Reflections

First, some extracts from my notes: 

Reflection.  Noun. 

1. The throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat or sound without absorbing it.
2. Serious thought or consideration
3. An idea about something
4. An image seen in a mirror or shiny surface
5. A thing that is in consequence of something else

The physical law of reflection states that the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection - if a wave hits the surface at 36°, it will be reflected at 36°. When light waves hit smooth surfaces the waves are reflected uniformly and can form images.  Rough surfaces, such as moving water, scatter light in all directions – but each tiny bit of the surface still follows the rule that the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection.

When light hits a surface, one of three things may happen:

• It is absorbed by the surface
• It passes through the surface to the other side
• It is reflected back.

Materials may show a mix of these behaviours, with a proportion of light being absorbed, transmitted or reflected according to the properties of the material.  If light waves strike the surface head on, i.e. at 90°, they will go straight through and come out the other side.  There is a critical angle at which light will no longer pass through the surface but be reflected. 

An image in a flat mirror:

• is the same distance behind the mirror as the object is in front
• is the same size as the object
• is the right way up
• is reversed
• is virtual – it appears to be behind the mirror. 

Symbolism: 

• The word mirror comes from Latin mirari – to wonder or marvel at.  The Latin word for mirror, speculum, is related to the verb to speculate. 
• Many beliefs associate mirrors with a capacity to reveal the essential nature of a thing – its hidden or potential qualities.
• Self-knowledge – what we see may depend on our receptiveness or resistance to the insights offered. 
• The sense that beyond the mirror-image of immediate reality might be something quite different. 
• Passivity – the surface reflects the thing but is unchanged by it. 

View fullsize

So where does this get me ... 

There is something about the image cast on the surface of the water, but not being part of the water.  The image can be very distinct but is unreal, insubstantial, ephemeral.  It is disrupted by any movement of the water or change in the light.  Plants growing in the water cover or pierce it, disrupting your sense of figure and ground.  It is a reversal of reality.  It is a trace that cannot exist without the object it reflects but has no physical substance of its own.  And yet, on the fen, it can sometimes present you with a clearer view of the things edging the water. 

View fullsize

The aesthetic appeal is that the reflection is an abstracted image – a partial and distorted view of the original.  A sort of drawing on the water.  The reflections I've observed at Wicken covered the full range of clarity from clear, sharp image through every shade of fragmentation to a formless blur that is little more than a green shadow.  It is interesting that reflections are traditionally associated both with deception and with a capacity to reveal the truth or hidden qualities of a thing.  There is also something about indirect knowledge – many scientific measurements have to be taken indirectly – you get around the impossibility of measuring the thing itself by measuring its echoes or reflections in sound or light waves.  Like this recent example.  You know the thing by looking at its reflection

View fullsize

I photographed hundreds of reflections on our visits.  It sometimes made for slow progress along the lodes or drainage ditches when the conditions were particularly good for this.  These photographs have become the basis for much of my work for the exhibition.  Reeds or rushes dominate because they are what is most often reflected.  But the variety of marks and forms I collected is significant. 

View fullsize

View fullsize

Initially I chose some of the clearer and more realistic images, but used printing techniques that introduced distortion.  Later I introduced more distorted images that are more obviously reflections.  The fragmentation and dissolution of the form reflected in the surface create a pleasing ambiguity.  The resulting work is the most figurative I have ever made; but is constructed entirely from abstractions, reflections, rather than images of the reeds themselves. 

View fullsize

Wicken Fen: fourth visit

I left home early in an attempt to reach the Fen by dawn.  Winter mornings, especially if there is mist or frost, can be lovely.  But this was a grey, drizzly January morning, so it probably didn’t matter that I arrived later than hoped.    

In summer the fen felt closed-in, opaque and overwhelmingly green.  You couldn’t see past the lush vegetation.  Now, it feels as though the landscape has expanded and opened out.  I can see through bare twigs, reeds and trees.  Areas of open water that had been totally obscured by the reed beds, reflect light even on a grey morning.  The colours are winter greys accented by acid green or yellow (lichen, moss), pale blue (water, sky) and warm golds or ochres, where the sun catches the leaves. 

View fullsize

View fullsize

This time Sally and I explored the southern part of the reserve to the edge of Burwell Fen.  Winter crops were pushing through adjacent fields – undulating, dotted lines of emerald green against indigo-black soil.

View fullsize

In places, vine-like plants have twisted and wound themselves together to create dense, matted coverings over fences at the edge of the paths.  A little surreal.  I particularly liked the contrast with the reeds behind. 

View fullsize

We remain interested in the hides and found two new ones to explore.  Once again I was interested in the way reflections in the windows disrupt or overlay the view.  Taking photographs through rain-spattered glass resulted in some impressionistic images too.

View fullsize

View fullsize

But the main thing that excited me on this visit were the reflections in the water.   These varied according to the light, the water quality and any disruption in the surface.  My favourite was one ditch where some disturbance had turned the water a milky blue-green, the perfect background for the shadows and reflections cast by the willows and linear marks of the reeds growing out of the water and fallen branches. 

View fullsize

In the afternoon the sun emerged and turned the surface of Wicken Lode silver.  Trees and reeds on the opposite bank were reflected up side down while reeds in the foreground cut across these images.  Monochromatic, linear images. Positive and negative space. 

There is something about these images cast on the surface of the water but not being part of the water.  The reflection can be so distinct but is essentially unreal, insubstantial, ephemeral.  They are an indirect way of looking at the original.  And a reversal or distortion of what's there.  Some are so clear that my photograph could be taken for the original.  But I like those where there is just enough disruption to make you question what you see.  

Found marks and ambiguity

A visit to the RHS garden at Hyde Hall this weekend.  While everyone else was admiring views through the gardens, autumn flowers or leaves, I was peering at tree trunks.  I was drawn to the variety of marks and patterns on the bark of the birches in particular.  The lines suggest stitches.  Or signal traces - morse code, electronic pulses.  There's just enough suggestion of some kind of order without repetition.  The way the lines were interrupted or changed by other marks - lichen, cracks or scars - also interested me.  

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

View fullsize

Something I have been reading: 

“There is a human need to make sense from the random confusion of the world, to process our perceptions as we experience them, and to structure them as best we can. ... vision is an active process in which the brain attempts to make sense of the information it receives from the eyes. ”

— Derek Horton, Introduction "Drawing Ambiguity" (2015)

Exploring this process of perception and interpretation is at the heart of what I like to do.  But at the same time I think marks and imagery are more interesting if they never quite resolve themselves but  remain somewhat unexplained.  Ambiguity leaves room for a wider range of interpretation.  As soon as they resolve themselves into something definite it closes off some of the possible layers of meaning - which is far less engaging in my view.  

“Ambiguity is a property of the interpretative relationship between people and things or ideas (or representations of them). ... In other words, things and ideas are not inherently ambiguous; rather, ambiguity arises in their interpretation.”

— Derek Horton, as before

The interpretation placed upon marks or images relates as much to the observer's own experience and concerns as anything in the imagery itself.  I may have certain intentions for my work but am sometimes surprised by the things other people see.  This is both rewarding and challenging.  In some ways it is more challenging when I am working with marks that are less abstract.  I like to retain that tension where the observer is not quite certain how to interpret the imagery.  But the opposite problem is avoiding the kind of wilful obscurity or mystification that is merely annoying: 

“... ambiguity’s value is determined by the quality of interpretation and the meaning that is derived from it. Ambiguity is not a virtue in itself and it can end up being merely confusing, frustrating or meaningless”

— Derek Horton, as before

Plenty to think about while I develop and refine the pieces I'm working on in the studio.