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Sensuality interests me!  I enjoy touching and being touched. I need a full lipped French kiss, the warmth of a body, the curves, the feeling of skin, and to quote one of my favourite films ‘The Rocky Horror Show’ “a little bit of massage and steam”.

It is part of me, part of art and part of my work. 

I think that artists put their sensuality on display. I am sure many are unaware of doing so but it is unavoidable. It comes through the artists’ preferences and the choices which are sometimes not conscious decisions.  Things like the materials and colours they choose to work in, textures they make, the way they use line and so on.  It is something that is difficult to pin down but it is, when the artist is not trying too hard, easily spotted. 

A work I often think about is ‘Plum Cream’ by Penny Siopis, now in the Tatham Art Gallery in Pietermaritzburg.  It is a painting of a cake but it is a cake that feels to me to have the ingredients of labia and pudenda rather than flour and eggs.  Perhaps it should have been banned as obscene but I love it.  I much prefer this to her history paintings which I find are over intellectualised and pander to the academics.  ‘Plum Cream’ has that sensual content, the real soul of the woman, and that is something to get excited about.

At university I used to take an intense interest in the works put on the wall for the monthly critiques.  Not only because I could learn something about the composition of works but also because I could learn about the people who made them.  Coincidently, they were mostly women.  I like to think it was a balanced life as my social education was then at least as good as my academic efforts.

The making sculpture is often a sensual activity.  Perhaps this is more obvious in modelling wet clay than carving dry rock.  It is felt, fingered, and caressed into shape by the artists’ hands.  Painting, by contrast, is generally prodded onto canvas with some hairs on the end of a stick and viewed from a distance.  Admirers of sculpture often feel the work and it is a medium more easily appreciated by blind people.

Of course my own sensuality or frigidity is out there for all to see.  I try and embrace it as I think of it as worthwhile content.  Each of new works In a Tangle, and Reef Ranger (sold) display that part of me.  ‘In a Tangle’ has the warmth of the wood, the curvilinear lines, and the intimate subject.   ‘Reef Ranger’ is a satisfying subject that I have tackled several times.  Because of its amorphous form an octopus can be “bent” to take almost any shape and becomes a vehicle for expression of a sensual self.  I am not alone in my choice of this subject and am aware of Hokusai’s erotic octopus which some may read as lewd.  However, for me, it so explicitly expresses what many have felt; the desire to consume your lovers’ body.

Naturally I would like to think I am deeply sensual.  It is the kind of accolade that would suit my artists’ identity and add to my sense of being a good lover.  However, as I am not in the habit of fondling myself, I am in a poor position to judge.  Perhaps it would be best to ask my wife.  Then again don’t, as you might feel obliged to burst my bubble. 

I think, as a New Years’ resolution, I will heed those lines from my favourite film “give yourself over to absolute pleasure”.  That for me will be falling in love with and getting steamy with my bits of wood and bone.   

Regards
Carl

I don’t believe in luck or at least in not waiting around for a lucky break. It is not that I don’t get lucky or have bad luck; in fact I think that I have had more than my fair share of both. I believe in trying hard, making sure and putting aside for the inevitable rainy day.

I make sure that I do the important things like squirrel away any spare cash and I try my very best with everything else. Perhaps the least important things in my new sculptures, Ironstone Head, Jump and Hullabaloo, are the pins, hangers and the undersides of the bases on which the sculptures stand. In all my mounted works I use stainless steel pins to connect sculpture to the base and felt underneath them to prevent them from scratching the floor or desk. On my wall mounted works I always put in twice as many screws into the hangers as are necessary, the screws are solid brass and the hanging plates made of stainless steel. I know it is excessive and perhaps I am insecure but I do not want them fall down, scratch a surface or develop rust marks. I try hard to make sure that there will never be a problem.

Professor Robert Brooks once remarked that I was a bottom feeder. At the time I had no idea what he was talking about. I have come to understand that what he meant is the opposite of a high flyer, someone who likes to secure his foothold and not to leave anything to chance. However, I should know better as fate always has some say in the way things turn out.

This year we were robbed of a car, used our reserves to buy a new one and then the recession hit us with no sales for 3 months. This famine and feast cycle is not unusual for us. However, this time, without our savings I became very anxious.

To avoid destitution I imposed measures to mitigate the situation. The geyser was turned off until needed and we took shorter showers which were sometimes cold because we had forgotten to turn the geyser on. The groceries were pared down to the bare essentials. We always seemed to be eating cabbage and I missed the chops and chocolate. The dogs were put on diet and the kids supplemented their rations with the peanuts from their allocations of pet rat food.

