Materials and processes sit at the heart of expression. They become the structure and physical poetry through which an image can exist - its visual language. For me this language bears the imprint of who I am. My hand gives evidence of everything made. Through the tool in use - pen, knife, saw or brush, stick or rag, traces of myself are fashioned into the wood and metal, paper and paint.
These configurations and marks, right down to the faintest scratch will combine to convey a sense of my subject - I hope - but can never be certain of this.
This process is intimately connected to discovery as it happens on a day to day basis with images gradually coming into being, sometimes by default, and always with their finality seeming to be under review. I am mired in this process of ever changing nuances of form and content.
The following qoute is taken from 'A Year in Venice - John Trigg' published by Martins the Publishers
'Making this work -
In Venice I knew that I would have none of the familiar tables and benches, tools and materials, that I have in the ample space of my studio/workshop in Penzance, that there would be limitations and that I would need to adapt. Also that these kind of limitations can be stimulating, even liberating, often opening the way into forms and images that you wouldn't expect... And this city which became my home... I breathed in the history... Venice, adrift in its own time and space - a fragile grandeur being consumed by a voracious tourism and the sea. A microcosm, perhaps, of the world at large... how would all this play into my subject?
Practical formal restraints, like having to work smaller and the need to use water-based paints, soon became my modus operandi... I had a large table in a large room, with a courtyard below, good light, and up on the first floor where I wouldn't get wet feet. This was a good place to begin... Initially it had not been my intention to make sculpture and yet within a few days I was - something heuristic and inevitable about this. Small studies made quickly, born out of the limitations imposed and yet immediate and complete in their own right - 'drawings' made from - wire - paper - glue - and paint...'
Jenny Blyth - Curator and Gallerist Art Jericho
... Against this curtain of brutality and tragedy, and shining so brightly, is the light of motherhood, the sweetness of love between mother and child. Perhaps felt so keenly in the autumn years of his life Trigg is able to weave together the purity and intensity of that love as captured in 'Dreaming beneath trees 2012/16' that is so beautifully depicted in classical art. His figures have the colour and drama of the the Venice Carnevale, yet remain autobiographical. In 'Drawing Lesson II 2014/16 his mother watches him as he draws a clear arc across the paper - she gives him space but is present and watchful. Delivering him in 'Mother and Child I 2014/16 she holds him forth, a child already grown but in those early years still umbilically linked.
As in historical and biblical scenes depicted in the old masters, where women were so often brutalized, there is violence and a visceral reality in his sculpture where breasts and thighs are bound too tight, that is raw. It is Trigg's ability to balance that with pathos, to tread the sharp edge between light and dark, that makes his paintings and sculptures so very beautiful.