Showing posts with label assemblage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label assemblage. Show all posts

Sunday, November 3, 2013

THE WOOD GATHERERS

 Tracey Deep is a floral sculptor inspired by nature. See more here

There is nothing quite like 
the feeling of calm that envelopes one 
when out gathering 
I love returning from a walk
laden with bouquets of drift wood
I'm drawn to driftwood colours
soft greys, warm woodiness, sun bleached naturals.
Wood, tossed about in the sea
the edges rubbed smooth by sand and water.

 North Carolina artist Patrick Dougherty create's freeform sculptures woven together out of branches. See website here.

As a boy, Patrick Dougherty gathered twigs. He began "drawing" with sticks and later he used saplings and tree cuttings found along hydro lines to create his magnificent sculptures.


Patrick Dougherty gathering branches. Website here.

"It seems like humans have to continuously struggle with ideas about nature and redefining our relationship with the natural world. Domesticated gardens versus the wilderness are part of a worldwide discussion and part of my (our) inner conflict. Certainly gardens are a kind of rendition of the unfettered wilds. Shrubs, trees, flowers and grass become commodities and are forced into human geometry. I try to free the surfaces of my work using sticks as a drawing material, work them in such a way they look like they are escaping those chains of being planted in a row. I imagine that the wilderness lurks inside my forms and that it is an irrepressible urge."  -  Patrick Dougherty

I enjoyed John Grande's interview with Patrick.


Large scale temporary sculptures from materials gathered in the nearby landscape by Patrick Dougherty

"It seems that people like gardens and grass, but they desperately desire a connection to wilderness" - Patrick Dougherty


"Tree Fall" by Andy Goldsworthy. The ceiling and suspended tree branch have been covered in clay. Goldsworthy has succeeded in creating a "Hobbit hole". Read about this new installation here. 

Andy Goldsworthy with his installation, Tree Fall

"I enjoy the freedom of just using my hands and "found" tools -- a sharp stone, the quill of a feather, thorns. I take the opportunities each day offers: if it is snowing, I work with snow, at leaf-fall it will be with leaves; a blown-over tree becomes a source of twigs and branches. I stop at a place or pick up a material because I feel that there is something to be discovered. Here is where I can learn."  -  Andy Goldsworthy


Islamic/Meso America by Loren Eiferman. Website here

"The wood, for me, is now a line in space created by hundreds of smaller pieces of wood jointed together to create one sculpture. To create my work, I usually begin with a drawing, an intention of what direction I want my sculpture to go in. I start out each day with a walk in the woods and gather sticks that have fallen to the ground."  -  Loren Eiferman

 Black Hole by Loren Eiferman. Website here.


Loren Eiferman. Website here

Roger Ackling "draws" on found wood with a ray of sunlight through a magnifying glass. 
I know! Amazing!
Found wood assemblage by Roger Ackling. See more here.

Assemblage by Roger Ackling

Flying machine by Wim Del Arte. Blog here.

Wim Del Arte spends many a day out walking along the banks of La Palma, gathering drift wood and found objects. He then creates the most amazing array of art with his lucky finds. The flying machine is assembled from driftwood, aluminium, copper, rusted metal, bits of twisted plastic and spark plugs found on the beach of Tazacourt.

"Collectors are happy people"  -  Goethe

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

INSPIRATION

At the moment I'm enjoying Geoffrey Gorman's sculptures, Nick Bantock's assemblages and Anne Westlund's poetry.




I loved reading Gorman's artist statement. It captures exactly what he's all about.

"A broken bent tree branch, bleached from sun and rain, makes me think of weathered bones: fingers, legs, backbone, and hip bone. Old stained strips of cloth act like bandages and clothing, hiding and holding it all together. Sculpted wax covers the frame and joints of wood. Found and lost objects assembled into curious and evocative shapes is what excites me.

When I am making objects, I think of model airplanes made of balsa wood, then covered in thin transparent paper. Or I see decoys and shapes made to attract wild animals. I visited a museum in Alaska that had drawers filled with toys that had been put together, used and collected from previous cultures. I also think of a forest of tall, dark trees covered in moss and moisture, a silent, meditative place".

The Artful Dodger by Nick Bantock is a book that I dip into frequently.

Anne Westlund is a writer I "met" over at Coach Creative Space where she runs a group called Writers Clique
for "all the unpopular kids."


BLOCKED

I wait for inspiration
Like waiting for the electricity
to come back on
But the light bulb stays dim
And I sit here in the dark
Cold and alone
And bored out of my skull.

There are candles
Like some desecrated church
With candy wrappers and pop cans
And graffiti on paper if not walls
For anyone to see
If they would just look
But it’s dim in here
I can hardly blame them
For their disinterest
It’s my own
That I find so distressing
Unable to write
More than this note
To self—take out the garbage
Tomorrow—when it’s light.

For now I sit and smell
The incense, marginally better
Than the litter box, I listen
To music sung by rock gods
Now six feet underground
Death carries a tune
Better than I ever have
Still uninspired, stale
Unrewarded.

So many poets,
Not near enough rotten fruit
To go around this theatre
Of the faintly amused
With cynical smiles
Painted in silver greasepaint
Everyone’s a clown,
Turn that smirk upside down
I can’t even muster tears
Tonight, not exactly sad,
Just annoyed that I can’t
Check my email for Nigerian
Bank scams and Dell communiqués
How many computers can one
Person use?

One.

As far as I can tell
But don’t quote me on that
Cyber Sunday is long past
I missed out on all the good deals
The light is burnt out in the bathroom
I don’t suppose that matters now
With the blackout, outage, 75 mph
Wind gusts shaking the house.

The neighbors finally break
The quiet, some altercation punctuated
By truck doors slamming and a cold
Engine going into gear
I’m fabricating a little here, just
For my own amusement
Of course you can’t really tell
What’s the truth, and what mere falsehood
Don’t even try
Most days I can’t either
With all those creativity articles
I should be able to come up
With something.

No, I can’t think of anything
To write about, not nature, love,
I can’t even write one of those depressing
Goth teenage poems about heartbreak
And suicide. Not tonight.
This dim bulb has gone out.

December 4, 2007
© 2007 Anne Westlund