Tag: Inspiration

Posted in 2024/2025, Motivations, Project, Reflection, Research

Final Session: Art for the Earth’s Sake

Posted on by KM

Our last session of Art for Earth’s Sake Peer Learning, was a powerful experience exploring the intersection of creativity, sustainability, and community action.

Key Highlights:

1- Leading by Example: We discussed how artists can practise sustainably, acting as role models for others by reducing their carbon footprint and promoting eco-friendly approaches. This includes minimising the use of fossil fuels and exploring innovative tools such as digital carbon offset initiatives like Ecology.

2- Art as a Vehicle for Transition: Art has the power to shape people’s decisions and inspire social and environmental change. We explored how slow, mindful processes can create space for reflection and dialogue about the future we want to build.

3- The Role of Heart and Mind: It’s not just about being an artist but about raising awareness and fostering learning. We emphasised the importance of balancing rational thinking with heartfelt creativity to address environmental.

We took inspiration from artists such as Rebecca Chesney and Anthony Hall, and projects like the Soil Exhibition in Somerset. Additionally, ideas from thinkers like Stephen Covey’s “Three Spheres of Influence” helped us focus on what we can control, what we can influence, and what we need to let go of as individuals and as a collective.

We are encouraged to continue organising events, engaging the community, and taking part in initiatives like the Engage. By working together, we can use art as a catalyst for positive change in the world.

Stephen Covey’s concept of the Three Spheres of Influence is a framework that helps individuals focus their energy on what they can truly affect. This idea is derived from his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. The three spheres, also known as the Circles of Concern, Influence, and Control, are a way to prioritise actions and efforts effectively. The Three Spheres Explained:

1. Circle of Concern:

This represents everything you care about, including external issues such as climate change, world events, and things you have no direct control over. While it’s important to be aware of these issues, focusing too much energy here can lead to feelings of helplessness.

2. Circle of Influence:

This sphere includes aspects you can influence, such as your local community, workplace, and people around you. By focusing efforts here, you can make a meaningful impact even if you can’t solve global issues. This is where actions like raising awareness, inspiring others, and leading by example can make a difference.

3. Circle of Control:

This is the smallest sphere, encompassing only what you can directly control, your own actions, decisions, mindset, and responses. By focusing on this sphere, you ensure that your efforts are grounded in what you can actually change.

By prioritising your focus on the Circle of Control and the Circle of Influence rather than the Circle of Concern, you can channel your energy more productively, avoid burnout, and create more positive impact. This approach is particularly valuable in projects related to sustainability and social change, where large-scale problems can feel overwhelming.

In the context of “Art for Earth’s Sake” understanding these spheres can help artists and activists focus on what they can do, such as creating art that inspires action, practising sustainability in their own work, and building local community initiatives that promote change.

Posted in Reflection, Tutorials 2024/2025, Writing

A Tutorial Reflection

Posted on by KM

Yesterday, I had a 1-1 tutorial with Jonathan, and it was a great opportunity to think aloud about my practice and research. It helped me reflect on where I’m, what comes next, and how I want to present my work in the interim show. More importantly, it allowed me to articulate the intentions behind my work—what I’m truly trying to communicate through it.

At the moment, I’m working on collecting all the moon letters people have submitted into a book, which I see as a sculpture—not just because of the process involved, but also due to the layers I’ve applied throughout its creation. Here, I wanted to make a book—not just a representation of one, but a real, physical book as a sculptural form. I wasn’t trying to turn a book into a sculpture; rather, I wanted to sculpt a book itself. This distinction has been crucial for me, and I feel I’ve achieved a lot through this approach.

The process remains ongoing—collecting letters, designing the book, and considering communication in both content and form. The creative process has pushed me in new ways and opening many doors.

Jonathan shared some useful links to researchers and artists, including Donna Haraway, Claire Bishop and Lucy & Jorge Orta. He also gave valuable advice on selecting the right paper type for the book, its cover, and how different inks could react on specific papers.

We also discussed different ways the book could be displayed, which made me think more deeply about its presence in a space and how the audience will engage with it—what I could add or take away. This reaffirmed that my work is not just about making an object; it’s about layering meaning, process, and interaction.

