'The best art always returns you to yourself.'

This is a sentence which got me thinking. Stated in the Guardian newspaper by a critic whose articles I nearly always find thought-provoking: Adrian Searle. I agree with him in that I believe the most powerful art which I encounter always makes me ask profound questions - and the best niggle away at me forever after in one way or another.

I found the whole article was a bowlful of fruit to savour, and certainly the parting shot spoke directly to me: Doubt is difficult. Complications and contingencies mess with your head. They might not help you out of a crisis but they are all we have.

Ah, that affirmation of my love of enigma. As Searle says: Keep dancing !

Autumn views

The view out of my mother's kitchen window is over the wetland. Early in the morning is a good time to watch the wildlife. The deer have come back unfortunately, and have nibbled all my mother's roses. They do look lovely though: there were two the other day. The ducks seem happy splashing around in the water of next door's pond. The mallards are all in the wetland, and the village pond is now left to the white Aylesbury ducks.

The photos are of mosaics I saw in the Byzantine museum in Salonica.

Thought process

Design in process

I've been thinking a lot about thought processes these days as I try to untangle what my mother is attempting to say, and also how she proceeds through tasks. Underlying this is a realisation that she does not take any responsibility for her own improvement. This is not a new thing - 'twas ever thus.

This latter dawning brought me to a fleeting ponder over breakfast about the timing of the philosophy of Existentialism. Was it that my parents' generation was the last which could believe that life happened to them, and the next generation then determined to try to take responsibility for their own progress? Only to lapse back into a belief in the present generation that a good life should happen to all?

Unfortunately that's about as much thought as I can cope with at a time.

Magic box

design in progress

I'm lucky that my mother goes to bed to sleep in the late afternoon at present, and so I am free for the evening. There is not much space left in my brain for anything much by that point, however, so I really appreciate this wondrous portal which is the computer.

I lurk around a few blogs - it's like having a pile of new magazines come through the door - and before I know it my interest is perked. I see something which sets dormant ideas a-shifting, and I even begin thinking about designs. Of course because the magic box already provides tools and studio for me I can get down to work straightway. No setting up, no clearing away. Whether I produce anything worthwhile, however, is something I'll have to wait and see. But 'twas ever thus.

A loss can become a gain

Nancy Spero has died. Her obituary was in Friday's Guardian newspaper. Adrian Searle, one of the art critics on the Guardian also wrote this article. He knew Spero and her artist husband Leon Golub, and there is an interesting podcast review of her retrospective in Madrid last year: Let the Priests Tremble.

I had heard of Nancy Spero, but it was not until I saw her joint exhibition with Kiki Smith some years ago that I started finding out about her and her work. And since then she often comes to mind. It can be a jolt to hear that the life force of an artist is gone, and that she will not produce any more work - and yet, this very news can act as a catalyst to making a deeper study of that work to make sure that it continues to live.

A delight a day keeps despair at bay

At present I am living in negative time. Rather like negative space, I'm defining negative time as that which is between the chunks of my overwhelming daily preoccupations. The internet comes into its own here, because I can shoot off into the delights of the ether for a quick visit and for some positive input to spark up the shrivelling brain cells.

Where do impulses come from? Wherever it was, I was minded to google an artist who was a great personal influence on me. When I was living in New England in the early 80s I had a lot of time on my hands, and one activity I took up was friendship of the Currier in Manchester NH. One outing was to visit the studios of artists studying at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts School of Art as an event to accompany an exhibition of their work at the Currier.

An artist had been assigned to guide us round, and she was taking us up in a cranky lift when it stuck. One of the visitors panicked, and essentially the artist and I formed a friendly bond in dealing with the problem. After everyone else had gone I went to have coffee with her: Jinx Nolan.

Originally from Australia, Jinx came to studying art later in life, and this together with a much enjoyed conversation filled me with hope and enthusiasm. I nourished those encouragements which stayed with me through my subsequently resumed publishing career, and they shone through to the other side.

So, it was tremendous delight that this googling at last produced fruit: images of Jinx's work from a recent exhibition in Boston. These have reminded me of the work I so enjoyed seeing all those years ago, and have stimulated me to return, even if only in sketchy thought, to ideas which were bubbling up in my mind earlier this year.

Updates

This year I seem to have been particularly productive, and so I decided to update my website and its design. I've been encouraged by seeing others selling online to add that facility too.

I have also contributed a new post to the Ragged Cloth Cafe on my current reading: Eva Hesse Studiowork.