Sketch Crawl : Jesmond Old Cemetery, Newcastle

Jesmond Old Cemetery
(0.8 marker in A4 sketchbook)

Despite heavy rain the previous day, the ground of Jesmond Old Cemetery was not at all muddy as I'd feared it might be. There were some unexpected absences, but Michael, Richard and Allan turned up at 1 o'clock at the South Lodge to be welcomed by Sally, one of the Friends of Jesmond Old Cemetery who is also a friend of mine. 

Pat had come along to keep Sally company, as well as Mike's friend Nicola, and after welcome coffee and biscuits we all went off for a short walk around the Cemetery, with Sally pointing out graves of interest. And there are very many of those - most of the famous and wealthy families of Newcastle, such as Grainger, Fenwick, Bainbridge, and John Dobson, who designed the whole Cemetery, have family plots there.

At the end of the tour, Sally and Pat went off to pick up litter (not much of that, luckily) and the three artists wandered off in search of subject matter. Or should I say, wandered off to single out particular views because I reckon we were spoilt for choice of subject matter. I could spend a week there and not run out of things to draw (provided those things were gravestones, memorials ,and trees, of course).

The drawing above took me until 3 o'clock to complete and by then it was naturally time to return to the South Lodge for more coffee and biscuits. 

Deciding to spend another hour drawing again, we said goodbye to Sally and Pat who had to leave (Nicola had left earlier) and found more things to draw. I knew I couldn't do what I wanted in marker because it takes me much longer to draw that way, so I opted for a 2B mechanical pencil in my A4 sketchbook and made this drawing. I'd intended to ink it in later, but have now decided I'll leave it as it is.

Erased Canvas

Sixty years ago, the American artist Robert Rauschenberg obtained a drawing from another US artist, Willem de Kooning and proceeded to erase it. The result, titled "Erased de Kooning Drawing, Robert Rauschenberg, 1953" is in the collection of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art.

Leaving aside the merits or otherwise of this piece of work, I was reminded of it when today I embarked on a similar project.

Of the larger canvases I brought home from University in 2001, one was four by four feet, stretched and primed and pristine white. Too big to store easily in the studio downstairs, it's been tucked behind another similarly-sized completed painting in my bedroom. But there's no room for such a picture, devoid of imagery or no, in my next studio, so today I began the process of taking the blank one apart.

First of all the canvas had to be pulled away from the stretcher, the staples popping out and falling to the floor. Using my Gran's dressmaker's shears, I cut the canvas into strips and put them in the bin. Next I took out the screws. This showed that the bloke I bought it from ( he'd made several and didn't need two of them) had cunningly made use of several short lengths of wood, fastening them together with four-hole metal joining strips. So, more holes and more screws.

Once the screws were out, the stretcher still held together because of the thin strips of MDF round the edge which provide the canvas with lift away from the wooden stretcher. They had to be eased off with the screwdriver. Once everything was apart and on the floor, it looked a little like a flat-pack item from IKEA, laid out to check against the sheet of assembly diagrams. But I was going backwards, and the wood was broken up into shorter lengths and binned.

OK, I don't think this was an artwork, though I'm sure a video of the afternoon's work would entrance just as many people as those I see being ignored so often in galleries. And as a philosophical exercise, it kept me on track to shake off the ridiculous idea that possessions make me who I am.

Edward Burra

Every morning as true as the clock
Somebody hears the postman's knock.

To be accurate, he didn't knock this morning. He rang the doorbell.

As I struggled into my dressing gown and rushed downstairs, I ignored the cries from Pat of "There is no bug! The doorbell didn't ring! Don't go outside with no clothes on!" I leave you to decide which of us was the more awake.

I admit I 'm prone to hearing phantom doorbells which have more or less replaced the catalogue of nightmares I've listed before, but this time I knew there was a book on it's way from Amazon and I was anxious to avoid having to go to the depot to collect it tomorrow.

The book in question was the volume published by Palant House in connection with their exhibition of Edward Burra's work. Although my interests in painting extend well beyond these shores, I have an abiding fascination for the work of British painters of the 20th century, and there was a distinct gap in my knowledge of Burra.

Never in good health, he chose to work mainly in watercolour on a large scale and the book captures the remarkably vivid colours he was able to achieve with his chosen medium by constantly overlaying with thicker and thicker paint. I was familiar with the paintings of bars and Harlem low-life (see the cover above) and the Surrealist tendencies (he was a friend of Paul Nash and showed with the Englsih Surrealists in the 1930s) but the landscapes were a real revelation in their pared down simplicity.


Valley and River, Northumberland, 1972
(Pencil and watercolour on paper, 40 x 27 ins)

A lovely book. I'd love to have seen the exhibition.

