Bunk-Up

I was asked to create an artwork for a bed-themed exhibition in London. What I came up with was ‘Bunk-Up’, an oak sculpture that, at its base, is similar in construction to most of the wooden framework elements I created on ‘Unlockdown’; the art collaboration project I undertook with the ceramics artist Sharon Griffin, during the Covid 19 lockdown. 

 

3 views of  'Bunk-Up', oak sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

Incidentally, the Unlocked project was so successful that Sharon and I got selected for the 2022 Collect Open (organised by the Crafts Council) and exhibited several of our sculptures from the project at that year’s Collect art fair at Somerset House in London.

 'Bunk-Up' (detail), oak sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

As you can see from the photos, the bed section of the sculpture rises high above its framework foundation on disproportionately long legs. This is partly because I enjoy playing around with expected dimensions, and partly because I have a fascination with towers and architectural structures. But the work also alludes to the elevated state of dreaming; of being set free to inhabit other realities. In this way, the bed can be seen as representing dreams or the dreamer, and having distanced itself from the earthly realm, as represented by the architectural-looking framework below.

 

3 views of  'Bunk-Up', oak sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

Or maybe I’m just reading too much into it and I just wanted to make a bed rising above an intricate mass of interlocking oak pieces. Either way, it was fun working on this piece and I enjoyed hand-sewing the mini pillow, mattress and blanket.

 

 'Bunk-Up' (details of base), oak sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

In the end, (for reasons that I won’t go into) I chose not to take part in the exhibition that I’d been asked to create this sculpture for.

War Child & Secret 7" Record Art Auction 2024

I’m delighted to announce I’m joining this year’s War Child presents Secret 7. My artwork will be exhibited at the NOW Gallery, London SE10 from March 2nd-17th, alongside a stellar line up of contributors. You can bid on your favourites from March 2nd by joining @peggy on Twitter/X. All money raised will support War Child UK’s work in conflict zones around the world.

Image from a previous year's Secret 7 project

If you're not familiar with Secret 7, here's the concept - The organisers of the project take 7 tracks from 7 musicians and press each one as a 7" single, 100 times. They then invite artists and designers to interpret the tracks in their own style and create one-off record sleeves for the individual 7" vinyl records. The resulting 700 1-of-a-kind sleeves, containing the 7" vinyl records, are then exhibited anonymously (that's where the secret part comes into play) at NOW Gallery and can be purchased via an online auction. Proceeds of the auction go to War Child UK, who help support children in world conflict zones.

This year’s 7 tracks are Aurora's A Different Kind of Human, Stop This Flame by Celeste, Skipping Like a Stone by The Chemical Brothers, Hozier's Swan Upon Leda, Pipes of Peace by Paul McCartney, Lullaby by Siouxsie & The Banshees, and We Sell Hope by The Specials.

 

For a more in-depth insight into this year's Secret 7, and the history of the project, check out this article from Creative Boom.

You can click here to register to bid on this year's Secret 7, and not only get the chance (if you're lucky enough) to end up owning a one-off record designed by a renowned artist or designer, but also help support the humanitarian work of War Child UK.

Frankenstein's Log (sculpture)

As with more than a few of my artworks, there’s a Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’-influence present in my sculpture ‘Frankenstein’s Log’. I not only love the original novel, but I also grew up loving the 1931 movie version (and the spin-offs, such as the 1935 ‘Bride of Frankenstein’) by director James Whale. The stapled together element of my sculpture pays homage to that of the visuals of the monster, as played by BorisKarloff, in the old black and white movie versions. As well as for aesthetic reasons, the hand-made metal staples I made for the ‘Frankenstein’s Log’ also service a practical purpose. They actually help hold together the upper and lower sections of the sculpture.

 

'Frankenstein's Log' sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

This stitching together of separate parts (as happened with Shelley’s creature in the book, and with the monster in the movies) became necessary with my sculpture because when I found the original log in the woods, it was a lot longer than it is now and as I didn’t have a wood saw with me at the time, I decided to break the log into smaller pieces by smashing it against a tree. Even though I hit the log against the tree at a point further down from the area that eventually became the mouth, I failed to take into account at the time that this mouth point was the obvious weak spot, and so that’s where the log snapped first.

