White on white.

Here is an intriguing artwork by Petra Butler.

A black and white photograph of an origami sailing boat made with white card, against a white background, printed on white paper.

Petra told me that as a child she had dreamed about the day when she might own a real boat, as indeed she now does.

An intensely personal piece, we might feel, for the artist.

Of course now you know that, you can't unknow it. And yet even if we had never heard that story, we might have imagined that this was a work which skillfully recalled the themes of memory and dreaming.

In one sense there is something flimsy and insubstantial about the image. From some angles, the sailing boat almost disappears. You might have to tilt your screen to see it properly. And therein lies some of the brilliance of this piece. Just like a memory, it's not always easy to see the subject clearly; it's always threatening to fade away. This small paper shape shares the same substance and colour as the background against which it stands, and the ground on which its image is printed. Almost too much is shared, and boundaries aren't easy to define. And so it is with memories.

And what of dreams? In English we use the word in two ways. One refers to those images and stories which come to us during sleep. They slip and slide, and few people dream with consistent clarity. The other use is for something we aspire to, something we hope for the future. When we dream of something in that way, we construct an image (mental? emotional?) of what we hope for.

And so with this artwork. The origami structure which is the subject of the work is a strange and simple little shape. And yet (I imagine) there can scarcely by a culture, scarcely a child, in the world that doesn't immediately say "It's a boat!". We find ourselves recalling our own early attempts at folding paper and sailing the results. We build around the simple planes and edges of this structure the hull and mast and and stern ... which we know it represents.

The boat becomes real in our minds; it is real-ised.

I said there were two meanings for 'dream'. Of course, there is also the adjective 'dreamy' which conjures ideas of blissfulness. And this is a calming image, a serene work which shares its serenity with the viewer.

We don't need to have dreamt of owning a boat to be able to receive from this artwork. Common, if elusive, human experiences are presented to us here: childhood hopes and dreams, adult realisation, the joy of indulging in both.

After all these words I hope you will be driven back with relief to the image, and so you should. This small piece of art deserves time and reflection.

Petra Butler currently exhibits at the Montague Gallery in Worthing

Instagram: petra_butler_photography

Facebook: Petra Butler Photography

Out of the fire.

A mobile image of this piece can be seen HERE on the artist's Instagram page.

Let me say before we get going, that ceramics is an area which often leaves me lost for words. I find myself gazing blankly at ranks of bowls and jugs and vases, admiring the obvious skill which has gone into them, and not knowing what else to say. I think it's partly because the objects often present themselves in the form of something useful. The questions they inspire in me are usually pragmatic: how many flowers would I get in that? will it hold water? And that feels like looking at a painting and asking "How well would it go with the sofa in the front room?"

However, I want to break that pattern and say something about this beautiful piece by Brian Tew.

If it is difficult to reproduce paintings faithfully on a website, then three-dimensional objects like ceramics multiply the difficulty. This photograph does no justice at all to the sheen and lustre of this artwork. The processes of firing and glazing have produced a complex mottled array of colours, which change with every different angle of the light. It's almost as though this sculpture is alive, waiting and ready to engage.

For me, this was even more engaging because there is no attempt here to resemble something else. What the artist has presented us with is pure form: a bringing-together of curves and surfaces in a regular and pleasing way. It is what it is. And it has volume. And substance. You feel that if you were to pick it up (After you; ceramics make me nervous in a way that canvases never do) it would be heavy. The miracle of paintings is that they can put you in mind of something. The miracle of sculpture is that it is something.

But one thing it is not, is useful. So refreshing after racks of tableware.

Usefulness clouds the issues when you're looking for art. It isn't a household object fashioned in a creative way. Nor is it simply a piece of decoration; something to brighten a dull corner of the living room. It has no other purpose than to be beautiful. It's role in life is to be appreciated, and to lift the heart.

Which this piece does.

See this and more of Brian Tew's work at Colonnade House until 8 December 2019

b.tew@btinternet.com

brian_r_tew

I'm not an individual.

A brief departure from the world of fine art.

This mural is found at Chichester Railway Station UK, just over the thoroughfare where crowds of passengers hurry by.

As far as I could tell, it was not associated with any advertising, nor with any information programme.

But we can consider it as a candidate for 'artwork' status.

So what's going on here?

This has been painted/stencilled/applied in a prominent position. In particular, it has been placed above a staircase where crowds of busy people will pass. As you begin to descend the stairs, the mural is at eye-level - large enough to be easily read, even by someone in a hurry. And it is quickly passed. It quickly becomes a memory, if that.

And what do we have, by way of composition? 18 identical boxes - identical, that is, except for two. One has been tilted on its axis. One contains the words "I am not". Apart from the one containing text, all of the boxes contain an identical tick: the sign of approval, agreement or affirmation.

To a British viewer, tickboxes bring a number of things to mind.

• The endless round of forms and surveys which makes up part of modern life.

• A contemporary business attitude where a task is complete as soon as a box is ticked (regardless of whether the job has truly been completed or not).

• A register of presence or attendance which records that you are here or of the same mind.

We are all here.

We've done what is required.

We can relax now, because one task is out of the way.

But one square is having a wobbly. It's been ticked, but then it seems to have lost its confidence or certainty. It looks like it might be about to literally drop out.

And the other one hasn't even got as far as ticking the box. Instead we have a bald statement "I am not".

Not what? And why aren't you?

No answer. This is all you're going to get from this box: a firm statement, clear as far as it goes. Whatever else is going on, this box is having nothing to do with whatever game the others are playing.

Which box is you, oh busy traveller, rushing to your office or appointment? You might not have thought about it before, but now the question has been put you can no longer avoid it.

So, Art Lovers, is this art? I think it is.

The artist has presented us with a concise and easily read symbol of the-way-we-do-things-now. S/he hasn't used words to explain it. There is no accompanying label with an article on the tension between individuality and 'herd instinct'. Nor does it (really) offer a view about which is the better box to be. All this we have to work out for ourselves, prompted solely by an image.

And for me, it is this power of the image which makes the strongest claim for this being art. To put into words all that was conveyed by the image, required several paragraphs. And one is still left with the feeling that there are many more possible meanings.