Xavier Pick: Commission

Xavier Pick is an artist whose work I really like. Here's a video of his preparatory work for a commissioned painting of London which I hope you find as interesting as I did.

Pick is a particularly good draughtsman who trained at the Royal College. Imagine how much better he'd have been, however, had the timelines shifted and he'd gone to the RA Schools where he could now benefit from instruction from the Grande Dame of English Art, Tracey Emin, who has now been appointed Professor of Drawing there.

Ahahahahahahaha. Sorry.

Small Piazza Painting

Piazza (work in progress)

I never tire of painting bits of Venice and my impression is that people never tire of seeing paintings of Venice. This first stage went quite quickly but proved difficult to photograph. In part, this is because, on a whim, I decided to use gold oil paint in the mix for the main building. It reflects very well, of course, but rather too well for the camera. Once it's covered (no Gustav Klimt here!), it should be easier to photograph.

Clive Hicks-Jenkins

Saint Kevin and the Blackbird - Clive Hicks-Jenkins

Nothing has to be a particular colour any more than it has to observe external laws of perspective. Rather, a painting is a world apart with an internal logic created by the painter. It is one thing to know this, and to accept it in the work of earlier artists, but quite another to do it yourself. Such is the nature of education now that children routinely copy pictures by Van Gogh or Picasso, often painting a bit each then putting the pieces together in a wall-sized collage. The belief seems to be that they will thus acquire a shortcut to the methods and insights of those ground-breaking artists. On the contrary it's like putting down the answer to a mathematical problem with no idea why, except that someone more mathematical than you has told you the answer. Until you understand through repeated practice and experimentation how and why to break rules, even the unwritten ones, all you will be as an artist is a facile imitator.

Rex Hartley (from What is a Still Life in Clive Hicks-Jenkins)

Clive Hicks-Jenkins is one of my recent discoveries. I first came across his very interesting blog, then followed on to his website and finally bought the book about his life and work. The book contains 11 essays about various aspects of his work, including paintings, drawings, and book illustrations and is well worth reading.

I was particularly taken with what Rex Hartley had to say about the use of colour, which I've quoted above. As he says, "It is one thing to know [that colour in painting can have it's own internal logic] but quite another to do it yourself." I have to constantly remind myself of this.

Chambers Street, Edinburgh

Chambers Street, Edinburgh (Oil on canvas, 12 x 12 ins)

I am not interested in 'copying' what is in front of me. I find copying pictures very useful and enjoyable up to a point, but copying nature is a different affair. It is, at best, a dull occupation, though I much enjoy using a camera, and find photographs of people and places a good jog to the memory and they can see and record things in a fresh light, or an aspect that had not struck you before.

John Piper (The Artist and the Public, published in Current Affairs No. 96, 2 June 1945)

I quote this for a number of reasons, the first being simply that I admire John Piper's work a great deal and am always interested to read something he said. I suppose another reason is that - justified or not - this painting reminds me a little of Piper. More than anything else, however, is that although I use photographs as source material, this is not what Chambers Street looked like on the day I took this photograph. The details of the structure are more or less accurate, but the whole thing has been filtered through my imagination (and the filters of Photoshop) to bring me closer to what I felt said something to me about the place (and in passing, about colour).

The same process was applied to all of the Edinburgh paintings.

Apocalyptic

Holy Island 4 (Work in progress)

Today's work on this painting puts me within one day's extra work to finish all four Holy Island Skies, which is very satisfactory. I have to admit that this painting isn't easy, but I think my recent visit to the excellent exhibition of John Martin's apocalyptic visions helped me along.

I thought the Martin exhibition was wonderful. I was familiar with the few paintings in the Laing's permanent collection, but wasn't prepared for the huge later works and the terrific use of colour. I'm convinced now that his daring use of colour was the equal of his contemporary, Turner. If you missed the show at the Laing, try to catch it at Tate Britain.

Sargy Mann, Blind Painter

Sargy Mann from Peter Mann Pictures on Vimeo.

Sargy Mann was diagnosed with cataracts at age 36 and eventually lost his sight altogether. However, he continues to paint.

An inspiration to us all.

Preview Night at Churchill House

Newcastle, in common with many cities round the country, has innumerable 19th century offices standing empty. Years ago, a group of artists I was associated with tried to negotiate the use of one of these offices as a gallery space, The problem turned out to be that most of them are on the first floor or higher and the fire escapes are inadequate or even non-existent. As a consequence they constitute a hazard for public use and the idea came to nothing.

