Kiera O'Toole: HI Daniel,

Yeah, I really like your work- disturbing yet ambiguously beautiful.

RE: graveyards- many Catholic graveyards were build on the foundations of Pagan ceremonial sites, then when the English came, they destroyed or repurposed catholic Churches as Protestant Churches hence the mix!

Keep in touch!


Daniel Leng: It would be wonderful to see this series in person someday, to really experience the edges and surfaces. From afar, the work conjures the surface of a distant planet, ancient ruins, symbols, and systems all at once. It really seems to express something very real/tangible and something transcendent at the same time. Familiar, but alien. Everyday, but impossible. Lots of food for thought.

It's interesting to me that this work was produced as a combination of chance/circumstance and the human reaction to circumstance. A process that mirrors real life producing an artifact that seems to express the complexity in the real world...

One humble viewer's thoughts...

Kiera O'Toole: Hi Daniel,

Thank you for your kind and very observant words. They are much appreciated. The work queries Ireland's relationship with her religious and spiritual past so that we may consider our position at present. I did a year long residency researching graveyards as sites of departure particularly graveyards that were mixed: catholic, protestant and neolithic.

Thanks for connecting and I really like the conceptual framework and freshness of this site.

Do you have work I could view?

Keep in touch,


Daniel Leng: Kiera,

Thanks for the reply. Interesting about "mixed" graveyards. I admit that I've never given much thought to the idea of mixed vs segregated graveyards. I'm curious to learn more about your findings/thoughts in regards to that.

As for me, I haven't produced much work in the recent years... been working on more projects like this site, although I do need to make time. I'm a humble student of photography, particularly in love with old processes/materials. When I find time, I've been experimenting with darkroom processes that can express intimate moments from my life, although I haven't gotten there yet. An old image I continue to work with... here.



Jeff Bergman: This particular work Pincers seems to have both the elements of the folded objects you are creating portraits of and it exists as it’s own form within the painting. That is to say that your work is successful as both conveying the theme of the forms you are exploring but also the image can stand alone on the plane. The color offers a way to emphasize the shift in space and the way the folded shape exists.

I think that Thomas Nozkowski does this best in contemporary art, but many try and succeed at either making these gestures more complex (Julie Mehretu) or less complex (Mary Heilmann). I think it would be instructive for you to look at Sol LeWitt’s Complex Forms images from his wall drawings.

I wonder if you always make these paintings from a real model or if you ever imagine the form and try to access a truly expressionist folded form?

Marie Kazalia: Hi Louisa

I like your work! The contrast of bright and muted with this painting, and the "pop up" quality of the central form brought to mind folded paper and books. The central fluorescent color and form, the illusions and aspects, as you mention--I enjoyed reading your artist statement description in relation to this work.

Louisa Chambers: Hi Marie, Thank you for your comment! I have been working from an already creased piece of paper that is primarily used by architects for building models. As well as recording the tessellations and the main form of the shape- I am also interested in the shadows that the shape casts. I wanted to try and emphasise these inbetween spaces with strong gestural and colourful marks. Recently I have become interested in the façade (the front), middle and the behind spaces primarily in structures/buildings but also displays - in shops and/or installed artworks in gallery spaces.


Jeff Bergman: I enjoy seeing works like this in situ. I can see that "Reconstruction" is site-specific and I wonder if it would function as a series. I have a great fondness for for Sol LeWitt's wall drawings which can appear in many places, even at one time. The rectangular field and the broad black line recall many artists, from Malevich forward, but that combined with the specialized location recall LeWitt.

I agree with Dan that the space, decaying and possibly demolished by now, makes an apt juxtaposition. The document speaks well of the work. David Wojnarowicz did this often on the piers on the west side of Manhattan, knowing that they would decay rapidly. What is it to make art that will degrade or be demolished? Can it be recreated or would there be a reason to?

The overall image, photograph of the space rather than the installation, is wonderfully composed and draws me in immediately. Clean lines and broken lines play off one another. I see the complexity of criss-crossed telephone wires strung overhead in the composition. I see Kandinsky’s Point and Line to Plane (the very name sake of this site) at play as well. I see the broken lines of Franz Kline.

A question for the artist: Tom, Have you installed any of your constructions posted here in spaces like this? I think the idea of taking your painting into the spaces to photograph would be rewarding.

Well done Tom, the work is good and novel and neither thing takes away from the other.

Daniel Leng: I remember seeing this image on Tom's Twitter feed a while ago and am delighted to see it appear on Point and Line for discussion. The image seems so still and contemplative to me, as I really seem to feel the space that this installation sits in. It pushes me to see. For this viewer, it works on many levels, revealing it's complexity to me as I think about it more...

I immediately start to see the obvious juxtaposition of smooth and rough, clean and dirty, cold and warm... but move on to thing about more abstract concepts like the essential vs the existential... and then start to notice and think about the nuances of the materials and execution... the fact that this emulsion and tape are really just a a thin veil on top of the rough surface underneath... eventually I come to the idea that the artwork here is not simply the black and white fragment in on the wall, but the room itself, the concept of "reconstruction". What is this work doing here exactly anyhow? What reconstruction? The fact that in the end, the cleanly presented construction here will certainly lose the "battle" to the rough reality of this decaying building.

