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Helga Joergens
Helga Joergens is an artist whose journey through the world of art is as multifaceted as her creations. From her early fascination with Surrealism inspired by a school trip to Dutch museums, to her deep academic engagement with art history and medieval German literature, Joergens has continuously explored the intersection of creativity, scholarship, and conservation. Her work, which spans painting, printmaking, and paper conservation, is informed by a lifetime of study, practice, and a profound respect for the legacy of art. In this interview, Joergens reflects on how her diverse experiences have shaped her artistic vision, the influence of historical art on her practice, and the personal significance of nature in her recent abstract compositions. Through her thoughtful approach, Joergens not only creates art but also contributes to its preservation, ensuring that future generations can continue to be inspired by the beauty and wisdom embedded in the works of the past and present.
Your artistic journey spans multiple disciplines, from art history and paper conservation to painting and teaching. How have these different experiences and areas of expertise influenced your creative process and artistic vision?
My artistic journey began at the age of 16 when I took part in an excursion with my art teacher and other students of an afternoon art club at the school, to the Netherlands to visit art museums in Amsterdam, Rotterdam and The Hague where I was acquainted with the art of Rembrandt van Rijn, Johannes Vermeer, Frans Hals and Vincent van Gogh.
However, at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rotterdam, I was introduced to the art of Surrealism when I saw, for the first time, paintings by Salvador Dalí, for example ‘Espagne’, 1938, (https://www.boijmans.nl/en/collection/artworks/4294/espagne).
I was so fascinated by the surprising content of Surrealist paintings that they inspired me to paint in the Surrealist style myself.
Back at home, in the art club, we later talked about what kind of jobs one could find in the field of art and the profession of art historians and working in art museums and galleries were discussed and that you needed to study History of Art in order to become an Art Historian. I did study History of Art in Hamburg and Göttingen, finished with a doctorate about the German sculptor Edwin Scharff who worked in the first half of the 20th century, and worked in two public art galleries in Germany.
My artistic Journey changed very much over the years. After my Surrealist paintings at school, my studies at Göttingen University broadened my knowledge of the art field. When I was introduced to printmaking like engravings and etchings in fine art, I joined an etching class, first in the local Adult Education Institute, and when the course closed down, I continued at the University. The influences between my own art and my Art Historical studies went both ways, practising art and trying out different technical areas and approaches. This helped me to understand better how art was created by other artists, and the challenges which the materials and processes give them but also the possibilities of expression that are offered.
On the other hand, seeing and studying art of other artists informed my own practice as well. The art I have seen by great masters inspire me in my work today, even if it was years ago that I have seen those artworks. The benefit of this kind of inspiration is that it will be filtered through my brain and comes out in my art in my own language and not as a copy of another’s artwork. The picture, Bouquet of Flowers, 2016, for example, was inspired by Impressionist art. And what stimulated my etching, Cubistic Composition (below) in 1985, is clear to see.
I was introduced to the conservation of paintings and works on paper in a seminar taught by the head restorer of a public art gallery who also showed us his studio and work. Later, when I wrote a guide book of the Kloster- und Wallfahrtskirche Nikolausberg (Monastery- and Pilgrimage Church St. Nicholas near Göttingen) in 1980, I visited the studio of the painting restorer who was restoring one of the medieval altar pieces of the church, and regularly visited the studios and the painting restorer at the Kunsthalle Bremen, the main public art gallery in Bremen, Germany, where I worked as an art historian in the second half of the 1980s. I was so interested in what can be done to bring back the former beauty of works of art after they had suffered damage. I deeply care about the preservation of artworks for the enjoyment and benefit of future generations.
That is a reason why I became a paper conservator myself. Moreover, the knowledge of paper conservation made me more aware of the characteristics of materials in documents and artworks on paper and their vulnerabilities. In order to make my drawings and paintings on paper more durable, I now use only materials of artists’ quality, simply because, for example, the pigments of the colours are more saturated and lightfast and don’t deteriorate so fast. Papers made from cotton don’t turn brown so easily, are more resilient and age much better. I endeavour to create the best product for the future owners of my art.
You started your academic journey with a focus on medieval German literature and art history. How do you see these scholarly interests reflecting in your artistic practice, and in what ways do they inform your work?