So when I received this invitation to a private view organised by the Newcastle Artists Society in Churchill House, I was curious to see how they'd arranged things. Churchill House in Mosley Street is a big impressive, listed building fallen on hard times. There's an Italian restaurant on the corner, but not much else that's memorable (and I have doubts about the memorability of the restaurant). The current owners are making efforts to do up the inside and rent out office space. As part of that they've come to an agreement with the NAS which allows them to mount exhibitions on the corridor walls and up the staircase. Artists get exposure (with the potential for sales) and the building gets free decoration: seems to be a reasonable arrangement.

It was a fascinating experience wandering the warren of corridors on three floors (I gather there are plans for a fourth to be opened up) , one of them turning out to be circular and the map I got from the reception room proved very useful! The work comprised paintings, prints and wall-hung sculpture; not all of it to my taste, but I'd have it no other way.

Private views have been disappointing in the last few years. Many of the decent galleries have gone and what we've been left with is the glitzy end of things where pushy salesmen try to sell you crap cartoons dolled up with a bit of "hand embellishment" and passed off as art. Yes, yes, that's a value judgement, but it's my value judgement. What these galleries attract is the type of punter who knows nothing about art, has no wish to talk about it other than to wonder if it will go with the decor. Artists themselves are generally not to be found.

So it was great to walk into Churchill House last night and immediately find myself talking to Richard Dobson over a couple of bottles of pils. I'd never met Richard before, but he works at the framer's I used recently and lives only a short walk away from me. Small world.

It's always good to be able to trade experiences with another artist and it doesn't have to be a painter. When Richard left, I fell straight away into conversation with Glenn Gibson, a photographer from Newcastle whose work graces the entrance lobby. Completely different from Richard, but just as entertaining a conversationalist, I thoroughly enjoyed talking to Glenn.

So, a good night which I wasn't really expecting. I hope I might be able to participate in shows there in the future. As for the title of the show - don't ask me. "Corperation-ism" is neither a word nor a term in my vocabulary, but I suppose it makes a change from "New Paintings".

Return to Kastela

Kastela Restaurant (work in progress)

I'm very fond of the work of Lionel Bulmer and that of his wife, Margaret Green and some of Bulmer's pointillist techniques seem to have come unbidden to my mind when I started again on this painting of a restaurant-on-stilts in Kastela, Croatia.

It's odd the way a painting can demand something different from you, but giving in to the demand often turns out to be so rewarding. I'm looking forward to seeing where this picture may yet take me.

Back from London

Intercity 4 (Fine tip marker, A6 sketchbook)

I'd worried all week about how I was going to find space on the train for my paintings, especially the 3ft by 3ft, but Pat did a great job of finding out about a space in Standard Coach B (the quiet coach) behind one of the seats just big enough for a 3ft square painting. And coincidentally, we ended up in the seats behind which the space exists.

Handing-in wasn't until Saturday, so we had Friday to go into town and see what the RA Summer Exhibition amounted to this year. I have to say that I didn't find it terribly inspiring. Even the Small Weston Room, usually full of delightful little treasures, disappointed because the hanger, Mick Rooney, had filled one wall with small prints. Which may explain why I'd found the Large Weston Room, which shows prints, also disappointing.

Had I money to spare, however, I'd willingly have parted with some of it for one of Hilary Paynter's wood engraving of The Ouseburn. Unlike a host of others, I certainly wouldn't have fallen victim to the foolish desire to buy a print of Tracey Emin's crap little Space Monkey.

There were a few others I liked - Barbara Rae as always, William Bowyer, Ken Howard (great on light as ever), and Ben Levene (save for one dreadful green thing which I chose to regard as an aberration). Adrian Berg, whom I've always liked, has moved into an area of rather naive paintings based on ethnic fabrics which aren't entirely to my taste either. Overall, I came away somewhat deflated instead of buzzing with new ideas.

Handing in my Threadneedle works on Saturday took very little time but as my three pieces were given numbers in the upper 190s, and there were two more handing-in days, it began to feel increasingly unlikely that I might get accepted (they intend to select only about 60 works for the show). Still, nothing ventured ....

Before catching the train back to Newcastle, we had time to check out King's Place near King's Cross Station. What a fantastic space. They were showing Frans Widerberg's big paintings, some of which I've seen before, but all of which I'd missed when they were shown at Northumbria Gallery earlier this year. They really do benefit from being seen in this huge space.

Union Quay Artists Collective

On Wednesday night, I went down to Tynemouth Metro Station to visit the Union Quay Artists. The Metro Station there is a lovely old Grade II listed Victorian station with a curious covered bridge over the line. There are two pedestrian walkways, between which is a long gallery space, the original purpose of which I can't imagine. For some time now, however, it's been used as a temporary exhibition space with rail passengers being able to view the work through the little windows running the length of the walkways.

