Human traces

In addition to her repertoire of carved spoons and Gumati brushes, Sophie Sellu of Grain & Knot has introduced a unique collection of vases, hand-hewn into an array of fondlesome shapes. She invites us into her garden workshop…

Images supplied by Grain & Knot

Sophie, your pieces usually have a utilitarian or culinary element to them – what inspired you to start making vases?

I have a huge amount of off-cuts from my work in my shed. They’re often tiny and seemingly useless. I wanted to show the full potential of the pieces, while making something useful and functional at the same time.

What inspires the unusual shapes? Do you usually have a shape in mind before you start?

I have a few shapes in mind beforehand - I usually start by drawing shapes on paper, then adapt them to the off-cuts I’m working with, guided by the patterns and grain of the timber. I also like to pair the vases together, so it’s fun working out which shapes sit well with others.

Your work has a very human element to it – you can see each piece has been hand-hewn. Is this a conscious decision in your work?

It’s always been a conscious decision to show the knife marks – I think it’s important to see the marks of production. It also gives each piece a faceted surface and a very tactile feel.

What would you put in these vases? Any particular favourite florals?

The vases are only suitable for dried blooms, as they can’t hold water. I often put in things found on my walks. The changing colour of leaves in autumn provides a wider variety of items to collect. It's quite a mindful process to slow down and notice the beauty in nature. Recently, I collaborated with Emily of @designbynatureflowers. We used the waste materials from my studio to make the vases, and the waste material from her studio to fill them.

Do you have a favourite wood to work with?

I love spalted timbers (spalting is the beautiful black lines that run through the wood), which can be tricky to work as spalting can cause the timber to degrade if left out in the elements for too long. It’s difficult to find but has striking patterns.

Your favourite tool?

My Mora 106 knife. I use it on every single item I make. A good all-round carving knife.

Tell us about your work space.

I have a dusty workshop in my garden that stores my wood, bandsaw and sanding equipment. I also have a small space inside my home that was supposed to be my office but doubles up as another workshop space. I have lots of utensils and older works on the walls, a long workbench and lots of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling. It’s a really tiny space but I’ve made the most of it! It gets really good light too, so this is where I photograph my work, using only natural light.

See more of Sophie's work at grainandknot.com

A new exhibition celebrating Ray Harryhausen: titan of cinema

Film special effects master Ray Harryhausen elevated stop motion animation to an art form during the 1950s to 1980s. For the first time, highlights from Ray’s collection will be showcased as part of the largest and widest-ranging exhibition of his work ever seen, with newly restored and previously unseen material from his incredible archive

Skeleton models from Jason and the Argonauts (1963); photo by Sam Drake, courtesy of the Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation

An immersive exhibition on the pioneering and unparalleled work of Ray Harryhausen (1920-2013), the cinematic titan whose movies shaped the face of modern cinema, will be coming to the National Galleries of Scotland (NGS) this Autumn, as part of the late filmmaker’s centenary celebrations.

Titan of Cinema will be the largest and most comprehensive exhibition ever of the art of the legendary trailblazer Harryhausen, who elevated stop-motion animation to an art form between the 1950s-1980s, and whose exhilarating movies inspired a generation of the world’s greatest living filmmakers, among them Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Sir Peter Jackson and Guillermo del Toro.

The exhibition, originally scheduled for May 2020 but rescheduled due to current events, is now open with an extended run until September 2021. Visitors can secure their tickets via a new online booking system up to three months in advance. 

Titan of Cinema will showcase the original models that were miraculously brought to life on screen by Harryhausen’s mastery of stop-frame animation, such as the iconic skeletons from Jason and the Argonauts (1963), the Cyclops from his highly-influential Sinbad series, and his trademark UFOs from 1956’s Earth vs the Flying Saucers. The models shown will include those which would later inspire movies such as Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Jurassic Park, Pan’s Labyrinth and Mars Attacks!

Also on display will be the young Harryhausen’s very first models, including a marionette inspired by the gorilla from King Kong, conceived by the film’s special effects supervisor Willis O’Brien, and artwork from Mighty Joe Young, the first film that Harryhausen and O’Brien worked on together, and the movie which effectively launched Harryhausen’s career.

Californian-born Harryhausen was massively inspired by the work of Willis O’Brien after seeing King Kong at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood in 1933. As a teenage boy, he went to see the film 33 times. Soon after, he was experimenting with models and stop-motion animation in his backyard, and was later mentored by O’Brien.

Titan of Cinema tells the story of how this young boy became so enraptured by O’Brien’s special effects , he devoted his entire life to filmmaking, invented ingenious techniques, created unforgettable cinematic moments, became what Aardman Animations’ Peter Lord described as a, “one-man industry” and inspired many of the world’s greatest movie-makers.

