Luxury, a Green Man and Bill Viola

Pat and I were in Surrey and Hampshire last weekend for a rather late wedding present stay at the Four Seasons Hotel. We had a terrific time and I took umpteen photographs which I've hardly had time to sort through. One I did like immediately, however, was this one I took at an antiques shop in Surrey. This has to be the friendliest Green Man I've ever come across.

After our pampering at the Four Seasons we spent a couple of days in the rather more prosaic Premier Inn next to Kings Cross Station in London. Not as luxurious perhaps, but clean and comfortable and really what more do you need? 

From there we were able to get to one or two galleries. The John Caple exhibition at John Martin of London was shown to very good effect in their new upstairs premises in Albemarle Street and the staff there were, as always, very welcoming. I've yet to determine how Caple gets such creamy whites (just like flake white oil) in his acrylic paintings, but they're lovely.

For me, one of the highlights of the V&A's Botticelli Reimagined was Bill Viola's Going Forth by Day. I'm not usually one for an art video installation, but Bill Viola really is The Man for those. Inspired by Botticelli frescoes, the video simply shows people of all ages and races walking down a path in a sun-dappled wood. Walking in ones and and twos, and in groups, they walk slowly from the left edge of the very long image and leave at the right.

They're dressed mostly quite casually, some of them in sports equipment, and many carry objects - sports trophies, musical instruments, flowers in pots and bunches, suitcases - and the speed of their walk has been slowed by a fraction.

We didn't intend to watch the whole 36 minutes of it but we were drawn in by its mesmerising quality and didn't leave until the old guy with the walker came round again.

Nordic Transcendence

I suppose it must be something to do with Sod's Law that when I go to the last (and for me, the only) meeting of the Painters' Group this season, I should miss the bus because it came early. I shall be glad to be free of this one-an-hour bus service.

Sod's Law continued to apply when I got to the Hatton Gallery where the Group usually meets: it was Newcastle University's Open Day and the gallery was full of folk. And no one from the Group, of course. So by the time I'd trotted over the road to the Northumbria Gallery, the fallback venue, I was only just in time to put my Chalice painting amongst the others and sit down for the crit.

I wasn't sure how it would be received, but everyone seemed to like it, including Bill V., our tutor. The term he used in reference to it was "Nordic Transcendence" which I thought somewhat appropriate. I remember two years ago seeing and enjoying the exhibition  Van Gogh to Kandinsky | Symbolist Landscape in Europe 1880-1910, not so much for the well known painters but for the lesser known works by artists such as Kallela and Willumsen. I found a a real connection with those paintings.

Whether or not Chalice represents a new departure. I honestly can't say, but it's stirring up some ideas from the past that may need to be looked at again.

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.

Another Disappointment

Figure8, the group I've shown with since 2004, has been finding it more and more difficult to source suitable exhibition opportunities. Many of the galleries we've shown with have said they're happy to exhibit our work again, but not until at least 2012. Their policy of booking shows has moved inexorably forward so that they're now writing up their diaries three to four years ahead.

Which meant that we had nothing in our diary for 2011, except for one show provisionally arranged for June.

As seems quite common with galleries we heard nothing about the exact date, despite several emails and attempted phone calls. Until now. We were aware that the woman who agreed the exhibition for June, had left the gallery and passed on details to her replacement. We now find that he left shortly after joining and failed to pass on details of our show to his replacement. The new incumbent then gave our place in the diary to someone else, leaving us without a show. She then, in turn, left her employment.

The even newer holder of this obviously rewarding post is to discuss the problem with the management and invite us in for a meeting, so something may be salvaged from this mess, but I do begin to wonder how businesses survive in this way.

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".

Sign of the Times

As I sit here hoping this won't be the 10th day of snow, and wondering if this time I might be able to clear the steps to the studio without tumbling down two flights, more cheerful news come in the form of an e-mail. Here it is, edited where appropriate:

"I .... have unfortunately been tasked with contacting you with regards to the exhibition you had been discussing with [us] for 2012. As you will no doubt have heard, the Government is intending to make significant cuts to the amount of money it gives to local authorities. In the case of [the] Borough Council, this means that over the next four years spending has to reduce by £22 million from a budget of £107 million. Unfortunately in order to reach these target savings the Council are proposing to withdraw the subsidy from the Arts Centre.

At this stage whilst work is ongoing with partners to identify alternative options to closure, if these new approaches are unsuccessful then unfortunately the Arts Centre will have to close. Due to this uncertainty whilst we will continue to host exhibitions as programmed until July-August 2011, we can not guarantee exhibitions beyond this time and feel it is prudent to cancel all exhibitions beyond July 31 2011."

Cautionary Tale

I know that while many gallerists are kind and honest folk, there is a small minority that gives the trade a bad name by devious practices.