I was fascinated by medieval literature because of its lively story telling. Texts, like the stories of Tristan [and Isolde] by Gottfried von Strassburg (about 1210),
Wolfram von Eschenbach’s Parzival (about 1200-1210), or the Song of the Nibelungs (about 1200), were performed at noble courts and described the life of knights and courtly love and/or revenge. They showed similarities with the stories of the court of King Arthur. What I found interesting was the information about the life at the time and the general human wisdom which could be found in them, and which is still valid today. You have the same phenomenon with the Canterbury Tales (late 14th century) and the work of William Shakespeare.
The art of the time, mainly religious art, often altar pieces, fascinated me with its great beauty. It is also interesting to observe how European art started with simple, even abstract, forms expressing the deep concentration on the Christian message, the soul of a person and the afterlife. With time, artists strived to paint a more realistic picture of the world. Improved artistic skills, the invention of linear perspective by Filippo Brunelleschi (1425) and the perfection of the use of oil paints in the mid-fifteenth century by Jan van Eyck paved the way for the achievements of the great idealised reality of the Renaissance period (15th and 16th century).
Salvador Dali was fascinated by the painters of the Renaissance. My Surrealist pictures are about story telling with a twist. Nothing is as you may expect it and the pictures are full of surprises.
The painting, Broken Heart, is a picture both inspired by Surrealism but also by medieval art in its attention to detail. I always enjoyed the depiction of dragons and the devil in medieval art [1]. They were meant to look scary, and were surely frightening to the contemporary viewer. Nowadays, I don’t find them frightening but rather interesting to analyse which means those artists used to create such images of terror. So, my dragon, representing Evil, was inspired by medieval depictions of dragons.
In Broken Heart, you see a glass heart floating in some clouds above the mud flats of the North Sea with an urban silhouette in the background. The heart is broken due to a fight of Good and Evil in it, represented by a green dragon and a white horse locked with their forelegs in combat. What is depicted is the moment before the heart will burst apart from the vehemence of the fight with shards of glass already fallen on to the mud below. There are little details of story-telling like the lips in the grass at the feet of the dragon or the duck’s head in the cloud below it; they are typical elements of Surrealism. Whereas the picture was inspired by a poem of a school friend, the scenery stems from a walk I did with that friend.
Moving to London in 1990 marked a significant shift in your career. What were the most challenging and rewarding aspects of this transition, both personally and professionally?
Moving to London at the beginning of 1990 changed my life completely. I slowly felt my way into my new environment, renovating our flat and learning the language better, particularly how to understand the South London accent!
However, what I really enjoyed was living in London, having all the great museums, galleries, theatres and concert halls within a 30 minutes’ journey by public transport.
I experienced life in London as very exciting, as my drawing Exuberance, 1992, expresses:
Eventually, I found part-time teaching positions, firstly in adult education, later in further and higher education on Higher National Diploma courses. I had the chance to teach on a wide variety of courses on different levels - History of Art and Design, Contextual Studies and Critical Studies in Art and Design, moreover, as part of a teaching team in Film Studies and on a Jewellery Design course. I really enjoyed the variety and the challenge of researching topics I had not worked on before and preparing interesting classes in new areas of the broader art and design world. It was interesting to learn how closely linked art, design in its broadest sense, film making and even jewellery design stylistically are at any given time, and that similar, if not the same artistic principles can be applied to all of these areas.
It became clear how much these areas were inspired by the art of the time or even how they influence each other. Artists and designers were concerned with the same questions, problems, world views and expression in their work. In my teaching, I wanted to open the student’s eyes to the vast opportunities they had in finding inspiration in the world around them, particularly in the field of art. I wanted to teach them how to confidently approach works of art and design, view them, deconstruct their formal language in order to recognise the means the makers had used to bring their messages across. Or in other words: What is the message in a visual work and how is it conveyed? I wanted them to be able to look at any work, have means to analyse and evaluate it in order to find inspiration for their own practice. Also, how to analyse and evaluate their own work in order to develop the most successful outcomes. Moreover, how do other influences of culture, society, economics or politics inform art and design? Where do they see their position in society and what do they want to express in their work?
Particularly enjoyable were our trips to the London art galleries and museums, not only the National Gallery, Tate Galleries and the British Museum, but also to the Design Museum, Fashion and Textiles Museum, the Royal Institute of British Architects, the Theatre Museum (closed in 2007) and a very interesting Japanese Manga exhibition. There is simply no substitute for experiencing art and design in reality.