I think it was Gary Player who said that “the harder I practice, the luckier I get” and that sums it up for me. There is an element of chance in anything you do. There are ups and there are downs but with hard work and careful planning I think one can weather the storms and improve the odds of success. My over reaction does have its advantages as we have pruned our expenses and implemented some good habits. Our stolen car was a bit of bad luck but, as fate would have it, there has been some good luck.

Happily, I have been nominated for a fellowship at Yale. I realise that it is still only a remote possibility because out of the 750 nominations, they will only choose a dozen or so. However a nomination to a fellowship at Yale is fortunate and exciting even if it remains but a nomination and if it succeeds, this lucky bottom feeder will be a high flyer.

Regards

Carl

We acquired our chickens shortly after we arrived in Hillcrest in 2000. They were initially justified as they were to be a source of eggs. It fitted our notion of a relaxed and natural farm lifestyle that we hoped to live. Hillcrest was, at that time, a rustic place as we had horses and paddocks across the road and cane fields further along. We did, in those first few months, enjoy the fresh free range eggs, marvelling at the proud and bright orange yolks. However, in recent years our village, along with our rates, and our notion of free range has exploded and we are now part of the busy metropolis that is Durban. The lifestyle we had hoped for has, like the cane fields, gone up in smoke. The paddocks have been replaced by gated estates and the quiet life substituted with shopping malls and traffic. We still have our chickens, although we are a lot wiser about them.

Chickens (and roosters) were part of my imagery long before we got them, because as a subject the chicken has a lot to offer. The images made can assume a wide variety of interpretations and anything from arrogance to timidity is possible. Often there is some measure of stupidity intended, which makes it a fitting metaphor for human beings. It is a colourful subject, has interesting lines and its compact form lends itself to a visually exciting image. As a free range and cocky student I made a linocut print titled “Cocks”. The subject has been repeated many times, but in different forms and imbued with different meanings. Recently, I have made the “Bohemian Bird” which, like all of my previous chicken sculptures, is slightly different in form and content.

The form and content of this work is linked to another new work, “Sensual Soul”, done at about the same time. It is about the poignancy of life: Sensual and beautiful but decaying; powerful but helpless; contented but sad – which all says something about the wonder and futility of life. Perhaps this work has to do with some introspection and looking back on the part of this happy artist whose hair is falling out and whose teeth are missing. One who has begun to think about the pathos of life.

The chickens are no longer a food source for us. They have become our pets and perhaps a mirror of our slightly dysfunctional world. They, like us, have traffic jams and like our ex Chief of Police have some undesirable associates. Recently, I removed a 1.3 m Mozambican Spitting Cobra from the chicken run who lived up to its name and spat at me and in the eye of my dog. Poison was our first option too when dealing with mites on the chickens. A natural alternative was not even contemplated. The traffic jams occur ever day at rush hour which is when I feed them. Each day our flock rushes ahead into the cage and when, on seeing that I am not there yet, they rush out again and into those still heading into the cage. This causes a snarl-up and exacts a lot of foul language as they get under my feet.

Our Arcadian dream is a distant memory. It was worn away by the building boom, undermined by the snakes and the mites, but the most serious damage was done by the chickens. They imploded our pastoral aspirations when my wife saw them dining on dog poop. No matter how natural you might consider this, it is not for us and we have stuck to Pick n Pay’s whole grain eggs ever since.

The DVD is, for our house, a relatively new technology and a great relief for me, as my wife and I have spent most of our married life watching videos in fast forward. My wife, being master of the house, was in charge of the remote and therefore the video machine. She would tape programmes which were intended to be watched later. However, hour upon hour and night after night, we would scroll through videos in fast forward trying to find the wretched programmes. My wife’s insistence that the programme existed and her determination to find it were exhaustive. It was a scene that belongs to Monty Python and absurdist theatre.

Now that we have a DVD player, my world has changed and I have recently watched How Art made the World. It is a BBC production that looks at the “big picture” of art’s role in society. It was one which I enjoyed and recommend (not least because I actually got to see it). It is rare that art is seen as important, a maker of our world, and not just as a bit of ornamentation. In addition the presenter, Dr Michael Spivey, in one of the post scripts bravely states that art is “representation” and “a common human activity”. This reinforces my own ideas about art.

I think that the artist should “paint” his or her experiences, the world around them. That way the art works will be of that person, of that time, of that society and of that place, and therefore be a representation. My recent works, “False Fish” (made from blue gum bark and currently at home) and “Diver” (made from wild olive wood and now at the Strydom Gallery in George), are examples of my “painting” my world.

