Like a sleeping shark...

New year, new prospects.

I’m not one to labour thoughts of new year’s resolutions, but I do like the shedding of the past skin and the soft optimism of the new. I enjoy the clarity that a moment of passing brings.

2022 was fine, but 2023 can be better (though I recall turning 23 many moons ago and feeling like it was a rubbish age to be. I think I just didn't really like the shape of ‘23’ as a number. Who knows…)

There are certainly some interesting things in the pipeline, one of which will be launching at the end of this month. Check back for more details nearer the time. I’m pretty excited about it. I’m also looking forward to pushing some ideas along that have been gathering pace for quite a while - a number of years in one instance.

I also want to put it out into the ether that I’m always just looking for interesting and creative things to do - new projects, new conversations, new conversations that lead to new projects. It’s honestly as simple as that. So, if you’re brewing something and think you might like to talk me about it, then don’t give it a second thought. Just get in touch. Even if I don’t turn out to be the right person, then I’ll almost certainly know someone who is.

One quick recommendation to finish - check out this interview with my old mate Danny Webster about the graphics on his pro-decks in the 80s. When skateboard graphics really had a story to tell.

My Two-Ceiniog and some Self-Reflection

The UK Queen has died. You might have heard.

As with any large historical moment, there’s an implied binary position you are required to take - you’re either 100% for the monarchy or 100% against it. Of course, it can be more nunaced than that.

To lend some context to my own position (which I will state eventually), I’m a product of dual national heritage, albeit both from within the UK. My father is Welsh and my Mother is English. I was born and raised in England and lived there until 2009. We made semi-regular trips to South Wales to visit my Welsh family, but even so, and despite being fiercely proud of the Welsh part of my heritage, I couldn't really have claimed to be anything other than English. Then, in 2009, I moved to Wales. So for around a quarter of my life (the most recent quarter at that), I’ve experienced life in the UK from an entirely different perspective; from a Welsh perspective. So, with all that, I think I’m in a pretty good position to make the comments I’m about to make and observe the things I’m going to claim to have observed.

The death of the Queen is a hot potato over here, there’s no denying it. The majority of people in England will have no idea why that is, or the level of feeling that exists here around this moment. I can say that as, even with Welsh family, the entire time I lived in England I had no understanding of the true relationship between the two countries. I think most people in England see the other three nations as kind-of uppity-cousins; family members that like to make a bit of fuss, but we love each really as we’re family.

If you’re reading this in England, I can tell you that’s absolutely not the case. There’s a deep-rooted and justifiable suspicion and mistrust of England that still exists. Not from everyone, of course. Many thousands of people take no issue at all, but there’s a significant part of the population that do. And, personally, I can’t blame them.

I’m no historian, but take the title of the Prince of Wales. This was a title created by King Edward I in the 1300s after he conquered Wales and gave the title to his son. The Prince of Wales has always been an Englishman, based in England. In that sense it is a symbol of oppression. Of course, it IS only symbolic now the monarchy hold no political power (honest!), but aren’t we more acutely attuned to the power of these symbols than ever? There’s been little discussion in the media around this through this time, but I did find this article which spells it out a bit. And, of course, it’s not all about history. Westminster treats Wales disgracefully and I thank goodness we have our own parliament to deal with the lack of respect shown to the country by the English ruling party.

The ‘United’ Kingdom is not united and never has been. On some level it’s a single political entity (but not even that anymore really), but you’ve only got to look back through the history of the Union Flag to see that these countries have rarely, if ever, been united. I made a project around this subject about 10 years ago and you can read more about HERE.

But I didn't really start this piece to try and explain this very difficult relationship or stir up beef with England. It was more about the monarchy and the state circus we’re seeing unfold.

It’s honestly made me think - more - about hierarchy. I think about this a lot. I’ve never had any time or respect for hierarchy. As a kid I was, literally, a young punk, shouting at the world that it’s not fair and hierarchy stinks, and nothing has honestly changed. The idea that one person is somehow more important than someone else really doesn't make sense to me. And none of this has anything to with respect. I’m a great believer in respect - respecting someone for their knowledge, their empathy, their generosity, their experience etc. But hierarchy is like saying, ‘You MUST respect me, because the structure says you must, despite the fact I may have done nothing to earn your respect.’ No one person is worth any more than any other person. And to relate that specifically to what’s happening in the UK right now - with life-saving operations being cancelled and food-banks being shut in honour of the funeral, this is literally like saying, ‘That one person’s life is worth more than yours.’