Another rewarding circumstance was that my students came from all over the world. Many had come to the United Kingdom as refugees, fleeing from wars and now took the chance of further education in order to progress either to University or into jobs. Helping them was one of the most worthwhile parts of my teaching.
I also worked on the wonderful Housebound Learners Project at South Thames College. Unfortunately, it closed after a few years due to lack of funding. I taught adult volunteers, who had been teamed up with a housebound adult each, for two hours, gave them specially written teaching material prepared by me, like photographs of the artworks discussed in class, background information and questionnaires, in order to enable them to teach their housebound friend for an hour. Once a term, we visited a gallery relating to the course with the housebound students. There was also a yearly party in the college furthering our contacts. We all very much enjoyed our classes and gatherings.
For myself and my own art practice, through the preparation of my teaching and visits to museums, investigating so many different works of art, learning more in depth about movements, approaches and expressions, taking over a thousand slides to show to my students, I broadened my own horizons too.
Your work in paper conservation is marked by precision and care. How does this meticulousness translate into your painting and drawing practices, and how do you balance these seemingly disparate skills?
Paper conservation is the conservation and repair of paper objects as well as their preservation in safe housing like mounts and frames, special boxes, folders, or display cabinets depending on what the objects are and where they are held. I am concerned with flat objects, mainly artworks which I conserve and then safely house in mounts and frames.
Having made drawings and prints myself helps me to understand the materials and processes involved in the creation of art on paper and to identify techniques used in the works that need conservation. I have also learnt to recognise what the dangers are for paper to deteriorate and get damaged. Apart from mechanical damage through tears and holes, the endangering factors are light, moisture and insects like woodworm. Light can bleach out colours and darken paper, moisture can lead to the change of the paper’s shape by making it cockle or buckle. Moisture can also lead to mould growing on the paper and destroying it. Housing prints or drawings in mounts made from wood pulp are also a danger for them, as with time, when the mountboard deteriorates with age, brown colour will be released from the fibres and migrate into the artwork. This heightened awareness of materials and their characteristics, give me inspiration for my own work.
Your artistic process involves starting without a preconceived idea and letting the image evolve. Can you describe a specific work where this approach led to a surprising or profound outcome?
My first Surreal drawings began almost like doodles and were developed into full scale drawings. I was taking “An active line on a walk, moving freely, without goal. A walk for a walk's sake.”[2], as the German-Swiss artist, Paul Klee, (1879–1940) stated it as his first artistic principle in his Pedagogical Sketchbook for his teaching at the Bauhaus in Dessau, Germany 1925.
Here is my drawing, Fantasia, 1972, pen and black ink. I started with first one, then several sweeping lines, filling in the spaces between them with abstract or figurative drawing, carrying on observing what was happening and letting my imagination lead my hand. You see a large eye, a number of different faces displaying different emotions, a horse’s head, an arrow, trees and snakes. One area merges out of another almost like in a dream or a film.
The oil pastel, Cubist Composition with Fruit, 1985, was developed in a similar manner: I started with the outlines and then developed the picture in its details.
During the Covid-19 restrictions, you found solace in nature and incorporated themes of hope and light into your work. How did these challenging times shape your artistic perspective and influence the themes you explore?
I always loved nature. I grew up at the edge of a rural town, had the chance to go horse riding as a girl on a farm about two miles away, to which my friends and I cycled along a quiet country lane. Through this, I developed a love of horses and nature.
Nature and the unrestricted view of sunrises or sunsets were something I missed when living in London. However, in 2013, my husband, the painter David Lendrum (https://www.davidlendrum.co.uk/), and I moved to a rural village in north west Norfolk, UK, with a garden and a farm track leading straight into the fields from our doorstep. Therefore, we had the good fortune during the Covid lockdown to be able to walk safely in the countryside at the end of each day, when nobody was about and we would not meet anybody. It was so healing to experience that nature was not concerned with Covid or human worries. Birds and animals carried on as normal, the trees and flowers kept growing, there were still beautiful sunsets. Recognising this larger picture of life put everything else into perspective and gave me hope.
The drawing, Morning, 2022, shows glowing colours within surrounding darkness, expressing my feeling at the time.
