Tell me about your
earliest childhood memory, place, time or experience when you just knew you
needed to become an artist?
I can’t recall a
‘eureka’ moment. The notion of becoming
an artist wasn’t a clearly defined road.
Now in retrospect, I see the making of work (art) happened in stages.
Although I’m an impatient
person by nature, I have realized over the years that when I ignore stages, the
work usually becomes formulae …… (what I would perceive as added decoration or,
result in a facile story which has been laden).
I have learned to follow my instinct and, stop when I feel the work
needs no elaboration. If that road
fails, I start again and approach an idea from another angle.
Tell me the story
about your early art training Pollyxenia?
In 1969, Edith Head (costume
designer for film) was in Australia to promote the film ‘Sweet Charity’ and was
being interviewed by Don Lane on Channel 9.
She spoke of colour, movement and materials.
I applied for the
dress design diploma for the following year at East Sydney Tech. I failed to be accepted into the course and
subsequently, used my bursary to go to night school to study fashion
illustration, colour and design, pattern-making, life drawing and sculpture for
four years while I was employed by a publishing company as a girl friday during
the day.
After this I
travelled to London. I worked as a temp and
attended life drawing classes at the Byan Shaw School Of Art and, sculpture at
St. Martins during the evenings after my day jobs.
I returned to Australia
and it was then I enrolled on a full time art certificate course at East Sydney
Tech followed by a visual arts degree at the City Art Institute (now
COFA). I was awarded the NSW Travelling
Art Scholarship on completion of my visual arts degree and this propelled me
back to London.
On my return from the
scholarship, I was quite lost and took up the post grad diploma in painting at
Sydney College of the Arts as a way of settling back into Sydney. I had realised at this stage that the
expressionistic work I had been making was not the direction I wanted to go.
Still very restless,
I headed back to London via a residency through the Australia Council. This time, I stayed nearly a good decade and
applied for my Masters Degree in Communication Design at St. Martins.
By the way, I went to
see ‘Sweet Charity’ four times within a month. The magic was in all the elements combined;
the choreography, costumes, the actors, music, songs et al. The studio had filmed two endings. One ending
was where she gets the fella, and the other, where she doesn’t. Both endings had a positive message.
And something about
the teacher or teachings that inspired you then and continue to linger and
inspire you now?
Brian O’Dwyer at the
City Art Institute was the first teacher to say to me “One day you won’t need
to make that gash!” And, as he inhaled
on his More cigarette, walked away.
Ann Thompson was
another teacher that inspired me. She was encouraging and gave of herself and
her knowledge. This encouragement led to
The NSW Travelling Art Scholarship.
Also, Jim Brown who encouraged self-sufficiency in the sculpture
workshop. His practical, no-nonsense
approach, have been with me to this day.
Do you have a recent
(or not so recent) magical experience of gazing at a work of art and being
absolutely lost in it, in a way that all time disappears?
There are two works
that hold that magical experience.
The first being
Joseph Beuys’ video of being in an enclosure with a coyote. Him crouched in a corner wrapped in his felt
blanket and the coyote slowly, cautiously sniffing and snapping as he
approached this living thing wrapped in felt.
As you watched, there was a tolerant acknowledgement of this strange
‘other’ in the cage with the coyote. The
work left me optimistic and touched me in a way that changed my perception or,
gave me permission if you like, to another way of story telling.
The second was the
work of Rachel Whiteread. The inside/out
terrace house in the East End of London, which, revealed an inner life of a
humble two-up/two-down.
Nothingness - there
is an expression I particularly like that nothing underpins everything - your own philosophical take on nothingness?
I like your
expression “that nothing underpins everything”.
I’m not sure where my
philosophical take on nothingness derives from.
My knowledge of both Taoism and Buddhism are very sketchy. The most true would be from the quietude of
place.
Tell me the story
about what happened at the very beginning of the idea behind this exhibition
Devolving?
The title ‘Devolving’
didn’t happen until I was asked to come up with a title for this exhibition.
I had to backtrack to
my work entitled ‘Safe’.
‘Safe’ was a work
I’ve always wanted to make for years but, failed attempts to fund this had
always put this project on the backburner.
About two and a half years ago, I bit the bullet and ordered the felt I
would need to construct my felt house on wheels.
It had to be
unbleached, thick felt, stacked in layers (like sediments of time), it had to
convey safety, it had to be portable, had to be a recognizable, iconic shape
that conveyed our idea of being safe: A house or home.
