In April 2019 I was invited to Projecto Maria Lucia Cattani, Porto Alegre, Brazil, to be curator-in-residence. The exhibition I selected, for Galeria Maria Lucia Cattani, Universidade do Rio Grande do Sul, and a contextual essay is contained within this neat catalogue:
Link here: https://bit.ly/31h15J0
It is also within a more substantial monograph published by Universidade do Rio Grande do Sul December 2019.
Some installation shots of the exhibition here:
http://www.gestual.com.br/arq/expo_regras_e_suas_excecoes.htm
“We can’t impose our will upon a system. We can listen to what the system tells us, and discover how its properties and our values can work together to bring forth something much better than could ever be produced by our will alone.”[1]
There was a pivotal point in 1996 when Maria Lucia Cattani began using small-unit rubber stamps, a light-touch, portable, tiny unit within which to explore her interest in repetition, chance and internal reproduction within her work. She rapidly carved with a gouge simple and spontaneous marks, lines and shapes into rubber blocks (and occasionally, intaglio units, cast wax or plaster) which were then inked up with gouache and built into larger works. She thought of these not as personal marks, with concomitant authorship and meaning, but as human marks, the act of the hand upon an object. Once cut, these were selectively used for producing larger works according to systems of overlay, repetition and rotation: self-imposed algorithms of manual procedure. A key skill of the printmaker is registration: she subverted this convention through rotational systems, and overlaid one print with another. As the unit had become smaller, the works conversely were not restrained by size: these systems, once devised, might be applied to wall, to paper, to book, to sculptural object: they were scaleable, flexible and reproducible. This switch to small units was a key to her distinctive conceptual approach; it unlocked the possibilities of a new density of repetition, and an interrogation of the potential of simple marks of the hand. This selection is from a practice governed by a very particular discipline, but shot through with an exhilarating willingness to defy that discipline.
A desire to leave behind, after more than fifteen years, the physically challenging and toxic chemicals of etching processes, caused this shift of focus. She was previously known for making painterly, large-scale, dense abstract expressionist prints, with the boldness and density of the monochrome print works of Robert Motherwell and Hans Hofmann, Iberê Camargo and Chinese brush painting. By 1990 she was combining intaglio and woodcut print in the same rich tonal works which she began to present in multiples, latterly repeating and rotating images, and connecting them across seams and paper borders. (Use illustration of 150 x 150 intaglio, 9-piece work here in catalogue) She said:
“..the juxtaposition has a double function; it divides and it connects at the same time. It divides because one can see the materiality of the paper in many sheets. It also connects since one can see the lines and the shapes going through all the pieces of paper as a dialogue between parts seeking each other.”[2]
There is an early bookwork, Book, (ask Maristela for date?) probably from the 1980s, which signposts her interest in the juxtaposed and corresponding mark. It is a simple A5 structure, made of layered paper, the top layer cut through and the cut separated. It “takes a line for a walk”[3] through its pages, each junction corresponding with the next in spine and page leading edge. It’s an essay in pragmatism: it is not even glued, but secured with paperclips. It uses the least possible intervention to make a dynamic, articulated and layered work, and is a precursor to later calligraphic mark-making and the juxtaposition of printed sheets and the correspondences between them.
In the late 1990s she began producing printed works at various scales, and on different supports, from paper to wall, labelled objectively with the number of variations possible with the units and colours selected. She always acknowledged the existence of subjectivity in her selection of which cut block to use for making the matrix, which colours to use; which habit of rotationto deploy. She was systematising a strategy, embracing human fallibility within a schema with rules, and her thinking was objective only to an extent: “I am not interested in all possibilities, but in some visual possibilities, made with my hands and my control.” Initially, these multiply stamped images were widely spaced, as in 64-100 Ochre 1996, allowing contemplation of difference, of progression from one tiny image to another through rotation and colour charging, here successively printed in ochre, black and magenta.
