Motoi Yamamoto

Motoi Yamamoto’s work has jumped out and caught my eye a few times over the last year so I thought I should have a look a bit deeper and record my thinking for future reference. I suspect his work is very easy for me to enjoy. Words like beauty, skill, time, duration and immersion can be applied to it, and these are words that I distrust because I’m easily seduced by them as concepts. I have to be harder on myself when it comes to analysing the conceptual and contextual ‘whys’ around the work I’m drawn to.

So, beyond the appealing aesthetic nature of pattern, geometry and form, how is the work speaking to me? Reading about Motoi’s practice I can see parallels with my practice and his interest in the ritual trance state he enters when creating his salt labyrinth works. There is a sense that he passes into something of an otherworldly state where nothing exists but the creation of the work. I imagine the experience of time and duration all but disappearing as the experience of the process takes over. It reminds me of the mandalas created by buddhist monks as a moving meditation, a ritual of creation and destruction where the intricate works are painstakingly constructed them swept away.

There is also the symbolic nature of the material; salt plays a big part in Japanese Shinto ritual with blessing, cleansing and purifying – Motoi talks about the salt creating connections to his sister who he lost to illness and how the material relates to memory for him. Salt transcends cultural symbolism by having worldwide connotations around purity, the sea, sanctity, cleansing, protection which allows non-Japanese viewers easy access to the work. I feel that his work is deeply personal and emotional, while at the same time being very relatable and accessible to viewers. To me, that is very successful.






‘The Hive’ by Wolfgang Buttress and Tristan Simmonds in Kew Gardens

Continued interest by artist and designers in the wonders of bees; Wolfgang Buttress and Tristan Simmonds create a giant hive installation that responds to the activities of Kew Garden’s resident bees. LED lighting within the structure responds to the hum within the nearby hives giving visitors insight into the activities and moods of the gardens residents.


Wolfgang Buttress and Tristan Simones (2015) The Hive

Work in Progress January 2015

This is a record of the work I made in January 2015. Overall I think this is the least successful work, but I learned a lot of valuable stuff from actually making it. During the creation of the work I went through a repetitive production process that was bordering on ritualistic in it’s experience. The scent of the wax brought bees into the house and I had to go through a sort of ritual everyday around avoiding them, feeding them (because they got tired) and taking them back outside again at the end of the day. Creating the hexagon tiles involved a long process of heating, pouring, cooling, flattening, being very, very hot, getting burns and dodging excited bees.

After creating this work it became obvious to me that the interest in the piece was within the creative process, not the tiles on the floor. They felt flat and lacking in the energy of their own creation – someone described them as being like a ‘sketch’ rather than a sculpture. During my feedback meeting Anders suggested the inclusion of the tools of making, of somehow bringing the energy of the bees and the feeling of the creation process into the work. This was very valuable for me and has informed my thinking ever since.

Despite being somewhat disappointed in the finished piece, I’m very glad that I made it because I learned so much from what didn’t work and what I needed to think about to make it successful.

Hex (2015)
Beeswax, carbon, sandalwood, frankincense, myrrh



small group




Sculpture for a possible future

Ashley Zelinskie works in a future where we have reached the singularity and machines live on par with humans. Her work examines the way machines and humans view the word differently and how works can be made that can be appreciated by both. Her laser cut and 3d printed objects are covered with hexadecimal code which, in the simplest sense, allows both human and machine to observe the object – if a computer were to read the code it would ‘see’ the object.

There are some interesting questions within her work around how to teach machines to see art, how to give them an appreciation of the subtle, the non-logical. But I’m not sure where the work goes from there? If this future she imagines is not reached then does the work become less? If machines do become able to read the work does it lose it’s place as an artwork and become utilitarian? What is the value in machines being able to appreciate art? Is it an attempt to make them understand the human experience? Why would they need to do that?

