The artist on the self-prescribed and soon-abandoned rules that created her Claridge’s Royal Academy Schools Art Prize show, 216.
The opening of my show 216 marks the end of nine months of work.
Kicked off by some very vague ideas: an Instagram video of a Russian guy crumping, the YouTube channel of a euphonium player and an instinctive desire to focus on interior spaces. The earliest days were spent in a cold studio in Enfield, wondering how best to approach this opportunity.
The early stages of the process always leave me feeling uncertain. Excited by the prospect of having an actual budget, slightly disillusioned by a sense that this was an endless amount of money, I found myself unable to articulate any real ideas.
My relationship with the studio is a confusing one. I idolise a daily studio practice. I love to hear about artists like Agnes Martin, who had strict routines, and maintained their studio practice with rigor. Only my work is usually made elsewhere. My studio practice is one of reflection and focus, interspersed by short bursts of production. Hardly a clear process, but I tell myself I will be so organised this year. I will finish the work by the start of summer for my August deadline. I will be relaxed and enjoy the process.
Around December I become interested in architectural blueprints. Their clear purpose and detailed precision draw me in. Like maps, they bring order to a world I often find confusing. It’s calming to think our physical environment can be reduced to geometric lines and numbers. Blueprints are legible and clear, the perfect counter to my head full of thoughts.
In January I read a section from Plato’s The Republic. He describes the world as made up of numerical structures, and mentions a “perfect number”. He believes that structuring the world around this number would create harmony, wealth and fertility.
I’m intrigued. How would one structure a world around a number? What could that even look like?
I find out scholars have been debating this idea for years, and a large group of them believe the number to be 216.
1³ x 2³ x 3³ = 6³ = 216
A perfect cube.
Mathematically, a beautiful number.
Moving into February, I know I need to get things moving. My approach is simple, I want to put Plato’s idea to the test. Can I use 216 as a score, can I structure my work around it and perhaps it will bring me clarity? Harmony? Wealth?
By March I’m spending nine days (216 hours) in a place that’s exactly 216 miles from both London and my hometown Amsterdam.
I arrive with a clear plan:
- Get up at sunrise.
- Write every morning.
- Make drawings that can be made into blueprints.
- Work on a musical composition structured around 216.
I will do so much work here.
Long story short, I did hardly any of those things. Instead, I spent most of my time wandering around taking photographs. I missed every sunrise and had no ideas for music. Suppressing feelings of failure and confusion, I was reminded systems and humans don’t always align. Didn’t I know this already? I spent Covid creating a notation system that I believed would prescribe my practice, only to abandon it two years later after feeling utterly limited by my own prescribed rules.
In April, I decide to make a selection of the images and see if I can upscale the printing process. This takes time but I figure it out eventually. I stop exposing the prints through my window and start to carry them out into direct sunlight, spending weeks testing exposure times and logging the UV index throughout the days.
The song Strangers by The Kinks has been lingering in my mind and I start reworking it as a brass composition. Months back, I was compelled by videos of a euphonium player on YouTube and I contact him to ask if he might be interested in playing the piece.
By June I have decided to make a second visit to the town, and I start looking for buildings to film in. I put out an open call on local platforms and before I know it, I have performers, a location and a trip booked for July.
My plan to finish early has evaporated. Suddenly I find myself shooting a film in 35-degree heat. By the end of July, there is a rough edit for the film, a first recording of the music and an ambitious plan for the metal work I plan to do in August.
Fast forward to the 24th of August and it’s the start of install.
As always, a deadline forces things into shape and that’s what happened to 216. After finishing the metal work, things started to fall into place. I realised I wasn’t as unprepared as I thought. With the help of two great technicians, we put the show up in three days and throughout those days a sense of calm overtakes me. By the time of the opening a few days later, I realise I’m just really glad I did it. I’m grateful I got to do it, and I’m grateful to have finished it.
