out to collect some more. You have to realise that once you decide not to go down the path of conceptual art, no one will pay you to buy materials and equipment and just make some art.

I rewrote a statement today:

“Traces” is a photography project already comprising over 150 images that brings to view the marks that people have made while simply doing their job. The source of these mysterious surfaces that have been repurposed time and time again are old dilapidated goods wagons from Russia. Successive layers of paint, repeatedly stencilled or painted signs and lettering, as well as the corrosion, express the convergence of cultures and efforts to communicate within a professional, and thus exclusive, framework. These real life happenings caught on camera chime in with the instinctive and highly tactile work of Antoni Tapies. They evoke an equal sense of the mysterious communion with the material and intrinsically imperfect aspects of life, as well as codes passed on from person to person The impression of the passing of time becomes evident through the layers of paints and marks. While the workmen who have given rise to the imagery had no artistic intention and tend to be invisible to most passers by, it is the photographer’s eye that has recognised the artistic quality and aesthetic value of these markings. One person’s gesture has thus become another person’s art.

Having now processed Tàpies' life and work for a while and thought about my own inclinations and limited ability to create conceptual art, I just might go ahead and do something handmade in 2D after all, especially as my health has lately improved a bit. On a good day I might find the energy for this kind of work. After all, texture is what I really love (something I also wrote about in my post about William Kentridge). Never mind that it stays flat. In any case I do feel I'm in the process of breaking away from old cognitive patterns...

From the series "Traces" (Vivi-Mari Carpelan 2012, the year Antoni Tàpies died):

You can view more of this work on my website.

Antoni Tapies' lithograph

A few more of Antoni Tàpies' art works:

Antoni Tàpies: Ocher and Pink Relief, 1965

Antoni Tàpies: Rags and Strings on Wood, 1967

Antoni Tàpies: Scribbles and Varnish, 1987

Antoni Tàpies: The Catalan Spirit, 1971

Antoni Tapies: Speak, Speak, 1991


Vivi-Mari Carpelan: Helsinki 4, 2012 (Digital photograph)

THE TRAP OF TRYING TO PLEASE "ALL THOSE OTHER PEOPLE"

Photograph by Vivi-Mari Carpelan

Most of the time I have pretty extreme doubts about my art, and it hampers me a lot. What I try and do artistically is of such great importance to me, I just cannot take it lightly. Because of chronic illness it's the only thing I'm able to do in order to feel accomplished. It is in this respect my day job (I spend an average of five hours a day on creating,  still I feel it's taking way too long to "get anywhere"). I also feel very driven to make a difference. Some money out of it all would of course be welcome, but I can just barely survive without it, and so don't make it into a priority. Life is stressful enough as it is.

However, I don't have a degree in fine arts and my line of thoughts and feelings run counter to those of the average art world. The blankness, rejection and general lack of encouragement is deadening to say the least. There was a time when I was successful with the general public, but times have changed. Today, there are more artists who compete for attention. My own art has changed and may not be as easy to take in as it was twenty years ago. People's habits in regards to consumption have changed. The internet has changed the way we view art because there's so much of it readily at hand, and information about exhibitions is also easily available. There's simply too much choice, people get overwhelmed. The collective consciousness is even more ridden with urgent challenges, and we are made increasingly aware of various forms of threat through an increasing variety of sources - art is seldom seen as a necessity in times of great upheaval. However, it's also in times of great upheaval that great art is often made, but the artist's contemporaries will no doubt find it difficult to distinguish greatness from the ordinary. It may take some perspective to perceive that which is truly meaningful and significant to the overall collective mind, and it's perfectly possible that no one will.

When I arrived in the UK and took up art again I soon realised just how competitive the art world has become. All bigger open exhibitions are connected to awards, and if you don't win them you're not considered a good artist. However, you probably won't win any awards unless you have a degree in fine arts. As an artist, you end up depending more and more on other people's opinion and criteria, and it can affect the way you make art. This will result in more mediocre art. What I see is that a lot of contemporary artists are not intuitive and true to their souls, but people pleasing and calculating. That's why so much contemporary art is so crap. For instance, everyone knows that art with a social message is more highly regarded than say expressive emotionalism, so young artists try and bend their minds towards a strategy of socially engaged conceptualism that satisfies the art world. Art with a social message is only good art if it comes from a deep place. But of course commercial art that is purely decorative is just as bad. Most people (i.e. the average person) are complying with rules and regulations, thus supplying more mediocre art to a world that is replete with blandness.

