I was intrigued yesterday, attending the opening of an exhibition at the local South Square Centre, to note a common theme connecting the work of three of my friends there. In one way or another it became evident that their work is motivated by memory.
Pete Lund is now becoming quite elderly, walking with the aid of two sticks. His several contributions to the show mainly had to do with his former attachment to the small north Italian town of Chiavenna, which he used to visit quite frequently. I remember going there myself several years ago (on his recommendation) to discover that he was really quite a well-known figure there….especially in one of the bars! Pete and a poet had teamed up to become a familiar double-act. Recollections of the alpine scenery around the town still form the core of his painting.
Patricia Calver has had an interest in faces and masks for as long as I have known her. The theme still figures significantly in her work. I was interested in particular by several studies examining the impact of spectacles. Are they an aid to (mutual) visibility, or a barrier of some kind? Are they somehow an essential part of the face of a person, or some kind of mask, or disguise? The roots of this concern are buried somewhere deep in Patricia’s memory….deeper than I have access to.
Richard Mort was not exhibiting, but it was a remarkable experience to meet him in another of the galleries, where the display had to do with the preparation of designs for jacquard loom weaving. (The mill that was once the major employer in the village has, in one way or another, had an impact on the work of more than one local artist.) I have known about Richard’s former employment as a professional textile designer, but was surprised and delighted by the animation he brought to the task of explaining to us the process and its challenges. His own painting, with its powerful element of pattern, still bears the unmistakable stamp of somebody who has worked in this field, although I had never previously appreciated this quite as clearly as listening to his animated exposition.
An appreciation of memory is probably never to be under-estimated in approaching the task of decoding an artist’s work. (I’m reminded of the significance of a childhood experience of near-drowning, for Bill Viola, whose video work I discussed recently.) I’m not sure at the time of writing how this might appear in my own work, although it must be buried in there somewhere.