Square curtain, 2007, found cotton fabric, felt and cotton appliqué, 48x41 inches
Large window with pink, 2008, dyed cotton, felt and silk burlap 30x26 inches
More information and images:
www.joefyfe.com & James Graham & sons
13.9.09
Things seen - Joe Fyfe
Square curtain, 2007, found cotton fabric, felt and cotton appliqué, 48x41 inches
Large window with pink, 2008, dyed cotton, felt and silk burlap 30x26 inches
More information and images:
www.joefyfe.com & James Graham & sons
16.8.09
5.8.09
New paintings...
Here are a number of number paintings...mostly 46x38cm and oil on canvas (with the occasional collaged element). All these works obviously have there origins in the drawings and works on paper I made at the CCA in Andratx.
1.8.09
Swarms the moth
"Everything is one. Space and time, color, sound, and form are just ways of perception which originate from the mortal structure of our minds….The dead man does not know space and time and color,or he knows them only to the extent that he still ‘lives’ in the memory of the living. He himself has been delivered from all partial sensations. With death there begins that kind of being properly speaking, around which we, the living, restlessly swarm, like the moth swarms around the light.”
Franz Marc
21.7.09
20.7.09
Walser
"We don't need to see anything out of the ordinary. We already see so much"
Robert Walser, from A little Ramble, 1914.
Robert Walser, from A little Ramble, 1914.
Valves of sensation
'"I think they (painters) always just hope that they will be able to unlock the valves of sensation which just open out the whole appearance. " Francis Bacon, in an interview. (artpress 215 Juillet/Aout 98 p.22).
19.7.09
Via negativa...
"I think we live in a period in which we clearly cannot say what things are, we can say what things are not. The paradox in architecture resides precisely in that showing us how things are not, it shows us how things are. Only indirectly do we come to know how the world is like. In that sense, I think concepts are true in what they deny, and false in what they assert. This via negativa is a difficult one, but perhaps the only one that we can reliably travel on. That is, we cannot assert directly what things are, but we can provide some kind of Insertion, that is, something that polarizes, something that reflects, something that, in its refraction, allows us to see what the world is like. Indirectly, it could be through a dark glass…"
Yehuda Safran, from an interview with Pedro Barreto, source here.
Yehuda Safran, from an interview with Pedro Barreto, source here.
9.7.09
Esta tarde...
This afternoon I installed a few small works in one of the gallery spaces here at the CCA...
7.7.09
Three new drawings
Only one week left in Andratx. The drawings and works on paper I have made here are made up of small components, details and fragments. Although they are very dense I feel that each drawing functions as a unified entity. The view from my window. Summer heat. A rocky mountain, olive trees, dense vegetation and a dense sky...the constant hum of millions of insects. The changing light...night slowly descends. The immense dark mass over which the moon rises, luminous amidst the shifting nocturnal clouds.
2.7.09
1.7.09
Sa Coma
The Centro Cultural Andratx is just outside the town of Andratx in a village called Sa Como. Here between houses, behind a wire fence is some overgrown waste ground...though one cannot appreciate here the constant chorus of birds and insects in the afternoon heat, I like these images of a kind of place that's usually overlooked...
30.6.09
Whenever in my dreams....
Whenever in my dreams I see the dead, they always appear silent, bothered, strangely depressed, quite unlike their dear, bright selves. I am aware of them, without any astonishment, in surroundings they never visited during their earthly existence, in the house of some friend of mine they never knew. They sit apart, frowning at the floor, as if death were a dark taint, a shameful family secret. It is certainly not then - not in dreams - but when one is wide awake, at moments of robust joy and achievement, on the highest terrace of consciousness, that mortality has a chance to peer beyond its own limits, from the mast, from the past and its castle tower. And although nothing much can be seen through the mist, there is somehow the blissful feeling that one is looking in the right direction.
From Vladimir Nabokov's Speak, memory: an autobiography revisited
From Vladimir Nabokov's Speak, memory: an autobiography revisited
28.6.09
Drawings...
The only window in the studio here gives me a constant view of a rocky mountain. I see it from my work table. Just seeing it for most of the day as the light changes...the breeze comes and goes, the grass, bushes and trees gently sway and stir, gives the whole vision a strangeness, like a kind of mirage. One senses one's part of nature yet also one's irreconsiliable estrangement from it (I think of Cezanne and Bonnard too, they seem to belong to another universe now). Yet our contemporary world mingles with this nature. Among some vegetation, at the side of a path...fragments of a sunday magazine and a blue plastic bottle, a plane overhead and the sound of bulldozer not too far off. Our biology creates a consciousness which rebels against itself and the universe and which has at heart a fear and disbelief. We are aghast at the fact that we are so determined by our human nature to ceaslessly subject the world to our needs, to control and shape it, yet we are haunted too, we know somewhere inside of us that we never really touch things and get at their core. We know that this is beyond us, even though we see the most complex components of reality ever more clearly. My body sweats in the heat. I have been feeling slightly nauseous...time for a glass of water...rest for a while.
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