Neale Stratford 12/9/24 Neale Stratford 12/9/24

The Stuff of (insert own paradigm here). Gippslandia. Issue 32, Obsession Edition.

Gippslandia #32 – Artist Feature – Neale Stratford. September 2024.

Text: Neale Stratford

Image: Neale Stratford

Sometimes I get nervous when I am introduced as an ‘artist’. Automatically, I start to

think about how I am going to explain my art practice in the sanest possible manner…a

task I have yet to successfully master. Conversations go something like this…

Person: You’re an artist. What is your medium?

Me: Err, um. Photography.

Person: What do you photograph?

Me: (Jesus, here we go…) Existential dread, mainly.

Person: Pardon?

Me: My dreams, nightmares, delusions, etc. You know, stream-of-consciousness type stuff.

Person: No, I don’t know. How do you photograph that?

Me: Dolls mainly.

Person: (Lifting a single eyebrow suspiciously, like Spock on Star Trek…) Dolls? Interesting.

Me: Yeah…um, yep, um, excuse me I need to, um, go and, um…bye. (I quickly leave the venue

and find a convenient lamppost to smack my head against.) Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Perhaps I should choose another label, a different title to what I do. I could go back to using

‘photographer’… No. Far too many memories of the days when I was doing weddings, portraits

and freelance commercial work. I am not sure that what I do is even photography anymore.

Sure, I use a camera and the tricks and trappings of photography, but I do not readily see the

end product as a photograph… more like visual evidence of a thought experiment, a physical

relic of memory, or a token from non-existent events.

I was 44 years old when I received my autism diagnosis while undergoing treatment for

depression. Up until diagnosis, I journeyed through life with the sneaking suspicion that I was

odd, strange and not quite normal. I dislike meeting new people. I struggle with small talk.

I have a poor memory and I do not like change. Sports or any other social interaction, especially

involving large groups, has always led to extreme anxiety.

I know that when a person’s teeth are showing in the shape of a smile, they are more likely to

be happy than sad. It is the emotions in between – such as hurt, anger or sarcasm – that I have

always had trouble recognising. This elusive enigma creates limitations, confusion and anxiety

in both my social and vocational life.

Growing up, the expressionless generic plastic faces of my toy action figures were just as

meaningful to me as the real faces of those who surrounded me. For as long as I can remember

I have been drawn to them – always more interested in the pilot than the model plane. As a

child, I was never great at interacting with other children. Their rules of play were foreign –

another language. I was happier to play alone with my toy soldiers and action figurines. I could

form my own relationships – my rules, my way.

Even now, I am drawn to these toys that should have been abandoned upon leaving

adolescence. I can readily convince myself that I am interested in the beautiful sculpting and

likeness of the figures, clothing and accessories. But my interest is deeper than that. Perhaps it

is the fond memories of my childhood play, a time of innocence.Maybe it is a simulacrum of

humanity I can physically hold in my hand. In a world so big, so fast and so scary, here I have

control. My rules, my way.

Although my artistic process may initially seem simple – a glorified still life: dolls upon a

tabletop, lit, photographed, printed and displayed – the process from conception to final print

involves many hours of preparation, research, setup, photography, post-production and printing.

My tableaux are conceived in several ways. Some ideas come from experimenting with the

figures to creating interesting juxtapositions or compositions. This 'play' lets me explore the

relationships between each element and character within the scene. Sometimes I work from a

series of sketches I’ve developed from film, television, magazine or book references. But the

majority of the images I produce directly quote images sourced from art history, especially

Baroque, Rococo, French Romantic, Impressionist and Victorian paintings.

I have a vast collection of figures and accessories that are all collated and catalogued. When I

need a figure to make a particular gesture, I go to my spares box and retrieve a 'pointing' hand. I

also collect, and sometimes make, all the accoutrements that help me 'garnish' the scene, the

fine detail that adds to the illusion. It comes down to 'movie magic' – lighting, editing and digital

effects that render the illusion of reality.

Since my diagnosis, I have become aware that my fixation on figurines fits with what is often

described as a ‘special interest’.