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Reflection, Research

Reflecting on Jonathan’s Lecture: A Messy Introduction to Practice-Based Research Methodologies for Artists

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Watching Jonathan’s lecture A Messy Introduction for the second time was a completely different experience from the first. Three months ago, it felt like a relief—as though I had finally been given permission to embrace the uncertainty and messiness of my practice. I realised that nothing was wrong with how I work or feel about the creative process. Rather than viewing my approach as chaotic or unfocused, I began to see it as a form of action research—a way of learning embedded in the act of doing!

I returned to this lecture with a question that arose after last week session How to Be an Explorer: How is my practice guiding me, rather than me controlling it? Watching the lecture again allowed me to refine my thinking and embrace my process as an ongoing cycle of reflection and experimentation.

I learnt that action research isn’t about gathering knowledge and then applying it in a controlled way. Instead, it’s about researching through practice, learning as you go, and allowing discoveries to emerge through action.

The lecture reminded me of how I’ve found my most valuable insights through interaction—whether with people, materials, or space. For example, I realised that my time spent working and engaging with people in the library was far more effective than simply sitting and reading. That moment of recognition was, in itself, action research.

Jonathan introduces four key characteristics of action research:

1. Cyclical: The process is not linear; it loops back on itself, following a rhythm of planning, acting, observing, and reflecting.

2. Collaborative: Research is not done in isolation; it involves engaging with people and/or materials.

3. Qualitative: Not quantitative.

4. Reflective: The practitioner is constantly questioning, not just the work, but their own position within it.

The idea that research is cyclical resonated with me deeply. I often feel like I’m going in circles—revisiting ideas, reworking concepts, and questioning everything. But what if this isn’t a flaw, but rather the natural rhythm of research? Instead of seeing it as going backwards, I now view it as deepening my understanding.

This brings to mind the concept of social sculpture, which, like action research, does not aim for fixed outcomes. It is a living process, shaped by dialogue, participation, and continuous enquiry.

My socially engaged work as a creative producer at The Library is an example of how action research operates in real-world settings. Rather than following a rigid structure, my approach is fluid and responsive.

For instance, I’ve observed that:

• Engaging with people in the library is more valuable than just reading there.

• Learning happens through doing, not just planning.

• Reflection is not just a retrospective process, it happens in real-time.

This aligns with Jonathan’s reflection-in-action model, where the practitioner allows uncertainty and improvisation to guide their decisions. My sessions at the library are not about delivering a pre-determined programme; they are about co-creating an experience with the participants, allowing the outcomes to emerge organically.

One of the slides in the lecture included a quote by Martin A. Schwartz:

“The more comfortable we become with being stupid, the deeper we will wade into the unknown and the more likely we are to make big discoveries.”

This really stuck with me. In artistic practice, there’s often pressure to have everything figured out, to justify every decision, and to present a polished narrative. But this quote suggests that true discovery happens when we allow ourselves to feel lost and unsure.

This resonates with my experience as a member of Ghost Art School, where I always allow myself to experiment with materials freely, without the fear of losing anything or being judged. Most of the work I present at Ghost Art School exhibitions is experimental and joyful.

Instead of feeling like I have to map everything out in advance, I am learning to trust that my research is unfolding in its own way. This lecture reinforced the idea that my artistic process isn’t about arriving at answers, but about learning how to ask better questions.

Kinetic sculpture, I Made This Pet 2024 for Auchingarrich Wildlife Park Exhibition by Ghost Art School. https://www.instagram.com/p/C_x9yZsIEin/?igsh=MXdibGR2enJtMTk2Mw==

Posted in Reflection, Research

Art for Earth’s Sake: Reflections on the First Session of the Peer Learning Programme 2025

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The first session of Art for Earth’s Sake by Engage: 

Peer Learning Programme was both inspiring and thought-provoking. This initiative, designed by Engage members, brings together diverse voices to explore how visual arts can respond to the pressing environmental and ecological crises of our time. The online session created a dynamic space for connection, exchange, and collective learning.

Art has long served as a powerful medium for addressing complex issues. During the session, we reflected on how art can function as a “place” — a vital space for connection, communication, and fostering belonging. This concept resonated deeply with me. As an artist, I believe meaningful change begins when we create spaces for open dialogue and shared experiences.