There are also some questions for me around the use of laser cut and 3d printed materials to produce work that has meaning beyond being an aesthetically pleasing item. I love the aesthetics of her work, but being seduced by aesthetics is an easy trap to fall into. I feel like the use of these new technologies is a very tricky area thats more complicated than, say, the use of fabricated works by the Minimalist sculptors, because it’s such a seductive method that allows the maker to easily create things that would have previously required intensive labour. But like Adobe software doesn’t necessarily create good design, a method like laser cutting doesn’t necessity make good art and, as artists, we need to be careful of being seduced by new technological methods unless our work specifically requires use of those methods. It seems to work for an object that can be appreciated my a machine to be machine-made, but what if it was handmade? What would that mean?

An Overly Optimistic Take on Our Post-Human Existence


From left to right: Ashley Zelinskie, “Octahedron” (2014); “Dodecahedron” (2015); “Icosahedron” (2015), all 3-D printed nylon, various sizes


Golden Ratio 2013, 6.5″ x 4″ x 1″  3d printed gold plated stainless steel


Ashley Zelinskie, “US Hexahedron” (2013), laser-cut aluminum, 5’x 5’ x 5’

Copper object tests

I’ve been working with copper over the last couple of months and there is one object in particular – a dodecahedron – that had required a long process. As I’ve been going along with the creation of the object I’ve discovered that I really enjoy some of the forms it takes along the way. In order to create the object it is first cut by hand from a flat sheet, then it is scored by hand to allow folding. In between each step the metal becomes hardened and brittle and requires annealing where the metal is heated almost to metalling point and then cooled allowing the composition of the metal to return to it’s more malleable ‘pre worked’ condition. In these steps between being a flat sheet and being a three dimensional object it has gone through stages of folding and unfolding which I really enjoyed and felt were objects in their own right expressing the process of the making. IMG_1533 IMG_1537 IMG_1536 Object opened up after testing fit of sides and edges. Annealed and polished copper. IMG_1545 IMG_1541 Object partially folded without soldering and with side that came loose from a deep score mark. Annealed but unpolished copper.

There is something about the bendiness and fluidity of the unfolded object that makes it look like it’s moving or creeping. It’s also hard to tell if it is metal or metallic paper.

I think there might be something for me in the annealing process itself; the way the physical structure and chemical properties of the metal are actually changed by heat to make it more malleable. Through working (e.g. bending, forming, stretching), the atoms in the metal become ‘dislocated’ which is an irregularity in the crystal structure of the lattice forming the metal. Annealing diffuses the atoms and returns them to their un-dislocated state. There are three parts to the process: recovery, recrystallisation and grain growth. These stages are pretty much what you would expect and you want to avoid the third stage as it can weaken the metal. Getting the metal to the recovery or recrystallisation stage returns it to its workable form. I think that there is something there that I can work with, just not sure quite what will come out of it yet.

Yuansu II – Ren Ri

Beijing based artist and beekeeper Ren Ri has created a series of works for a piece called ‘Yuansu II’ (roughly translating to Element II). He has collaborated with bees to create works using honeycombs inside plastic polyhedrons of different configurations with a queen located in the centre. The structure of the bee’s construction is further randomised by the artist determining a rotation of the polyhedra every seventh day with a roll of the dice.

Ren Ri states that one of the purposes of Yuansu II is to “eliminate the subjectivity of the artist” via “the mediation of bees”. I would argue that he is also re-injecting the artist back into the work by his rotation of the hives thereby taking away some of the design decisions of the bees through randomisation of their construction.

Ren Ri states that he enjoys the instability of beeswax and the fact that it can change shape with temperature. This is something that I also enjoy about the material. Apart from the use of beeswax I relate to the uncontrolled geometric growth at play in this work. I enjoy multiples of objects and in this case the multiples are the hexagonal cells of the hive. I do love the polyhedral containers from a purely aesthetic standpoint, but I’m not sure they actually contribute to the work as a whole? I can’t tell if the shapes of the containers significantly change the structure of the hives or extend the work in any way.