Ray Harryhausen: Titan of Cinema | 24 October 2020 — 5 September 2021 | 73 Belford Road, Edinburgh, EH4 3DS | Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art (Modern Two)
| 0131 624 6200 | nationalgalleries.org | Tickets: £12-14 (concessions available)

Above images by Sam Drake, courtesy of the Ray and Diana Harryhausen Foundation

Meet the maker: Sam Brewster

For issue 10, Sam Brewster created an atmospheric, nostalgic night scene to accompany Dan Richards' article about the renaissance of sleeper trains. Sam invites us into his studio to chat about the perils of the internet, lockdown limitations and the acoustic benefits of having a door for a desk.

Sam, you created this stunning illustration for Dan Richards' sleeper trains feature in issue 10. Take us through how you created the work .

I wanted to make something that captured the dreamlike feeling of being on a night train; the meditative constant sounds of it cutting through the landscape, and the transitory peace you find in those places. In the dark you can’t see much detail, so I wanted to evoke the impressionistic experience of seeing bushes, trees and fields as shadowy shapes flitting by.

How would you describe yourself as an artist?

As I work mostly as a commercial illustrator, I’d say prudent. I’m trying to do more personal work in painting and film, but it’s hard to find clarity of mind.

Where do you turn for inspiration?

Away from the internet as much as I can. It’s a constant battle to escape the Ouroboros and I feel like I’m usually losing.

Are there any other exciting projects you're working on at the moment?

I’m actually working on an illustrated book about trains right now – although I can’t share any specific details yet, I can say that it’s really fun to work on.

What have you taken away from the lockdown experience?

Professionally, I miss being in a shared studio where I can air ideas with other people and watch them grow. Right now I feel like a dormant seed bank.

Tell us about your work space – how does it reflect you?

I’ve got a big door that I use as a desk. I like that it’s wooden, feels warm and only makes a dull clunk when you drop pens and pencils, rather than loud, high-pitched clacks you get on those hard Ikea tabletops.

What's on your bedside table?

Not a lot. A lamp, water, empty teacup, remote for my radio alarm. I prefer to have some space there so it’s quite empty.

You can read about the renaissance of sleeper trains in issue 10 of Ernest Journal, on sale now. Discover more of Sam’s work at sambrewster.com

The Black-Throated Finch Project

In 2019, the controversial Adani Carmichael coal mine in Queensland, Australia was given government approval. This approval has seen the opening of one of the world's largest coal mines, which many say will lead to the devastation of local flora and fauna and indigenous cultures, as well as increasing carbon emissions. Artist Charlotte Watson decided to respond...

We Will Not Be Silent, by Deidre Boeyen Charmichael

Within the area of the proposed Adani Carmichael coal mine lives the diminutive black-throated finch. Its blue-grey head, cinnamon-brown body and black breast has earned it the nickname ‘Parson Finch’, and numbers have steadily declined to endangered levels. With the opening of the mine the birds’ future is even more uncertain, and extinction ever more likely.

In response to the government's decision, artist Charlotte Watson reached out online to creatives in an effort to produce work that would highlight the plight of this small bird. The project grew rapidly – more than 1,600 black-throated finch artworks have been sent to key politicians around the world.

Charlotte, what pushed you to begin this project?

In May 2019 I saw the news that the Adani’s management plan for the black-throated finch had been approved, and my heart sank. The possible protection requirements for the bird meant it was one of the last bastions against the coal mine going ahead. Evidence suggests that the Adani mine will have a devastating effect on the local flora, fauna, water and indigenous cultures in the Galilee Basin, as well as increasing carbon emissions worldwide. The finch has become symbolic for many people in Australia as a result.

When I started this project I had no idea how it would go. I envisaged a few artist friends and I hobbling together 1,000 finches in our studios and sending them in the post. The actual result was quite different.

How did people respond?

The response was immediate and enthusiastic – I was actually quite intimidated! Initially I reached out to fellow creatives, encouraging them to join in, but soon the project included children, parents, teachers, researchers, scientists and general members of the public who were concerned about the lack of environmental protection in Australia. I wasn’t prepared for the speed of the uptake, and had to manage my social media/online time carefully to make sure the project remained manageable.

Over 1,600 artworks were sent to key politicians involved in the Carmichael mine approval.

What did you want to achieve?

I wanted to give the politicians a piece of my mind, and by that I mean a bit of heart. I knew that art wouldn’t stop the decision-makers from giving the mine the green light, nor would it reverse their decision. But perhaps it could make the recipient – either a politician or a staff member who aids them in their work – to think about what we have forgone in choosing to go ahead with the mine, at this crucial time in our history.

What did you learn from this project?

It has taught me a lot about voice, and how one can hold themselves gently and thoughtfully in a very public space. I am happiest out of the spotlight, so this project wasn’t about me, but a place for others to share their grief about the state of climate policy and the rate of biodiversity loss. I quickly gave over any control of how people conducted themselves in the project, trusting them to respect the grief of others as much as they felt it themselves. From that act of giving came quite a beautiful thing.