Professor Tony Attwood explains the difference between a hobby and a special interest is the

abnormality in the intensity or focus of the interest. “An essential component of the interest is

the accumulation and cataloguing of objects or the accumulation of facts and information about

a specific topic. The special interest is more than a hobby and can dominate the person’s free

time and conversation”.

Talk to a person with Autism about their special interest and you can be trapped for hours in a

fanatical rant of facts, figures and the minutiae of detail. No matter how you try to turn the

conversation around, you will be tracked back quickly to the subject ‘du jour’.

But I have come to realise that my art has become an important tool for me and my

communication to the world, about my world.

Having recognised some of the issues that have plagued me, I can now contextualise and make

some sort of sense of them. To give a full understanding of my thoughts, feelings, wants, needs,

delusions and desires, I need to set the scene. I often envision myself as the hero, the man cool

under a crisis, a man just as quick with his fists as his wit. I am James Bond and Indiana Jones.

I am Superman, Batman and Spiderman all rolled into one. Of course, I am none of these men. I

am withdrawn and silent around women and deplore confrontation, let alone being in a physical

fight with anyone. Cool in a crisis? Being non-confrontational, I tend to avoid most crises.

Professor Tony Attwood explains “Young children with Asperger’s syndrome [now referred to as

Autism Spectrum Disorder] can become increasingly aware of not being popular and successful

in social situations and can develop low self-esteem... An interest in and role-playing of

superheroes, such as Spiderman, can be a way of achieving social success and admiration.

Often the superhero is someone who has two identities, a timid and often meek and

unsuccessful person who is able to transform [themselves] into someone with special abilities

[and] conquer adversity… Thus, the super-hero provides a missing aspect of the child’s life, an

alter ego.”

I am drawn to the heroic stereotype as a persona in my virtual reality. This flies in the face of

who I have been at times – introverted and bullied. My continuing battle with depression and my

past failures at social interaction are revealed within my art practice. The monsters I battle, the

characters I meet within my art, are not only saturated with the DNA of eons of human

mythology but are allegories of the daily battles I endure just to be able to exist.

After diagnosis, any introspection within my art practice is based on a desire to put into context

the constraints of the world in which I exist – to explore the gap between internal and external

realities, dreams and fantasies, delusions and desires.

Being more psychological than philosophical, I offer my art practice as a phenomenological

reflection of my soul. Making and exhibiting my art is telling a story, in a public forum, about my

personal journey. The story, like the myths of old, contains imagery and metaphors that are both

recognisable and ambiguous. Each image is a piece of the jigsaw I have unfurled for the world

to see. And just like a jigsaw piece, each image needs to be studied, turned around andanalysed to see if it fits.

These are parables that are to be interpreted by the viewer with themes

that are both universal and at the same time deeply personal.

Art is my communication – my voice to the world. Sometimes it feels like I am being

heard…other times, I feel like I am talking to myself. No matter what, I will still keep

communicating. That is what art means to me.

Neale Stratford 9/9/24 Neale Stratford 9/9/24

An Essay on (some) Influences.

Artistic Influences

You cannot make art in a vacuum. Art is often a journey through time, where the soul finds itself reflected in the works of those who have come before. My influences span centuries and styles, from the fantastical visions of Hieronymus Bosch (c. 1450-1516) to the haunting contemporary photography of Joel-Peter Witkin (born 1939). In between, they include the dark Romanticism of Francisco Goya (1746-1828), the pioneering photographic portraits of Julia Margaret Cameron (1815-1879), the deeply personal and politically charged self-portraits of Frida Kahlo (1907-1954), the hauntingly introspective photography of Francesca Woodman (1958-1981), uncanny portraits of wax figures of Hiroshi Sugimoto (born 1948), the provocative sculptures of Jake and Dinos Chapman (born 1962 and 1966, respectively), and the shadowy, ambiguous worlds captured by Bill Henson (born 1955). Each of these artists, in their way, informs my creative vision, contributing unique elements to the tapestry of my inspiration.