The lack of support and encouragement threatens to kill my spirit. I may not be making great art, and it certainly isn't always good... However, you would think that people had a heart and remembered the moral of smiling at least once a day at the person at the cashpoint or a random person at the bus stop. Make their day! Well, artists also need a "smile" to keep going. Be a good human being by being generous and kind to those who are struggling to do what they are destined to do, regardless whether they are making a huge contribution to society or not. Support will help them get better at what they are doing, and it's potentially for other people's benefit too. No one is an island.

If I ceased trying to get my art out there to the attention of the general public and art authorities, and focused on being creative on my own terms instead, I might get some kind of peace of mind. However it would also damage my desire to communicate and certainly ruin every chance of ever "making it" while still alive. Seriously - I'm in two minds about this. I'm driven to communicate so withdrawal doesn't seem to be the answer. No one likes rejection and some of us are more prone to suffering from it. It can hamper you so badly, that you just give up. You don't know for sure if you're making good art or not because you're not getting much validation, and it could mean the end of a really promising path (I rather say "path" than career). After all, a lot of writers and artists have struggled for quite a bit before making it. Often they had very little support until they were suddenly discovered by an authority who resonated with their work. 

There was a recent TED talk with Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of "Eat, Pray, Love" who struggled with rejection for years until she made it. However, in this case we seem to be talking about stuff that's fairly commercial - I don't know about the book, but I saw the movie and it's pretty cheesy. I know that in the end it doesn't matter what you do as long as you do it creatively and with integrity. It really doesn't matter what you do, because there should be room for everyone in our world (that's what true diversity should be all about). However, if you're not looking for commercial success you may end up lacking in some drive. After all, who are you supposed to communicate with? What does success look like to you? It can be hard to imagine if you remove the rather straightforward commercial aspect, and so you may end up feeling pretty scatty and unfocused. You might have to think consciously about how you can bring yourself back to your own inner centre. Even when you are doing what you love, it's never an easy ride and a lot of the work you have to do is tedious and uninspiring. It's a little bit of inspiration and flow, and a lot of hard work. To remain in touch with your soul throughout all this is definitely not easy. 

Every once and again I cry for a day and then pick up again when I got the sadness and frustration out of my system. I lick my wounds and consider that people might just be too stupid to get me (I know you shouldn't, but... I'm only human). I think of ways in which I can minimise exposure to disappointments, including trying too hard to get noticed. Trying too hard to gain attention is not a natural and fluent way of existing. I remind myself of the Taoist ideas about going with the flow along the lines of the least resistance. Take the watercourse way. Nowadays I also meditate at least once a day (three times would be better). Though it's sometimes a fruitless pursuit, it seems to be the only way in our chaotic world that one can regain some inner balance and poise. My husband then reminds me that my job is to make art for the future. It may not please society we know today, but it just might point the way in some way... I guess what I really want is to help people reflect upon the great pathologies within the collective psyche, and trying to be different is to go against my deepest concern, and it's a spiritual one which I'm well aware doesn't sit well in postmodernist society. I'm neither particularly clever nor geeky. Perhaps one day it will be appreciated in spite of all its shortcomings. 

This blog post was inspired by another one from "For the Creators".

THE TAO OF WAR AND PEACE IN MY LATEST SOUND COLLAGE

My latest piece "War and Peace is a State of Mind" is about the eternal recurrence of conflict and harmony, and how the murky recesses of the individual and collective consciousness reflect the state of the world. It was a complicated one and the research as well as the creative process of putting all the bits together inspired some deep-felt emotions and frequent bouts of tears. It was interesting to listen to historical documents about the Second World War in a very focused way - when you see these things on TV they just pass by so quickly, and don't usually cause a deeper emotional connection with the way things really were back then. The rhetoric used varies a great deal, it's sometimes aggressive warmongering, sometimes triumphant propaganda, sometimes woeful but determined statements - and then there's the neutral voice too, in order to complete the spectrum. The explosion of the atom bomb has a profound effect on me. I decided to stick to parts of WW II and the Cold War because of the wealth of documents that are now part of our collective consciousness, and also because introducing more modern wars would simply have been overwhelming with confusing results. I hope some of what I felt will come through to the listeners.

