Dandelion Portraits
Get Involved Open call
your art work in exhibition
Join the project, create an image of a Dandelion and get it exhibit in May.
There are no restrictions on medium used, size no bigger than A3 just to give room for as many as possible smaller is fine :)
Email to: greshna.artist@dandelionportraits.co.uk
Images sent via email and will be printed, if you want to send the original post to:
Kentsford farm
Watchet
somerset
TA23 0JD
You can also upload your images by clicking on the link above.
All Submitted images will be online for viewing, and all images will be exhibited as either prints or originals from May 1st for a week, and at 4 further exhibitions over the summer. All artists will be acknowledged both in the catalogue and online
All images must be original art works not copies
No images can be returned
Any comments or expressed feelings are welcome but will not be made public
The images may be used in ephemeral displays and further exhibitions.
Artist Statement
This project, Dandelion portraits emerges from the artist's deep connection with nature, and water based pigments.
The sharing of this connection through exploratory art will form the foundation of this work, creating a body of practice that grows exponentially through participants involvement, creating an exhibition of multiple works both online and in the physical domain.
Through this practice the human disconnect from nature will be challenged and explored. The project is aiming to create an ever expanding community of connected beings, prepared to examine their own place in nature through art and communication.
Dandelion Gallery
Dandelion Gallery see your image here
Taproot Journal
A weekly musing
Number 3
Mind wanderings
Strangely, I found myself looking at the just taken image on my phone and saying ‘oh good got you all in’ it was a Dandelion..I think they have infiltrated my brain, which is not much of a surprise, unlike the the emails that have begun arriving on the project address, a relief it was working, and correct on the posters which are disseminating like seeds and settling in strange places. Don't be seen carrying art related materials near an over enthusiastic MA student. Brain overload is given free with passing submission dates and trips to London lasting precisely 16 hours from start to finish, not with standing the awe of standing before images created centuries ago that show the finger marks of the artist drawn thoughtfully through the watercolour pigment to create the desired effect.
A serious regrounding is needed and losing myself in my sketch book is a little calmer but a free swim is needed now, but I feel the river maybe less than ready after the floods, seeing the swelling of waters beyond the bank showing its power and disregard for humans.
Somehow a few hours in a tin can won’t work either unless the ever present radio 4 has a mind blowing discussion … then maybe my poor brain will acquiesce back to a normal, easier state. Even writing is tense as the minutes tick steadily irreversibly onwards, hours and days a life time. I wonder how life will feel at the end of this process, or maybe all feeling will be swallowed in its quest for art
Taproot Journal
A weekly musing
Number 2
Anthropocene shadows
The relentless hum of traffic is a reminder of the nature of humans, forever moving somewhere, nowhere. I haven't been out into the yard for a few weeks, a guilt pang from removing the Dandelions from their concrete beds. I am reminded of a distant memory that if you remove weed 8 times it doesn't return as it becomes too weak.
I found myself, whilst walking squinting between the cars looking for the jagged leaves in the verges and was not unrewarded, although the inclement weather has caused less blooms of vibrant yellow.
On my return I click the lock in the backdoor and venture up the 3 steps already cracked from invasion of taproots, but they are stubbornly absent. I step into the yard and it is grey and quiet, no bobbing leaves or trailing fronds, my heart sinks, for though I know the damage is far from ideal I miss the chaos of leaves and colour. I almost step back towards the house when my eye catches a tiny green glimmer and yes, two tiny spreads of the Dent de lion, undeterred yet hiding under the wall. They are back.. I turn, smiling, the smallest glimmer of new life enough to remove the guilt.
The tiny leaves remind of the leaves I have in the press the smallest and largest I could find, the feeling of returning to the spot I had spied the biggest leave I remember the lump in my throat that the plant may have been removed, so many times I have returned to seek a muse to rephotograph only to find it has vanished into the ether of the human anthropocene.
I return to the process of clay exploration, the strange grey creature almost crawls across the page the lack of pigment in the air dry clay taking the life out of the plant, I pause then rolling fresh clay between the my palms, leaves carefully moulded and applied carefully round the petals giving more agency to them as a flower. The clay clings to my fingertips, it is smooth and visceral a part of the process, not one that I favour but the process of exploration is rewarding enough to continue. The light is fading now, still early on the season with daylight still at a premium the shadows thrown across the clay shape broker interest, the brain clicks round processing the thoughts like files in a hard drive, which may become corrupted or may produce a further process of exploration once the light returns and I return to the quieter rural setting.
Taproot Journal
A weekly musing
Number 1
The air is damp as the gravel crunches under my feet, it is not intentional although it somehow is as this route is familiar with a timed length and few interruptions of the human kind.
The path is dirt now and I spot some friends their leaves peeking out of the undergrowth on the untrodden edge. Soon the road noise increases and the pavement is littered with tiny dandelions forcing up through the cracks, I wonder how many will survive…
I think about Jessica Lee and her star moss that has invaded so many places and how she felt when she first encountered it so small and wondrous but now as it invades the space of other moss and with stands human intervention to remove it, yet she herself has moved countless times as has the human race invading and destroying others of the same species in fact it is happening today in Ukraine. So should we be surprised that plants do the same given the opportunity?
Back on a path and the history of my yellow friends reminds me they are indeed not native but north America, but they have their own name in france … The field I reach next has been grazed tightly and as the air changes to that of the dense evening fog , the suns last rays flow over the hill lighting the sky for a final hour.
Back on home ground and the familiar leaves appear populating the bank and making me smile, a moment later and I crest the hill to the sight of a white dandelion clock glowing in the last rays, a bit further and a 2nd and 3rd are poised to sperad their seeds. The way the dandelion retires for the evening back into it bud shape flowing with the regular pattern of light and dark is how we used to live,,,,
The top of the bank is a plethora of yellow faces tucking themselves up for the night but I will return daily now and greet my friends.
By the back door the trough has had one yellow head bravely battling against bid weed and nettles so I pause and clear some away, finding more leaves from the collabrative plant so I carefully leave them to grow a trough of dandelions in January