And, to make this all about me (I’m an artist, everything’s all about me), this has got me reflecting on my personal relationship with hierarchy in connection with my professional life. The art world is all about hierarchy. It really is. It’s about gaining status within the hierarchy, often by attaching oneself to people higher up in that hierarchy, professionally or personally, and absorbing that hierarchical light, much like a vampire sucks life-force from unwitting victims. Picasso’s biographer, John Richardson, wrote this -

"He fed on those around him, like a vampire sucking life out of his victims. He once said something very telling about the fans, stalkers, autograph-seekers, dealers, collectors and paparazzi: 'These people cut me up like a chicken on the dinner table. I nourish them, but who nourishes me?'

"We all donated our energy, if not our blood. If there were six or eight people for lunch, he'd get every single one - he'd seize control of you, turn you inside out. The pretty girls he'd flatter and flirt with. If there were kids present, he'd make toys for them or do drawings. Even animals weren't immune - he'd entice them to come to him. Everyone had to be seduced. You ended the day completely drained. But he'd imbibe all that stolen energy and stride off into the studio and work all night. I can't imagine the hell of being married to him!"

I can’t say I’m honestly surprised. Picasso was an arsehole. Stop press. The art world is full of vampires.

But to make this about me… it’s made me think about my own place and inevitable position within a hierarchy. I’ve been very fortunate to have the career I’ve had so far. I’ve done ok. But I’m also very aware that there have probably been a couple of moments in my career where momentum has been such, that if I’d really leant in to it, things could have been even better. And by ‘better’, I mean more money and more opportunities. The thing is, I can see now that I’ve backed away from those moments as I’ve felt uncomfortable. I’ve stood in an art-dinner whilst a director of an organisation has talked about my work, in front of me, and said to the collected room, ‘Mark’s making some important work currently’. What the fuck does that even mean?

There’s a requirement for an artist to believe this hype and fully inhabit the bandwidth of their own ego to really be successful, and I just can’t bring myself to do it. I’m not prepared to allow myself to believe I’m better than you. I make interesting stuff and do interesting things, but so do you, and so do they, and let’s not forget that person over there. To allow oneself to engage with that is solely for the purpose of rising through a hierarchy that, ultimately, serves no-one than the people intent on maintaining that hierarchy (mostly NOT artists if you’re wondering). - (To clarify, I still WANT those big opportunities and am more than capable of pulling them off, I’m just not going to act like I’m better than you to get them).

And, maybe I should stop there as I also didn't start writing this to rubbish the art world, it’s capable of doing that on its own. It’s more that this intense focus on hierarchy has made me realise what I’ve just written above about my own backing-away from it when I’ve been faced by the opportunity to climb it.

And, to answer the monarchy thing, I simply don’t care. I think they’re an outmoded and irrelevant institution that should be allowed to fade away. It’s not their fault they were born royal, and I don’t wish them any harm, but I think it’s time we just wound them down, like a nuclear power station that’s served it’s purpose but has started leaking crap everywhere as it’s past it’s useful working life. Let QE2 be the last significant face of the UK monarchy and use this as a moment to move on, shall we? Please.

Do you remember this tile?...

Do you have a personal memory/story/connection relating to the H&R Johnson ‘duck’ tile – ubiquitous in UK bathrooms through the 70s/80s and beyond.

It became known as the ‘duck’ tile as, most commonly, people would say they could see the shape of a duck in its coloured veins and shapes.

Me and Tom Goddard are collecting stories about these tiles for a zine. If you have a connection - no matter how small, strange, or seemingly irrelevant - we want to hear from you.

Please do get in touch with me or him and share this call out amongst your friends.

To bear witness...

A couple of months ago I went to a reading by the poet/writer Patrick Jones. After one particularly emotional poem, Patrick talked about why he wrote it and his need to use the poem as a means to bear witness. The poem was about something he could do very little, but what he could do was write his poem to bear witness. I’ve never considered this idea and this phrase in the depth I have since that reading.

I’ve spent most of my life fairly consumed by a feeling of impotence - impotence in my ability to push back against the existential fears that lurk in every corner, impotence to tangibly effect change on the injustices and inhumanity I see in the world. An impotence to do anything to change the bad stuff for the better. And Patrick’s statement and sentiment made me rethink this completely.

That feeling of impotence stems from an inability to effect a tangible impact on these huge things. But we can all bear witness. We can all write our poem, do our drawing, or make our voices heard digitally and face-to-face. We can all mark our distaste, our horror, our disappointment, our sadness, in these seemingly small ways, and bear witness.