Moreover, sharing my life with my husband and discussing our art with him, helped enormously. Another crucial support for me were my telephone conversations with my family in Germany, particularly with my sister, but with friends too. Knowing they were all right was so important and led me to being thankful. Thankfulness was a significant feeling at the time and still is. Gratefulness is a key to happiness.
You've mentioned that light plays a metaphorical role in your pieces. Could you elaborate on how you use light symbolically in your work and its significance to your overall message?
The oil pastel drawing Light at the End of the Tunnel, 1973, is a key picture for my art right up until today because it is the first one in which light is the topic. The other topic is that of multiple space levels. You seem to be standing in a dark room in the foreground from which a tunnel leads to a door opening through which a bright yellow light shines in. Half way down the tunnel, your view is interrupted by a green frame which casts a shadow all the way back into the room. There are five space levels: The room, the tunnel up to the frame, the light part of the tunnel, the door frame and the light are behind it. I found this stacking of space levels intriguing. But importantly, the message is that of hope.
This exploration into light and spaces continues with the oil painting, Towards Infinity, 1973. It developed out of a pencil drawing. Once the composition was finished, I copied it onto cardboard, which I had primed, and then started painting. As oil paint dries so slowly, it is beneficial to use a clear under drawing indicating where each colour should go because otherwise the colours could merge and smudge into a mess, I found. Above, you see both, the oil painting and the preparatory study for it. Again, we see a dark and bleak space. On the right, the earth has a deep crack which reveals that the earth is not solid but only a precariously thin surface. In a box behind a brick wall, into which we can also see through a window, is a light landscape, that of a desert which stretches to the horizon. In it is a figure caught in a tree trunk. Although the picture is rather bleak, painted in cool blue tones, the light of the desert creates a sense of hope and freedom.
The source of my continuing exploration of light and intriguing spaces lies in two photographs which I did at school. One shows the reflection of trees and buildings in a window while the other one is a photogram with lace, on a background of areas of different greys surrounding a white circle, on which more lace is superimposed, surrounding a deep space. This play of reality and reflection inspired me again and again.
Left: Reflection in a window, Right: Photogram with lace, a glass and a superimposed lace image
The drawing Mysterious Face, 1981, is about light and darkness but also about two space levels, the dark veil covering half of the female face makes it mysterious. The moon sickle in her hair may distinguish her as the goddess Luna.
Above is a more recent example of a painting featuring light, the watercolour, Coast, of last year. Dark clouds, the sea and marshland appear threatening but the light in the middle and the golden sunshine which filters through the clouds give consolation.
And below is a picture just of light: The oil pastel Burst of Light, layering the different colours with bold strokes over each other creating more tones which hold the composition together.
The message of light in my art is that of hope in despair, hope in darkness. So far, my experience in life has been that there always was a way out of darkness. I need my optimism as a prevailing feeling in my approach to life. It keeps me going. Moreover, I like to give the viewers of my art hope and joy too, give them a happy feeling.
Participating in group exhibitions and collaborating with other artists is a notable part of your career. How do these interactions and collaborative experiences influence your individual work and creative growth?
Being a member of the West Norfolk Artists’ Association (WNAA) and taking part in group exhibitions with them and in the West Acre Gallery, West Acre, Norfolk, is a very enjoyable experience because my fellow artists as well as Abbey Stirling who used to run the West Acre Gallery and is an artist herself, are friendly, welcoming and support each other. There are regular members meetings of the WNAA, often at exhibition openings of shows by members, where we view one another’s artworks and exchange ideas. Exhibiting together three times a year with a large summer exhibition in King’s Lynn is always uplifting and interesting. Coming out of the loneliness of our studios, it is refreshing for all of us to share our art. You also see your work in the framework with that of other artists and find out where you are standing. The contact gives you the stimulus to carry on and perhaps try out new ideas. While monitoring the exhibition, you also talk to the visitors, explain your art and open their hearts to new experiences. They normally leave the exhibition happy and enriched.
I embarked on my journey into three-dimensional art in 2021 in the workshop for pottery, sculpture and printmaking (https://www.studioat55.com/) of the sculptor Esther Boehm (https://www.estherboehm.com/) in the neighbouring village of Heacham, Norfolk, UK. The advantage of the workshop is that it is not a class, i. e. not directed by a teacher. So, our work is self-directed, and the members all tackle different topics, materials and approaches. I find this variety very stimulating. Concerning pottery, I learnt a lot from the other members of the group. But I also really enjoy watching them create beautiful ceramics and works of art in ways that I would not make them … and then carry on doing my own thing which is abstract sculpture. Esther and I have a very good rapport because, although our art is very different, our approaches to art and formal visual language is so similar.