Today’s headlines—be it Gaza burning under human conflict or wildfires ravaging Los Angeles—serve as stark reminders of our interconnected crises. Climate change, political instability, and violence are all deeply entwined. As humans, we bear the responsibility to make a difference, no matter how small. Saying “no” to war, violence, and greed is critical before the Earth pushes back. This realisation drove me to join this programme, especially as a producer working with refugees and students eager to learn about socially engaged art around themes of politics, migration, and the environment.

A recent discussion at Liverpool’s “ghost art school,” which I co-organised, reminded me of the importance of shared spaces. A fellow artist remarked, “Living is a way of research.” I would add that living with others—and fostering environments where people feel safe and free—is essential for authentic collaboration and growth.

One of the most compelling topics from the session was ecocentrism—a philosophy that centres Earth and its ecosystems rather than humanity alone. This approach challenges the anthropocentric mindset dominating contemporary thought.

Ecocentrism is not a modern idea; it has been integral to indigenous cultures for millennia, embedded in their traditions and laws. This was a moment of profound clarity for me. To genuinely tackle the climate crisis, we must transition from a human-centred worldview to an Earth-centred one.

The session also showcased artist-led projects that weave ecological concerns with social engagement. One example was Scotland’s Deveron Projects, which has been creatively connecting people with the land for over 30 years. Initiatives like their “soil spa” and a dance project inspired by the land demonstrate art’s capacity to reconnect us with nature in meaningful ways.

This session reaffirmed my belief in art’s ability to inspire dialogue and action. By embracing ecocentric perspectives and fostering collaboration, we can address the ecological crisis holistically and inclusively.

Posted in Lectures 2024/2025, Reflection, Writing

The White Pube Lecture

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This week, I attended a truly inspiring lecture by The White Pube, a collective I’ve admired for their influence in the art world, especially in championing new and emerging artists. Gabrielle de la Puente and Zarina Muhammad, who started their journey as students at Central Saint Martins, have since grown into influential voices in the contemporary art scene. Their candid and relatable approach resonates deeply, and it was fascinating to learn more about their evolution.

The collective has recently released a book titled Poor Artist, and I was intrigued by their process and approach to publishing. As someone planning to create a book for our upcoming exhibition in March 2025, their journey felt particularly relevant. Gabrielle and Zarina shared how they ventured into publishing without prior experience in creative writing or the publishing industry, relying instead on the foundation of their studio practice. This reminded me of Roy Claire Potter’s words about how creative work stems from lived experience, a sentiment that deeply connects with my own artistic practice.

A highlight for me was when Gabrielle reflected on a conversation with her tutor. She had asked, “How do I become an artist?” to which her tutor replied, “Don’t stop making art.” That phrase stayed with me—not just for its simplicity but for its broader implications. Making art isn’t confined to producing physical pieces; it extends to engaging with the art world in multiple ways: reading, writing, reflecting, and staying informed about what’s happening around us.

The lecture also highlighted how The White Pube began writing for themselves, creating a voice that spoke to two audiences at once: the critical, often inaccessible world of theory, and the everyday experience of artists. They carved out a niche by addressing what they felt was missing—a relatable, conversational space in art writing that didn’t conform to traditional academic or journalistic norms.

This approach inspires me to reflect on my own work and how I can make my practice and writing more accessible, honest, and personal. Gabrielle and Zarina’s story is a reminder that starting small, writing for yourself, and embracing your voice can lead to impactful outcomes.

As I think about the book we’ll be creating for our exhibition, their journey offers a template for how to take risks and embrace the unknown. It’s not about perfection but about authenticity and a willingness to keep going.

This lecture was not only insightful but also a reminder of the power of persistence and self-expression in art. I’m grateful for their honesty and look forward to delving into Poor Artist for more inspiration.

Posted in Research

Inspiring Text: Pedro Reyes on Social Sculpture

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The interview between Pedro Reyes and Cara M. Jordan is a fascinating exploration of social sculpture and its potential for societal impact. Reyes presents a compelling perspective on social sculpture as a medium where human relationships become the material, transcending traditional artistic boundaries and incorporating tools from diverse fields such as theatre, therapy, and rituals.

