Shop News

Wee Scotland Shop (Oil on canvas, 12 x 12 ins)

Things are very quiet here, as you must have noticed. I'm doing a lot of reading and thinking as what passes for the summer goes by, but not much in the way of painting. I suppose a rest is a good thing and will no doubt prepare me for some kind of Great Leap Forward.

Meanwhile, I've learned that this painting has been chosen as the "Editor's Choice" in a national magazine (more on that in due course). As I thought this might be of interest to the Di Rollo Gallery where the painting is on display, I sent them an email. By return I learned that, coincidentally, the painting has sold.

Suddenly, the rain outside seemed to take on a rosy glow.

I'm in the A&I

A while ago I submitted this image to the Artists & Illustrators Magazine for consideration for their Portfolio section. I heard nothing more from them and forgot all about it. Imagine my surprise, then when I was told I was in the April edition!

Special thanks are due to April Jarocka who first drew my attention to the possibility of submitting work to the magazine and then for telling me I was in it! Without her timely heads-up, I might have missed it altogether.

"[Mr Zip] paints the town"

[Mr Zip] and his Great North Run painting

According to the Evening Chronicle of Saturday October 30th, "Eight scenes of Newcastle by artist [Mr Zip] are on display and up for sale at a city gallery." It goes on to say that the "oil paintings of streets around the city have been on display ..... since September 10 and are proving popular with visitors."

The gallery manager was quoted as saying that they'd had some of Mr Zip's work on display before "and it went down very well."

"They are all up for sale from between £650 and £1600."

Mr Zip said, "They are all of streets in Newcastle, like Blackett Street and Newgate Street."

"I am particularly interested in the effect of light on those streets, especially on wet days."

In addition to reproducing "The Burning Bush" they also showed a copy of this one:


The Sage, Gateshead (oil on canvas, 24x24 ins)

Fame calls after all.

The Burning Bush (oil on canvas, 36 x 36 ins)

Given that I was standing in my underwear in the draughty hall, I probably didn't acquit myself overly well when the woman from the Chronicle phoned today.

Seems I misjudged them and they do intend to publish a piece on me and my work, either tomorrow or Monday.

That'll teach me not to be so pessimistic.

Fickle Fate

Newgate Street (oil on canvas, 35.5 x 26 ins))

Do you ever get the feeling that you've jinxed yourself? However irrational it may seem, however foolishly superstitious, does it ever seem to you that by telling everyone some good news about something about to occur, you somehow prevent it from happening?

I picked up a copy of the Chronicle tonight and found they'd run with a story about the guy whose pictures are hanging next to mine at the Gallery. I knew they'd photographed them, but apparently he was in the happy position of being at the Gallery when they were there and was able to be interviewed.

Now they've done that, I think it unlikely they'll run anything about me.

Poot. If only I'd kept my m........

Anyway, this is one of the pictures they probably won't be showing.

The Photographer Calls

I was woken at the ungodly hour of 11.30 this morning by the insistent ringing of the telephone.

It was a man whose name appears to be The Photographer From The Chronicle. At least that was what he called himself throughout all of our conversations.

Apparently, when there's no news and The Photographer From The Chronicle is twiddling his thumbs, the accepted solution is to go down to the Big Gallery and take some shots of the pictures in there.

Anyway, that was what The Photographer From The Chronicle did today. And as he'd taken some shots of my pictures, he thought it would be good to get some extra shots of me to go with the shots of the pictures. Maybe it'll make a feature.

When he arrived, he said "Hello, I'm The Photographer From The Chronicle."

So it was that I found myself in the studio with my nose shoved up against The Madonna of the Toboggan, my palette (which I never pick up) clutched near my left ear, a dry paintbrush in my right hand.

"Do you always hold the brush like that? Looks kind of funny"

"Unlike the palette by my left ear?" I asked.

"Ah, that's to keep the striplight out of shot," he explained.

We finished off the session with me down on my knees with my head pressed up against some of the figures in The Great North Run, staring into the void like El Greco's St Peter.

I'm sure it'll look great when it's in print. And, of course, any publicity is good publicity.