I feel that trying too hard to articulate via writing about the visual arts and the world around us in general, can remove its spiritual, emotional, and phenomenological essence. For example, science tries hard to explain love. However, there is a lot more to it that we can’t put in writing or categorise.
Artist Mandy Francis talks about the inspiration she derives from the intriguing interplay of light and shadows on the curios at her home, which is awash with natural light.
Take us to the beginning of your story. How did your tryst with art begin? What were your motivations for moving from sculpture to painting?
I always wanted to be an artist. At an early age I spent a lot of time drawing and painting with my mum, from age eight to 16. Some of my fondest memories are walking around Sydney with my mum, looking for places to sit and draw. We would sit in the Royal Botanic Garden, draw Sydney’s iconic buildings and structures, go to the Art Gallery of New South Wales (NSW), go to libraries and look at art books, and dream about being professional artists. We didn’t have much money, so we were part-time voyeurs, looking into peoples’ windows and, of course, window-shopping.
There was no question in my mind that I would be going to art school when I finished my HSC (Higher School Certificate). I didn’t question why I loved painting and drawing. I just enjoyed turning a page into a story, the feeling and smell of pencils and paper, looking at stuff and so on. I loved interiors too. I think that harked back to being a voyeur of lives and the objects on display. As we moved a lot, I experienced lots of different living arrangements. Leafy garden flats, palatial inner city houses, terrace houses, high rise apartments, country weatherboards on stilts, caravans, and tents.
When I started art school I was very young and naïve, seventeen to be precise. I soaked everything up – different characters, the tutors, exhibitions, and the partying.
The low cost of practicing sculpture and the cool people in the third year of my course inspired me to choose sculpture as a major. I know that sounds a bit shallow. I also loved how physical sculpture was.
During my third year, I had my first child, Archy, with Milos, my partner of 25 years. I don’t know what I was thinking, though I absolutely loved kids. I was pretty naïve, as I already mentioned. Anyway, as hard as it was caring for an extra person, it was the best decision that I have ever made. He is a magnificent man, and I am a proud mum. Archy changed the way I operated. I became appreciative of any time that I got to myself. I worked really hard. I had a lot to prove. I organised exhibitions, held solo shows, and applied for everything that I could. I became really interested in modular design, on account of having a kitchen table as my studio and a partner studying architecture. I worked towards creating installations which people could enter and experience.
Shadows and projections became a huge tool in my work. I was interested in human participation and performance. By this stage, my darling daughter Lilla arrived. I stayed on this trajectory for 16 years before my work became mostly cerebral. I focused mainly on the participatory aspect of it. I completed a PhD, where I researched participatory art, community art, social art, and public art. I also had residencies in Japan, remote aboriginal communities in the Australian outback, Walcha and Newcastle in NSW.
What inspires you? Take us through your process and the continuous framework of reference.
After years of research and writing and seeing inspiring places, I was hungry to make art and play, without having to worry about concepts or participants or academia. That led to my foray into painting. Initially, I wanted to create abstract landscapes. However, I started painting objects, often sentimental things like plant-cuttings that had started to grow, weird pots that I made and curios like gifts that I had at home. I was enamoured by the intriguing shadows that were created by light hitting those items. My home has a lot of glass and windows. So it is sunny and has a lot of natural light. I feel this has influenced my paintings heavily. I still imagine my solo exhibition of paintings being an installation of things for people to enter and experience. I am constantly learning about myself and my work, through the process of making art. It never stops.
I love watching things grow. I love life and am constantly inspired by lots of things.
Tell us about your first show. How did your audience interact and react to the work you put out into the world?
My first solo show out of art school was entitled Shadows at Tin Sheds Gallery, Sydney University. It was a success. It was put in the Spotlight section of The Sydney Morning Herald, which meant a lot of people came to view my work. I was also very happy with the execution of the work and how people responded to the space. Basically, I created a landscape of hatched shadows, ten metres by eight metres and four metres high. That exhibition sparked years of artistic research into shadows, installation, and participatory art.
What is the primary role of an artist in society? How do you describe yourself in the context of challenging people’s perspectives via your work?
Oh, that’s a hard one! I don’t think we have a primary purpose. However, I do believe when you make something that is art, it has no other purpose but to be art. Therefore, we don’t need to turn art into a communication tool, a gentrification tool, or even a financial tool. Just by seeing, meditating upon and interpreting the world around us, and playing with materials like paint, pencil, musical instruments, and producing something out of that is a culmination of various things. By doing so, we offer a new gift to the world which has the capacity to change someone’s perspective.
I am motivated by a need to show you, the viewer, something that’s in my head. Something that I’ve seen, a moment I want to capture. And the crazy thing is that what’s in my head, as it comes out through different mediums such as paint or music, the material also dictates what the art will look like, or sound like. So, it’s this crazy symbiosis, hard to control, a lot like magic. There are so many ways to articulate this, so many labels.
What are you looking for in the work of other artists? Which shows and performances have shaped your own creative process? Who are your maestros? Who would you like to read about more?