 

'Frankenstein's Log' (3 x detail) sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

I was initially pissed-off (or ‘pissed’ as American English would have it, although ‘pissed’ over here in the UK means excessively drunk) with myself for breaking the log at this important section. However, this proved a blessing in disguise, not only because it offered me a reason to employ the Karloff’s monster-style staples, but because it also allowed me easier access to the upper and lower ‘jaws’ for when I came to create the teeth and gums element of the sculpture. So the accident turned out somewhat serendipitous in the end.

'Frankenstein's Log' (detail) sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

The upper section of the piece originally had three branches, but I rounded them off to create bulbous horns.

 

'Frankenstein's Log' sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

I realise that, at some point, I'm gonna have to take a photo of myself, cradling Frankenstein’s Log in my arms, à la David Lynch's Log Lady from Twin Peaks. But for now, here's just a photo of me and Frankenstein's Log, screaming along together.

'Frankenstein's Log' sculpture and artist Wayne Chisnall

Crab Doll Chapel

Some time ago I decided to try a different, more experimental approach to sculpting. Rather than applying my usual method of creating a sculpture, where I’d work out (through sketches and, for want of a better word, daydreaming) in advance what I wanted the finished piece to look like, I thought I’d play about with combinations of different materials and found objects, and see if anything promising emerged. I called the resulting artefacts my ‘component sculptures’ or ‘component pieces’. Many of these pieces didn’t really lead to much, apart from giving me a few new visual connections to store in my head for potential future use, along with boxes full of odd-shaped objects that might, at some later date, find their way into larger component sculptures.

 

'Crab Doll Chapel', sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

One of these component sculptures that did become something more substantial was Crab Doll Chapel. It started out with a broken, antique doll’s head that I found, to which I then added some dead crabs’ legs (found whilst beach combing); intending it to look like a cross between a demented hermit crab and an alien parasite, emerging from the doll’s shattered head.

 

'Crab Doll Chapel' (detail), sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

This odd combination of materials then sat around for a while before I had the idea to build a wooden framework structure around it. Initially, this was to create a physical barrier to protect the fragile crab legs from getting accidentally damaged. However, the structure soon took on a kind of church-like appearance. Because of the protective nature of the wooden structure and its cathedral pretentions, I partly see it as a reliquary, with doll’s head and crab legs standing in for the bones of some old saint or a piece of the original cross (acknowledging that most reliquaries probably also contain as equally in-authentically sacred materials as mine does - although, that's also part of their charm).

 

'Crab Doll Chapel', sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

Like many unexpected creative directions that artworks can take, it’s hard to work out if they are the results of subconscious thoughts or whether the initial developmental stages of the work provokes ideas that then govern the direction and meaning of the work. Either way, I enjoy this way of working as it leads to new or unexpected artworks and results in me questioning my practice and my psyche.

'Crab Doll Chapel', sculpture by artist Wayne Chisnall

Thames Embryo Leaps Spidey Pods

There are numerous themes or motifs that run through my work and occasionally some of them will meet, clash, or overlap one another in a specific piece. One such piece manifested after I came across this particularly lovely mudlarking find; a piece of driftwood that I waxed up and mounted on a metal stand. I call it find ‘Thames Embryo Leaping’. As soon as I discovered it, it made me think of some kind of partially-formed or embryonic quadruped, in the act of leaping.

 

'Thames Embryo Leaping', found object sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

There was nothing particularly meaningful in the crossover that then took place (other than the fact that once a visual overlap has been created, a new connection is formed, and that connection can lie around in the brain and may, almost imperceptibly, influence a creative decision further down the line). I was simply messing around with one of my Spidey Pods screen prints, painting over the surface of the print. As I got into the flow of painting over it, looking around me for some visual stimulation, I focused in on a couple of mudlarking finds from a recent trip to the banks of the Thames. One was an interestingly-shaped piece of bone (worn smooth by its years in the river), and the other was Thames Embryo Leaping, so I incorporated drawings of them both into the over-working of the print.