Hieronymus Bosch

Hieronymus Bosch's visionary art is filled with fantastical creatures and surreal landscapes that continue to captivate and mystify. His most renowned work, "The Garden of Earthly Delights," is a triptych teeming with allegorical scenes that depict the pleasures and perils of earthly existence. Bosch's use of symbolism and his exploration of the human psyche's darker aspects provide a stark reflection of the human condition. His vivid imagination and complex compositions inspire me to delve into the subconscious and explore the boundaries between reality and fantasy. Bosch's ability to intertwine the sacred with the profane, the mystical with the mundane, has taught me to embrace paradox and complexity in my work, creating layers of meaning that invite viewers to look beyond the surface.

Francisco Goya

Francisco Goya, the "Father of Modern Art," stands at the crossroads of classical and contemporary art. His work captures the tumult of his time, revealing the human soul's darkest depths and brightest hopes. Goya's series "Los Caprichos", "The Disasters of War" and his haunting "Black Paintings" provide an unflinching look at violence, madness, and despair. His masterpiece "The Third of May 1808" portrays the brutality of war with raw emotion and dramatic lighting, setting a new standard for historical painting. Goya's willingness to confront uncomfortable truths, both personal and political, resonates deeply with me. His exploration of human suffering and resilience inspires me to create art that is not just visually compelling but also emotionally charged and thought-provoking. Goya's fearless engagement with social and political issues encourages me to use my art as a tool for commentary and reflection.

Julia Margaret Cameron

Julia Margaret Cameron revolutionised portrait photography in the 19th century, transforming it into a medium for artistic expression. Her images, characterized by their soft focus, dramatic lighting, and emotive poses, convey a sense of intimacy and timelessness. Cameron's portraits of notable figures like Charles Darwin and Alfred Tennyson, as well as her allegorical studies, reveal her deep understanding of her subjects' inner worlds. Her approach to photography was innovative; she often blurred the line between reality and imagination, capturing the essence of her subjects in a way that was both ethereal and grounded. Cameron's work inspires me to see photography not merely as a means of documentation but as a form of visual poetry. Her ability to convey emotion and character through light, shadow, and composition encourages me to explore the human spirit in my work, using the camera as a tool for deeper understanding.

Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo's art is a vivid exploration of identity, pain, and resilience. Her self-portraits, such as "The Two Fridas" and "Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird," reveal a deeply personal narrative shaped by physical suffering and emotional turmoil. Kahlo's paintings are rich with symbolism, from indigenous Mexican motifs to Christian iconography, creating a unique visual language that reflects her complex cultural heritage. Her fearless self-examination and unflinching portrayal of her struggles inspire me to use art as a form of self-expression and self-discovery. Kahlo's ability to transform personal pain into universal themes has profoundly impacted my work, encouraging me to delve into my own experiences and emotions. Her art teaches me that vulnerability and authenticity are powerful tools for connecting with others, allowing me to explore themes of identity, trauma, and healing.

Francesca Woodman

Francesca Woodman is known for her hauntingly ethereal black-and-white photographs, often featuring herself as the subject in surreal, dreamlike settings. Her work, characterized by blurred motion and fragmented bodies, conveys a sense of ambiguity and introspection. Woodman’s use of abandoned spaces and decaying interiors as backdrops reflects themes of absence, longing, and transformation. Her exploration of the female body, identity, and the passage of time resonates with my own interest in the transient and the unseen. Woodman’s ability to create a narrative through subtle gestures and a minimalist aesthetic inspires me to find meaning in the ephemeral, to explore themes of existence, memory, and mortality in my own work.

Hiroshi Sugimoto

Hiroshi Sugimoto is known for his contemplative black-and-white photographs that explore time, memory, and existence. His "Seascapes" series captures the horizon where the ocean meets the sky, evoking a sense of infinite calm and stillness. In contrast, his "Portraits" series, featuring waxworks of historical figures, blurs the line between reality and illusion, questioning our perceptions of life and death. Sugimoto's minimalist aesthetic and technical precision inspire me to embrace simplicity and restraint in my own work. His photographs are not just images but meditations on the passage of time, inviting viewers to pause and reflect. Sugimoto’s ability to convey profound concepts through seemingly simple compositions encourages me to explore the depth and nuance of my subjects, finding beauty in the minimal and the mundane. His work teaches me that art can be a form of contemplation, a way of seeing the world with fresh eyes.

