Archive / Repetitions

Celestial Bodies

Celestial Bodies was made in 1999, the year Britain experienced the total solar eclipse of 11 August. Rather than documenting the event itself, I became interested in the eclipse as an image loaded with historical and cultural meaning. Throughout history the sudden disappearance of the sun has been interpreted as an omen: a sign of political upheaval, natural disaster and the collapse of civilisations. The series explores the relationship between empirical observation, historical belief and the fragile nature of human ambition.

The Blind Leading the Blind depicts rows of terracotta warriors teetering almost in unison, as though a seismic wave is passing beneath them. The undulating line behind them functions both as a landscape and as an echo of the Great Wall of China while simultaneously suggesting the trace of an earthquake. The warriors appear monumental yet fragile, like ceramic vessels. They stand as symbols of human power confronted by forces far greater than any political order.

On the day of the eclipse I climbed to the summit of Mam Tor in the Peak District with my family. The hilltop was crowded with people, almost like a festival. Bright clothing, telescopes, cameras and improvised viewing devices filled the landscape. We had all heard the warnings about permanent eye damage. Being an empiricist, I also wanted to understand the experience for myself, and I briefly looked directly at the eclipse. For weeks afterwards, small crescent-shaped afterimages remained burned into my vision. A Site for Sore Eyes is, in many ways, a painting of those marks left on my retina. The hills of the Peak District remain in the background, while the rows of tents recall the temporary community that gathered to witness the event.

Vision Impaired presents rows of telescopes looking out across a dark sea beneath a heavy, clouded sky. The work is about expectation and disappointment. Despite all our preparation, knowledge and technology, our desire to witness the vastness of the universe can still be thwarted by something as ordinary as the weather. It is a reminder that, however sophisticated we become, nature continues to set the terms on which we encounter the world. Like much of my work, the painting reflects on the limits of human ambition when confronted by forces beyond our control.

One thought connects these paintings, and much of my work. When we look towards the horizon we imagine it as a hard line separating land, sea and sky. In reality it is never completely straight. The earth itself has a slight curvature. I have always been interested in painting that reality, however simplified or graphic the image may become.