This work seems a wonderful statement about art itself... Art is so starkly beautiful in juxtapostion to reality. It is temporal and fleeting, but necessary... The "conceptual", "construction", "reconstruction", and "the ability to picture and create something new" are wonderful. This room would literally be ruins without it... but in the end, the room wins.

Some thoughts, with a grain of salt...


Revad David Riley: Hi David. I'm going to respond by saying what I see.

I see energy divided. The energy is emitted by the quality of the marks. This impression is enhanced by my own experience of making such marks, which I have found take some vigour to achieve. I say 'divided' based on the alignment of marks on both sides of the gap. This alignment encourages (in me) the idea of a single surface divided into two. Usually, when I see a diptych, I automatically find myself looking for a dialogue between the two components. I know this is a single outcome, but I can't help myself if the divide attempts to encourage (in me) the idea of a dialogue. The continuation of marks defeats this initial impression and I am left with a divided single entity. I am wondering how this might be different if the marks had not aligned.

There is so much going on in these marks, I could spend hours with the original and enjoy every moment.

NOTE: One practical observation: should the dimensions for all three works be the same? The works appear to have the same ratio of dimensions, but the stated dimensions do not match this expectation.

David Minton:

Hello David'
Thank you.Yes some strange dimensions! I have removed 1000mm from this one. The drawn surface on this is 760mm x 1330mm. The central line was made by drawing over a stencil made with airbrush masking film. The marks remain implicit in the white line/space and in that sense there is no division; there is a single surface with a central occlusion, a notion which had not occurred to my in this literal sense until just now as I read your comment. In retrospect, I am aware that the 'feeling' of occlusion was present in the making and remains with me. These drawings, connecting intuitively to my mother and our relationship continue to suggest things that surprise me.

Revad David Riley: Thank you for the clarification re dimensions. As human beings, we are very good at seeing the pattern and reading what might be absent. Such a limited separation being quite easy to fill in (by continuing the trajectory of the lines). So, I certainly get that 'the marks remain implicit'. Implicit for you especially. Having been present when the marks were drawn and subsequently erased, you have a real memory of their existence, while for us (the audience) the marks can only have an imagined existence.


Jane Boyer: David, these new works are really powerful and take your work far more in the philosophical realm. My following comments are for all three pieces, because they seem very related to me.

The first thing I note is the progression in the three, from left to right. The simple but enforced rule constraining the 'child' figured in the loosely random mark making which fill each block. That division is as strict as prim Mrs. Fox, dressed in black, with her ruler tapping out a heart beat against her outstretched palm. The middle image bereft of any individual mark, the child has conformed and knows his place. And finally this image, where rules merge to become unity, with ghostly vestiges of remembrance. All the rules, have become a map, demarcating location, event, time, interaction. The division no longer menacing in its authority, but a reliable feature, a known quantity, a familiar structure.

They are beautiful in their expressive qualities.

David Minton: Hello Jane, thank you, I have always been a little suspicious of ‘beauty’ fearing and feeling that it is in danger of a sentimentality reflecting something at the core of the artist. The narratives ( are they narratives?)are the thoughts that ruminate around these things retrospectively, concerning my sense of myself in relation to these surfaces, divisions, separations. There is something poignant in the vulnerability of surface that is beautiful in its fragility. The drawings were not conceived of as a progression, but rather arose through acts of making which became kind of incomplete sentences pointing at things.
I’m coming to the position where I feel that I have been mistaken about beauty, maybe having too limited a concept of what it can be. I have to an extent been creeping up on it wearing a mask of denial. The thought occurs to me that I have no choice in the matter of what my stuff looks like - but then a thought replies that maybe I do.

Jane Boyer: As always David, your thoughts are so insightful. I'm glad that you are re-evaluating your notions of beauty. I think of beauty not as pretty, but something wondrous and fascinating, which can be aesthetically pleasing, or often, not. For me the thing that is beautiful has a fortitude that cannot be ignored, is compelling in its call, and is unforgettable. It's a thing that causes awe, and like the sublime, can be fearsome and overpowering in its presence. To my mind beautiful is not pure or innocent, but assured. Pretty is sentimental, beauty rocks. I think a lot of people dismiss things as beautiful, perhaps equating beauty with being insipid. Beauty is a word that has been overused. It should only be reserved for things that stop you in your tracks, make your knees go weak and follow the phrase 'Oh my god!'. But that's just my opinion.

As to whether you have a choice as to what your work looks like or not - I know exactly what you mean. We probably have more choice than we think and less choice than we'd like.

David Minton: Hello Jane, David Riley referred to the division in ‘Rules are Rules’ and prompted me to see it anew. I made the line by working across an airbrush film stencil. Removal of the stencil removed a section of the surface, producing a form of separation but not strictly a division. The marks remain an implicit threat. The white becomes engaged in an occlusive role that resonates in feelings of claustrophobia engendered by the unfeeling enforcement of rules, at the same time remaining defiant. Am pondering on beauty !

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