What have I actually achieved?
This is a brilliant question.
I have started to investigate my responses to waiting for change in a very uncertain world!
The current focus of my practice is to experiment with overprinting of painted images. Subsequently, I blast the surface of newly created and layered compositions with a powerful water jet. The partial marks, which are left after this procedure are combined with further screen overprints.
The hope of achieving a new sense of completion is simple washed away. The repetitive character of this process makes the uncertainty physically unbearable, yet visually exciting. How far can I push this process? When will I reach the stage of exhaustion? What is the impact of colour on the overall effect? How many layers become lost?
The more certain the moment of completion is the more uncertain I become about it.
I have also noticed that canvas is much more appropriate for technique than working on old wooden boards. There is more gentleness and grace to the printing on canvas and a sense of full interruction between individual layers. Perhaps, I should restart the entire process by creating further compositions using a really large format of canvas.
Scale here is very important. It allows for a greater degree of experimenting with an illustration of space, I creates the physicality of the working method and indicates ambition. The painterly space can be elaborated in much more detail, just like in the combination of three overprinted images below.
I have experimented again with back lighting of the works in order to discover more sensitive detail. This process has resemblance to the forensics and x-ray techniques. Both are designed to reveal the hidden components, which can potentially affect the overall entity of the works.
The hidden qualities become exposed and elevated to a higher level of the visual hierarchy.
I am particularly interested in the violence and brutality of the blasting process. I am also impressed by the sensitivity of response of the image to this treatment – the tears and the dripping of the watery and semi-transparent layers of printing ink.