Peter Randall Page 'Between Melting and Freezing'

P E T E R R A N D A L L P A G E

B E T W E E N M E L T I N G A N D F R E E Z I N G
B E T W E E N M E L T I N G A N D F R E E Z I N G

One could see human nature as being somewhat
schizophrenic – on the one hand we are part of,
indeed a product of, nature and natural processes
whilst on the other hand capable of reflection on
our surroundings and ourselves. The blind process
of evolution has produced a kind of mirror capable
of reflecting on itself. This mirror is what we call
‘human consciousness’, both a blessing and a curse.
The price we pay for the ability to ponder the
universe is an inevitable sense of separation from it.
The way in which we ponder and make sense
of things tends, in the broadest of terms, to
fall into two categories: The reductive approach
which seeks to understand the fundamental
principles that underpin a seemingly infinite
variety of phenomena. At its purest this is the
pursuit of physicists. And the opposite or
perhaps complimentary approach which seeks
understanding through a study of the variations
themselves more often practiced by biologists.
These polarities of approach have been understood
for millennia. 2000 years ago the Greeks would
have thought of Platonists as those considering the
ideal archetypal tree and Aristotelians categorizing
all the species and sub-species.
My own approach has come about, to a large
extent, through looking and making; a long
informal study of natural phenomena combined
with a rather obsessive desire to express this
‘leitmotif’ of ‘theme and variation’ which seems
to permeate the universe. The reductive
approach looks then for the underlying laws and
forces which drive the physical world. In terms
of form this is best understood through geometry
(mathematics is often defined as the study of
patterns). When analysed in this way, reality can be
rationalized into a surprisingly small number
of fundamental shapes. There are only three
regular 2 dimensional figures that will tessellate; the
equilateral triangle, the square and the hexagon –
that’s it. Likewise in three dimensions there are
only five regular polyhedral, (3D shapes in which all
faces, edges and angles are equal): the tetrahedron,
cube, octahedron, dodecahedron and icosahedron,
known collectively as the Platonic solids.
The myriad of variations we see around us can
be rationalized in terms of a limited kind of
‘pattern book’, the physical expression of the laws
of physics. For this reason we find these
fundamental shapes and patterns scattered
throughout diverse phenomena, often as a result
of diametrically opposite processes. In both organic
and inorganic forms and at all scales from the atomic
to the galactic. The hexagonal columns of Basalt in
the Giant’s Causeway, for example, were caused by
the rapid cooling of molten magma, shrinking and
causing a regular cracking pattern. Exactly the same
hexagonal packing is also found in honeycombs,
created by the instinctive behaviour of highly social
insects. However neither the hexagonal patterns
in the Giant’s Causeway or the honeycomb are
geometrically perfect. They are approximations
of, or variations on, the generative theme of
hexagonal packing.
Geometry is predicated on the idea of an infinitely
small dot and an infinitely thin line, which, of course
can never exist. Pure geometry does not exist
in the world of real things. It is an extrapolation
based on the commonality of many variations. The
fundamental shape can only be discerned by

