The Screaming House - the website for placing a sculpture of Edvard Munch's lost house in Sunderland

Talk: Edvard Munch: The Final Scream
8th March 2012, 7.30pm
Followed by "meet-the artist" wine and finger buffet reception.

I am giving an illustrated talk in Durham for students and alumni of Ustinov College (and all those interested) about the tortured life of Edvard Munch and my plans for The Screaming House. The talk is part of my research trip to the North East and precedes investigations and meetings concerned with bringing the project to fruition. Anyone interested in attending this talk should email me for information.

The Screaming House project flies forward. I have decided to set a new target for the installation of the sculpture: 12 December 2013, the much-anticipated 150th anniversary of Edvard Munch's birth. And I have chosen a new period of time for the sculpture to be in place: until 23 January 2015, the 71st anniversary of Munch's death, a total of 407 days. I am intrigued to learn this is a "narcissistic number": a number that is the sum of its own digits each raised to the power of the number of digits. Appropriate, as Munch devoted his entire art to documenting his own life.

This ambitious new early deadline is chosen to focus my thinking and activities on the project. I am now working on the exact design for the sculpture and research into the historical house (I have already made some interesting original discoveries via the catalogue raisonné of Munch's paintings - watch this space!). Expect increased activity on this site and soon you will be able to follow the project's progress on twitter.

On 4 January 2012, at 2.22pm, whilst eating a pear, a flash of inspiration came to me. That inspiration was to forget about the concept of placing The Screaming House in the sea and instead put it in the air. I remembered the three tower blocks that have dominated the Sunderland city skyline since 1969: now named Astral House, Solar House and Planet House. A quick look on the web showed that Planet House was my perfect target (far right in the banner image above). I contacted Gentoo Group, owners of the building, and am liaising with their Head of PR. Amazingly, the roof-area provides an almost made-to-measure platform.

I am now working up this proposal - much more practical than placing the house in the sea. I will carry out further research into the exact dimensions of Munch's demolished house and create basic models and draft computer generated images. What is doubly exciting is Munch's own concept of life as a precarious rooftop walk along a ridge and of art existing in "castles in the air" (see Project Summary).

In the posting "Delicious Conundrum" (18 September 2011, below) I mentioned the concept of The Screaming House being in place for 444 days. These three digits popped into my head from nowhere (or somewhere otherworldly - who knows?) Since then, following various conversations with fellow art-lovers, I have been more and more drawn to the concept that the installation should also be filmed continuously for that period, with footage broadcast live to art institutions around the world. I am investigating ways to achieve this.

Whilst contemplating the filming, I did some idle research into the number 444. Common consent amongst numerologists seems to equate the number with angels - specifically angels speaking, offering protection or delivering a message. By some coincidence, I chose to call a recent painting of mine Angel - my "self-portrait beneath Sophie Munch". This work, based on a photograph of Sophie, the sister of Edvard Munch whose tragic death aged just 15 cast a permanent shadow over his work, references my identification with the themes of Munch. Angels as symbols of a force for good contrasts with Munch's own words about his life: "Sickness and insanity were the black angels that guarded my cradle . . . From the moment of my birth, the angels of anxiety, worry and death stood at my side, followed me out when I played, followed me in the sun of springtime and in the glories of summer. They stood at my side in the evening when I closed my eyes, and intimidated me with death, hell and eternal damnation. And I would often wake up at night and stare wildly into the room: Am I in hell?"

Artist Cathy MacLennan has created a portrait of me in celebration of The Screaming House project. I'm bowled over by Cathy's encapsulation of my vision, and her referencing of the style of Edvard Munch in the depiction of the sea in the work. Thanks Cathy for this unique homage to my passionate ambition!

On Thursday 10th November 2011 a team gathered at Sunderland Arts Centre and Library to hear a presentation about The Screaming House. The meeting was very exploratory, not least because my mind had been whirling about different possible designs for the structure. I had gone from the original red "outline" concept to the notion of a full timber replica with nocturnally-lit windows disappearing beneath high tides, and then further, to something solid, but simpler, with openings for doors and windows, constructed ship-like from sheet steel and accessible on foot at low tide.

Of course, these alternative models raise profound difficulties in terms of construction methods and public safety - resolved partially by a trip to the beach at Seaburn the following morning. With waves crashing under a grey sky and a strong south easterly blowing in from somewhere out near Germany, it seemed obvious to stay with the original plan: a glowing red outline, continuously visible, standing towards the horizon. (I'm grateful to Amanda Gould, from the Arts Education and Outreach Team, who mentioned in the meeting her vision of something quite far out to sea - and for using that most inspirational of words: "impact".)

A further issue arose around making the project relevant to Sunderland (and more than simply a "memorial" to Munch). My artistic belief is that true, progressive art deals in the unexpected, in the unobvious, and the non-literal. The house is a memorial yes, but to all things lost. That it is based on Munch's house is not a seminal issue; that it is European in architectural style however, does have useful implications: here is a symbol of looking outwards: towards European neighbours; towards a landmass whose peoples at one time travelled across the North Sea to settle in these territories.

Ultimately this house symbolizes humanity's struggle - personal and communal, against threatening elements, against decline, against the inevitability of change. I chatted to people on that windswept beach. A group of kite surfers listened intently about the house, about Munch and about the vision. They loved it. As did fish sellers at the Fish Quay. It seems there may be more attraction to the idea of a dead Norwegian artist's house in the sea at Sunderland than might be expected. All of these men had heard of the famous painting "The Scream", and were genuinely engaged by the notion of discussing what constitutes a work of art. Uplifting. I'm moved to return with my movie camera.