We can acknowledge to the world that these things aren’t ok through these actions and, whilst they don’t immediately change anything, they bear witness.

To put this in a wider perspective, I’m no scientist but I accept that the conservation of energy is an absolute law. This means that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it just changes form. This means that all the energy that will ever exist is already in existence. But what does this have to do with bearing witness? It’s maybe more philosophical than practical, but humour me.

You’re faced with a choice of feeling impotent and doing nothing, or doing a small something and bearing witness. In bearing witness you’re harnessing a small amount of universal energy and pushing back against this massive thing. If thousands or millions of people bear witness, that becomes a huge amount of energy being harnessed to push back against these seemingly insurmountable things.

Also, universal energy and cod-philosophy aside, you are an active participant in the history of the future, whether you like it or not. History can’t access the lost conscience of a billion dead souls. When you bear witness it can be taken into account and create a history of empathy and resistance, rather than apathy and, at worst, collusion.

Of course we can all do more than this. I’m not advocating we just engage in small acts of bearing witness, but when impotence is crippling, it’s somewhere we can all begin. So in this most basic form, I’ll start…

I bear witness to the horrors of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. It’s sickening that in these developed times military conflict is ever used.

I bear witness to America’s Supreme Court ruling on abortion. How can we possibly still be faced with a small group of (mostly) men making decisions about the rights women have over their own bodies.

I bear witness to the wholesale shakedown of the UK by a government acting more like a mafia than a body elected to represent its people.

And I bear witness to the loss of love, respect and empathy for those less fortunate within our society, and those looking to enter our society, that seems to be sweeping the privileged West.

Of course, there’s so much more.

We must bear witness, because we can.

Today, it’s sunny

That title is true. I’m sitting in my front room looking out on to a slowly-waking suburban street in Cardiff and it’s sunny.

Part of my day’s workload is to spend a good while in a dark and dirty loft figuring out how to board it out so I can empty a storage unit I keep across town. The unit costs me £100 a month - £1200 a year - and it’s full of artwork and art-practice related stuff, barely accessible as it’s so full, and most likely destined to sit there, unseen, for an indeterminate amount of time.

But it’s sunny outside right now.

This has got to be one of the biggest ‘problems’ of being an artist. You make all this stuff, you show all this stuff, but then you have to store all this stuff. If only it was as simple as - make the stuff, show the stuff, sell the stuff. But the commercial art world doesn’t work for most artists. It’s what they never (used to?) tell you at art school - the commercial art world only really works for galleries (and surprisingly few in real terms) and even fewer artists (and don’t assume it’s working for all those artists named on a gallery roster, because most of them aren’t selling a thing). But people talk about this tiny slice of the art world a disproportionate amount as it’s where the big bucks get generated (by a few people, from a few people, for a few people). I’m aware that without hearing the tone of my voice that might sound bitter, but it’s really not. I’m lucky enough to have worked a bit in that world and so had the chance to figure out my relationship with it.

But today, it’s sunny outside, so I’ll not think about all that.

Part of my plan is to empty the unit and put all the stuff in the loft, but archive it at the same time, and give some of it away to organisations I’ve worked with for their own archives. And also, in the process of archiving it, sell as much of it as possible - artwork, kit, materials, the lot. There are works I made nearly 30 years ago in there, alongside PAs and smoke-machines I’ve bought for various projects. And it’s all just sitting there, costing money to store.

I took the unit on about 4 or 5 years ago when I moved out of the last studio I had. I moved out of my studio as it was hosted by an organisation that had shown itself to not really care about the people who had made it so interesting in the first place. This isn’t a unique story, but it’s always sad. So I’ve been studio-less since then, working on site and in my house since that time. You’d be amazed (maybe) at what you can get done in and around your house. Amongst other things I’ve made a series of old-master style still-life photographs of food for a book of fiction, an album cover, engraved a guitar, and completed a road movie (I just edited that at home, so not such a strange home-based task, but worth a mention). I actually think a really useful route to creativity is restriction or limitation of some sort, whether that be physical, material, whatever. By placing constraints on something it gives you useful parameters within which to be as creative as you can. But I digress…(and will almost certainly come back to this point another day).

It’s been a strange week overall. Something new that I was really excited about has turned out to not be so exciting, but I’ll figure it out. This kind of falls under the restriction/limitation idea. When something turns out not to be what you thought it was, you can view it as a different set of constraints to squeeze something of interest and use out of. It’s what we, as artists, are best trained to do, right?

And it’s sunny outside,