Positioning myself as an investigator
- Written byPost-Grad Community
- Published date 22 February 2020
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Written by Becky Moriarty, MA Illustration, Camberwell College of Arts.
Through comprehensive questioning, Professor Susan Doyle et al. (2018, p. 1) state that what makes illustration more than a picture is its, ‘intent to communicate a particular message or piece of information’. So, we could argue that context is key to achieving a clear delivery.
Locating knowledge and noticing gaps in the linear communication between context and audience lends itself to being investigative. If we identify illustration as a reflective practice, which combines analysis of information and practical response, aided by the Practitioner’s specialised skill (Gray and Malins, 2004, p. 22), we can see nuances in actions taken by Illustrators and Investigators. Even more naturally, I can see alignments within my practice. I aim to use these comparisons to critically position myself as an investigative Illustrator.
Firstly, how do we choose a line of enquiry in a world of endless possible subject matter? My interest has consistently landed on the everyday. A topic fascinated by many contemporary artists, Professor Stephen Johnstone notes that by inspecting, ‘the vast reservoir of normally unnoticed, trivial and repetitive actions comprising the common ground of daily life’, one is examining these often, over-looked narratives under a magnifying glass and projecting them into the limelight (2008, p. 12). A curiosity to examine informal histories rather than grand stories. Like an Investigator, there is a desire to look beyond the surface layer and notice what is present and absent. This ambition has seeped into my own practice and expanded while undertaking projects one and two.
To start, all enquiries need questions that will help form an argument. Whether subconsciously or not, in project one, I found myself drawn to the effects of a major world story (COVID) on the quieter everyday lives of the Hackney locals, where I live. Giving myself a political context, I began by asking: What is an ‘essential’ business and who has power to decide this? How will this change the average person’s routine and relationships within a community? Considering a social, cultural and commercial context, I chose to use Ridley Road Market (Fig. 1) as a case study to examine.
With the re-introduction of lockdown on the 4th November 2020, I decided to monitor changes within the market on the days before and after the launch of the new rules. Through the use of drawing as a documentation tool, I gave a visual form to these questions. With shops changing from open to shut and a decrease in masked shoppers, there was a clear contrast from one day to the next. I conveyed differences by using coloured pencil in the ‘before’ drawings to express energy (Fig. 2) and black pen for the ‘after’ images to show the emptiness of life (Fig. 3). Looking critically at these drawings, in reflection, it would be worth revisiting Ridley Road to understand fully the impact of COVID through additionally, collected visual data.
Project one ultimately led to the key question I am trying to solve within my investigative practice: Is it the imprint of memories on a physical space that cement its identity and what happens when we take the life out of it?
Once questions have been set, securing supportive secondary material is essential to sealing the value of any enquiry. There is no escaping the pandemic and its influence on the creative industry. I explored how artists were engaging with the subject. Important examples in relation to my practice include Photographer Juan Ortiz-Arenas (Fig. 4.), who took advantage of his daily exercise to collect snapshots of the local area and Illustrator Vic Lee (Fig. 5.), who documented news headlines in his daily coronavirus diary. Their repetitive approach to monitoring changes inspired me to undertake a similar experiment.
I visited Kingsland Butchers on Ridley Road every day for two weeks, to record one second of footage from the same viewing spot (Fig. 6.). Although arguably ordinary, there is something fascinating about recording a second that will perhaps pass unnoticed. Much like an investigator re-visiting a crime scene to take a closer look, there is value in capturing the ever-changing details of same place.
Focusing within Hackney, I explored how organisations were facilitating locals. Campaigns such as the Museum of the Home’s ‘Stay Home’ project (2021), which invites people to submit their pandemic memories and the community project, Future Hackney (2020), who record changes in society within the area, promote the importance of oral history as an investigation tool. I later incorporated this research method into project two.
To better understand the social, cultural and commercial history of Hackney, I delved into archival footage. This research led me to a filmed walk (The Guardian, 2009), presented by Iain Sinclair, a Pyschogeographer based in the borough, which ultimately influenced my chosen explorative discipline in project two. The term psychogeography was defined by Situationist Guy Debord in 1955 as, ‘the study of the specific effects of the geographical environment, consciously organised or not, on the emotions and behaviour of individuals’ (Greeland, 2016). The goal behind the movement being to create ‘situations’ in order to unsettle the capitalist routine, resist consumerism and live a truly authentic existence. The most renowned ‘situations’ technique is the dérive or aimless wander (Nicolas, 2019, 03:17).
During project 2, I undertook a six hour dérive through Hackney, allowing myself to drift between streets, open spaces and towering housing estates, without a map. The purpose? Author Will Self describes it as a way of, ‘re-engaging with what is right in front of us’ (IAI, 2020, 00:40) but I would add that it is a proactive process of investigation. I embodied a true flâneur by letting my emotions and intuition lead the way, as well as sounds and existing directional arrows within advertisements. Engaging with oral history through stopping locals in my path and asking, ‘Where should I walk next?’ Through employing the concept of psychogeography, I firmly positioned myself as an Investigator and gave my practice context by discovering the different, fragmented layers that lie under the surface, within Hackney.
This ‘aimless wander’ resulted in a large number of photos (Fig. 7.), video footage, voice recordings and evidential drawings. Aiming to piece together my findings, I explored collage.
For the final outcome, I illustrated a set of postcards showcasing hidden shopfronts, I had discovered through the dérive – the true, timeless sights of Hackney (Fig. 8.). I gave a physical form to where there was mystery while re-enforcing the constant social and commercial context within my work. But looking at the printed postcards there was clearly something missing… a lack of any human connection to these places.
Considering my key question again, I decided to re-introduce people’s imprints on to these places and create new memories. I delivered one hundred pre-stamped, blank postcards into letterboxes across Hackney, accompanied by instructions for the occupant, to send a message to someone they are thinking of during these isolating times. Re-engaging people and place and ultimately, reporting on the results of my psychogeography enquiry.
Although the use of investigative techniques has aided my practice, the same could be said of the reverse. Comparing with my own outcomes for project one and two, if an Investigator were to employ the tools of an Illustrator, it would allow them to visually fill space where information is missing. Taking their questioning from a linear form to an endless realm of creative possibilities and perhaps bringing them a step closer to solving the mystery. If the intent of illustration is to, ‘communicate a particular message or piece of information’ (Doyle et al. 2018, p. 1) then by using these tactics, an Investigator could open up their enquiry to a wider audience, allowing for different results.
Let’s not forget that parallel to exploring other’s stories, there is value in placing yourself within the narrative. Inspired by Guy Debord’s The Naked City (Fig. 9.), I constructed my own maps of Hackney, plotting my memories of lockdown (Fig. 10.).
Creating these landscapes of my memory aided my enquiry by introducing awareness of the uniqueness of people’s internal maps and view of existing spaces. Again, showing that illustration is a useful tool for Investigators, through offering a different perspective.
In reflection, we could say all Illustrators are Investigators. Just as an Investigator’s purpose is to ‘investigate’, Doyle et al. (2018, p.1) notes that illustration originates from the Latin root, lux, meaning, ‘to shine light upon’. The process is less focused on the form of the final outcome and more about uncovering. Throughout my practice to date, I have critically positioned myself as investigative Illustrator by thinking through making, creative risk-taking and noticing the gaps in the story under the lens of illustration. The outcomes have only formed due to the trial and error, experimental nature of my work.
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