Renowned writer, photographer and broadcaster on architectural subjects Lucinda Lambton (Lady Worsthorne) has accepted an invitation to become an Honorary Patron of The Screaming House. In this role she will act as a cultural ambassador for the project. The Lambton family has a long association with North East England (and the Wear Valley in particular), where Lambton Castle remains a family property. Lucinda Lambton has researched, written and presented over eighty films for BBC and ITV television and is author of fourteen books illustrated with her own photography. She is an Honorary Fellow of The Royal Institute of British Architects, an honorary member of Chelsea Arts Club and President of Avoncroft Museum of Historic Buildings. She says of The Screaming House: "TERRIFIC . . . very moved about the joint Sunderland connection. I am with you all the way!!"

I was talking to an architect friend. He raises an interesting question: will The Screaming House suffer from technological problems, being an artwork reliant on electric light to function? As he correctly told me: there is nothing worse than a grand artistic statement that has ceased to work properly. Being in the sea adds an extra consideration to ease of maintenance, including budgetary issues. Which leads to the question: is the sculpture to be temporary or permanent. My feeling is The Screaming House is evanescent. How long it might stay at Sunderland is open to speculation, but I am inexplicably drawn to the notion of 444 days. I always thought the sculpture might eventually be moved, and have an itinerant life of its own, much as Munch desired for his paintings.

Knowing how long The Screaming House must survive in one place is helpful - a programme of maintenance can be built into the plan. And my friend contributed a further vision: the idea that the house might be fixed, allowing the tide to rise and fall about its flanks. Immobile or floating? Another huge and delicious design conundrum ...

I have divided the project into five phases (as I would for any site-specific project large or small): location - design - budget - sponsorship - execution.

The formula is simple, the goal ambitious. To some extent location, design and budget work together, but without location the project goes nowhere. Thankfully, with the help of Sunderland's mayor, Councillor Norma Wright, I have secured an invitation to schedule meetings with the city's Arts and Creative Development and Planning Implementation teams. This will be the beginning of discussions to establish the feasibility of siting The Screaming House at Sunderland.

The first stage in realizing a three-dimensional design will be to construct a simple small model using card and wood. I will use this to assess the appearance from all angles. Because I have planned a skeletal structure, the construction will be see-through: elements such as the front facade will be visible from the rear. I have not seen any representations of the rear of Munch's house (either in paintings or photographs) and at present plan a featureless "wall" outline at the back of the sculpture. This first basic model will provide a notional maquette for use in initial discussions with engineers, architects and lighting specialists. It will also help my assessment of the concept of the sculpture as "an enclosure of empty space".

On the subject of "front" and "back", I believe any 3D design should look satisfying from all angles, even when a rear view might be impossible to perceive. To inhabit a space comfortably (a house or garden for example) every elevation should be designed following aesthetic principles, even for an invisible onlooker peering through walls or other obstructions that block the view for corporeal observers.

The new website for The Screaming House is launched today. It is a place to gather research and reaction, and to document the progress of a project. I regard the website and all project proposal drawings, documents and models as artworks, like the preparatory sketches and paintings Picasso created for Guernica, now displayed alongside it in the Museo Reina Sofia. For those who might think the project crazy, I say I am operating in the spirit of Vladimir Tatlin. His iconic Monument to the Third International (1919) failed to progress beyond sculptural models and drawings. The construction he conceived was twice the height of the Empire State Building. Understandably, his dream was impractical. Edvard Munch also had grand ambitions thwarted. His designs for giant murals in Oslo's City Hall were rejected.

In comparison to Tatlin's building, The Screaming House is a modest proposal. Its scale is human. Its design minimalist. The concept of placing it in the sea is technically challenging, but achievable. The spirit of the project is founded in Edvard Munch, but Tatlin shows his hand, as does the glowing light-sculpture of Dan Flavin (who created his own light-work 'Monument' for V. Tatlin (1966-9 Tate).

What is needed now to bring my vision to reality is support, donated expertise and determination. The journey to make it happen is not dissimilar to a trek by Richard Long - art as action.

I cannot set up this website without mentioning recent events at Utøya Island and in Oslo. On 19th January 1944 a German ship was blown up in Oslo harbour, igniting a nearby munitions dump. The series of explosions blew out the windows of Edvard Munch's Ekely home. He sat on the steps in the cold night air watching the city burn. Aged 80, and already suffering from bronchitis, the vigil did little to help his worsening health. By 23rd January he was dead.

Oslo has not witnessed such destruction since that night, but on Friday 22nd July 2011 the huge bomb we all now know about rocked the city, followed by appalling massacre. If Munch was alive today he would be truly horrified. Munch's art was founded on personal angst, but also celebrated the joy and glory of human life. He was a particular genius at the depiction of children and young people. He also understood that evil is a force that stalks our world, and sadly, he failed to live long enough to see his country liberated from the Nazis.

As I start to put wheels in motion to try to make my project a reality, all who I talk to about Munch and Oslo will have a new image in their minds beyond fjords, mountains and Munch's famous painting The Scream. They will have a vision of horror and destroyed innocence on Utøya Island, and water turned red with blood. My sculpture was conceived before these terrible things. I chose red because it is a colour that does not affect the eyes, leaving the pupils fully open to enjoy the beauty of the stars: the same stars Munch rejoiced in and painted outside his Ekely home. The red light for me also symbolizes joy, and enwraps the emptiness and loneliness of the void between.

To all those devastated by the events in Oslo I send my deepest condolences. Your country is a place of openness, beauty and tolerance. And my sculpture is conceived with acknowledgement of those joyful ideals.