‘Like the Lichen, As the Hyphen’ is an essay that draws on my engagement with artist Derek Sprawson’s practice spanning over a decade, from encountering exhibited artwork to witnessing studio experiments in formation, alongside ongoing conversations around shared interests and ideas. The text is for a new publication on Derek’s work, and in a sense, is conceived as a collaboration. Published in Derek Sprawson: Hy-phen, Paintings – Drawings – Objects (Beam Editions, Nottingham, 2022). Buy publication here:
Extract
The artist might begin from where they left off — an existing work or experiment in progress — repeating and modifying a given action or approach until exhaustion. Here, exhaustive repetition is not for the betterment of technique or application, rather a way of tiring out the tried-and-tested such that something else might then emerge, some inconsistency, anomaly or mutation. A habit is fatigued so as to release its hold, weakened or disempowered through the gesture of doing and redoing. Such a practice requires patience, the forbearance to stick at something, see it through. The artist must remain vigilant, mindful not to let the habit reinstall, alert to the possibility of both the unpredicted and unpredictable. The artist cannot make this happen, the process cannot be forced. The quality of attention is of an unthinking thoughtfulness or of thoughtful unthinking — receptive awareness capable of recognising the unrecognisable, of witnessing the un-thought […]
Anticipating the unknown or unforeseen is not like waiting for the arrival of one’s muse nor for divine inspiration. Beyond what the artist knows emerges from within the event of making rather than external to it, immanent to the process rather than necessarily coming from without. The artist collaborates with the unfolding work, sometimes leading in the process, at other times willing to be led. Whilst truth to materials involves using a material appropriately, without hiding or concealing its nature, the artist’s fidelity to materials comes closer to communion, an experience of shared participation or coming together within and through practice. Edging beyond what one already knows can involve leaning back, letting go of forethought plan or aim. The artist must loosen or lessen their intention, so as to fully intend. Intend: from intendre, to give attention, pay heed or else to hear. The artist listens to the emerging work, tending to what it wants. Hold backs, becomes a little shy. Here, shy is not timid nor afraid, suspicious or distrustful. Shyness is felt as heightened sensitivity to the affective experience of a relational encounter, increased susceptibility to the potential for awkwardness or even perplexity therein. So often the reflex habit of shy is that of shrinking, withdrawal from interactions or situations likely to cause discomfort or unease. The blush of shyness blooms as a line is crossed, a norm transgressed, control lost, in a moment of not knowing. A radical shyness feels the hot rise of embarrassment or of being caught off-guard, then turns towards that experience rather than turning away. Shyness embraced creates the conditions of voluntary vulnerability — through shyness an expanded state of openness, neither withholding nor closed off. Alternatively, the artist’s shyness is bashful — holds back and eschews attention such that the work itself has space to breath and become. Abash: to be put into confusion by wonder, admiration or by fear; to perplex or embarrass; to open wide or gape. To diminish or lower oneself: lose one’s self-possession. The artist lowers or lets go the willed force of their own I, enabling the practice to become truly co-constitutive, a co-emergent process of becoming involving mutual transformation of both the material and the artist.