I recently joined a small group of artists who meet every two months and set each other topics for artworks. I like these challenges of themes coming from another artist. The next time we meet, we show our interpretations of the topic and discuss them which is very enjoyable. It is astounding to see how different themes can be understood. For example, for the subject of Spring I made a painting of flowers. However, there were also different interpretations of the word spring as in the meaning of jumping, and a spring as a technical item, which led to the creation of a Jack-in-the- Box.
Your solo exhibition at Ringstead Village Hall offered viewers a deep dive into your artistic journey. What was the most meaningful feedback or reaction you received from this exhibition, and how did it impact you?
It was great to have the opportunity for a solo exhibition because I could show 30 works which reflected many of my current artistic interests and their development. Most of these works had been inspired by nature but there were also more abstract compositions from my imagination. Visitors were particularly intrigued about the media and techniques I used, like the more unusual monoprinting, and how I had made the pictures.
It was also interesting that different visitors responded to different artworks. It told me that there is not one style that is particularly popular but that other works were liked as well. I also valued the interpretations of the public which often varied from my own view. After all, it is the work of art that communicates with the viewer like in a dialogue, and each person brings different thoughts and ideas to the discussion. At is such a universal language and the artist has to let the works go and exist independently in the world.
You've been involved in charitable exhibitions, such as Women + Health, Art in the Hut and Wild Form Artists . How do you see your art contributing to social causes or community initiatives, and what motivates you to engage in these projects?
The first time that I took part in a charity exhibition was in the summers of 2017 and 2019 in the exhibitions ‘Art in the Hut’, taking place in the beach hut owned by the charity Mencap and organized by the painter Julie Clark (https://www.julieclarkart.co.uk/store/c1/Featured_Products.html). The money collected through the sales of the anonymously exhibited postcard size pictures by local artists, as well as numerous donations, benefitted the Norfolk Hospice, Tapping House. These two exhibitions caused such a buzz and made a large amount for the hospice. It was a privilege to be part of the event.
During the Covid lockdown, I was invited to take part in the online exhibition Women + Health: Women’s Lockdown Art, Online Fundraising Exhibition for Women + Health, London, in November/December 2020. Here is one of the three postcard size pictures I exhibited and sold for the project:
This exhibition was a great success both for the charity as well as for the artists. It was a large exhibition showcasing a wide variety of styles and approaches by many different artists. Most works were sold so that the charity really benefitted from the show. It was very rewarding to be a member of such a large group coming together to help women with their health in such difficult times.
Last year, four Ringstead artists came together to form the group, ‘Wild Form Artists’ (wildformartists on Instagram). All four of us love nature and find inspiration for our art from it. We exhibited together in the framework of Norfolk Open Studios and collected money for the ‘Norfolk Wildlife Trust’ which does wonderful and very important work for Nature in Norfolk. Our group still exists and we shall exhibit together again next year.
Your portfolio showcases a range of styles, from figurative to abstract. How do you decide which direction to take with a new piece, and what drives your exploration of different artistic forms?
Whereas my early oil paintings were prepared by drawings, nowadays, I draw, or paint in acrylic, straight onto the final surface. I like to experiment and see where the painting leads me. Therefore, I am in constant dialogue with what is happening on the picture plane. It seems that each colour, each line or mark I make, asks for another one to follow in a specific way.
After a pause in painting during the 1990s, I felt my way back into art by taking part in art classes where I drew and painted from observation. I enjoyed the concentration on the objects in front of me and turning them into my own artistic language.
I continued with art classes after moving to Ringstead in Norfolk, UK. Here is an example of a still life of pumpkins which I combined with cubistic elements:
I like taking risks and responding to challenges: If something goes wrong, I try to correct it or rather regard it as an opportunity to create something new and step forward into unknown territory. I have thrown away only very few pictures as failures when I really could not see how they could be rescued, but normally I like to give all pictures a chance to be finished to my satisfaction. However, sometimes there is a fault in a particular area which I feel I can’t rectify at the time. Then I let the work rest and go back to it even years later when I have found out how to finish it.