Jake and Dinos Chapman

Jake and Dinos Chapman are contemporary British artists whose provocative works challenge societal norms and expectations. Their reinterpretations of Francisco Goya's "The Disasters of War" series and their grotesque sculptures confront viewers with themes of violence, consumerism, and human depravity. The Chapmans use shock and irony as tools to critique the absurdities of contemporary culture, creating art that is both confrontational and thought-provoking. Their willingness to tackle controversial subjects and push the boundaries of acceptability inspires me to be bold and fearless in my own work. The Chapmans' art encourages me to explore the darker aspects of human nature, using humor and satire to challenge perceptions and provoke dialogue. Their influence reminds me that art can be a form of resistance, a way to question and critique the world around us.

Bill Henson

Bill Henson is an Australian photographer known for his moody, atmospheric images that explore themes of adolescence, transition, and the interplay of light and shadow. His work often features young subjects captured in moments of introspection or ambiguity, set against dark, indistinct backgrounds. Henson’s use of chiaroscuro, the dramatic contrast between light and dark, creates a sense of mystery and depth, evoking an emotional response from the viewer. His photographs are not merely images but invitations to enter a world of shadows and secrets, where meaning is found in what is not immediately visible. Henson's ability to capture the ephemeral nature of youth and the complexities of human experience inspires me to explore the nuances of my subjects, finding beauty in the fragile and the fleeting. His work encourages me to embrace ambiguity and to see photography as a means of exploring the unknown.

Joel-Peter Witkin

Joel-Peter Witkin's photography is an exploration of the grotesque, the macabre, and the surreal. His images, often featuring disfigured models, corpses, and other taboo subjects, challenge conventional notions of beauty and morality. Witkin draws inspiration from classical art, reinterpreting themes from history and mythology with a modern, provocative twist. His images, such as "Sanitarium" or "The Raft of George W. Bush," are simultaneously repulsive and compelling, forcing viewers to confront their preconceptions about human body, death, and the sacred. Witkin's meticulous attention to detail and composition, combined with his fascination with the abject, inspires me to push the boundaries of what is considered acceptable in art. His photography encourages me to explore the darker side of human experience, finding a strange beauty in the unconventional and the unsettling. Witkin's work teaches me the value of daring to confront the uncomfortable, using art as a means to explore the complexities of existence.

Conclusion

Art, to me, is a bridge between the visible and the invisible, the conscious and the subconscious. The artists who influence me are as diverse as they are profound, each offering a unique perspective on the human condition. From Bosch's intricate visions of heaven and hell to Witkin's provocative explorations of the grotesque, each has shaped my understanding of what it means to create art that is both personal and universal. Their works remind me that art is not just about what we see but also about what we feel, fear, and dream.

Through their guidance, I have learned to embrace complexity and contradiction, to find beauty in the unexpected, and to use my art as a tool for introspection and commentary. These artists have taught me that creativity knows no boundaries, and that the most powerful art often emerges from the willingness to explore the unknown. As I continue my own artistic journey, I carry their lessons with me, finding inspiration in their courage, vision, and relentless pursuit of truth.

Neale Stratford 3/9/24 Neale Stratford 3/9/24

Treatise on Death and other Niceties.

Death has played a large part of my art practice either directly or indirectly for well over a decade. As my practice is mainly described as ‘self portraiture’, of course a reflection on mortality would naturally surface amid the limited parameters of my work. I see death as something abstract that is forced upon any given reality and upends, even obliterates everything you know, everything you feel…your reality, gone.

My world changed in 2012. My mother in the March of that year became ill and within a couple of weeks passed away. While consoling my older brother, my only sibling, not knowing that I would be planning his funeral 5 short months after losing mum. From a family unit, I was left to be the carer of my elderly father. We coped, managed for 5 years until dad too passed away.

