NIKKI FOSTER

Tag: art

  • Making Chaos Between Forms

    The line marking lucidity from darkness is yet to be marked out. Adrienne Rich, From an Old House in America (1974) I propose to make a body of work in the form of a series of zines that explore unstable oppositions through a convergence of imagery and text. These include, among others, the familiar and…

  • Bold

    This afternoon I felt the first warm sun of spring on my face. When I closed my eyes the glow was coral red. Red sky in the morning, shepherds warning. Favourite lipsticks: orange red for day, berry red for night. Indian red is on my palette because it’s awkward and dirty and seems to resist…

  • Blue Slippy

    I started this painting on an A1 piece of paper, working in washes from a photograph. I wanted more weight from it, in paint, and more distance from the photo. So I cut it up and mounted it on three small canvases, 30 x 40 cm. I have discovered this glue which dries completely clear…

  • Flow

    I just read Fake Whale’s ‘The Ontology of Flow’ recommended by artist Ian Mc Inerney on Merrigan’s Substack. It’s a really great read, very apt about the conditions of our online experience, particularly in relation to art making and the consumption of imagery. But how does it make me feel or think as an artist?…

  • In Conversation

    I have become very focused on painting from photographs. Photographs I have taken, which is a change because up until last year it was predominantly from my mother’s collection of photographs, taken from a large plastic bag which she had planned to throw away. I don’t know why she wanted to throw them away. I…

  • Very Base

    Recently I’ve been thinking about iterations. I think it makes sense to think about iterations when considering our familial routines and rhythms: doing the same things, using the same objects. I’ve been avoiding spending money on new materials, so after running out of water-based oil paints I’ve just been using up my acrylics. Any acrylics…

  • Everything Colliding

    The first thing I ever sat down and properly painted was a horse. I think I must have been 13. It was quite funny because I didn’t particularly like horses. On a visit to the New Forest as a younger child with my family, I broke away from them and approached a group of horses…

  • Ephemera

    Last week, I found a Ferrero Rocher wrapper tucked inside a library book. It felt like a small interruption, a trace of someone else’s moment. I love this residue sometimes found in library books: the folded corners of pages, the underlined passages of text. I began thinking about the idea of found ephemera and the…

  • Wide Open

    My daughter moves through the house aloofly, often on the make, keeping herself on the periphery. It is strange to see. I flatter myself by questioning: is this why I took so many photographs of her last year? Some sort of pre-emptive foresight that she’d soon be more independent, moving out of the fold. My…

  • The Green Room

    Getting off the train at Bournemouth Station, the town strikes me more as a city now when I come home. There is a beehive-like cluster around the ticket gates before we are released into the dark. I nip over to ASDA to get treats: whiskey, beer, gin, chocolate. I have it in my head to…