inference and, as such, can only really exist in
our minds. It is almost impossible to envisage a
world without this fundamental tension between
a ubiquitous tendency for spontaneous pattern
formation tempered by an equally ubiquitous
tendency for spontaneous random variation. In fact
one can characterise the evolutionary process itself
as being driven by this tension between ‘theme
and variation’, order without randomness, genetics
without mutations, would produce evolutionary
stasis, whilst randomness witoutpatern would be
tantamount to undifferentiated chaos (whatever
that would look like).
The term ‘theme and variation’ is most commonly
associated with music: one thinks of Bach’s themes
burgeoning into sublime complexities of variations
inversions and repetitions. Or Charley Parker
lifting a well worn ‘standard’ to exquisite
emotional heights through his improvised
variations. Yes, theme without variation would be
a very dull and unexpressive affair. Playfulness is
intrinsic to the idea of variation, a ‘how else could it
be?’ kind of curiosity.
This tension between theme and variation is
pervasive, not only in evolutionary processes and
natural phenomena but in music, language and the
visual arts. We recognize the balance between
order and chaos instinctively and perhaps for this
reason it is capable of moving us on an emotional
as well as an intellectual level. We take pleasure,
often subconsciously, in the ‘frisson’ between the
reassurance of theme and the unpredictability of
variation. It is hard not to ‘anthropomorphise’ this
sense of play onto the myriad examples of variation
in natural phenomena. As if some creative god set a
few ground rules and then started to play.
For me, as an artist, the idea of play is
vitally important. The unselfconscious pursuit of
unformulated desire through making and
drawing is more interesting and ultimately more
enlightening to me than the illustration of ideas.
In order to play satisfactorily, however, one needs
a playground or at least a few rules. To be
meaningful (and fun) any game needs some
structure. Ironically, expressive freedom only has
meaning in the context of constraints (one only
has to imagine football without a finite pitch and a
rule book).
Variation cannot exist as a singularity. By
definition, it requires more than one example.
Partly for this reason, much of my work, both two
and three dimensional, consists of sequences. It
is through comparison that an expressive guage
can be built. Recognition of the generative theme
enables us to enjoy the multiple permutations, both
intellectually and emotionally. Making sequences
of drawings or sculpture on a particular formal
theme enables each individual image or object to
take on its own expressive character by virtue of
comparison with its siblings.
Variation, whether biological mutation or musical
improvisation, usually implies a degree of chance, a
certain freedom to try something just to see what
happens. I often work in ways that deliberately
embrace chance as part of the working process.
Naturally eroded granite boulders, shaped by
innumerable chance events over a geological
timescale are, (within certain bouldery
parameters), mathematically chaotic in form.

These stones often play the role of both material
and muse in my work. I use their random shape as a
starting point applying a structuring principle in the
form of a geometric pattern or set of simple rules
for covering the surface. The generative rule might
be to cover the entire surface with one continuous
line or a geometric matrix for example. Clearly
any rigidity of the pattern is forced to yield to the
shape of the stone, bulging and shrinking across
its contours. The interplay between the boulder
and the pattern is pleasing in itself. One becomes
more aware of the contours of the surface when
it is divided into increments. The distortion of
the individual elements of the pattern emphasizes
and amplifies the undulating form. Rationalizing it
incrementally makes the shape more intelligible
and enhances our appreciation. Fishnet tights
perform exactly this function heightening our
awareness of the contours of a woman’s leg.
When drawing onto the boulder, much of my
attention is devoted to achieving a satisfactory
union between rock and pattern. However, there
is still room for improvisation. While one part
of my mind is engaged in solving this puzzle of
reconciliation, another part is liberated to play in
the no-man’s land between order and chaos. After
all there are an infinite number of ways to traverse
a form with a line.
Symmetry is another powerful and pervasive
ordering principle. We find symmetry in
atomic molecular and chrystaline structures, in the
multifold symmetries of flowers, leaves
and stems of plants as well as in the bilateral
symmetry of most animals. From ants to elephants,
mackerel to monkeys, the vast majority of sentient
beings exhibit mirror-image symmetry. I am not an
evolutionary biologist, but it seems that the
reason for this is probably something to do with
genetic economy. But, for whatever reason, bilateral
symmetry is clearly predominant amongst animals,
ourselves included. As highly social creatures we
are naturally attuned to reading meaning and
emotion in the behavior of others. We read
expression in body language, but facial
expression is the most powerful and subtly nuanced
communication we have, bar language itself. Being
able to imagine what someone else might be
thinking or feeling from their facial expression must
have been an enormous evolutionary advantage for
our hunter gatherer ancestors.
It is tempting to think that the special status
that bilateral symmetry seems to have for our
imaginations, its ability to suggest emotional
significance, is a result of our sensitivity to reading
meaning and expression in the human face. In 1921
Rorschach, developed his famous psychological
inkblot test, where the subject is asked to say what
they see in a random but mirror-imaged inkblot.
I have explored bi-lateral symmetry through
drawings and ceramic wall works, using Euclidean
geometry combined with a Rorschach-like ink
blot technique. The results hover ambiguously
somewhere between the geometric and the
organic. Ambiguity can be a powerful tool. It
engages our imaginations like a puzzle or a riddle
and can evoke new images and fresh insights.
Ambiguity is related to metaphor and as such is
fundamental to all the arts.
There is another kind of ambiguity implicit in the
themes or generative principles behind natural
phenomena. The way in which similar forms or

