A Good Day Out

Saturday was a very satisfactory day. The Holy Island pictures were lined up for the client to choose one and - gratifyingly - the choice proved difficult. She liked all of them for different reasons and waited until it was time to go before making her choice: Evening, Holy Island.

At which point I got a pleasant surprise. Her father decided to buy Orange Sunset, Holy Island.

If you're reading this, Cat and Laurie, I hope you get many years of pleasure from your paintings. Many thanks for commissioning this project and ultimately for choosing the works you did.

Four Skies - Holy Island

Orange Sunset, Holy Island (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)


Evening, Holy Island (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)


Sunset, Holy Island (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)


Clouds over Holy Island (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)

The plan was to finish these yesterday, but like many of my good plans, things got in the way, so I was forced to work on them today with the likelihood of their not being dry by Saturday. And Saturday is when they're to be shown to the client.

The bad news is that it was a gloriously hot sunny day today and I had to work in the studio. The good news is that I was able to stand them outside in the garden where the sun made short work of drying them perfectly.

These photographs are not colour perfect, I think, but they're close enough. I wonder which one she'll choose tomorrow. Which would you?

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.

North East Art Collective

Did I mention I'd been investigating a new (to me ) gallery in Newcastle? No, I guess not. Last week, in an idle moment, I wandered into the North East Art Collective's gallery in Eldon Garden Shopping Centre where I had a good conversation with John Thompson, the owner.

Long story short, yesterday I took in six paintings to be hung in the gallery. John's background is in business rather than art, but he's determined to promote the artists of the north east and I have hopes that he'll do well in that respect. He's an outgoing talkative man who I think customers will take to easily.

And One Makes Four

Holy Island 4 (Work in progress)

It's time to return to the Holy Island sky pictures and move them along, but I always feel three in a series is never enough, so yesterday I began a fourth.

The plan is to complete all four by the end of the week, so over the next few days they should all be appearing here. Watch this space.

Greek Wiring

Greek Wiring (Linocut, 26 x 22 cm)

At a dinner party on Saturday night, the conversation turned to a linocut hanging on the dining room wall. It was one of mine given to the hostess some years ago. My attempts at printmaking and linocuts in particular are very rare and this one was completed while I was in my second year at University (1998). It was never properly editioned, so only a very few artist's proofs exist.

Which poses something of a problem: one of the other guests said she'd like to buy a print. I've never sold a print before. How do I arrive at a fair price? Should it be based on a drawing of that size (which I have sold), or should the rarity value influence the price?

The New Art Club

A Yellow Wall (Oil on canvas, 16 x 16 ins)


The Orange House (Oil on canvas, 16 x 16 ins)

I got my first look at the Art Club's new premises yesterday. Last Friday, I submitted these two paintings to an inaugural show at the new place, so I went along to see how they looked.

The exhibition is in a room next to the new studios. Not a very big room, so there had to be some selection of paintings., and my two were hung one above the other (as they are shown here). Not an arrangement I particularly like, but I suppose it's better than not being selected at all.

The new studio is going to pose some problems when it's up and running properly, because it's around half the size of the old studio in Bolbec Hall. It really is a shame we had to move, but our situation there had become absolutely untenable in that we could have been evicted at any time with only a month's notice.

There is no natural light in the new room and it seemed a bit stuffy, although there is an air extractor (not switched on yesterday). The other room has been set aside as a community room with the fridge, library and large table. It can be used as a room for drawing, but not drawing with friable materials like charcoal or pastel as it's carpeted and the owners don't want the carpet ruined. So only of limited use in that respect. There are large windows in the community room and I made sure they could be opened to let in some much-needed air.

There's no doubt the change will take some getting used to, but I dare say we'll rise to the challenge. As the only art club in the area which has always allowed members access to their studio five days a week, it has a lot to live up to.

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 - Monday 9th May

Jervaulx Pillar (2B mechanical pencil, A4 sketchbook)

The weather forecast looked promising, so rather than work close to the house, we decided a trip to Jervaulx Abbey might prove productive. We collected essential supplies from Dales Meat & Pie in Leyburn (Scotch pie disappointing, tartelette chocolat fantastic) with the intention of getting tea from the teashop at the Abbey. Teashop closed "due to unforeseen circumstances". Tsk.

I was sure the Abbey would be an exciting site, but it turned out otherwise. It's difficult to say why. I've always loved ruins, but perhaps these were too manicured or perhaps my inclination really is towards industrial ruination. Whatever the reason, I found I couldn't make sufficient sense of what I saw there to do a substantial drawing. I took quite a few photographs and as I did so I could see that I might be able to eventually put together a composite view which, while not being accurate in its depiction of the Abbey, would be a decent painting composition.