Reyes’ reflection on Joseph Beuys as a foundational influence further enriches the discussion, particularly through his project Palas por Pistolas, which transforms weapons into tools for reforestation—a direct homage to Beuys’ 7,000 Oaks. This project exemplifies dynamic, living art that evolves over time, reflecting the transformative power of human collaboration. His appreciation for Beuys’ humour and dedication to socialism underscores an optimistic yet critical vision of art’s role in addressing complex social issues.

Reyes’ commitment to accessibility is especially notable, as he advocates for art that transcends traditional audiences and creates transformative experiences regardless of participants’ familiarity with the art world. Collaborative projects like Sanatorium and People’s United Nations (pUN) highlight his dedication to co-creation and role-play, fostering a sense of ownership and shared authorship among participants.

His belief in the transformative power of materials is equally inspiring. The act of turning rifles into flutes, for example, embodies his philosophy of relational objects—artifacts that catalyse social encounters and spark psychological shifts. This approach strongly resonates with my interest in social sculpture and the symbolic potential of everyday materials.

This interview has deeply influenced my practice, offering inspiration for integrating participatory frameworks, addressing sociopolitical themes, and ensuring inclusivity. Reyes’ approach aligns with my focus on creating art that bridges communication gaps and meaningfully engages audiences, providing valuable strategies to advance my work.

Posted in Motivations, Reflection, Writing

Artist or Writer?

Posted on by KM

Recently, I tuned into Artists That Write, a fascinating session hosted by We Are Axis, featuring Roy Claire Potter, Roo Dhissou, and Madinah Farhannah. Listening to them discuss their practices and read their work was both inspiring and thought-provoking. It’s always exciting to hear how other artists navigate the overlap between visual art and writing—a space I feel I occupy but have never fully claimed.

I’ve always loved writing, but I hesitate to call myself a “proper writer.” Writing feels more like another medium to me, something I play with and manipulate, much like clay or paint. I resist the constraints of inherited rules about “how” one should write, preferring instead to follow my intuition. As an artist, I’m not aiming for polished prose or perfect grammar; I’m exploring, experimenting, and communicating without borders.

Roy Claire Potter’s reflections particularly resonated with me. They spoke about being more interested in methods and how you make things rather than what you make, which aligns so closely with my own approach. Roy shared insights into a piece they created ten years ago, Mental Furniture, which involved a broken manual typewriter. I’m intrigued to read the book tied to that work and to delve deeper into their methods.

Another standout moment was when Roy talked about The Wastes—how they felt they contained a book within themselves, not one born of studying creative writing but one emerging directly from studio practice. This struck a chord with me. It affirmed the idea that writing, for some artists, is an extension of making rather than an entirely separate discipline.

Roy said something I’ll carry with me: “Text is a cultural thing. Films are text. Fashion is text. Images are text.” It reframed my understanding of writing and language, validating the idea that words are just one form of communication among many. As someone who constantly plays with meaning and form, this was a liberating thought.

For me, writing will always be a tool of exploration—an extension of my practice, unbound by conventions. I’m not a writer who writes like a writer. I’m an artist who writes like an artist.

Posted in Reflection, Visit, Writing

Finding Focus: The Wastes

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Last week, I attended the book launch for The Wastes, a novella by Roy Claire Potter. Potter was joined by guest artists David Jacques, Roo Dhissou, and Harriet Morley at Dead Ink Books in Liverpool. It was a wonderful evening celebrating the work of an artist and writer whose practice profoundly influenced my own during my BA studies. I liked Roy Claire’s ability to weave humour and insight into their reflections on everyday working-class life. In The Wastes, this approach shines through as memories ripple across the narrative, creating a vivid and relatable journey for the reader.

Experiencing the book and the discussions around it gave me a renewed sense of direction for my MA in Fine Art. I’ve realised that writing and participatory art are central to my practice, and I want to explore these areas with greater intention. Roy Claire’s work reminded me how powerful text can be—not just as a medium for communication but as a way to build connections.

