Ball was a leading Australian abstractionist who worked across hard-edge and geometric abstraction through to abstract expressionism. He was always preoccupied with the formal qualities of colour, and this is why I love his work so much: I immensely admire his use of colour and the way Ball created rhythm and movement in deceptively simple compositions in his paintings and original prints (especially in his geometric and hard edge styles in particular).
I’ve handpicked a couple of examples which resonate with me:
Isfahan (1967), screen print on paper, (Art Gallery of NSW). The interplay between negative and positive space is strong in this work, as is symmetry and balance. There is a quiet energy to this work, and the use of two tones of yellow creates a central inward pull of focus. Isfahan is one of Ball’s Persian series of prints, there is a mystical quality to these works which I really respond to.
One of Ball’s later works I would love to see in person is Chromix Lumina, (2017-18), as I would hazard a guess that the sense of space would be continually contracting and vibrating due to the interplay of colour relationships.
It is very clever, and again a deceptively simple composition which is alive with energy through the use of colour. The colours are more contemporary in contrast to Ball’s earlier works of the 1960s, a reflection perhaps of the advances in paint technology.
I aspire to create works such as these: spare, technically beautifully in their execution, energetic and joyful. Meditative. An essay in formalism.
Thank you Sydney Ball, one of the giants of Australian Modernism.
Do abstract artworks confound you or leave you cold?
Don’t let your lack of understanding prevent you from engaging with abstract art.
Like many artists, abstraction is a fundamental way of working for me. Often I will begin my drawing/painting process with a degree of representation, an idea of a place / a memory / feeling, or more often a combination of all of these. Recognisable forms will appear, I will begin to use tone to develop those forms, I will get caught up in the pretence of creating illusionary space on a two-dimensional surface. I will begin to get tight and self-conscious in my technique, and I will feel like I am merely scratching the surface of my creative intention.
Then I get frustrated. Very frustrated. Frustrated with the very human desire for recognition of our world, for an easy literalness that doesn’t take too much brain effort and is somehow comfortable and reassuring. Yet bland. Boring and tired. Dont worry, I feel this desire for recognition too, I like to see shapes in clouds or shadows, like most people do. Perhaps it is an evolutionary survival instinct? Back when we were hunting and gathering, we probably needed to be able to pick out friend or foe/ to discern shapes on moonless nights on wild plains (or in murky streets late at night) so as to not get eaten or attacked.
But the frustration I feel in this stage of painting stems from my deep desire to connect with myself and painting at another level. This is difficult to describe in words, which is probably why I paint! For me, abstraction is very much like poetry or a beautiful piece of classical music, it is something felt and experienced, yet difficult to articulate. It whispers softly rather than yells; it suggests (many) a route instead of showing the most well trodden path; it is open, instead of being closed. Like many abstract artists, I have always felt abstraction is a metaphor for life and very the experience of being; and don’t be fooled: it is damn hard work, with a constant and evolving process of editing, adding and changing, until somehow, the painting is at the golden moment when it is finished. It is bloody difficult and intellectually challenging. And that is why I love it so much, it pushes me every single time.
Yet, I know many of you find abstraction perplexing, if not downright inaccessible. But, if you can hold back your immediate judgement, and approach abstraction with an open mind, you may well be pleasantly surprised.
So what should you do the next time you come across a piece of abstract art? The entry point for any artwork is simply looking at the artefact: in the case of painting, the surface. Here are some questions you could ask as you engage with the artwork:
What colours are used? Are they clashing or contrasting or harmonious? How do the colours make me feel?
What type of marks have been made? Are they soft or hard? How much energy did the artist use to make them? How much energy is embodied within the brushwork/knife-work?
What shapes are coming out? Are they hard or soft? Open or closed shapes? What do those shapes remind me of?
Is there lots of texture and/or partially hidden layers, or is the surface smooth? Why would the artist cover some areas and not others?
Now, think about if there is one focal point: where is your eye drawn too? Or does your eye get drawn across the surface in a particular way? Why might this be?
Lastly ask yourself these two important questions:
What does this artwork remind me of (a place, a journey, a specific moment in your life etc)?
How does the overall work make me feel (peaceful, joyful, apprehensive, excited, calm, afraid, thoughtful, meditative etc)?
This list of questions is a simplistic method of art analysis which can be used on any artwork, representational or abstract, and of course, there is a wealth of information out there if you wish to pursue your own studies. When you use this analysis process, you will not only see, but also experience, far more than by just giving an abstract artwork a cursory glance. Let me know how you go!
My (incomplete list) of favourite abstract artists (most of these artists are Abstract Expressionists):