Stories have been reaching me of an artist who has done well both locally and nationally. He showed some pictures with a gallery at a recent art fair where they sold very well. The gallery wanted more, but for whatever reason, they were unable to get the artist himself to supply them, so they went online and bought some from a website. The pictures they'd bought did not do well, however. In fact, they didn't sell at all.

When it came time for them to pay the artist, they did something I still find quite astonishing: they gave him back the recently acquired paintings, deducting their cost from what they owed him, and then factored in the cost of VAT and told him he owed them for that!

Blimey.

Right Turn

Right Turn (Oil on board, 18 x 17 ins) £420

It seems I'm faced with a dearth of exhibiting opportunities this year. Many of the galleries I've shown in during the last couple of years are now booked up for the next couple of years. So, whenever an opportunity arises to get paintings out of the studio and onto a wall, I take it.

The Federation of Northern Art Societies is about to hold its annual exhibition at Preston Hall Museum in Stockton-on-Tees and as a member of the North of England Art Club, I was entitled to submit two paintings for consideration. Which I did. When I got home today after a weekend in Tynemouth, there was a phone message to say that, not only have my paintings been accepted, this one, Right Turn, showing a street in Crete, has been Highly Commended. There's a cheque attached to the Commendation, too.

No major exhibitions maybe, but this year seems to be turning into one of Success by Drip Feed.

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.

Fi-Fie-Fo-Fum

Ivy sections (A4 sketchbook)

I had a really enjoyable afternoon out yesterday. Mo and I went up to the Fi-Fie-Fo-Fum gallery at Newton; the weather was glorious and the views round the gallery are spectacular. The views inside the gallery are pretty good too.

Tom Moore had invited us to see the big new paintings he's working on for his upcoming show at the Northumbria Gallery, partly for reassurance that they were on the right track (they definitely were!) and partly just for a chat, I think. I know only too well how isolated life can become working in the studio day after day.

During a very wide-ranging conversation, we touched on the way the Laing Art Gallery in Newcastle had taken down the lovely paintings on the staircase when they repainted the walls and disappointingly never put them back.

Tom has discovered the reason. It's that old demon, Health & Safety!

Apparently, should there be a fire, the public would be in severe danger of being caught by burning shreds of masterpieces raining down from the walls of the staircase. In an art gallery! Who'd have thought such dangers existed? I've been risking my life all these years and never knew.

I wonder if the owners of stately homes know what perils they live with as long as they have their ancestral portraits lining those grand - but potentially lethal - stairs.

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.

Gallery Grump

Theatre Royal, Grey Street (Private Collection)

Grey Street is one of the finest in Newcastle, designed by John Dobson in the Georgian style and apparently voted 'Best street in the UK' in 2002 by BBC Radio 4 listeners. I've always thought that it would be a suitable site for a good commercial gallery, so I was pleased to see earlier this year that a new gallery was opening there.

Alas, it's not what I was hoping for. Obviously, from a personal point of view, I would have liked them to be interested in local artists, but this has proven not to be the case. They're a branch of a national chain with Rolf Harris as their Big Name.

What depresses me most, however, is the fact that most of their stock is what they like to call limited edition prints, but which we know to be reproductions. I know this is something of a lost battle, but it's worth making the point now and again. The spin they put on these reproductions is one I've not previously come across. They're what they term hand-embellished. Looking at them, it's obvious that they're simply reproductions on which a few flicks of paint have been added. In a number of cases, they've had a transparent resin brushed onto them so that the effect of impasto is achieved without adding any extra colour whatsoever.

Although I thought this was pretty feeble, I did get the impression that the artists had done the additions themselves. However, I've come across this in some of their literature:

An increasing number of our Limited Edition Fine Art Prints are now hand-embellished.

This means that the print is placed alongside the original and under the direction of the artist certain elements of the image are highlighted with paint, inks, varnish or other medium by a master craftsman. This is done to bring each piece closer to the essence of the original and adds a new layer of authenticity to the finished composition. It also transforms each print into a unique handmade piece in its own right.

A "master craftsman", eh? Not even the artist. What a farce.

Venetian Regata

Venetian Regata (Oil on canvas, 24 x 24 ins.)

I've had to really bash on to get this one finished. I need it for tomorrow, when it will form part of the new Figure 8 show at the Biscuit Factory. The show doesn't get its preview until 6th June, but the work needs to be in a week early.

I had planned to put some of the Vaporetto series into this show, but they don't come out of the Myles Meehan Gallery until Monday, so I've opted for a mixed bag of work from the last two years. This new painting and one other (another of my old, unfinished pieces which finally found its way to completion this week) will be the only fresh work in my part of the show, but the audience for much of it is unlikely to be duplicated, I think.

I am a little concerned that, because of the experiments in approach I've undertaken in the last couple of years, my work may look a little eclectic in style. My hope is that the colour palette will hold it together and, if nothing else, it'll give me a chance to see how well (or otherwise) it all hangs together.

I think I may post everything here tomorrow (if you're interested?), when I've had a chance to photograph the other new one, and when I'm sure of what has gone up on the walls.