Two Pictures as example of corrections
Left: Adagio, 2018, Black chalk and water-soluble colour crayon, State 1, Right: Adagio, 2018, State 2
The composition of Adagio seemed to be unbalanced in its first state (left). I left it for some months and then added the black bow below right and more light-brown colour below centre to anchor the composition.
Left: Field, 2021, Watercolour and acrylic on board, State 2, Right: Field, 2021, Watercolour and acrylic on board, State 3
More radical was my correction of the painting Field, 2021. It started as a watercolour with an upturned bow rather than a downturned one like in the upturned curve in the second version. Unfortunately, I don’t have a photo of it. I worked over it so often that the watercolour paint sunk into the paper and disappeared because I had washed out the size (glue) within the paper. I had to use acrylic paint to continue because it remains on the paper surface. That is what you see in State 2. However, this picture looked drab. The yellow and orange highlights pulled the picture together and gave it sparkle in state 3.
I learnt this persistence in paper conservation. If you start working on an object and something happens in an unexpected way, you can’t just stop and leave it. You have to carry on, find a solution and finish the conservation work in a satisfactory manner. This determination not to give up has helped me in other areas of life too. It gives you the feeling that a situation is not lost and that it is worth searching for a solution, and mostly, it works.
Nature and landscapes have become prominent themes in your recent work. How do you interpret and transform these elements into your art, and what personal significance do they hold for you?
The German-Swiss artist, Paul Klee, (1879–1940), whose art was inspired by Cubism, Expressionism and Surrealism, once wrote: "For the artist communication with nature remains the most essential condition. The artist is human; himself nature; part of nature within natural space."[3]
Although my pictures contain inspiration from nature, the outcome is abstract. The use of overlapping, flowing lines of different thicknesses and colours create a sense of space. I use the colours I observe around me but intensify them to create an emotional impact. The colours I select and their placement give different effects like a horizontal flow creates calmness whereas a diagonal direction indicates movement.
I use colours to create a mood, with dark hues towards the edges contrasting with lighter areas more in the middle of the composition, to suggest a sense of hope and optimism as can be seen in Revelation, 2019. I want the viewer to enjoy my art and feel elevated through it; I want to give happiness to people.
You emphasize the importance of spontaneity in your work. Can you share an instance where embracing spontaneity led to a breakthrough or a new direction in your art?
I would like to show you a few paintings as well as sculptures.
Paintings
There are a few examples which I can show. Often a breakthrough happened through choosing new materials that I tried out. For example, in 2019, a member of my art group gave me a sheet of red sandpaper, pointing out how good it would be as a surface for pastel painting. I tried it out and the result is ‘Red Sunset’ (below). I very much enjoyed the process but found that the very fugitive pastel pigments did not adhere well to the surface and needed a lot of fixing with a special fixative.
Another friend then gave me several sheets of sandpaper as I obviously used it for art. It inspired me to try out acrylic paint on this wonderfully rough surface. However, if I used a brush on directly on the sandpaper, the moisture in the paint combined with the brushing action would remove the sand particles. The solution was to press the paint onto the surface with a palette knife. That worked very well. Once the surface was sealed with acrylic paint, I could also use a brush. The structure of the sandpaper reflects the light in a way that the picture appears to sparkle, almost jewel-like as you can see in the painting, In Nature, above. Therefore, I continued with this technique.
An example of a different way in which spontaneity changed my way of working is Autumn, a painting in acrylic on paper. It started off as a study of coloured rectangles. When evaluating the work, I liked the colours but found the composition of rectangles too limiting. In order to destroy the image and stop me from continuing with the theme, I painted a large white S-shape in the centre of the picture. Sometime later, I was sorry about my radical act of destruction. However, as I still liked the colours of the rectangles, I carried on with painting layer upon layer onto the surface without being judgemental. A new picture was emerging which incorporated the rectangles and the S-shape in the background, and it took on a completely new appearance and meaning. I have never been so radical before and change a picture so much. I just kept going until ‘Autumn’ was finished.
Sculptures
Left: More than a Cliff, 2021, Fired clay, iron oxide, Right: Dance, 2021-22, Fired clay, cobalt oxide
As I said above, I began making sculptures in Esther Boehm’s workshop in 2021. To familiarize myself with the material of clay, I made some pieces of ceramics before I started with abstract sculpture.