patterns appear in disparate contexts as a result
of diverse forces and processes: the branching
patterns of trees and plants, river systems and
deltas, vascular and neural networks for example;
similar patterns produced by a diversity of process.
The vitality of a tree is in its ability to fight gravity,
pushing its branches into the air, drawing liquid sap
upwards to the leaves through evaporation. A river
system is going in the opposite direction. Driven
by gravity, it is draining from the tips to the stem,
from tributaries to a main channel which eventually
discharges into the sea. Playing with these
ideas in the studio, I made a series of large ink
drawings. I did not use a brush but allowed the ink
to flow under gravity, controlling the direction of
flow by tilting the paper. Starting with a seed-like
blob, the rivulets of ink divide again and again in
branching structure, the rigidity of which is
mitigated by chance, how the ink happens to
flow across the coarse surface of the paper. The
drawing is given bilateral symmetry by folding the
paper to create a mirror image. When hung on the
wall I inverted the original direction of flow so they
appear more like espalier trees, reaching upwards
and dividing into ever thinner filaments which
would eventually merge into blackness.
Some phenomena exhibit a higher degree of
obvious order than others, whilst some appear
predominantly chaotic. This is often a matter of
scale. Looking at the earth from space the spherical
geometry of the whole planet is obvious. Moving in
closer, the coastlines resulting from the combined
influence of topography and gravity on water seem
fairly random. Closer still and organic life exhibits
a high degree and structure, and, on the micro
scale of crystalline and atomic structures, order
rules supreme.
Human beings are supremely good at pattern
recognition and capable of finding pattern even
when deeply hidden within randomness. In fact,
we have such a strong predisposition to find
pattern and meaning in things that we project our
own subjective patterns onto reality, even when
none actually exists. The distribution of stars in the
night sky (with the exception of the planets) is a
truly random affair and yet we project shapes and
meanings onto these arbitrary dots in the form
of Ursa Minor, Orion et al... As well as using our
deductive powers to comprehend the world
objectively, we cannot help simultaneously
projecting our subjective ideas and feelings onto
reality. In the words of the sculptor, Isamu Noguchi
“The world enters our consciousness as emotion as
well as knowledge.”
The objective, reductive, Platonic approach
enables us to understand the themes that
underpin reality as experienced. But subjectivity is
not nonsense. The things that the mind produces:
literature, art, music etc. can tell us something about
ourselves that any number of brain scans could
never reveal. Myths, fables and traditional stories
have all evolved in an oral tradition through a kind
of cultural natural selection, where only the very fit
or apt ideas survive. We use metaphor and analogy
in our everyday speech. In short, by definition, all
art forms pertain to the human condition.
In nature, theme only exists as an ideal
exemplar of manifest variations and variation can
only exist within the context of theme. They seem
to be mutually dependent, locked in an eternal but
fertile struggle.
Peter Randall Page, 2015