In case you wonder, the theme in the beginning is not from an ice cream van, but a theme (the Swedish Rapsodhy) that is said to have been used as the interval signal for a German language numbers station during the Cold War. The idea of weird codes being transmitted through the air is somehow alluring and creepy, but also quite a strong metaphor for the murky world of the collective consciousness (or even unconsciousness).

In my last post, I explained what liminal means and suggested that war is usually seen as a liminal experience, i.e. "out of the ordinary". I was interested in exploring this assumption further, not least as it was an excuse to equate the external event with ongoings in the human psyche. I realise that a lot of people will have no idea what I'm talking about when I bring in some Taoist philosophy, but I will attempt to explain myself nonetheless. My sleep, or lack thereof, is a disaster and I'm finding that a possible cause could be an neuroinflammation in the brain, that is an over activation of microglia... I'm very worried about my upcoming sleep study and whether there is any help to be had. I have been able to escape my worries by drowning myself in work when I can focus, as this sound project has been quite exciting to me. However, thinking is very hard for me these days and my inability to sleep naturally and my increasingly adverse reaction to medication doesn't help. I still hope I can make some kind of sense.

According to a Taoist way of looking at reality, polarities are fundamentally interconnected and not in conflict with each other - the conflict lies within the human mind. Life has a cyclical quality, as polarities (yin and yang) shift from one to another. One can't exist without the other. War can only exist as a counterpart to peace, and vice versa. 

We think of war as liminal, i.e. “out of the ordinary”, but this is not quite true if we look at war and conflict in its broadest sense (and I think it's really only liminal in some ways were there is real change involved). Conflict is as frequent as the lack of it. This might be easier to see if in your mind, you exchange "conflict" and "war" with other forms of disorder and chaos. Life is a wave movement that alternates various forms of chaos with forms of order and stability (there is a tipping point where everything is in good balance, but it doesn't last as nature has to take its course). The way of nature is inescapable, it's our attitude towards the facts of life that we should worry about more.

To humans, war is normally terrifying but in the long run, a lack of action can also get tedious. People also get complacent when everything is a bit "too easy". This is as much an external reality, as an internal one. I think it's really important to remember that one mirrors the other. A dissatisfied and agitated mind will cause havoc in real life, but warmongering can also arouse other people's secret aggressions and make people lose their inner control. To change the world you do have to address the human psyche first. The point, however is, that you can't do that by fighting and repressing your urges. That's violence against the self, which in ironically just perpetuates the idea of violence. The more you resist something the more it will keep coming back. That's why resisting war isn't the answer either. In fact, our "fight and flight" mechanism isn't serving us very well anymore - more and more people are succumbing to stress related diseases. We are luckily evolving, and are thus able to find new and creative ways of dealing with perceived threat. We need to rethink our propensity for stressful situations in which we are hunting or being hunted. How can we lead our lives in a more emotionally mature and less simplistic way? That is surely our future!

However, the point I really want to make is that by resisting conflict while advocating peace in a warrior like way we are shooting ourselves in the leg. History already shows that holding onto peace (or status quo as it often means in practice) too forcefully will lead to all manners of suppression and ultimately civil unrest. Even "fighting for peace" is a warrior's stand, and perhaps humanity needs to reinvent its warriors (in fact some of them are now "diplomats"). 

To realise the nature of this semantic tension in our minds is surely a way of dealing with the urge to exert aggression towards one another. If you postulate that polarities are irrevocably interlinked like two sides of a coin, then by reinventing the idea we have about conflict and how to solve it through war, we automatically reinvent our idea of peace, and vice versa. That to me is evolution, but it's up to us how quickly we are willing to allow for change.

The way the world runs the wars at present is patriarchal (note the lack of women in the piece, as I simply couldn't find any other than ones in numbers stations), but thanks to evolution, expressions of disagreement and power eventually change over time. In the end, the concept "war and peace" is no doubt less about what it represents to us in our minds than how we may reinvent these concepts and seek less destructive ways of dealing with challenges within ourselves and in relation to the rest of the world.

I have written some more about eternal recurrence in this blog post.