My entire childhood family gone. All the reality prior to those 5 years had dissipated into the ether. All the memories, holidays, birthdays, Christmas, that we lived through, the family I once had, that somewhat defined who I was as a person…gone. This year, I am keenly aware that I am now the same age as my brother was when he passed away. This sense of mortality is more acute now than it has been in previous years.

Yes, death changes you. It would be strange if it didn’t. I can only speak for myself, but as an artist I believe we internalise these aspects of life differently…if not more deeply than some. It is part of our nature to be observers of the human animal and express what we observe in a language we call art.

Yes, I have been accused of having morbid sensibilities when it comes to my art practice. Yes, death plays a part of it but it is my way of working through the process, to gain a fundamental understanding of what it means to be human and as death is part of the human experience, explore that side within my practice.

As I said earlier, that your reality is gone once death touches you. However, a new reality emerges, not one of those halcyon carefree realities but one where we are cutely aware that time is a finite commodity and those we love to be cherished like there is no tomorrow.

Published on the anniversary of my father’s passing - September 3rd.

Neale Stratford 27/8/24 Neale Stratford 27/8/24

Bluey and Bandit.

Goodness, it is just over a year since I last posted a ‘blog’. Lots has happened, most too mundane to bore you with.

I will say that you have probably noticed that I have been experimenting using a round (tondo) composition for my artwork instead of the usual square/rectangle format. I am quite enamoured the new format and the challenges in shooting the figures to suit the rounded image. My images being dark/almost black, when printed on aluminium at about 30cm in diameter, evokes the sensation of holding a 33rpm vinyl record of old (which is new again apparently). Good thing my work is not in colour because at that size would evoke the sensation of a pizza…and I do love my pizza.

You have also probably noticed that my image Bluey and Bandit has been getting a lot of attention lately. It has been shortlisted in a couple of art prizes and has been/will be exhibited in Melbourne (Brunswick Street Gallery), Canberra (Photo Acsess Gallery, and soon in Geelong (Hue and Cry Gallery) and Bairnsdale (East Gippsland Art Gallery). The image started out as a small project to make a set of Ned Kelly armour for one of my 1/6th scale figures. Being cheap, I made it from toilet roll tubes and scrap cardboard. The effect of the metal plates came with the carefully application of acrylic paint referring to photographs of the original armour. Once assembled with the addition of spare clothing from my figure/dolls clothes box, the figure didn’t look half bad, even if I do say so myself.

Being proud of my accomplishment, I decided to photograph the figure but started wondering in what context in regards to my art practice. Yes, these things do keep me awake at night. I worked on a couple of set ups with various figures which turned out ok. Then I came across a picture from the Star Wars TV series ‘The Mandalorian’. The image was the heavily armoured Mandalorian from the title carrying the baby Yoda (Grogu). The image struck me as something that I could adapt with the Kelly figure. I had a baby Yoda figure that I could use (of course I did) but again, what context?? Putting Grogu itself (him/her) into the picture was too obvious, too easy, even too contrived. Then the revelation.

I am not saying I’m a connoisseur of Bluey (the Australian kids program) but as a grandfather of two beautiful little girls, I have seen my fair share of Bluey during babysitting duties…probably 5 time each episode. I know enough to go on Mastermind or some other quiz show with Bluey as my special subject. Anyway, during one babysitting session with the granddaughters, they pulled out their Bluey action figures to play with. While sitting there ignoring the usual carnage surrounding me, I was focussed on the tiny blue figure that I was holding realising I had found the exact device I was after. Bingo. No, No, not Bluey’s sister, bingo as in ‘eureka’, ‘great’, ‘epiphany’, etc. And before you ask, no, I didn’t steal my grandchildren’s toy to use in my photography. Yes, a few paragraphs ago I admitted I was cheap, but not enough to steal from my darling grandkiddywinks. I went straight to Woolies, spent the $8 and acquired my own.

Anyway, the figure purchased, I started playing around with the composition containing Ned and Bluey. I settled on a straight on portrait like an old timey family photo. The only other element was the gun Ned held in the other hand. I had a few period guns in my toy spares box which looked ok, the I decided to give a nod to the original concept of inspiration. The pistol Ned holds is not from the period (1860s -1870s), but the Mandalorian’s sidearm. If you know, you know.