6
Twixt Line and Form . granite boulders . 41 x 57 x 48 cm, 31 x 61 x 57 cm & 60 x 54 x 51 cm

Mind Over Matter .
granite boulder . 48 x 74 x 55 cm
8

Warp and Woof . granite boulder
. 77 x 122 x 95 cm
10

12
Warp and Weft I, II, III & IV . charcoal on paper . 130 x 95 cm each

14
Little Nut Tree Seed . silver (edition of 4) . 10 x 16 x 12 cm

16
Stone Maquette I . beach pebble . 11 x 13 x 12 cm

Stone Maquette III . beach pebble . 10 x 25 x 11 cm
17

18
Ironed Out II . iron . 15 x 25 x 16 cm

20
Iron Husk I, II, III, IV . iron (edition of 2) . 9 x 16 x 12 cm, 12 x 19 x 11 cm, 10 x 16 x 12 cm,

9 x 15 x 11 cm
21

22
Dropping a Line . charcoal on paper . 134 x 94 cm

Walnut I, II, III, IV, V, VI . charcoal on paper .
105 x 72 cm each
25

26
Clay Bodies . ceramic . approximately 9 x 18 x 14 cm each

28
Becoming (wall mounted sculptures) . ceramic . approximately 7 x 15 x 9 cm each

30
Sap River V . ink on paper . 134 x 95 cm

Source Seed IV . ink on paper . 134 x 95 cm
31

Pied and Dappled Study I & II .
ink on paper . 30 x 22 cm each
33

Top : Vein . burnt sienna ink on paper . 69 x 69 cm
Right : Blood Tree III . burnt sienna ink on paper . 198 x 85 cm
34

36
Blood Tree I . burnt sienna ink on paper . 198 x 255 cm

Top row, left to right :
Espalier Fan
Stag Horn
Branching I
Vein study I
Bottom row, left to right :
Branching II
Branching III
Branching IV
Vein study II
ink on paper . 30 x 22 cm each
39

40
Rorschach I-VI . black ink on paper . 102 x 69 cm each

Rorschach Leaf I, II & III
black ink on paper . 192 x 89 cm each
42

44
Ink Flow (selection from series) . black ink on paper . 15 x 11 cm each

Peter Randall-Page was born in the UK in 1954 and studied sculpture at Bath Academy of Art from
1973-1977.
During the past 25 years Peter Randall-Page has gained an international reputation through his sculpture
drawings and prints. He has undertaken numerous large scale commissions and exhibited widely. His work
is held in public and private collections throughout the world including Japan, South Korea, Australia, USA,
Turkey, Eire, Germany and the Netherlands. A selection of his public sculptures can be found in many
urban and rural locations throughout the UK including London, Edinburgh, Manchester, Bristol, Oxford
and Cambridge and his work is in the permanent collections of the Tate Gallery and the British Museum
amongst others.
His practice has always been informed and inspired by the study natural phenomena and its subjective
impact on our emotions.
In recent years his work has become increasingly concerned with the underlying principles
determining growth and the forms it produces. In his words “geometry is the theme on which nature plays
her infinite variations, fundamental mathematical principle become a kind of pattern book from which nature
constructs the most complex and sophisticated structures.”
In 1999, he was awarded an Honorary Doctorate of Arts from the University of Plymouth, an Honorary
Doctorate of Letters from York St John University in 2009 and an Honorary Doctorate of Letters from
Exeter University in 2010; from 2002 to 2005 he was an Associate Research Fellow at Dartington College
of Arts.
As a member of the design team for the Education Resource Centre (The Core) at the Eden Project in
Cornwall, Peter influenced the overall design of the building incorporating an enormous granite sculpture
(‘Seed’) at its heart.
Recent commissions include ‘Give and Take’ in Newcastle which won the 2006 Marsh Award for Public
Sculpture, ‘Mind’s Eye’ a large ceramic wall mounted piece for the Department of Psychology at Cardiff
University (2006) and a commemorative sculpture for a Mohegan Chief at Southwark Cathedral (2006).
Recent projects include ‘Green Fuse’ for the Jerwood Sculpture Park, Ragley Hall and a major one person
exhibition in and around the Underground Gallery at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park, June 2009 - April 2010.

Published by Millennium to coincide with the exhibition ‘Between Melting and Freezing’ by Peter Randall Page
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