The concept of
portability and safety took me back to my Greek Orthodox background of the
portable icons that were used during the Byzantine time; where portable images
of saints were carried as a form of faith and protection. It (the result of this current exhibition)
stemmed from ‘Safe’.
The word ‘evolving’
wasn’t quite what was happening as I always head towards nothingness after one
stage or, body of work.
I looked up the
meaning of ‘devolve’ and found that this was what was occurring. My work and thoughts were taking everything
back to a simpler, more central core that sprung from nothing. Devolving for me implied motion. No doubt the next stage will evolve into a
more complicated language? I’m not sure?
I am struck by the
sensuous, tactile quality of the works, even as digital photographs they evoke
a rich sense of touch, tell me about your enthusiasm for tactility in the works?
Yes this enthusiasm
for tactility in my work has been a long held tenet. Even when I make paintings, I try to evoke
tactility. It proved harder to convey
this in paint without resorting to the expressive gesture and density of oil
paint. It has also proved more difficult
as I chose not to be representational in my work.
I went back to the
drawing board with paint and learnt from artists that went long before me in
history: Trial and error.
Can gallerists
actually touch the felt, blanket, rope, wood and silkscreen works? I imagine it
must be terribly difficult not to touch them?
I consider touching
an extension of the work. I remember
taking my mother to a Biennale. She
stopped in front of photographs and her hand went over the photograph. My mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia when
I was young and for her, touching was her way of an image or
thing existing.
Joseph Beuys
springs to mind again now, felt and blankets perhaps, simple things that afforded Beuys
shelter, warmth, consolation and protection in difficult times?
Yes! Joseph Beuys is
definitely an influence as he opened a gamut of possibilities. Before him though an artist named Yannis
Kournellis who spoke of humanity, the human condition and, history using
various materials for his installations.
I later discovered the scale and colour of Elsworth Kelly, the purity of
Robert Ryman, the simplicity and complexity of Malevich, the magic of Rachel
Whiteread’s work and the silent rhythm of Agnes Martin.
There is one work
that I (not so secretly) covet and would cherish and that would be Joseph
Beuys’ ‘Felt Suit’. This piece sums up
life or the journey of life. And these recent works have been a culmination of
influences over decades plus, the revisiting of ideas and the trials and errors
of experimentation.
For me, it is this qualit that evinces a palpable sense of belonging at the heart of each of these works?
I would like very
much to have realized some sense of belonging in each of the works as I think
that most of us would like to belong and, if a sense of this comes through in
the work, I’m happy.
For me, the phrase you
use: "Stripping Away" is such an evocative term about your process
and practice?
OOOO! I never thought
of “Stripping Away” as an evocative term.
When I use the term “stripping away” in relation to my process and
practice, I mean a ridding of all that is not necessary in a work. That is, attaching a shape, an unnecessary
gesture or stroke, a pattern, a material that will kill or sledgehammers a work:
So yes, in a way there needs to be a degree of detachment in the studio during
the making and work process.
There is also a
quality of meditative quietude in each of the works, a unique and distinctive
quietude that invites contemplation, for reverie, and compassion?
I’m not conscious of
setting out to make work that has a quality of meditative quietude. I can only guess that my work is what it is
and probably derives from an unsure early family life and my constant desire for a safe respite
from the real world?
What does nothingness
feel like?
Scary and hopeful.
D E V O L V I N G
POLLYXENIA JOANNOU
OPENING: TUESDAY, 29 APRIL, 6 - 8 PM
EXHIBITION DATES: 29 APRIL - 31 MAY, 2014
POLLYXENIA JOANNOU
OPENING: TUESDAY, 29 APRIL, 6 - 8 PM
EXHIBITION DATES: 29 APRIL - 31 MAY, 2014
99 Crown Street Sydney, NSW 2010 Australia
The artist will be present at the opening.
ARTIST TALK during EAST SYDNEY ART WALK
SATURDAY 31 MAY, 2014 12.30 - 1.00 PM
Links:
http://splashurl.com/jw77fs6
Pictured Above:
Safe, 2012
Pictured Above:
Safe, 2012
- Medium:Sculptures, Felt, wood, castors
- Pictured Below:
- Red Corner Square, 2012
- Dear INTERVIEWS readers your commentaries are welcomed, thank you, Paul.
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