 

'Thames Embryo Leaps Spidey Pods', over-painted screen print, artist Wayne Chisnall

The Spidey Pods screen print is an editioned print, based upon one of my earlier enamel paintings, Spidey Segments. And this painting is based upon a drawing I made late one night after I woke from a dream. I no-longer remember much about the dream, except that it might have been loosely related to that scene at the end of the 1956 version of Invasion of The Body Snatchers, where the main character climb onto the back of a truck only to find that it’s full of alien pods (or at least that’s how I remember the scene). 

'Spidey Pods', screen print, artist Wayne Chisnall

However, I do remember that before I went to sleep that night I’d been peeling the thin layer of skin off of a segment of orange, and had been fascinated by the mass of fusiform pod-shapes (I believe they’re called ‘juice vesicles’) inside the segment. So maybe that triggered the dream, which triggered the drawing, which was of a load of pods, piled upon each other and getting smaller as they disappear into the distance.

 

'Spidey Segments' painting, artist Wayne Chisnall

Once I’d drawn the pods I wanted to dress them in something; something that was meaningful to me. So I chose something that I’d been passionate about as a child. As well as my childhood love of old horror and sci-fi movies (hence Invasion of the Body Snatchers), I loved horror and superhero comics, so I chose elements of the 1970s style Spider-Man costume.

 

'Spidey Segments' drawing, artist Wayne Chisnall

And as I mentioned earlier, the mashing together of unrelated images forces new connections and sometimes new meanings.

Chared Resin Tower

'Chared Resin Tower', artist Wayne Chisnall

Inspiration-wise, I haven’t got that much to say about this piece. ‘Chared Resin Tower’ (not the most inspirational title, I admit) is partly a maquette and partly an excuse for me to try out different combinations of materials and techniques – i.e. the building of an interlocking wooden frame structure, which I partially burned before fixing it in place with a coating of resin. Enough said!

'Chared Resin Tower' (6 views), artist Wayne Chisnall

Frankenstein's Orifice Box

Let me reintroduce you to ‘Frankenstein’s Orifice Box’, one of my sculptures from 2011. I’ve decided to re-photograph (now that I’ve got slightly better studio lights and a proper backdrop) a lot of my artwork. So, apologies in advance, but prepare yourself for a torrent of blasts from the past over the coming weeks.

 

'Frankenstein's Orifice Box', 2011, artist Wayne Chisnall

Owing its inspiration, in part, to an earlier one of my sculptures, the wall-mounted, low relief sculpture, 'Orifice' (with its carved wooden aperture), 'Frankenstein's Orifice Box' also incorporates another motif that has run through much of my work - that of the nail box (inspired, in part, by the dreamlike animations of the Bothers Quay, where rusty nails and screws come to life, and in part, by the Minkisi artefacts/totemic carvings from the Congo region). If you peer in through the sculpture's orifice you will see an internal, nail-encrusted wooden box on stilts.

 

'Frankenstein's Orifice Box', 2011, artist Wayne Chisnall

well as the obvious sexual interpretation of the orifice element, my main interest in the device lies in it being the portal between the internal and the external. This can be interpreted in both psychological and physical terms.

 

'Frankenstein's Orifice Box' (detail), 2011, artist Wayne Chisnall

The actual inspiration for 'Orifice' came to me when I saw a van drive past me with a puncture hole in its side, and I noticed how the metal around the puncture had taken on a strangely organic appearance, not too dissimilar to the swollen and raised skin around a small cut that I had on the back of my hand at the time. It's strange to think of when and from where inspiration for artwork can come. Maybe if I hadn't spotted that van at that particular moment in time, a whole body of work wouldn't now exist.

'Frankenstein's Orifice Box', 2011, artist Wayne Chisnall

Detritusphere

From the comments in my earlier posts, detailing the work-in-progress stages of Detritusphere, I became aware that a few people thought that the sculpture was roughly football-sized. So I’ve taken some photos of the now completed Detritusphere with myself in shot, for scale. As I’m sure you can tell, I’m one of those annoying idiots who finds it difficult not pulling faces in front of a camera. I did manage to hold it together for a couple of shots, but that proved to be the limit of my self-control.