By Blue 1600, 1998 (now not in show, catalogue only) the works had increased in density: this is first printed in multiple blues on thin strong Japan paper and then overprinted off-centre with ochre, on a grid with parameters and strong axes, but spaced by eye. The irregularities of this system, with its eccentric fissures between rows and columns opening up in the surface, reward closer inspection; the whole is a dynamic, flickering accretion of layered modulated colour and tiny gesture, each unit inviting comparison with its neighbour and with others similar but subtly different. She investigated the possibilities offered by the discipline of repetition and system, a devising of a conceptual model for the work, where the creative activity is the work itself, and the varying outcomes a manifestation of that activity:
“The use of numbers, which represent rotations of the block, amount of colours and dimension, is a way to relate the work to abstract thoughts and ideas. Because of their intrinsic infinite possibilities, I use numbers as instruments to organize and rationalize spontaneous marks and to discuss possibilities. Numbers of plates, numbers of colours, numbers of repetitions orchestrate my work. Numbers unfold infinite possibilities. Possibilities imply variety; variety indicates transformation, which is a fundamental force in life.”[4]
She was at this time living overseas, uprooted to the UK and with designated time out of her usual teaching rhythm to articulate her theoretical interests alongside a dense practice for her PhD at Reading University. In her interrogation of the relationship between idea and practice, she wrote:
“Practical problems, handling of material, learning new techniques, physical involvement in the execution, are essential to my work. For me, what I produce is not an illustration of ideas but a complex and mutual transformation between concept and execution. There is a distance between intention (ideas and concepts) and gesture (action and materialization). I believe that it is in this gap that the work happens. It is not where a mere combination of concepts and material elements occur but where they are mutually transformed.”[5]
The gesture of cutting the surface of small blocks became analogous to a cursive action, tightly contained; she had an abiding interest in ancient Sumerian cuneiform, for the notion of a clay block bearing a cursive image. Later these ‘meaningless’ marks became more fluid, less separated by the divisions of the unit, arranged in a linear and then a block of linear gestures. A 2001 residency in Japan presented her with an environment filled with much unreadable (to her) script and the beauty of foreign calligraphy. She began to extend her mark-making into more script-like forms, presenting in horizontal lines, experimenting with marks made by both right and left hand. These became practised and fluent, with the neutral visual appeal of Arabic or Japanese script to those who cannot read it. What is notable is the urgency with which she ‘wrote’; unhesitating and confident. It is akin to the ‘allusive field of writing’ of Cy Twombly[6], the ‘patterned utterance’ of Susan Hiller[7]. Script drawing, 2001 is an early example, and she later evolved a highly distinctive experimental writing, which was treated in various ways in books, in individual works, even an illuminated manuscript based upon wall decorations in the xxx (ask Nick) venue for Um Ponto au Sul 2011.
Some of the physical vocabulary of the printmaker, the cutting into surface with a sharpened tool – then coaxing ink into groove (intaglio) or laying it upon the surface (relief) – was for her transferable to wall: instead of constructing architectural motifs she commandeered the architecture itself. She said:
“I am interested in the wall because of its temporary basis as a surface for a brief interference, where the space is modified for a moment, and then returns to its original state. Permanence is not an important element. The piece has an ephemeral condition with regard to a specific space, but it is kept as a system with the possibility of being applied in other spaces. The wall has dimensions and an actuality of space which cannot be explored on paper. Some works require large surfaces which would be difficult to produce with paper. The flexibility of the rubber block facilitates the impressions on a vertical surface. Walls provide the support for larger pieces and at the same time offer a space which can involve and embrace the viewer.” [8]
She spoke of how fundamentally different this was for her, as a vertical body working on a vertical surface: printmaking is customarily largely a horizontal activity, all pressure and gravity. The wall became not only support, but it had potential to become matrix also, through the action of cutting directly into its surface. The way was paved for this by an astonishing suite of cardboard print/reliefs Untitled 2004. Technically hugely innovative, and demonstrating a facility with the accretive and reductive potential of a range of printmaking processes, these quiet but powerful prints exploit the potential of a support altered by gouging (left side impression), transforming the matrix back into an offset ready for a secondary impression onto the right side panel, in each case, in two overlaid colours. What is negative on the left becomes positive on the right, the slight mis-registration lending a shimmer of the exposed colour printed beneath.
