Jordan Verdes

The process of creating is at the core of my practice. From the origins of the pigments, through their processing and then their application, I treat painting as a craft. The tactile nature of the materials I use is key to the process as I construct. Whilst there is reference to early minimalist concepts, my work is driven by the idea of when a painting starts, and for me that’s before any colour is applied. ‘Can I make that into paint’ is probably the most frequent question I ask myself, almost like a challenge. Sometimes I should’ve given up, but I can be stubborn and I will keep trying to push how far I can take the ‘handmade’ nature of the work. I’m quite experimental in my approach to making, and ask myself a lot of ‘what if’s?’ and ‘how could?’.

During my BA I spent a lot of time trying to paint without really understanding what it was that drove me to do it. I enjoyed making canvases more than using them, so I knew I was getting something wrong. I had some rough crits with tutors, where my material tests or experiments were more successful or visually engaging. I felt these were irrelevant and weren’t really part of what I wanted to show. Then mid-way through my second year I realised my fascination with the process of making the surface ‘ready’ for painting. There was so much to learn and to get right before paint was even involved; building the bars from scratch, joining, sanding, stretching, sizing, priming. All of these steps suddenly became the focus and I started playing with them; how deep should the canvas be? What can I change in the gesso recipe? What if I use another material - a different wood or fabric? I wanted to make work that was highlighting what I was using, where it comes from and what processes it goes through to even exist as a support for painting. This later fed into a fascination with materials, in particular pigments, their origins and their histories.

The journey of a material or pigment is vital to my practice. I have started collecting earth or rock samples whenever I am able to travel, these are then labelled and stored with details of the location I collected them. I’ve had several donations to my pigment collection from friends and other collectors; locally and internationally, and the collection continues to grow. The act of hand grinding and mixing pigment is then a process of testing and documentation. Once the paint is ready, its application becomes a testament to its history, each canvas combines different processing methods and geographical locations. The act of hand processing is almost redundant today with such high quality paints available, and yet this very act is a direct engagement with our entire history of Art.

A sense of calm is important to me. My paintings are usually quite minimal, and sometimes there is only a single element to focus on. They are intended to bring attention to the material used, and I’ve often been told that the works are satisfying to look at. I hope that by detailing the sources of the materials, people experience a way of understanding what a painting or colour is, how It can be made, and what from. This connects the viewer with the laborious task of grinding familiar stones, rocks or insects into powder to make a colour. I think of painting like an assemblage, this is why my media descriptions are so detailed, I want the viewer to really see the specifics of what is on, or under, the surface. This leads to other questions around ethics, sourcing, manufacture, labour, sustainability and provenance, all so relevant today.

I try to be at the studio in the morning, so I can feel like I’m really making the most of the day ahead. I’ll arrive, usually make coffee, and sit in the space and look around at what I think needs to be done that day. I don’t normally go in with a set plan or schedule. I find that doing this creates a bit of anxiety about how much I get done on list, and I don’t want my studio to feel like a chore. So, I tend to keep a pretty open mind whilst there. I’ll usually start by tidying up, this helps me organise my thoughts for the day and engage manually with the items in my studio, literally get in touch with them. The process of tidying and going through the organisation of my space quietens all the outside noise, and when it is just me and the materials, I begin. I break as needed but try to stay within the space and mindset as much as possible. I tend to have some days focused around sorting sourced minerals and labelling them, and other days around grinding, mixing, painting.

I’d really like to get a point in my work where all the paint I use is paint that I have made from my own, or collected pigment samples; where everything is traceable and I know who was involved in its procurement. I want to know where it all comes from - how it’ start’s it’s journey. I would love to build an archive of naturally occurring pigments for my own reference and record, and something that is accessible to others. I’d like to work more with pigment manufacturers, collectors, geologists and archivists, and see more examples of how colour records are kept. It would be a great feat be able to sell the sort of pigments I work with, and find a more sustainable way of painting and making them accessible. Bio-based acrylics have recently come onto the art materials market and that’s incredible and fascinating - I would love to be part of something like that.