A Little Bit Melancholy

Turning 55, thinking about time, and reflecting how art pops up between it all

September is my birthday month, and spring has sprung here in the Southern Hemisphere. The days are getting longer, things are starting to grow again, and there is that lovely feeling of renewal.

This year I turn 55.

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. Instagram seems to think I should be embracing ageing as a brave new chapter of self reflection, transition and personal growth. Oh my greatness.

Do I feel old? Hell no. Although, in fairness, I am writing this shortly after a hip replacement, so perhaps we should leave that one alone.

But I have noticed I think about age and time differently now. I notice it in my children, who are suddenly young adults. I notice it in my parents, who are getting older. I notice it in conversations with friends.

Recently I told one of my oldest friends that I reckoned we had about twenty good summers left before our health probably wouldn’t be quite as sparkling as it is now.

She told me I was being morbid.

Maybe.

But when you’re younger, time just feels endless. There is always another year, another summer, another chance. You don’t really think about it. You just assume there will be more.

And then, at some point, you start to realise that there won’t always be.

And this year there have been a few reminders of that. A friend lost her brother. My friend had to have heart surgery. My children have their own struggles. And through all of it, I’ve found myself thinking a lot about time, while also feeling incredibly grateful to be here and to still be doing the work I love.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, I started making grids.

Measured in Squares

Measured in Squares is probably the closest thing to a self portrait I’ve ever made, although you wouldn’t necessarily know it by looking at it.

I've been thinking about repetition and sequence for some time, and looking at artists who have worked with these ideas in very different ways. Agnes Martin's quiet structures have been somewhere in the background, as have Josef Albers' explorations of colour and perception.

And then I decided to work with colour.

Which, if I'm honest, absolutely terrifies me.

The works are made with chalk pastel, using 5 × 5 square grids. The 55 is obviously not entirely coincidental. Each work follows the same simple structure, with rows of colour building progressively from one work to the next.

The squares repeat, but the colours shift. You can read the works across, down, or as a sequence from one work to the next.

The making is slow and quite meditative. One square, then another, then another.

And then there is the odd one out.

In amongst all the repetition, one colour breaks the pattern. It doesn't quite belong. I like that. It reminds me a bit of life. We have our routines, our plans, our sense of how things are supposed to go, and then something comes along and changes things.

I started the series as an experiment with colour and repetition, but somewhere along the way it became about time too.

Not in a big meaning of life sort of way. Just the fact that the days keep going, the seasons change, and somehow you find yourself standing here wondering how you got to 55.

Maybe the grids are a way of thinking about all of that without actually having to think about it too much.

One square at a time.

A little melancholy, perhaps.

But mostly, just very grateful.

Until next time,

Nicola

Nicola Bouwer is a Johannesburg-based South African artist working in hand-cut analogue collage and oil painting.