I was deeply moved by the responses, especially from scientists and academics who felt that drawing a picture may have more effect on key decision makers than their entire body of research. Children also moved me through the simplicity of what they wanted to say.

How has the current epidemic affected you and your work?

I’ve been quite fortunate in that the epidemic has allowed me to throw myself into my practice. Like a lot of other people, I am going through uncertainty and stress, but the unexpected, extra time has had the benefit of allowing me to really watch, listen and observe the place I call home. From that, a whole new body of work has begun, which has been challenging but satisfying. I am very lucky.

Your work looks at the stories that inhabit a place and how that place inhabits us. When did you realise this was integral to your work?

Stories of a place are increasingly central to the work I make, both in terms of drawing and writing. This realisation came over a number of years when I was missing my homeland Aotearoa (New Zealand). Now, as my concept of home changes and I become more settled and comfortable here in Melbourne, I can tunnel more into the stories that make up the places I love – whether they come from environmental research, settler or first nations, urban myths or family lore.

What other projects are you working on?

Just before lockdown I completed a 115km walk following the Matura river on the South Island of Aotearoa. I followed the route that one of my ancestors took from a former goldfield to her final home on the coast. Since returning, I’ve been working on a series of drawings, prints and writings for an exhibition here in Melbourne, Covid-19 permitting.

Charlotte was interviewed by Jim Marsden.

Find out more about Charlotte’s work at charlottewatson.org

From top to bottom, artworks by Michelle Burns, Nic Plowman and Amaya Iturri

Meet the maker: Dan Bright

For issue 10, illustrator Dan Bright created a beautiful image of a 'walking palm' (Socratea exorrhiza), a native to the tropical rainforests of the Americas, with stilt-like roots that lift the body of the tree clear off the ground. Dan invites us into studio to share his joy in stepping away from his computer, and indulging in the messy, inky, tactile art of lino-cut printing

Dan, take us through your design process for your ‘walking palm’ illustration.

I normally work digitally, but I’ve been making lino prints on the side for a few years now so this this seemed like the perfect opportunity to try something different and have some fun.

The space available on the page suggested a certain composition, so I spent few days feverishly scribbling ideas, trying to develop a character that felt reasonably believable and weird, but not scary. The hardest part was working out where to place its eye.

Once the design was signed off I had to work out how to actually deliver the print, and the panic set in. I decided on a four-colour, two-plate reduction print and started cutting some lino. Leaving many of the details to chance I aimed to work it out as I went along, printing lots of test prints and experimenting with transparent inks to mix colours and add depth. Once I was happy with the first two colour layers, I repeated the process for the next two, leaving it deliberately rough in places to give a nice, spiky, organic feel.

Are there any other interesting projects you're working on at the moment?

I’m – very slowly – creating a series of prints based on British folklore, myth and legend. It’s taking me forever because I’m enjoying researching the subject so much – every new story or creature I find leads to three or four others to read about. At some point I need to stop exploring and actually put some ink on paper.

I’m also in the early stages of writing and illustrating a children’s book about insects and the environment, which I’m really excited about.

Where do you turn for inspiration, particularly when you're in a creative lull?

The best way I’ve found to break out of a creative rut is to leave all my screens behind and go outside for a walk or do some gardening.

I’ve always been a massive nature geek and love finding new places to explore. If you pay attention you can find inspiration in the unlikeliest and most mundane of places, – I’ve found bee orchids, earthstars and wasps’ nests, all only a five minute walk from my city centre home.

What have you taken away from the lockdown experience?

How much I took for granted and how quickly it can be taken away. Hug, anyone? And that I really need to take much better care of my physical and mental health.

Tell us about your studio space. How does it reflect you?

My studio is set up in the spare bedroom and is split into two areas. One for my digital illustration work – it contains my desk, Macbook and Cintiq and is kept scrupulously clean and tidy. The other side has a workbench and printing press, where I do my drawing, printmaking and experimenting. It’s a lot messier, inkier and more fun.

I think people would say my studio is a pretty good reflection of my character – annoyingly precise and perfectionist on the one hand, and chaotically disorganised and messy on the other.

What's on your bedside table?

A glass of water.
A vintage Anglepoise Lamp, which I inherited (stole) from my parents.
A Kindle loaded with comfort reading, mostly Agatha Christie and PG Wodehouse novels.
In Montmartre, by Sue Roe, which is about Paris in the early 1900s and the birth of modern art (if I could live in any place and time it would be there).

See more of Dan's work at danbright.studio and on Instagram @danbright.studio

You can read about the ‘walking palm’ in issue 10 of Ernest Journal, on sale now

Issue 10

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