'Detritusphere' sculpture & artist Wayne Chisnall

 

As previously stated, in earlier Detritusphere progress reports, the sculpture is made up of small pieces of flat metal plates that I’ve mostly either found on the roadside or dug up from Victorian rubbish dumps that I discovered in the woods of Shropshire. Some of the metal pieces used in the final half of Detritusphere’s construction came from a local scrap metal dealer, James Rollason. Jim very kindly allowed me to collect the pieces that I needed from his scrap yard, a veritable wonderland of interesting shapes and textures.

 

'Detritusphere' sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

I constructed the sphere by first beating the plates into the correct curvature, then overlapping them and drilling small holes through the overlapped sections, through which I thread handmade metal staples. Once the two legs of each staple are threaded through the holes, I twist them tightly together to secure the plates in place. For the final plate in the piece’s construction I used a pop-rivet gun to fix it in place as I was obviously unable to reach inside (once the plate had been set in place) and twist any staple legs together.

 

'Detritusphere' sculpture & artist Wayne Chisnall

Getting slightly off topic, this reminds me of a terrible story I once heard about horrific historical shipbuilding practices. Hopefully, the story I heard was pure urban myth, but it either way it goes roughly like this. At some point in the early or mid-20^th Century, when old ships had come to the end of their lives and were being dismantled in the ship breaking yards, people started discovering children’s skeletons inside the hulls. The theory I heard proposed was that as it required two people to rivet ships’ metal plates together (one on each side of the plates), when it came to riveting the final plate in place the ship builders would find a naïve child (presumably a child off the streets or an orphan taken on as a disposable apprentice) and get them to do the job on the inside, probably explaining that they would get them out after the job was completed through some fictitious hatch. As I said, hopefully this story wasn’t true, and thinking about it, it does sound like it the kind of short story that I could have read in one of the many Pan books of Horror Stories that I avariciously consumed as a child.

'Detritusphere', scrap metal sculpture, artist Wayne Chisnall

Lynch’s Secret Remedies (A3 Poster Print)

This A3-sized poster print of ‘Lynch’s Secret Remedies’ is a reproduction of one of the mini oil paintings/sketches from my 2020/21 self-imposed painting challenge, where I set myself the goal of creating 100 new paintings over a 12 month period.

'Lynch's Secret Remedies' (A3-size poster print), artist Wayne Chisnall

The subject of the oil sketch is a small piece of tree root that I found, that for some reason made me think of something from a David Lynch movie – hence the Lynch’s part of the title.

As with most of paintings from this series, it was painted directly onto the painting’s surface (in this case a front cover from an old Secret Remedies book) without any preliminary drawings or much in the way of me knowing what I was about to paint from the moment that I applied paintbrush to paint. I found this form of automatic painting very liberating and a fruitful creative exercise. It not only revealed new ideas and characters, but it also allowed me to be more experimental with the way I applied paint.

'Lynch's Secret Remedies' (A3-size poster print), artist Wayne Chisnall

The prints are printed on glossy, heavy-duty 300gsm paper, with digital inks that give a silk finish.

There are more poster prints to come, and all of them are priced at £20 each with free postage. If you’d like one, just DM me or drop me an email at waynechisnall@yahoo.co.uk

If there is a painting or sculpture of mine that you particularly like and feel you need a print of it let me know as there’s a chance that I might already be considering getting it made into a poster print, and your interest could be the push I need to actually get it done.

Detritusphere – second progress report

It’s been a few days since the last progress report on my Detritusphere sculpture, and as it’s inching closer to completion, I thought I’d share a few photos of it with you.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress), artist Wayne Chisnall

As I mentioned in an earlier post, the work is made up of small pieces of flat metal plates that I’ve mostly either found on the roadside or dug up from Victorian rubbish dumps that I discovered in the woods of Shropshire.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress), artist Wayne Chisnall

I’m constructing the sphere by first beating the plates into the correct curvature, then overlapping them and drilling small holes through the overlapped sections, through which I thread handmade metal staples. Once the two legs of each staple are threaded through the holes, I twist them tightly together to secure the plates in place. I was pleasantly surprised by how ridge the structure became through this method of construction.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress), artist Wayne Chisnall

The reason that I initially put this project on hold for some time was because I wanted to wait until I had a greater variety of metal components to use in Detritusphere’s construction. And thanks to Jim Rollason, a local scrap metal dealer, who very kindly allowed me to wonder around his scrap yard, collecting the choicest rusty pieces, I now have enough pieces to finish the work. So I’d like to say a big thank you to Jim for his donation of materials.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress), artist Wayne Chisnall

Hollow Dog Warrior (A3 Poster Print)

This A3-sized poster print of Hollow Dog Warrior is a reproduction of one of my favourite mini oil paintings/sketches from my 2020/21 self-imposed painting challenge, where I set myself the goal of creating 100 new paintings over a 12 month period.

