Askrigg, May 2015

Nr. Helm, Wensleydale 
(Pentel Brush Pen in 21 x 26 cm sketchbook)

My Regular Reader will know of the trials and tribulations I've been going through in the last couple of years, coupled with the delights and accommodations of a new wife and a new house. I've had to get used to: reduced vision in my left eye (not out of the woods yet, it seems); wearing glasses for the first time (varifocals at that); a new studio (still being sorted out); two days away from home each week dealing with the old house; an upset routine (and I'm a great one for established routines); oh, and a host of other distractions if I were to allow myself to really think about it.

So much water has flowed down the gutter in Boogie Street, that it would be an impossible chore to bring you completely up to date and you might find your patience wearing thin in the process. This is a blog, after all, not an autobiography.

One significant event in recent times was the annual painting trip with friends from the Art Club. Or at least what used to be the annual painting trip: because of my eye problems I haven't been on one since 2012, when we went to Staithes. This year I decided I needed to get out and test myself again, to see if I could still do that old "look-and-put" style of drawing.

Eight of us from the Club booked a week in Ingleby Lodge in Wensleydale.

The place was great, with two kitchens and umpteen bedrooms but as we found to our dismay, no cover outside in case of rain. And that proved to be just what we needed. It rained most of the week. When it wasn't raining, there was a fierce cold wind which made standing around drawing or painting virtually impossible. I've always had doubts about Turner's story of having been lashed to a mast in a storm, but true or not, I wasn't prepared to emulate his feat.

So it was that only one proper drawing emerged for me - the one above. On a rare sunny day, with the wind still full in my face, I went out for a walk through some woods near Helm and dropped down into a sheltered valley. Making the drawing proved easy once I'd started and I grew quite immersed in the doing of it, such that after a while I heard a voice say "He's obviously concentrating". Looking up from my sketchbook, I saw a group of hikers climbing over the wall just a little further up. They were all waving and evidently saying "Good afternoon!" I smiled, waved and went back to my work.

The drawing may seem relatively inconsequential, but it certainly lifted my spirits to find that I can still cut it.

In a brief break from the rain, I stepped out into the garden the following day and drew this bird feeder, just for the hell of it:

Birdhouse, Ingleby Lodge, Askrigg.
(0.8 Marker in A5 sketchbook)

A Week in Staithes (7)

Stone and Brick Wal, Staithes Beck 
(Pentel Brushpen in 21 x 26 cm sketchbook)

Although I'd been happy using the fine line marker for some of these drawings, it did seem to need quite a firm hand. Last year, I'd so enjoyed exploring the qualities of the Brushpen that I'd been a little disappointed to realise it didn't easily lend itself to the depiction of buildings.

Sitting on one of the concrete stepping stones that cross the Beck, I decided that this crumbling old wall was just what I needed to get out the Brushpen again. It really is a joy to use.

Rookery Time - Wednesday 11th May

Embrace (Brushpen, sketchbook)

By Wednesday I'd come to the conclusion the weather wasn't stable enough to warrant lugging out a lot of the equipment I'd taken with me. In fact, I'd settled into a realisation that I might as well make the most of being away from home, living in a comfortable country house with no pressing commitments. In other words, I was on holiday.

I spent Tuesday getting to the end of The Blackpool Flyer by Andrew Martin, the second of his Jim Stringer, Railway Detective, mysteries. I'd enjoyed the first of this series, The Necropolis Railway, but the second seemed to me to be terribly padded out. Clearly Martin has done a huge amount of research and felt that he might obscure the identity of the culprit by filling the narrative with details of Victorian life. Undeniably fascinating details, no doubt, but narrative cloggers nonetheless. As a result it's taken me months to get to the end.

Wednesday afternoon promised a spell of fine weather, but no sooner had I finished this two page drawing (and in the process become a real fan of the flexibility of the brush-pen) than the rain came back.

Thursday: rain all day.

Rookery Time - Sunday 8th May (pm)

Tree Round Rock (Brushpen, coloured Conte, sketchbook)

Rain had sent me back to the house after drawing the Tree with Green Head and it seemed set for the rest of the day, but when a break appeared that promised a reasonable time of clear sky, I set off for my newly discovered Rock & Tree.

I began with a futile attempt to work with my favourite Rotring Art Pen. The nib has dried up again. [Note to self: check your materials before going away again!] Back to the Brushpen again then and this time I began to find a new pleasure in its use. There's a nice fluidity about the way it handles and quite subtle changes in the line quality can be achieved.

