Previous Arrangements

(Published in Grafik Magazine, No.162, 2008)

When faced with a new design, work of art, or piece of fashion, the default response for most of us is to reach for something familiar. This may be a critical review we read before attending an exhibition, a conversation with a friend, or just some long held idea of who we are and what we like. Either way, a fear of the uncontrollable present compels us to look to the past to frame this thing before us. Yet, in such moments, what we actually encounter can often be nothing more than the echo of our own mind. Contrary to such an approach, truly being with a work of art or design, or allowing the uniqueness of an event to guide our response, is to accept the possibility of change in ourselves and transformation in the world around us. In the same way, if remaining open to the unfamiliar or strange is a valuable quality in the viewer of art, it is of vital importance for the creator of such works. If the artist or designer is to summon something from nothing, they must repeatedly occupy a position of 'not knowing' at the beginning of each new project.

For photographer and designer Tim Gutt and Shona Heath, such an approach lays at the heart of their working relationship. In their new work Previous Arrangements, the critical value of ambivalence or the unknown has given rise to a series of images that seemingly inhabit the unpredictable boundaries of the creative act itself. The project stems from a shared fascination with Japan and the unique approach that seemingly characterises that countries art and design. Yet, rather than become overly seduced by Japanese culture and immerse themselves in its art and history, they have sought to cultivate their experience of Japan as unfamiliar and foreign. 'There is something to be said for being an outsider and not having a profound understand of something', Gutt notes, 'because it makes you interpret things, pick up on things and use things that are totally personal, or relevant to yourself, which you project onto a culture or a thing. So, we didn't dig deep into Japanese culture, but that allows you to be playful with it.' The outcome of such an approach is a work that occupies some unspecified non-place, neither Japanese nor Western. As Gutt continues: 'we've always wanted to produce a picture of Japan, but a picture that was not actually taken in Japan. To me, this [Previous Arrangements] is the first concrete facet of this. It started with a few landscape portraits that I took, that I thought were very "Japanese" which were actually taken in the Lake District.... It's like the rendering or the documenting of a non-event. This has never been.'

That said, in preparation for this work Gutt attended an Ikebana class. Ikebana, which can be roughly translated as 'living flowers', is the traditional Japanese art of flower arranging. While its roots lay in the long-established ritual of offering flowers to the Buddha, it has since become a major artistic form in its own right. Today, Ikebana demonstrations are a popular activity across Japan (and around the world), with some events held in large arenas with audiences of over 5000 people watching instructors choreograph large teams as they construct highly elaborate designs. In Gutt's case, a small class in West London provided an insight into the strict rules by which Ikebana operates. Numerous tools are used to construct the arrangements, with containers selected to match the flowers and space in which they will be displayed. By tradition, the overall structure of the display takes the form of a triangle, with flowers, twigs, and grasses the main elements. The emphasis is placed on empty space, asymmetrical form, and a sense of harmony between the flowers and their environment. It is an approach echoed in the artistic traditions of Japanese painting, design and architecture.

As a practice, Ikebana is a long way from the excessive blooms that pass for flower arranging in the West. As Heath says, 'flowers in England are often sold in great big hefty bunches. We approached each flower as its own source of beauty, rather than an abundance of varieties...We spent a lot of time in the flower market, looking at every flower.' Yet, ever alert to becoming overly absorbed in one aspect of their work, Gutt and Heath were keen to see flowers as just one element of the overall composition. 'We wanted to do something with flowers, that really wasn't flowery...[But], it's like a lot of things that interest us, our process of creating a work is very ambiguous. We love the individual cut of flowers, but we also don't care about flowers at the same time.'

Thus, in the seven large format photographs that make up this exhibit, while the flowers play a primary role, they are not the sole focus of the images. Like a process of free association, Gutt and Heath remain open to whatever comes up in the act of staging the shoot. 'It's really a random collecting all these bits,' Heath explains. 'We sit on these ideas and they eventually become something without referencing, without forcing. You can sort of grow them and then they can take a weird direction.' For example, the image with the model mountain range, saucer and flowers, was shot in Heath's prop building space. Heath recalls how 'it was in this studio that they we found these kind of strange crappy mountain models. So we just grabbed them and did a kind of funny display. But we used these with the idea that they were evocative of a kind of Japanese landscape. We wanted it to feel, not cold, but not too emotional. We didn't want them to be too romantic.' Equally so with the images featuring the Kenzan needle pointers. In Ikebana classes, prior to using actual flowers, students are taught the fundamentals of proportion, angle and ratios through the arrangement of these tools. By combining them with flowers, Gutt and Heath broke all the rules of Ikebana, but, in the process, create works that reveal a world in flux; a world caught at one moment of its creation.

It is this intuitive approach that also informed Gutt and Heath's selection of the models that populate their images. As with previous projects, the people they approach range from family members, to someone they just happen to spot in the street. 'The people in the photos are my mum and the lady from the local Chinese restaurant. Another woman we just spotted on the street in Islington. So we just followed her into a restaurant and asked her to do something for us.' The outcome is a collection of works that are more cinema than fashion photographs (the clothes worn by the models are by Danish designer Peter Jensen). Rather, akin to stills from a film, the clothes are just one element among many others. 'We were looking for clothes that didn't interfere with the picture', Heath notes. 'It's like clothes in a Hollywood movie, they don't get in the way of the character.'

'The sense of beautiful in Japanese art seems to be expressed in forms that are not clearly defined', the Japanese art historian, Gian Carlo Calza, once observed. The character of such works remains "fluid". 'In the image of the tree [or flower]', Calza continues, 'the observer should not look for a harmonious arrangement of trunk and branches...What will be emphasized is the controlled shape, the crevices, the scars left by branches that have long since fallen: evidence of life, of constant change.' Previous Arrangements functions as this 'evidence of life''; single images that somehow manage to signify a perpetual fluidity. As Gutt concludes, there is a moment of uncertainty, and our work is born out of that moment.

Previous Arrangements was exhibited at the b-store from 14 march - 12 April, 2008.

Kerry William Purcell 2008 ©