Moving forward, I’m determined to channel more energy into developing my writing alongside my participatory projects. This means refining my approach to storytelling and reflection while exploring ways to integrate these elements into interactive art-making. I want to experiment, learn by doing, and create a structured plan to support my growth in both areas.

Attending the book launch wasn’t just about celebrating a great piece of writing—it was a reminder of my purpose and aspirations. Writing and participatory art are more than tools in my practice; they are at the core of how I want to connect with others and create art that resonates.

Posted in Reflection

Asemic

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After an inspiring conversation with my MA coursemate, Josh Well, on asemic writing, I felt compelled to revisit a research project I undertook three years ago. This project delved into the intriguing realms of semic and asemic writing, semiotics theory, and examples of art that explore these ideas. My 2021 project, Blah Blah Blah Banner, sits within this dialogue, exploring the relationship between form and meaning in text and language. Through tutorials, workshops, and experiments with different materials, I examined how artists use text within art and the rich distinctions between semic and asemic writing.

Semiotics, the study of signs, opens up the boundless potential for experimenting with words and symbols. Art historian Anne D’Alleva reminds us that “signs can take many different forms” (D’Alleva, 2012, p.26), showing that meaning is both created and perceived. Here, semic writing refers to symbols or representations that carry meaning, while asemic writing is purely visual, existing outside formal language or communication.

The power of asemic writing lies in its ability to transcend direct interpretation. Research by Tim Gaze describes asemic writing as any form resembling writing but unreadable to viewers, often evoking primal marks like children’s scribbles or ancient cave art. My initial encounters with asemic forms reminded me of the unfamiliarity of a foreign language—an idea I explored deeply in Blah Blah Blah Banner. Here, asemic “poems” embrace visuality without linguistic meaning, inviting viewers to interpret solely through form.

From this project, I came to realise that asemic text can convey a universal sense of expression, allowing the imagination to interpret across languages and cultures. Language may ground us, but asemic writing frees us… Each brushstroke a wordless, universal rhythm.

Posted in Tutorials 2024/2025

Reflecting on My 1-1 Tutorial with Jonathan: Navigating My MA Journey

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This week I had a meaningful 1-1 tutorial with Jonathan, my mentor and program leader, where we explored some key themes about my practice, my personal journey through the MA course, and what I aim to achieve. It felt like an opportunity to articulate where I stand, what’s driving me, and the challenges I face both as an artist and an individual in this phase of learning and growth.

Understanding My Strengths and Struggles

One of the core topics I touched upon was my relationship with my practice and how I feel about myself in the process. I’ve come to recognise that my strength lies in my sensitivity to my surroundings, which deeply influences my work. This sensitivity fuels a duty and responsibility to respond to the world, but I also know that it can sometimes slow me down. That sense of being attuned to everything around me means I can easily be overwhelmed, especially when I’m stressed.

However, I also realise that this sensitivity is an asset—it makes my work honest, grounded, and connected to the social and political contexts that inspire me. Even when my practice slows, it’s because I’m thinking deeply, processing, and making space for genuine ideas to emerge. I’ve learned to trust that.

Embracing Experimentation and the Joy of “Wrongness”

One of the things Jonathan and I discussed was my openness to experimentation. I’m tolerant when it comes to the technical side of my work—I love to play with any medium that comes my way. There’s something liberating about embracing “wrongness,” about leaning into mistakes and seeing where they take me. I like surprises in the process, and I’ve found that those surprises often lead to new insights or shifts in my work that I wouldn’t have discovered otherwise.

But no matter the medium or method, there’s always a thread of honesty in my concepts. They consistently reflect the social and political themes that matter to me. The work might take different shapes or directions, but the core is always about addressing or engaging with the world in a real and meaningful way.

Mapping the Next Steps

I know I need to design a roadmap—one that helps me navigate where I want to go with my social sculpture practice and what will truly feed my hunger for growth in this area. I have so many ideas simmering, and I want to channel them in a structured way, giving myself the best chance to explore new depths in my work. I believe having a map, a vision for where I want to go, will help me find that balance between responding to the world around me and moving forward with intention.

In the end, this tutorial left me feeling more clear about my strengths and more prepared to tackle the next phase of my MA. There’s always room for growth, and I’m excited to see where this exploration takes me.