As I grow older these people change all the time. Often it is the shows I wasn’t interested in seeing that impress me the most. In 2017, I stumbled across David Hockney’s retrospective at the Centre Pompidou in Paris and I was blown away. I had always overlooked his work. However, this time, as a painter, I saw his brush strokes, his playfulness, his ability to capture feelings and moments in two-dimension.
Earlier, on the day of the Hockney show, I was only interested in seeing Duchamp’s readymades and some other installations. As a teenager, I was heavily influenced by Matisse, Australian painters Grace Cossington Smith and Brett Whitley.
Art school opened the world of art to me. One of the first exhibitions that made a huge impression on me was a survey of Australian multi-disciplinary artist Fiona Hall. I wasn’t that interested in her politics, even though I agree with her. I was impressed by her little sardine cans turned into sculptural reliefs. It was such a clever and elegant reuse of materials.
In terms of whom I would like to read more about, I love any story where people overcome huge obstacles and move on to a better life.
Tell us about your personal evolution and your ongoing commitment to the arts and social/environmental justice.
From naïve to naïve… I’m always learning. I go through phases of thinking that I know, and then realise that I don’t know, that there is so much more to everything. I think the best commitment to art and socio-environmental justice is to be encouraging of other people’s dreams and goals, and to have empathy and love for all things. As best you can.
Tell us about your experience in art from an academic standpoint.
That’s another hard one. Well, I feel that trying too hard to articulate via writing about the visual arts and the world around us in general, can remove its spiritual, emotional, and phenomenological essence. For example, science tries hard to explain love. However, there is a lot more to it that we can’t put in writing or categorise. Also, I tend to whizz around art galleries. I rarely read the wall texts. If a work doesn’t stop me visually, forget about it. So, I’m not very academic, although having a PhD allows me to have the confidence to say that.
How do you strike a balance? You know, academic versus non-academic, commercial versus creative, personal versus professional, and inner versus outer.
Sometimes, I’m torn with the commercial aspect of the art world, and for many years rejected it. I did this by creating works that weren’t for sale, that were ephemeral. However, recently I have realised that to have a say you need to be seen. Besides, in order to survive you need money. This allows you to keep doing what you like to. Then you can have your say and be seen.
Being connected to a commercial gallery is a fabulous way to keep doing what you like and to survive financially. Obtaining a PhD and publishing papers hasn’t really changed my practice. It has helped me realise that I like making art, getting my hands dirty, and creating. I’m not really into writing. Also, my thoughts change on a daily basis. So, when you put your writing out there you can’t change it. Probably, it’s a better world without all of my opinions in it.
How do you deal with the conceptual difficulty and uncertainty of creating something new?
I am very aware while creating more stuff as the world doesn’t need to keep producing more things, from an environmental standpoint. So, I try to be resourceful and sustainable in my practice. I hope that my work can make people think a little more about living a life of love and understanding.
I never have a problem with coming up with ideas, or starting a new work. The problem for me is the finishing.
What is the one thing you wish people asked you about but never do?
“Could you do a painting you love?” and “I’ll commission you”… haha… Sorry I couldn’t think of anything else.
What is one imperative piece of advice you would give someone who is starting out?
Just keep doing, make mistakes – it’s all a part of it. Keep going, don’t give up, work hard, because if it’s something you love it won’t be that hard and you’ll get there. Oh, and be kind to yourself.
How does your interaction with a gallery, curator or client evolve from the initial interaction to the working relationship? How do you feel about commissions?
Well, I’ve just started with Studio Gallery, Melbourne, and I chose to go with them because I immediately loved the owner Kerry. It just felt right. I hadn’t even done a lot of research on the gallery. I just trusted her. I have since learnt that I have made a fantastic decision. I love the fact that they do all the ground work while I just paint. It is a luxury.
Assuming you spent a lot of time amongst artists in flow, what have you observed?
Most of us tend to say we can’t help it, we just have to make art, we love drawing and dreaming up things. On the down side, we can be very hard on ourselves. We struggle with overcoming the stigma of being airy fairy and forgetful, and still hope to be recognised as valid workers.
What are you working on now? What’s coming next season?
I’m working on a body of abstract still life paintings based around the ideas of anti-establishment beliefs, love and nourishment. They will be the basis of my upcoming solo exhibition in July/August 2020 at SGM, Sydney. I also have work in the Blacktown Art Prize November/December 2019. My works will be featured in a series of group shows at SGM, Sydney and Melbourne 2019/2020.
I am also working on a couple of community art projects. One of the projects is a community film project with director Paul Damien Williams. It is with the Australian Drug and Alcohol Foundation and the Coast Drug and Alcohol Team. We will be working with young people at risk of drug and alcohol addiction. Also, I am an artist, curator and mentor to emerging artists for a project called Emerge, run by the Central Coast Council. I’ll keep everyone updated on my Instagram page.
For enquiries contact Studio Gallery Melbourne
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