Beneath showcases Ceitas Atelier’s Prologue, research into Australian artists, and an index of stimuli to effectively curate it’s desired presence.
Prologue
Design - Christian Duyckers
Investigative Research, Conversations
Maps That Melt The Memory of Ice
Visual Compendium - Ceitas Atelier
Shells, 2024.
Photographing seashells is more than a way of admiring their beauty; it is a means of engaging closely with the details of the natural world. The camera forces attention to aspects often overlooked: the intricate spirals, the subtle ridges, and the way light plays across the surface.
A shell, so small and seemingly simple, becomes a study in texture, form, and pattern, revealing both complexity and order. Through photography, it is possible to explore the tension between fragility and resilience, impermanence and permanence, surface and structure. Seashells carry histories that are rarely obvious at first glance. Each one is the remnant of an organism’s life, shaped by currents, tides, and time.
Photographing them invites reflection on these processes, as well as on human interaction with nature.
Collecting shells or arranging them for photographs raises questions about our desire to possess and categorise the natural world. Photography mediates this interaction, allowing us to examine these objects while preserving the context of their origin—or, in some cases, transforming it entirely.
Creative experimentation further expands what seashell photography can accomplish. Extreme close-ups can render a familiar object almost unrecognisable, turning ridges into landscapes and spirals
into endless pathways. Water, dew, and reflective surfaces introduce movement and light that challenge the notion of a shell as a static object. These choices illustrate how photography mediates experience: it allows us to explore the ordinary in extraordinary ways, questioning assumptions about scale, beauty, and significance.
Ultimately, photographing seashells is a negotiation between observation and interpretation. It highlights the tension between what is given and what is perceived, between the material reality of the shell and the narrative created through the lens.
Each image becomes a site of enquiry, prompting reflection on form, meaning, and human perception. The act of photographing transforms these small, often overlooked objects into subjects of artistic exploration and philosophical contemplation of time. These photographs, like the illustrations, engage with this enquiry of time and, more specifically, demonstrate how this exploration has shaped the project.
A shell, so small and seemingly simple, becomes a study in texture, form, and pattern, revealing both complexity and order. Through photography, it is possible to explore the tension between fragility and resilience, impermanence and permanence, surface and structure. Seashells carry histories that are rarely obvious at first glance. Each one is the remnant of an organism’s life, shaped by currents, tides, and time.
Photographing them invites reflection on these processes, as well as on human interaction with nature.
Collecting shells or arranging them for photographs raises questions about our desire to possess and categorise the natural world. Photography mediates this interaction, allowing us to examine these objects while preserving the context of their origin—or, in some cases, transforming it entirely.
Creative experimentation further expands what seashell photography can accomplish. Extreme close-ups can render a familiar object almost unrecognisable, turning ridges into landscapes and spirals
into endless pathways. Water, dew, and reflective surfaces introduce movement and light that challenge the notion of a shell as a static object. These choices illustrate how photography mediates experience: it allows us to explore the ordinary in extraordinary ways, questioning assumptions about scale, beauty, and significance.
Ultimately, photographing seashells is a negotiation between observation and interpretation. It highlights the tension between what is given and what is perceived, between the material reality of the shell and the narrative created through the lens.
Each image becomes a site of enquiry, prompting reflection on form, meaning, and human perception. The act of photographing transforms these small, often overlooked objects into subjects of artistic exploration and philosophical contemplation of time. These photographs, like the illustrations, engage with this enquiry of time and, more specifically, demonstrate how this exploration has shaped the project.
Photography - Christian Duyckers
Stimuli Index
Ceitas reliably credits these artists where due. The use of these images is purely for innovative purposes, cultivating as an index of stimuli.
Published on the occasion of the exhibition: "New Itineraries", Musée de'Elysée,
Lausanne, June 13 - September 8, 1991
Measurements: 58.6 × 92.7 × 36.7 cm
National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. Purchased, 1985.
©The estate of Inge King
David Noonan, 2017, Common Editions.
Jungjin Lee, 2025
Sidney Nolan, 1940.
Oil on canvas, mounted on composition board, 73.3 x 88.2 cm
Barbara Hepworth, London, 1943-1958.
Plaster on wood base.
12 ⅞ x 15¾ x 11⅞ in
Hashimoto Naotsugu, 2003. 11.2 × 6.2 cm
Alexander Calder, 1936.
Lignum vitae, walnut wood, paint and steel rods.
51⅞ x 24¼ x 11⅜ in
Deborah Turbeville, 1976.
High Diver I
Gerhard Richter, 1965. Oil On Canvas 190 x 110cm
Provoke Group, Tokyo, Nitesha, 2023
Thanks for asking me to elaborate on my practice in this interview Christian. Living in Barcelona felt very natural for me as it had been a place central to my work since 2000 when I first visited the Pyrenees on an artist residency at Can Farrera. I fell in love with a particular area in Pallars Sobirà region in Catalunya. This place had a profound impact on me and most of my work throughout the last few decades. The epic mountains, striking seasonal changes, personal friendships and Catalan culture embraced me and I kept revisiting over an 18 year period to create work from this remote region of the mountains. When I eventually moved to settle in Barcelona in 2006 I worked in various shared print studios and eventually bought my own etching press and set up my own studio in a warehouse in Sant Andreu where I lived upstairs. I enjoyed working alone with consistency in my practice.
