Ian Rogers

 

‘Innuendo’

 

 

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Questions, questions…I am looking at a howling dog!

 

Ian Rogers is exhibiting a suite of new works made for his first solo show with the Lynne Wilton Gallery. These new works represent a continuous development of Ian’s thematic ideas over the past ten years. Through his previous exhibitions ‘Mechism’, ‘Substratum’ and ‘Insight’, Ian has developed a continuous or linking subject matter between the paintings exhibited. This exhibition continues that tradition in that these paintings link together visually and philosophically by one common artistic aspect, in this case, the act of drawing.

 

In many respects, these new paintings are a metaphorical return to the beginning of the artistic or creative process. For many artists, the starting point for making thoughts and artistic ideas a reality is drawing. These works take us literally along one of the most basic forms of drawing, the drawing of a line. The lines on each work give us shapes and forms that become an indirect or oblique hint at a secondary subject matter.

 

Ian’s paintings ask us to question the very process of drawing and the implied subject matter that occurs when we see certain shapes and forms. What then is drawing? In its simplest form, the act of drawing is mark making. When we draw, we make marks. We do this with pencils, pens, paint brushes, charcoal sticks, our fingers, sand drawings, moving a mouse digitally, (if you pardon the…) or with any other body part or item we employ to express an inner thought or feeling. What ever we use, we make a conscious decision to force a gesture or action that makes the unreal or nonphysical, become a reality. 

 

If we are mark making, what then is a mark? In its simplest form, it is a translation of a conscious action. As such, and brought about from the tips of our fingers, we form it visually into something beyond its physical self. As we force the mark from its starting point it, we are able to make visual judgements that help us to form emotional, intellectual and (yes!) spiritual opinions and questions as to the nature of its existence.

 

When does a dot come into existence? When we pick up the pen? What is our intention? When does a dot cease to be a dot and become a dash? (S.O.S). When does a dash become a line? When does a line form a shape? When does a line become a letter? At what point do letters become writing? When does a line form another shape? When does a shape form a picture? When does a picture form an opinion? If all we are doing is mark making, what is the difference between drawing and painting? When we press keys on a keypad or move a mouse, images appear on a screen; are we drawing? Do we accept all forms of mark making to be the result of a conscious gesture or action? Or are these thoughts no more than indulgent, semantic questions?

 

Throughout Ian’s past three exhibitions, the subject matter of the artworks paid an homage to past masters, and this exhibition is no exception. Its reference is to one of the greatest modern masters of them all, Paul Klee.

 

In 1928 Paul Klee made a monumental discovery. It was not earth shattering in the greater scheme of things, but to him, this discovery was a revelation. By chance, he found that by using a continuous line and allowing his hand to move about the canvas in a free or spontaneous way, he could form images with one simple gesture. After this, he gave the resulting picture its title.

 

On completion of one of these artworks he came up with the title ‘Howling Dog’ (1927).

It was an image of a dog sitting back on it haunches, howling fiercely at a flaming orange and red moon. This painting was a combination of his free and continuous line running through a painted background. He later called this process ‘taking a line for a walk’. This particular painting is perhaps the best example of Paul Klee working a linear image into a painted background; and is the direct artistic and historical link to the artworks in this exhibition.

 

In these works, Ian has used the line sparingly and with deliberate intention, rather than let the image be the result of an improvised movement. The intention in Ian’s works is to give the viewer a specific subject matter upon which to ponder, rather than allowing the subject matter of the painting to evolve spontaneously. This is where Ian’s method of working the paint is different from a painting like ‘Howling Dog’, but where the resulting implied subject matter lies very much within the same emotional ground. There is, in Ian’s works, just like Klee’s, a playfulness that resonates throughout each work. In ‘Howling Dog’ we can almost hear the creature moaning its woeful din at the moon; in Ian’s painting ‘Basic’, we can almost hear the deep undercurrent of contemporary electric sound.

 

It would be too easy to pass off these works as being Abstract in the traditional sense. They are not and they do not follow an artistic tradition in this regard. It is my opinion that Paul Klee’s artworks were never really what could be called Abstract artworks. There lies an ambiguity (both literally and metaphorically) at the centre of Ian’s paintings that makes us question the reality of a shape, while at the same time, making us aware of very real emotions. ‘Mid Life’ will, I am sure, create a Baby Boomer embarrassment in any one going through any kind of crisis!

 

With the exception of one painting, all the canvasses were named before hand as a result of extensive sketches and smaller painted studies. I feel that the linear separation between subject and background pays homage to a tradition of Realism rather than Abstraction, in that these paintings are very clear statements in regard to subject, object and specific intention. Also, given Ian’s artistic skill and integrity, his attention to detail is (as always)  second to none.

 

It is clear that Ian has taken a great deal of pleasure in the making of these works. In these simple beautiful paintings, the lines appear to float magically away from their backgrounds adding a third dimension to complete the insinuation or innuendo.

 

 David Glyn Davies 2006