I think I intended to give this drawing more colour, but the black clouds were moving my way so after quickly laying in two colours of Conte to push the subject forward, I ran for the house in the beginnings of a downpour.

Rookery Time - Sunday 8th May (am)

Tree with Green Head (Brushpen, watercolour, A4 sketchbook)

It was becoming clear that the weather was going to be unstable, with sun and showers appearing from down the valley in unpredictable waves. I walked back up the hill towards the waterfalls but stopped part way there to draw this tree. It's another I'd become interested in last year but as we were here a couple of weeks later than last time, a crown of new leaves had shrouded the head of the shattered trunk.

Drawing this was particularly difficult. Sometimes you should make the decision to try something else and come back when the conditions are more favourable. Instead I pressed on, staring into the subject with the sun behind it and in my eyes, the watercolour drying as soon as I put it on the paper. My intention had been to lay down the watercolour and then draw into it with a disposable fountain pen, allowing the water soluble ink to spread into the colour. As it turned out, the ink had congealed and become a kind of black stringy glop, so I had to dispose of the disposable pen, and turn to the brush-pen.

Rookery Time - Saturday 7th May (am)

Dead Tree (Pentel Brushpen, watercolour, sketchbook)

Although of course I've known for a long time that I was going on my annual painting week, the opportunity to say so seemed to evaporate all of a sudden, so I went without letting you know.

So now I'm back and ready to post the fruits of my labour. Like last year we stayed at The Rookery in Bishopdale, so I had a fair idea of what I might find to interest me round about. Climbing up the steep hill that rises at the back of the house, I made my way slowly (the hill seems to have become steeper in the last year) to the series of waterfalls running down from the scar.

Sure enough, the dead tree I'd seen last year was still there, though in a more advanced state of decay, the insects and fungus continuing their long project of destruction. I love the way the tree resembles a dead creature lying on it's back, it's maw wide open. An echo of Paul Nash.

We were lucky with the weather that day but the cold wind blowing up the valley meant that the sun was less effective in keeping me warm, so by the time I'd put on the watercolour washes I was ready to go back down for a cup of tea.

Dales Diary - Saturday 24 April

Roots, Rigg's Beck (Pentel Brushpen, watercolour, A4 sketchbook)

Our two cars met up in Bedale on Friday for a sandwich and to collect the keys. With only a short diversion to the Black Sheep Brewery at Masham for essential supplies (Golden Sheep and Riggwelter), we were soon being astonished by the house that is The Rookery. It's massive. It was once the stable block of the old house, which says something about how big the house must have been.

The rest of the day was spent settling in and wandering round the house and grounds, but the following day, Saturday, I started out with a determination to get at least one drawing done each day. Not particularly ambitious, perhaps, but for me, who likes to walk around a lot taking photographs, it's adequate.

I started with a gentle walk (new boots!) up Rigg's Beck that runs through the farmland round The Rookery. New-born lambs everywhere and an unfortunate number of dead and decaying rabbits. I wondered about the rabbits. Were they being shot and left to rot? Sadly, I suspect myxomatosis is to blame.

The day's one drawing quota was achieved with this drawing of roots falling down into the beck.

Auchterarder: 6th Day

Rock Form (Pentel Brushpen, watercolour, A4 sketchbook)

First of all, a Happy St George's Day to Englishmen and women everywhere, whatever your colour or creed. This is your day, even if, like me, you're somewhere where the more exuberant display of celebration might not be diplomatic.

I did this drawing at the quarry on the way up to Craig Rossie, too. The more I stared at the rock face, the more evident it became that there was a triangular, or pyramidal shape in the fractured rock. So I drew it with the Pentel Brushpen, losing myself regularly in the splits and shadows until I'm sure this isn't in any way an accurate record of the rocks.

The watercolour wash was an afterthought, but one I'm pleased with.

Exploring Mallorca: Bollards again

Concrete Bollards 2 (Pencil, pastel, and Pentel Brushpen, A5 sketchbook)

Before setting off for the Art Club this morning, I felt the need to revisit the photograph of broken bollards. This was the result.


I actually got to the Club quite early today (a result of forgetting to re-set my alarm after having to make an early start yesterday to get to the dentist) and as a result was able to spend almost five hours working on the new view from the Tyne Bridge. It may not look like five hours work, but this is a small canvas with a great deal of complex detail and for most of the time I was using a brush no more than 5mm wide. I must be mad.




Buildings with Tyne Bridge (work in progress)

This is where I left it today. Apart form some minor corrections, the right hand side is pretty much complete. I've been delaying work on the Bridge itself, because it's such a bugger to get right. All those spars and dramatically receding perspective. I don't want to find myself fiddling with detail, so next week I'll have to approach it quite broadly.