More than a Cliff is my first sculpture. I began by kneading a lump of clay in my hands to develop a feel for it. The next step was incising groves into it with my fingers and seeing what would come out. As soon as a form emerged, my modelling became purposeful. Dance is my second sculpture. It started in a similar way as More than a Cliff but soon the form of the skirt of a dancing woman appeared. I then developed the figure upwards and in the round. The top area was then shaped using fine modelling tools. Other clay sculptures followed, like Growing, 2022-23, made from dark brown fired clay (below). It was also built up from the bottom and developed during the creative process through trial and error. I can only perceive which parts work together if I try them out.
A few months ago, I started to carve my first soap stone sculpture, Crashing Waves, in light turquoise-green stone. The work is not quite finished. The carving is executed with different rasps, and the surface will be polished with wet sandpaper. Carving soap stone is much easier than I expected because the stone is very soft and easy to form. I started by looking at the surface of the stone and followed lines and directions which suggested themselves to me.
Crashing Waves, 2024, Soap stone, work in progress, front and back views
At this stage, the bottom edges and a large part of the back have been left uncarved to show the characteristics of the stone as I found it. They contrast with the highly shiny surface of the rest of the piece.
Looking ahead, are there any new themes, techniques, or projects you are excited to explore? How do you envision your artistic journey evolving in the coming years?
Having mainly worked on paper for a long time, I have started to paint larger pictures on canvas in acrylics like Glowing, 2024, and to go back to using oil paint with the small-scale Landscape, 2024, (below) and plan to create more soap stone sculptures.
Left: Summer Shower, 2023, Watercolour on watercolour paper, Right: Glowing, 2024, Acrylic on canvas
In the painting, Glowing, I transferred my method of painting watercolours on paper to acrylic on primed canvas. However, I had to change my approach because whereas in the watercolours, I could add water to the paper and then drip paint into it to let it run and the colours mix, I had to wait until the water was half dry before I could add the acrylic paint in order to achieve a similarly strong colour effect.
The West Norfolk Artists’ association has moved into a large exhibition space in the heart of King’s Lynn which will offer very stimulating opportunities for exhibitions. In fact, the first show is in the process of being prepared.
I am very excited about the plan for a series of YouTube videos and podcasts to be created this year with Hinton Media.
If you would like to know more about me, see the interview with me in Cultural Dose: https://www.culturaldose.com/post/helga-joergens, visit my website: https://www.helgajoergens.co.uk/ or my Instagram page @helgajoergens.
References:
[1] For example, have a look at this dragon in: St. George and the Dragon. Book of Hours, c. 1420-30, Paris. UBH Cod.Sal.IXe, fol. 232r. Heidelberg Univ. Library, reproduced online: https://es.pinterest.com/pin/511721576384065721/ , accessed on 28 August 2024.
[2] Paul Klee: Pedagogical Sketchbook, Introduction and Translation by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, Faber & Faber, London, 2nd edition 1968, p. 16. The German version of the book, Pädagogisches Skizzenbuch, 2nd of the 14 Bauhaus Books, edited by Walter Gropius and Laszlo Mohoy-Nagy, 1925.
[3] Quotation of Paul Klee in the translation by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy in her introduction to: Paul Klee: Pedagogical Sketchbook, Introduction and Translation by Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, Faber &; Faber, London 1953, 2nd edition 1968, p.7.
This is the original text in German: „Die Zwiesprache mit der Natur bleibt für den Künstler conditio sine qua non. Der Künstler ist Mensch, selber Natur und ein Stück Natur im Raume der Natur.“ These are the two introductory sentences of his essay: Paul Klee: Wege des Naturstudiums, in Staatliches Bauhaus Weimar 1919-1923, Bauhausverlag, Weimar and Munich 1923, p. 24, Facsimile Edition, edited by Lars Müller, essay by Astrid Bähr, With complete English translation, Lars Müller in collaboration with Bauhaus Archiv / Museum für Gestaltung, Berlin, published by Lars Müller, Zürich, Switzerland, 2019.
Here the quotation is translated as, ”For the artist, dialogue with nature remains a condition sine qua non. The artist is a man, himself nature and a part of nature in natural space.”, p.20 of the second volume containing the translation of the book.
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