Catalunya and Spain in general have a particular cultural tradition in printmaking and especially lithography and this is where I truly found my way back into lithography again having access to equipment. I bought one of my printing presses from a master printer who had worked throughout his life with Miro and Tapies and the workshop was full of these artists’ proofs pinned to the walls, it was heaven. Spending time in studios like this makes you feel part of that history as there are tangible links and connections between the past artists/printers and the equipment you are now using. Many of the Catalan and Spanish artists who also make prints have a gestural and immediate sensibility in their work which aligns with my own mark making. The question of what to leave out of an image is just as important as what you lay down on the paper.
I feel my work was understood and appreciated for its aesthetic, conceptual and technical qualities in this environment. Catalunya and Spain in general have a particular cultural tradition in printmaking and especially lithography and this is where I truly found my way back into lithography again having access to equipment. I bought one of my printing presses from a master printer who had worked throughout his life with Miro and Tapies and the workshop was full of these artists’ proofs pinned to the walls, it was heaven.
Spending time in studios like this makes you feel part of that history as there are tangible links and connections between the past artists/printers and the equipment you are now using. Many of the Catalan and Spanish artists who also make prints have a gestural and immediate sensibility in their work which aligns with my own mark making. The question of what to leave out of an image is just as important as what you lay down on the paper. I feel my work was understood and appreciated for its aesthetic, conceptual and technical qualities in this environment.
I also looked at your series “Quadern de Pedra” and was deeply fascinated by the use of Lithography. I have previously experimented with hand-printing myself in ‘photopolymer printing’ and have really appreciated the delicate, precise process that is used to produce prints. I’m wondering if you could share your reasoning for using lithography to produce this series?
I would say that lithography is my first love in terms of printmaking. It can be a challenging process to pick up at first but after years of practice it comes naturally to me and I feel there are endless possibilities. Marks can be bold, strong and expressive, or soft, graphic and the reticulated washes as seen in the Quadern de Pedra Series I doubt can be produced in other techniques with the same clarity. I wanted the works to have an almost topographical/geological quality to them and both the reticulated tusche washes and the contour line crayon work lend themselves to this quality. These lithographs are created on a limestone matrix and the whole process is very tactile and magical. There is a groundedness in working with stone that connects me intrinsically to the subject matter, visual nature of the work and the technique used. A Quadern in Catalan is a booklet and Pedra means stone. Thus translating to a booklet of stone. This series presents landscapes as pages in stone; each page exists as a poem of our human experience with nature, history and geology.
What can you tell me about your personal thoughts regarding the development of ‘Mokulito’? what was it like to share findings with artists around the world who were also working on the same printing method?
I came to Mokulito around 2013 when I was creating multi-plate works using wood grain textures printed under lithographs. When I found Ewa Budka’s video on Mokulito I was so intrigued as it almost merged these two elements I was working with. I couldn’t find anywhere to learn the technique so I began experimenting using my knowledge of lithography.
Adapting this accumulated knowledge, I forged my own investigations and processes that suited the kind of imagery I want to create. The development of Mokulito is curious, at first when I started there was a real lack of information surrounding the process and maybe part of that was due to its origination in Japan so it may have just been a matter of knowledge dissemination. We can all benefit from sharing our knowledge and therefore from time to time I deliver workshops. The technique has to be adapted from region to region due simply to the fact that wood is an organic material and cannot in any way be the same everywhere, even from species to species, no piece will be the same. Today art materials’ producers are changing recipes for tusche and crayons and there are many products used in other media which can be adapted for Mokulito. So by its nature I believe it is an evolving technique and I’m very grateful to those printers around the world who I’ve had wholesome knowledge sharing experiences with in order to problem solve and improve our collective understanding.
I realise that as a printmaker, paper choice is essential to the outcome of your projects, I’m wondering if you could tell me your thoughts in choosing specifc paper types for specific projects, for example the series ‘Ruta dels Cims’.
Ruta dels Cims is a series of watercolours created on thick handmade paper made in Catalunya. This paper suits the series as they become like small objects which highlight the poetic and intimate nature of the series.
Ruta dels Cims is a book of poetry by Miquel Gaya from the 1950’s that I came across in an old book shop in Mallorca and it translates as “Journey(route) in the peaks” which is what the works are concerned with. I do love using a range of papers and this possibly stems from a time in my life in London where I worked for 5 years At John Purcell Paper merchant. This experience opened me up to the world of paper and the subtle differences in surfaces, tones, weights and how this can impact the resulting work.
Working at John Purcell also gave me valuable insight into how artist’s papers are made through visiting Paper Mills such as St Cuthbert’s in Somerset and hence a deep appreciation for the materials that I use in my work. I use many Japanese papers to achieve a sensitivity to the work or just to give a slight off white tone to chine collé works. The scale of a work also influences the paper choice as sometimes certain papers are simply not available on the scale I require.
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