Carmim, 2005 shows the effect of gouging/cutting directly into a gesso support already printed with tiny rubber blocks over a painted surface, further animating the surface colour and providing a paced unit and rhythm for contemplation of the whole. The cut surface becomes an even more dominant figure in later wall works, with strong deep gouge lines mapping the painted and printed squares on gesso panels. In A5 P8, 5ª Bienal do Mercosul, Porto Alegre, the spaces between these initial dominant cuts are peppered with tiny figures in the form of smaller gestural gouges, a rapid disruption of the smooth surface. She asserted that there were five, equally valid, manifestations of this conceptual work: the (site-specific) wall painting itself; a frottage made from the cut surface of the wall; a documentary video; an inkjet photographic print; a text.[9]
She embraced the use of many technologies through her career, including ink jet printing for works and bookworks, and laser cutting for producing precise woodblock matrices. In Seis Sentidos sem Sentido 2009, the oil painted surface has been shallowly laser cut, exposing layers of different coloured underpainting. She exploits the notion of surface; what is below may be brought to the fore, what is above may be backgrounded by the figure. In using a cursive script as image in a painting, BV1 2013 the ‘negative’ is given equal weight as the positive – the spaces around each figure are meticulously delineated and given substance. Layering ‘script’ further obscured any possible reading of meaning, and systems of colour and order are imposed, in as in Laser-cut woodcut print 2011 (Not in show – catalogue only).
Latterly, direct drawing and painting opened possibilities of communication denied to her by her declining health, and the cursive developed into an urgent mode of delivery. Amongst her last works, Drawing 2014 and Painting 2014 are evidence of sheer willpower and the belief in repeated action as a means of expression. All notions of ‘lines’ of script have disappeared, to be replaced by an instinctive balance of marks across a surface; in the painting these are depicted as positive and negative figures, in equal measure in complementary colours. They are built of a distinctive vocabulary of small calligraphic squiggles which share a gestural commonality but in actuality are unique, and invite comparison and contrast.
As she said previously:
“Exact repetition does not exist.It is purely an abstract concept and in reality nothing can be exactly repeated. From the starting point of visual repetition we enter a labyrinth of differences. We look for the relationship between objects and for their differences, because of our desire for diversity. The initial neutralisation of individuality imposed by repetition is denied, and individualities are established again. In the process of repeating we eliminate the anxiety of the unknown. We know and we repeat. We are not thinking about the future. Repetition is present tense. It is the confirmation of the present.”[10]
Sara Roberts April 2019
[1] Meadows, D.H., from Dancing with Systems, (previously unpublished) quoted in Systems, ed. Shanken, E.A., (2015) Whitechapel: London p61
[2] Cattani, M. L., (1990) MA thesis, Pratt Institute, NY (ask Nick for reference) p4
[3] A drawing is simply a line going for a walk” anecdotally attributed to Paul Klee
[4] Cattani, M.L., Spontaneity, repetition and systems in reproductive media: a reflection on personal practice. (1998) PhD thesis, University of Reading. pp52-3
[5] Cattani, M.L., Spontaneity, repetition and systems in reproductive media: a reflection on personal practice. (1998) PhD thesis, University of Reading. p121
[6] Roland Barthes, Cy Twombly: Works on Paper (1979) Whitney Museum of American Art
[7] Susan Hiller, ‘Looking at New Work’, an interview with Rozsika Parker, in Thinking about Art, Conversations with Susan Hiller, (1996) edited Barbara Einzig, Manchester University Press: Manchester.
[8] Cattani, M.L., Spontaneity, repetition and systems in reproductive media: a reflection on personal practice. (1998) PhD thesis, University of Reading. p34
[9] Cattani, M.L., A5 P8: o texto, (typescript) 2005
[10] Cattani, M.L., Spontaneity, repetition and systems in reproductive media: a reflection on personal practice. (1998) PhD thesis, University of Reading. p91
sara roberts 