Cutting space with David Murphy’s sculptures
As part of ‘New Nature’ exhibition currently on view at PATERSON ZEVI gallery in London, curated by Julia Tarasyuk and organized with IKEBANA projects, we interviewed British artist David Murphy.
David Murphy (b. 1983, Newcastle Upon Tyne) studied at the Glasgow School of Art (2006). Recipient of the Kenneth Armitage Foundation Fellowship London (2015-2017), Murphy completed a residency with the Yorkshire Sculpture Park (2014) and was shortlisted for the John Moores Painting Prize (2016) and the Jerwood Drawing Prize (2017). He currently lives and works in London.
David Murphy’s steel sculptures 'Cut Shade' (2022) inspired by Ikebana and created for the exhibition appears to have a life of its own, a biomorphic form suggesting a growing tree or architectural entity. Reminiscent of branches and fabricated in bronze, these sculptural pieces are cut, folded, rolled and welded into graceful arrangements that move responding to their environment. Like Ikebana, they cut into space, shading and filtering the light whilst also connecting the notions of earth and sky.
‘New Nature’, PATERSON ZEVI, London, on view until 15 July 2022. To book an appointment or for further information, please email info@patersonzevi.com
Your work focuses a lot on the shape, light conditions and dimensions of living and natural forms. Where does this interest come from?
I think it comes from a simple curiosity about the world around us, and in particular how we as humans understand, interpret and utilise ‘nature’, and ‘natural’ materials. I don’t mean this only in an ecological sense - I’m fascinated by the hidden structures within things, both manmade and organic. I still don’t tire of seeing ordinary everyday things made strange by simply zooming into the surface and revealing what is just beyond our vision...in my recent work this has been particularly important in relation to textiles, but actually everything becomes abstracted by looking closely. I remember seeing the old Eames film the ‘Powers of Ten’ when I was about twelve years old and I don’t think its influence has ever really left me...
Often I think my work resides at the point where human action or activity meets the natural world, and it takes inspiration from architecture, anthropology, tool-making, textiles - a whole range of different activities performed on different materials for different purposes. I think that’s where the resonance with Noguchi’s notion of ‘degrees of nature’ comes from. I took it to mean that this ‘new nature’ can be created from anything, and that it manifests through a sensibility, care and creativity, rather than any specific material.
Your practice includes painting and sculpture. What came first and how do your ideas find reflection in these two different fields?
I use a wide variety of materials and surfaces in my work, including wood, metal, glass, stone, paper... I try not to prioritise any particular output. It sounds quite varied when I write it like that, but I think it all belongs to the same investigation, and there is a consistency of approach. It’s an evolving enquiry into material qualities, histories and processes, revealing and giving form to the intangible, or the invisible.
At the root of everything is the line, the thread, the filament... Almost everything I make can be characterised in this way. It’s the driving force behind the work. I don’t have a preferred medium, rather I tend to try and keep a few different things happening simultaneously. On the same day this might involve working between public projects and studio work, between welding and painting, or even simply between two paintings. I find it creatively rewarding to be able to move fluidly between modes of work - it transfers a certain energy or tension between them.
When we first spoke about Ikebana it seemed like you immediately connected to this art form. What sparked your interest?
Though I didn’t know the name, I think I had been peripherally aware of Ikebana already, and learning more about it fed into an existing appreciation of Japanese aesthetics, which I feel increasingly connected to. I suppose I would say Ikebana is a subtly physical practice, quite finely crafted and methodical, but staying a bit playful and spontaneous too, and that feels quite analogous with how I would describe my own work.
How did Ikebana ideas transform into ‘Cut Shade’ pieces currently on view at ‘New Nature’ exhibition?
I was particularly interested in the Moribana expression of Ikebana. Moribana, I read, is directly translated as ‘piled up flowers’, which conjures a lovely image, but of course its casualness is completely inaccurate in relation to the fine and meticulous arrangements that constitute the art form. In any case, Moribana is characterised by a very naturalistic arrangement held within a shallow dish or tray, a lovely formal device that I thought would be interesting to work with. Like other areas of Ikebana, it presents a framework of rules, but also encourages great freedom and creativity. The title comes from the idea that these arrangements cut into space, and create new patterns and shapes between elements. The resonance of the work exists in the balance of the present and the absent, the material and the void, and so I was developing the work in this spirit. It’s actually very direct.
Tell us about the choice of the material (bronze) when making this work?
Bronze holds such a place in the canon of sculpture that it’s actually quite a difficult material to confront. I suppose I wanted to find a way to use it where its innate characteristics can be seen a bit differently, as something light and flexible, and as the antithesis of heavy metal sculptures... The softness of the bronze sheet means it’s very tactile; it can be folded, rolled and spun by hand using very simple equipment. I also liked that these sculptures are constructed/assembled rather than traditionally cast, and that the patination with all these different oxides bring a really painterly quality to it too. I feel like I found ways to bring it into my own vocabulary and way of working.
Is there a particular way you see them displayed in order to correspond to your vision?
I always like sculptures to have an easy presence in the space where they are shown, and with the smaller works in particular I enjoy seeing them displayed on tables, or shelves or mantlepieces, and sharing space with other items. I have one of these pieces in my living room at the moment, on top of a cabinet, and it looks so good at dusk in the shadows, I think maybe that’s the best condition for these works, where they become a very simple, dense, and beautifully soft presence in the periphery.
How did the larger version of Cut Shade pieces, currently on view at the Fulmer sculpture park, come about?
If I’m honest, the research I was doing about Ikebana fed very much into that work too, as I was making them at the same time as the bronzes. There are really clear connections in form, despite different scale and material. In their context, the larger pieces are really much more tree-like, or sapling-like, and are titled collectively ‘High Shade’ - they have a youthful quality to them, as if they are still growing. I liked the idea of ‘shading’ as a connecting concept for these bodies of work - the complex geometry of the folded leaves filters the light and elegantly connects the notions of ground and sky.