|Posted by Anna Belleforte on February 1, 2019 at 2:10 PM||comments (0)|
Phu Quoc has a few main roads that ribbon through the landscape and nearly all buildings face and commercially interact with these roads. So like HCMC and Can Tho – even though I was expecting looser ‘island planning’ forms – there are long and narrow plots that stretch out from the, about 3, primary roads. This is also true for the super wide thoroughfares. These roads typically feature well-manicured topiary in the median strip – tropical bushes, grass and palm trees. It’s an impression of orderliness that contrasts with the scooter-chaos of the flanking roads. Life happens on the shoulders: ad-hoc markets take place (though this is probably only appearances, and they take place at scheduled times) and every building has an open shop front, no matter where they stand. In any case, the nature and shape of the life on the roadside is different every time. I visualize this as water lapping at the shore: every cooking pot, fish stall, fruit basket, clothes rack and plastics table stands on a new spot for every market, shifting around as supplies change and commerce proceeds.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on January 31, 2019 at 3:35 AM||comments (0)|
The main tourist draw of Can Tho is the floating market. It certainly is an interesting phenomenon: normal urban interactions are displaced to boats on water. Encounters, conversations, coffee, trade – it all takes place over the side of a boat. Fruit and vegetables are traded on the water, though (counter-intuitively) fish is traded at the market on land. Each boat hoists a pole on which hangs the produce for sale. It can only be bought in bulk, so isn’t intended for tourists. From a picture-framing perspective, the continuous see-sawing of shapes and tangents intrigues me. Though video isn’t my medium, I see interesting potential for rhythms, and for striking contrasts in the early morning sun. The river itself is also a rich source of changing wave-like shapes and sun-reflecting flashes – all things seen and documented before, but still interesting to study as kernels to use for something else.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on January 30, 2019 at 9:35 AM||comments (0)|
From the highway, the Mekong Delta is an endless array of ramshackle and blocky buildings: shops, garages, warehouses, and cafés with hammocks, but also some grand houses squeezed onto long narrow plots, built by people who have done well for themselves and are not afraid to show it. Unlike in HCMC, Can Tho city planners have understood the value of a public waterfront. Landscaped, paved with stone and graced with a golden statue of Ho Chi Minh (of good communist size), it’s a nice stroll and a lovers’ sanctum with benches fit only for two. The benches are petite and concrete cast, and sponsored by big companies. On Sunday evenings, people spread out over any left-over sidewalk space, occupying low tables and chairs of plastic and drinking sugary beverages. But it’s quiet by 11pm, because they rise early here to benefit from cooler morning temperatures.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on January 28, 2019 at 9:35 AM||comments (0)|
I suppose I expected to see more remnants of colonial French architecture. It’s there with the Art Deco villas and old government buildings like the post office. Yet one of the most striking architectural features so far is the enormous number of small lots and how differently each urban parcel is built up: very tall buildings dispersed among low structures. Often splinter thin buildings of 6+ storeys are no wider than a single room, the living space being achieved through their depth. The facades are sometimes elaborately ornamented with European or Asian style columns and pediments, or tiles and gilding, though the sides of the tall buildings are often left in blank rendering – presumably in anticipation of future neighbouring buildings, though the pattern so far would seem to indicate these never actually get built.
Visually, there are great opportunities to observe human life compacted and piled up into squares and rectangles. Every balcony is different – and every domestic building has one or more facing onto the street – with plants, cooking stations, hanging clothes, storage units, clumped wires, pets...
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on January 26, 2019 at 12:35 AM||comments (0)|
From first impressions, Ho Chi Minh City is not so easy to love. It’s chaotic with constant smells wafting about – car fumes, rotting garbage, cooking oils, sugars, incense, smoke, and unidentifiable odours – and the constant din of traffic noise; it can be overwhelming. There are few public spaces meant for people: places to congregate, stroll or relax, without traffic buzzing around you. The sidewalks are taken up by make-shift kitchens with squatting cooks, scooters with drivers sleeping on them, street hawkers and construction obstacles. As a pedestrian, you are usually forced to walk on the road, which is teeming with motorists who seem to have little regard for walkers. You quickly learn that the trick is to be as predictable as possible when crossing the road, and to claim your space, forcing them to manoeuvre around you. That takes some courage though. Odd that sidewalks are furnished with ridged tiling for the blind, though no blind person could successfully tackle these hazardous walkways. Cities are made for people, though I sometimes wonder why they’re made so people-unfriendly…
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on November 22, 2018 at 12:25 AM||comments (0)|
When a series is finished – the latest being the work made at the artist residency in Budapest – it’s time to assess and take things learned from the ‘old’ and apply to the new. The Budapest series allowed me to try new ways of building a picture and to see what works for me. Although this is something fluid and does change over time, I did find a process and aesthetic that I liked in that series. Now it’s time to apply and transform for a new series. Easier said than done, of course. Since the paper used in that series was specific to the subject (pages from a Hungarian book on heritage sites), I need to find replacement papers. I’ve been experimenting with painting strips of old maps (relevant to the place depicted), and cutting and pasting these to build a composition. And also mixing these papers with pieces of printed images from magazines, and acrylic paints over that. So in one piece I’ve focused on the sense of depth, while in another I focused on getting the light right when collaging. And then there’s the impact of photographic collaging as underpainting which is very appealing… Need to decide which way to go to form a unified series.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on November 12, 2018 at 11:00 AM||comments (0)|
I have a natural inclination to go picturesque when not working from a concept or preconceived composition. Cutting out shapes to build a wall automatically runs into adding greenery, rounding off shaoes and pushing it towards realism. In these rock walls, the pieces all have their own random brushstrokes, which is aesthetically satisfying when brought together. Interesting method for depicting archaeological sites – for in the future.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on November 8, 2018 at 7:00 AM||comments (0)|
I usually focus on perspective: achieving depth, the right angles, pulling the eye in, setting a stage. But these mixed media Natural Walls were all about letting that go and doing frontal views. It’s a focus on the textures, really. And I’m discovering I really like working with the rounded forms, as opposed to my usual straight edges. Can I combine the two? And turn these into bigger pieces on canvas? Creating the angles of perspective or receding space is much more difficult with these rounded forms, since with the strips I just have to focus on the general direction to achieve believable perspective – it’s much looser and more suggestive. I want to avoid literally building rock by rock on a bigger piece, each piece specifically angled. However, on a smaller piece it’s oddly gratifying.
|Posted by Anna Belleforte on November 1, 2018 at 5:30 AM||comments (0)|
With all these wonderful colours – remnants of the acrylic-painted pages – I just had to put them to use, so I stared building little, mostly abstracted landscapes. Initially ripped pieces, working solely on the basis of colour, adding lines, and seeing if I could build something from nothing. This is always challenging because it’s easier to have a vision or general composition in mind before starting. But being open to the unexpected has its rewards.