Compo & Clegg Week 2008

Tree & Rock (A4 sketchbook, pencil, Inktense pencils)

You have to play the cards Fate deals you. As I sit here typing in a hot room, the sun streaming down outside, I ponder on events which led us to book last week in the Lake District, rather than this one. Because, of course, last week was your classic Lake District week, all rain, sun and showers.

But it doesn't pay to ponder too long. We booked the week we did, and we played the cards we were dealt. So we ended up having a good week, although the work we produced was limited by the weather.

The drawing above was my first attempt at getting to grips with what seems to be becoming something of an obsession when I go out into the country - trees and rocks. I'm not all that convinced by it, but there are things about it that I like. I still don't find the Inktense pencils particularly good to work with, but no doubt I'll return to them at some time in the future.

The tree growing out of a cleft in the rock was at the side of a lane running up past a farm in Near Sawrey towards a tarn at Moss Eccles. It continued to exert a fascination for a few days and when I found the weather too bad to go out and work, I had a go at working from the first sketch and from memory on something more colourful.



Tree & Rock (12 x 8 ins, watercolour paper, mixed media)


I started out with a pencil and watercolour pencil drawing, then added gouache because it wasn't working right . After that, I guess it just developed a life of its own. I worked over it with coloured Conte and some pastel, rubbing it down now and then with an eraser and frequently spraying with fixative.

I rather like the end product, although it does seem a little strange. But then I've never been averse to the strange.






Tree in Rock Cleft (A4 sketchbook, brush pen)

I ended my engagement with the tree in the rocky cleft by moving round to the opposite side and doing this drawing in Pentel brush-pen. As I usually find with black markers of whatever kind, I ended up rounding off the forms - a remnant of my cartoon days, I think.

At the bottom of the valley from our cottage lay Esthwaite Water, and in a field by the side of the road running down to the lake I came across a massive rock outcrop on top of which were several old and gnarled oaks, their roots bursting through the seams of rock.

Oak & Rocks (Sketchbook, 8 x 9.5 ins, 4B pencil)





I liked these rocks. They had great presence and genuinely interesting fissures running in parallel lines through them. The oaks sat on top, feeding their roots down through the fissures and splitting off great slabs. And one old oak, over the years, is clearly edging his way off his pedestal towards the road. Beware.









The Oak Steps Down (Sketchbook, 8 x 9.5 ins., 2B mechanical pencil)

Nest

I tried out some nesting boxes for the first time last year but I didn't have much success with them. It seems the birds prefer to build their own accommodation. Although I get a lot of robins in the garden, none of them appear to have seen the attraction of the delightful residence I offered them. Maybe I'll do a conversion job this year and reduce the opening to a smaller one and see if some tits or sparrows like the look of it.

I knew there'd been some interest in the other box, because I could see some bits of grass sticking up above the opening. However, it's taken me a while to get to it to look inside. Bad weather and the fact that it's hidden in the middle of a fiercely spiny pyracantha, meant that I didn't get it opened until today.

Sure enough, inside was a lovely little nest, all dried grasses and soft moss. Nothing inside the nest, however, so I guess it was ultimately abandoned. I'll put it back and try again.

Meanwhile, before throwing the nest away, I had a go at sketching it. The experience reminded me of an old student exercise where we were asked to paint a pile of straw on a table - exasperating.

Anyway, even though the straw here looks more like the branches of a tree, this is what I ended up with.

Blog Brush (sorry)

Using Google Alerts, I've been searching the Interweb for blogs which contain the word "painting." As a result, I've found an awful lot of people are currently painting their walls and seemingly not enjoying the experience.

But interior decoration wasn't what I was looking for, of course. What I really wanted was to find some new and interesting artist bloggers and one or two of them are now listed in the sidebar.

One that I'm very pleased to have found is that of Vivien Blackburn, - paintings prints and stuff. In her current post, she's suggested a project which, in an idle moment between frantic preparations for exhibitions, I thought I'd have a go at.

"Your task grasshopper, should you wish to take it, is to sketch your paintbrushes," is what she said. So here's a sketch, in watercolour and Pentel brush-pen, of one of my much-abused acrylic gesso priming brushes.

As always with watercolour, I ended up cursing the wateriness of it and, indeed, the Pentel was used to pull it back into shape (although nothing at all could be done for the curiously shaped handle). And I know it's only one brush, but it's a start. My sketchbook has been neglected for too long.