They have something of the impending Christmas holiday about them, but fishing and diving are more than just a holiday sport or a seaside meal. They are things I have done since childhood, part of my life, and they have, in the past, been a refuge in emotionally turbulent times. These kinds of images I associate with freedom and happiness. I have enjoyed making them as I have played with the forms. Some abstraction and distortion have made them expressive and perhaps they begin to show what I feel and the kind of person I really am.

The reason (in part) why I write these letters, which I hope gives some insight into my slightly absurd life, is to point out the grounds for why I make what I do. However, you do not have to live a ludicrous life to be an artist. I believe, like Dr Spivey, that all people have a creative ability. I have met and admired some highly creative accountants and lawyers – perhaps you could describe them as artists in their own fields. And of course this list of creative people must include my wife.

We never found those missing programmes and only after several years of watching the same old programmes in fast forward was it decided that the video machine was broken. I like to think of this as my wife’s artistic endeavour and it is representative of some peoples’ lives. If it was frustrating, it was also entertaining. So much so that it had me laughing until the tears rolled down my cheeks.

PS. Greg and Kate of Stepping Stones have opened a new gallery in Cape Town and have some of my work on display. It is at No 9 Jarvis Street, which is directly behind the new Cape Quarter Centre (tel: 083 781 8170). If you are in the area pop in and take a look.

A friend gave me a book voucher for my birthday and although I was excited by it, it turned out to be the kind of gift that caused pain and should be avoided. The voucher was generous but the art books I bought were large, nearly 500 pages each, and expensive. To boot, I was unable to choose between two books and in the end justified the purchase of both with the argument that it would ensure that I would be up to date with current trends. The price I paid was hurtful not only because the books cost three times the value of the voucher but also because my self esteem took a beating as these books made me feel like a has-been.

I have yet to finish reading the second book but I think I have the gist of them now. There are several common genres but not much overlap in the works of art chosen for inclusion. It is significant that both authors selected works by Wim Delvoye. (’Cloaca’ and ‘Cloaca Turbo” and you can see a similar variation of the work on the web here (that means click there!). They are representative and symbolic of the works contained in these two volumes as Delvoye has made a sculpture in which you deposit a meal at one end, the machine replicates the digestive system and voila! You get a stinking pile of crap at the other end.

I have reread the authors’ arguments several times and like so much of academia it is seamless. The authors show the historical lineage which runs from Marcel Duchamp’s urinal to Mary Kelly’s soiled nappies to Piero Manzoni’s canned artist shit to this work. Pooh, it seems, is a regular medium that is used to debunk mastery and medium. In addition, the writers point out the benefits of this pooh art to society, “It makes you aware of your bodily functions”, which, of course, is true. I think it shows that you can justify just about anything.

However, this work, like all works has mastery, medium and content. One has only to look at the machine to realize that it is sophisticated, though I suspect that Delvoye’s real skill was to find the funding and person who could make it. His medium is not new nor is it without an aesthetic even if that is one of shock and horror. This is a conceptual work, a genre which places the emphasis on the idea but I have still to discover its’ intellectual merit. In the end Delvoye’s work is no different from any other artist’s work but I have no interest in this subject, nor am I fascinated by the medium and it is not the kind of art I would like in my dining room.

It did make me think that I should place a pile of choice prunes on a plate as an artwork at my next showing. I feel certain it could be next big thing in the scatological genre. It would have the same historical linage and seamless academic argument but this time there would be the added dimension of audience participation. The thought was fleeting, desperate and occurred moments before I sunk into a depression and began to think that I am not an artist.

I have, however, recovered, and have subsequently found some benefit to my expensive and demoralising present as it has helped me define my parameters.

My historical perspective is that I align myself with pre-Duchampian movements and that ‘Cloaca Turbo’ and its’ kind is an art I reject and react against. Reacting against a work or a movement has as much precedence and merit as a developing one and this negation or affirmation is the swing of the pendulum and the way in which art moves forward. The art illustrated in the two publications I bought is, I hope, the height or outer limit of conceptual art and it has made me think about and value the merits of the much maligned “precious object” that is visually exciting. It makes me appreciate the merits of well composed works, craftsmanship and enduring and exciting mediums. It makes me believe in a creative process that is hands on as opposed to one that is predetermined by concept or directed from a distance.

For a while I had been intimidated by the authority of the written word, the size of the books and the academic’s ability to rationalise. Coincidentally, through a chance meeting with the salesman for one of the books, the artworks have been put into perspective. I learned that there was only one of these books for sale in Kwa-Zulu Natal and that I had bought it. Suddenly, the king had no clothes on as it seems this kind of art has a very small following. If my friend’s gift caused some pain and bruised my self respect I still have to thank him for I have been forced to think and define myself and in a roundabout way they have shored up my self esteem.