'Hollow Dog Warrior', A3-size poster print, artist Wayne Chisnall

As with most of paintings from this series, Hollow Dog Warrior was painted directly onto the painting’s surface without any preliminary drawings or much in the way of me knowing what I was about to paint from the moment that I applied paintbrush to paint. I found this form of automatic painting very liberating and a fruitful creative exercise. It not only revealed new ideas and characters to me (as is the case with the Hollow Dogs, a series of cartoon characters that emerged from seemingly nowhere), but it also allowed me to be more experimental with the way I applied paint.

'Hollow Dog Warrior', A3-size poster print, artist Wayne Chisnall

The prints are printed on glossy, heavy-duty 300gsm paper, with digital inks that give a silk finish. One of the things I especially like about these prints is that, in areas, you can see flecks of highlights and shadows where from where the paint was more thickly applied on the original painting.

There are more poster prints to come, and all of them are priced at £20 each with free postage. If you’d like one, just DM me or drop me an email at waynechisnall@yahoo.co.uk

If there is a painting or sculpture of mine that you particularly like and feel you need a print of it let me know as there’s a chance that I might already be considering getting it made into a poster print, and your interest could be the push I need to actually get it done.

Rainbow Bear II (A3 Poster Print)

If you liked any of the mini oil paintings/sketches from my 2020 ‘100 Paintings in 12 Months Project’ you might be interested to know that I’m having some of my favourite ones made into A3-sized poster prints. So if there is a painting of mine that you particularly like and feel you need a print of it let me know and I’ll see what I can do. 

'Rainbow Bear II', A-sized poster print, artist Wayne Chisnall

As with most of paintings from this series, Rainbow Bear II was painted directly onto the painting’s surface without any preliminary drawings or much in the way of me knowing what I was about to paint from the moment that I applied paintbrush to paint. I found this form of automatic painting very liberating and a fruitful creative exercise. It not only revealed new ideas and characters to me, but it also allowed me to be more experimental with the way I applied paint. 

'Rainbow Bear II', A-sized poster print, artist Wayne Chisnall

There are more poster prints to come and all of them are priced at £20 each with free postage. If you’d like one just DM me or drop me an email at waynechisnall@yahoo.co.uk 

The prints are printed on glossy, heavy-duty 300gsm paper, with digital inks that give a silk finish. One of the things I especially like about these prints is that, in areas, you can see flecks of highlights and shadows where from where the paint was more thickly applied on the original painting.

Detritusphere – progress report

As I’ve just returned to working on my rusty metal sculpture 'Detritusphere', I thought I’d give you a quick progress report.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress) metal sculpture, 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

The work is made up of small pieces of flat metal plates that I’ve mostly either found on the roadside or dug up from Victorian rubbish dumps that I discovered in the woods of Shropshire.

'Detritusphere' (detail showing metal staples outside of structure) metal sculpture, 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

I’m constructing the sphere by first beating the plates into the correct curvature, then overlapping them and drilling small holes through the overlapped sections, through which I thread handmade metal staples. Once the two legs of each staple are threaded through the holes, I twist them tightly together to secure the plates in place. I was pleasantly surprised by how ridge the structure became through this method of construction.

'Detritusphere' (detail showing metal staples inside structure) metal sculpture, 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall

The reason that I put this project on hold for some time was because I wanted to wait until I had a greater diversity of metal components to use in Detritusphere’s construction. And a few days ago, I got my wish when Jim Rollason, a local scrap metal dealer, very kindly allowed me to wonder around his scrap yard, collecting the choicest rusty pieces. So I’d like to say a big thank you to Jim for his donation of materials.

'Detritusphere' (work-in-progress) metal sculpture, 2024, artist Wayne Chisnall