I have embarked over the past week on the long-overdue task of re-organising my picture racks. Apart from the fact that I can never find what I am looking for, I have become aware that I am probably hoarding a load of old stuff that will probably never ever be exhibited again (if it ever was). Any archival interest in some of these pieces could probably be satisfied by the photographic record I keep of all my work.
I have been able to build a rack in the cellar into which I have begun to demote material of this kind, comprising principally empty frames awaiting a new use, and canvases that could be painted over. This has been a thoroughly worthwhile experience, although I am aware that it is far from finished. Already my main storage area looks tidier, and there will be room for new work. The experience has brought with it some surprises, however, and has imposed a drastic revaluation of some of my work.
This cuts in both directions. There have been encounters with pieces that were once dear to my heart, which on re-acquaintance I wonder what it was about them that excited me. These occasions resemble surprise meetings with old lovers after which one wonders whatever was the secret of that former magic. On the other hand, there have been some quite astonishing rediscoveries.
In particular, I dug out yesterday two large pastel pieces I discovered were painted in 2002. Both of these are studies of rock-climbers, both are done in the unusual medium of pastel on plywood, and both are larger than I would attempt today. I was shocked, however, to discover just how good they are. The use of the grain of the wood in relation to the pastel is remarkably effective. The drawing is good, including the figures, which are often a weak point in my work. One of them in particular has an emotional point that goes beyond its surface meaning. My immediate response to the experience has been the decision, as soon as this wretched regime of isolation is relaxed, to show them again at the Square & Compass.
My relationship to old work hovers erratically between two contradictory poles. I was once advised by a tutor, “Never throw anything away”, and the actual sense of being burdened by the volume of old work that requires storage, and my inability to locate any thing I do want amid the clutter.