So, Bluey and Bandit is created. Why not title the image Bluey and Ned you may ask? Well, if you know the show, you know Bandit is the name of Bluey’s father and as Ned Kelly was a ‘bandit’, I couldn’t help with the play on words and just seems to fit. The image connotes ideas of Australian folklore, history, iconography and popular culture. Bluey is known world wide - probably more so than Ned himself and an integral part of Australian culture seen on the world stage.

Here is my artist statement about Bluey and Bandit…

“In this photograph, I blend Australian folklore and popular culture by juxtaposing the legendary bushranger Ned Kelly with the beloved children's character Bluey. This visual composition explores the interplay between historical and contemporary narratives, using iconography to bridge different eras of Australian identity. Ned Kelly, an enduring figure of rebellion and resilience, stands as a testament to the country's tumultuous past, while Bluey embodies modern innocence, family, and the vibrancy of today's society. By placing these two figures together, the photograph invites viewers to contemplate the ongoing dialogue between our historical roots and the evolution of cultural symbols. The contrast and connection between Ned Kelly and Bluey provoke a deeper reflection on how history and popular culture shape our collective memory, highlighting the complexities and continuities within Australian heritage. This artwork challenges us to consider the narratives that define us and how they inform our understanding of identity across generations.”

Neale Stratford 15/8/23 Neale Stratford 15/8/23

Am I an Artist?

No, I am not going through a crisis of confidence but entertaining some thoughts about ‘what I am’. Sometimes I get nervous when I am introduced as an ‘artist’. Automatically I start to think how I am going to explain my art practice in the sanest possible manner…a task I have yet to successfully master. Conversations go something like this…

Person: You’re an artist. What is your medium?

Me: Err, um. Photography.

Person: What do you photograph?

Me: (Jesus, here we go…) Existential dread mainly.

Person: Pardon?

Me: My dreams, nightmares, delusions, etc. You know, streams of consciousness type stuff.

Person: No, I don’t know. How do you photograph that?

Me: Dolls mainly.

Person: (Lifting a single eyebrow suspiciously, like Spock on Star Trek…) Dolls? Interesting.

Me: Yeah…um, yep, um, excuse me I need to, um, go and, um, and, um…bye. (I quickly leave the venue and find a convenient lamppost to smack my head against.) Idiot, idiot, idiot.

Am I an Artist if I can’t verbalise my practice clearly and succinctly? I tend to want my art to talk for itself (like any artist I assume) but problematic if someone who hasn’t seen my art needs a coherent descriptor of what I do.

Is the term ‘Artist’ the problem? Too pretentious maybe? Perhaps I should choose another label, a different title to what I do. I could go back to using ‘Photographer’…no, far too many memories of the days when I was doing weddings, portraits, and freelance commercial work. Photographer, for me, is a term too broad and I am not even sure that is what I do is even photography anymore. Sure, I use a camera and the tricks and trappings of photography, but I do not readily see my work (the end-product as such) as a photograph…more like visual evidence of a thought experiment, a physical relic of memory, or a token from non-existent events. Also, the title ‘Photographer’ alone carries its own (historical and contemporary) baggage and tropes that I do not wish to consider in connection with my work.

So not artist, nor photographer, what then?

Perhaps it is not up to me to decide what I am – in the end, that could be for curators and historians, writers and critics to decide what I am and what my art is…that’s if the work is interesting enough for them to have the temerity to take notice, to look beyond the mere surface, to tease out the intent behind the visual facade.

Am I an Artist? I guess so…only for want of a better term.

Neale Stratford 3/8/23 Neale Stratford 3/8/23

What is Art?

Eons ago, deep within the Lascaux caves system in prehistoric France, early modern humans painted depictions of beasts they hunted in reverence, to honour the gift of food they require for their survival. These early humans ventured into the cavernous heart of the Earth, a dark sacred place, guided just by the flickering of their burning torchlight to look at these artworks to be inspired, to gather and pass down knowledge of the seasonal hunts. These cave drawings were not only there for their aesthetic representation, but communication vital for their survival. Of course, some of these early humans looked at these paintings and began to issue a series of grunts and growls in response to what was depicted. Translated into modern speech, this guttural uttering, the protolanguage of the cave dwellers would sound akin to ‘I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like’. I wager that primitive hairy bastard also invented the Beret as well…it was France, after all.