In March, the Union Quays Artists began to set up some temporary studios in the Bridge and since then have been drawing, painting and holding workshops (see their blog). While I've been less than enthusiastic about some of the temporary shows in the Bridge, I thought this was a really good one and I confess to a frisson of envy. In the light of my recent work, I could envisage some interesting subjects coming through the station on the Metro trains.

My friend Barbara Maskrey, one of the artists there, invited me to their Artists Evening on Wednesday night and my only regret is that I couldn't get there earlier. Still, I had an hour and a half to meet and talk to the other artists there, and I hope to be able to meet them again soon. Making contacts with other artists is a Good Thing, I think.

Wayne Thiebaud again

Barbara Rae Slideshow

My thanks to Chris Bellinger for his link to a wonderful slideshow of Barbara Rae's paintings:

http://www.therichmondhillgallery.com/gallery/slideshow/slideshow.htm

But I wonder: are those at the end in the coloured frames really hers? If so, they're something of a departure.

Distractions

Our trip to York last weekend to see our friend Pam finally Doctored was a lot of fun, involving rambling round the Shambles, drinking in the Minster and eating too much. We did find the time, however, to visit the York Art Gallery where the Stanley Spencer Exhibition had just opened. I'd seen the show before, but Pat hadn't, and I enjoyed going round it again as much as the first time.

I had a vague memory of the Gallery being full of rather dull brown paintings of the Georgian/Victorian eras, but to my delight I discovered on the top floor a nice permanent collection of modern works by the likes of David Bomberg (a lovely charcoal drawing) John Monks (one of his paintings of a mirror with a battered cardboard box in the foreground), and John Piper (a mixed media landscape).

I'm resigned to January being written off as a month of little work. Too many distractions. Even as this is posted, I'm on my way to Edinburgh to celebrate my birthday with mussels and malt whisky. Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Cup in a Modernist Stylee

Cup with African Dish (2B mechanical pencil, A5 sketchbook)

Why stop at one cup when you've got a whole cupboard full? I suppose I approached this in a rather playful fashion and the end result certainly shows something of the fact that I spent the morning leafing through the lovely illustrations in Mary Fedden: Enigmas and Variations.

I'm still in love with 20th Century Modernism, even though it seems to have been consigned to the dustbin of Art History. There seems to be so much more yet to be explored. What do you think? Is it time to move on and leave Cubism and its children to gather dust?

Old Drawings #27

In the Hatton (Charcoal, compressed charcoal, A2 cartridge paper)

I'm still in that inevitable post-Xmas slump, but hope to get a new painting going tomorrow. Meanwhile, here's another in what must seem like an inexhaustible supply of Old Drawings. This was done at another drawing workshop, this one run by Tracey Tofield at the Hatton Gallery, again probably in 1995.

I quite liked it at the time, but now recognise that it only really works because of the dynamic "railway viaduct" sculpture in the gallery at the time. The lighting in the gallery is rotten, which may account for the interesting patterns on the ceiling.

Painting a Day

Bigg Market Buildings (work in progress)


I've been following the Painting a Day movement for some time now. It seemed to me that, despite the obviously crowded painting a day sector, with hundreds of painters following the example set by Duane Keiser, it might be possible to elbow my way in and make a buck or two.

First, however, I'd have to find out if I could comfortably accommodate the practice of making a small painting if not every day, at least often enough to make it worthwhile for people to visit my site (I'd have to set up another blog, I think, to show specifically those pictures). Would this regime suit me at all, in fact, and how would I feel about having to work on such a small scale?

Two or three weeks ago I decided to see how I'd fare working on a 5 x 7 inch panel, the preferred size of daily painters like Stephen Magsig, whose work I admire a lot. As it happened, I had a prepared board in the studio and there was a photograph lying about that I'd considered working from and then abandoned. I set to and very quickly found it difficult to work on this scale. I put the results to one side and, in the course of things, almost forgot about it.

Looking round for something fresh to take along to the Club today, I hit on the little panel. While working on the new set of small pictures at the Club, I've become used to painting with small brushes and I figured I might as well see if I could move it on a bit.

What you see above is where I ended up today. I don't think I did myself any favours by using a composition that limits the painting action to the bottom third of the panel, of course. It's made for extremely fiddly working, but overall I'm quite pleased with how it's going. But it'll take another short session to finish it, which is hardly in the spirit of "a painting a day". Nevertheless, the idea may yet have legs. I'll put it in the Introspection & Reflection melting pot.

Similar

(Pen and ink, Photoshop, digital colour)

For one reason or another, I haven't participated in the recent Illustration Friday topics, but I thought I'd make a stab at this week's Similar.

Here I must acknowledge the primary source of a cartoon character created by my friend, the late Arthur (Atom) Thomson , whose work always inspired me to do better.