So…What is Art?

I guess it means different things to different people and simply cannot be defined neatly within a simple framework of understanding.

I suppose you could describe what Art means akin to ‘Faith’. For some, they practice their faith all the time as they are on a pilgrimage to the promise land of milk and honey. Some only attend to their faith for a couple of hours on a Sunday. Some don’t openly practice but read scripture to fulfil their spiritual needs. Some preach to the converted. Some are fundamentalist zealots who believe that their brand of faith is the chosen one and denounce any other becoming gatekeepers of an exclusive doctrine and create a temple that few can entertain the notion of participating within. Yes, the art world does have its own Pastors and Popes, Pharaohs and Priests, Kings, Queens, Princes, and Princesses, all believing they are head of their own church.

As artists we are all practicing our own ‘faith’, and like any faith…to each their own.

As for me, what do I believe art is to me?

Let’s go back to the cave-people in France. They practiced their art as a form of communication, and that’s what I believe I do with my art. I want to communicate what’s inside me, what I am to the world and my response to whatever the world throws up to me. Yes, I communicate through action figures and photography my thoughts and beliefs, struggles and ailments both physical and mental. That is my language. Sure, like most languages foreign, mine can be hard to understand without a few clues…and there are clues, hints if you are prepared to look. Like English has evolved from German, French and Latin, which words can be understood no matter the dialect, my art has a smattering of common knowledge as well. I use the language of photography itself, black and white, grainy, blurry connotes old family photographs, memories, people and events long passed. There are dolls and action figures, some fictional from popular culture, some real and historical, there to jot the memory, introduce the familiar. I also use art history, poses and compositions from old master paintings/drawings/prints, so famous they are in the collective consciousness - hopefully to trigger a memory, creating a ‘hook’ within the viewer to connect with my art.

Art is my communication, my voice to the world. Sometimes it feels like I am being heard…other times, I feel like I am talking to myself. No matter what, I will still keep communicating – that is what art means to me.

Neale Stratford 27/7/23 Neale Stratford 27/7/23

Dark Thoughts Manifesto

Dark Thoughts Manifesto. I know, a stupid name for a blog…but here it is anyway.

Get over it.

I have been wanting to write about my art practice for a while now. It has been a decade or so when I wrote my Master’s Exegeses when I was 50, and since then things have changed. For one I’m now a decade older, grumpier, jaded, more cynical. Back then I was an (not so young) idealistic artist with grand aspirations with my art practice in process and hopes of further academic study (PHD, whatever), et al. Those were the heady days of pre Covid, pre employment upheavals, pre life being upended by things beyond my control.

As I said, I have been thinking about writing about my art practice, but also my thoughts about art in general…warts and all if necessary. Don’t get me wrong, I am not going to present myself as some sort of expert or Svengali, far from it, although I do have a couple of degrees (ok, one 1st class Honours and two Masters, but who's counting), and spent over 20 years in art academia dealing and galleries with academics, students (under and postgrad), artists, curators, administrators and the like. I have seen many come and go, the humble, the confident, the overconfident, the clueless – some very talented, some not so much. This over the years has put my own practice into some perspective that I thought I may have something worth sharing…only if in the end to myself. Perhaps this writing may be a start of something bigger, or merely words treated for what they are, uttered by a mad old man shouting at the incoming tide.

My hope is that my writing will fall somewhere between the style, wisdom, and cynicism of Robert Hughes, art critic and historian whom I greatly admired and the absurdist humour of Douglas Adams whose words I consumed with such joy.

For anyone following my words has any questions about my art or anything art related, please ask. Send a message through my Facebook or Instagram pages and I would be happy to share any insights about my practice be it technical, philosophical, or just plain interested in what I do and why I do it. As I said above, I’m no expert, but do have opinions and thoughts (no matter how dark) that could start future conversations.

More to come…