The rain kept coming and I had to eat my lunch in the shelter of an archway, so eventually I simply sat down on a broken step and drew one of the pillars. It seemed to be sufficient.

Or almost sufficient. I made this little sketch and then the rainclouds became very black again. We ended up running for the cars.


Fragment (2B mechanical pencil, A5 sketchbook)

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 (pm)

Tree Circles Rock (4B pencil, A4 sketchbook)

Walking up to the waterfalls involved a lot of very boggy ground and several rotting gates held together by pieces of string, twisted wire and rusted metal. I think it must be a Yorkshire thing. I decided to forgo the pleasures of opening the gates and decided to take a walk in the afternoon along the lane that runs down the side of the valley through flocks of sheep.

I'd never been that way before and it came as a shock to see, on the top of the first rise, a fascinating example of my favourite country subject - Rock & Tree. Coming closer to it, I was amazed by it's structure. It's a huge boulder out of which an ash tree has sprouted, pushing roots deep into a crack on one side. But then, the tree had produced a root-cum-trunk which had wound it's way round the rock and along the other side, grasping the rock in its embrace.

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.

Old Drawings #64

Tree and Rocks, Blawearie
(Charcoal on cartridge paper, 20 x 33 ins)

As those of you in the UK will be only too well aware, we're going through the Bank Holiday season, a time when nothing gets done because we're all too busy Having Fun.

In the absence of anything new to post, therefore, I'm posting what may prove to be the last of the Old Drawings series (I need to check - there may be one or two more). I need to think about how to replace this occasional series. Something called New Drawings would, in an ideal world, be a suitable replacement, but that's a series very long in the gestation it seems. I could start to post from my sporadic sketchbook drawings. What do you think? What would you like to see?

This drawing, by the way, is one of the first in what would come to be the Rock and Tree series, an ongoing project. I did it at University in 2001, I reckon, and it's taken from something seen at Blawearie. I'm rather fond of the way I simplified the forms.

Alcudia Rooftops

Alcudia Rooftops (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)

A painting from Mallorca, finished almost in passing between working on the Holy Island paintings.

Clouds over Holy Island

Clouds over Holy Island (Oil on canvas, 12 x 16 ins)

It's tempting to go on fiddling, but I think in this case it's time to stop. The clouds were complicated and it wasn't always easy to keep the colours from becoming an overall grey, but now I believe I'm happy with this one.

*SEVEN*

Seven years before the mast. Against all expectations, the good ship Boogie Street sails majestically onwards, its brave captain wondering what on earth was in his mind when he posted that first post seven whole years ago.

Grog all round!

Venetian Balcony

Venetian Balcony (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cms)

Giving time for the Holy Island skyscapes to dry, I turned back to this balcony piece and finished it. On a day when the sun had mostly deserted us, it was lovely to revel in the colours.

Holy Island Progress

Holy Island I (work in progress)

I suppose it must be much great to be a fast and furious painter of skies like John Houston, but I'm not. I take my time, building up the subtleties and nuances of colour. Which is not to say that one way is better than another, or to denigrate John Houston's work which I really really like; it's just different.

Anyway, this is where I left this today.

Third Holy Island Picture

Holy Island III (work in progress)

A bit more cloud structure in the sky in this one. It'll give me the opportunity to play with quite a varied palette of pastel colours.

Opening Tomorrow

I left five paintings today to be included in this show opening tomorrow. It's organised by the Newcastle Artists Society and is at Citibase in Churchill House, Newcastle.. You may remember I went to their first show a while ago. Well this is a bigger show, taking in all five floors of the building and looking round at what's already on the walls, it promises to be a good show.

The preview is tomorrow night from 6pm to 9pm. I hope if you're in the area, you might call in and look around, say "hello" even. But if you can't make it tomorrow night, the show is running for the next three months.

If you really can't get to see it all, then these are the paintings of mine you'll be missing:



Wooden Sunset (Oil on canvas, 60 x 60 x 4 cm) £700



Close to Islam (Oil on canvas, 40 x 40 x 4 cm) £300



Venetian Wall (Oil on canvas, 40 x 40 x 4 cm) £300



Engine Summer (Oil on canvas, 40 x 40 x 4 cm) £300



Oil Drums (Oil on canvas, 40 x 60 x 4 cm) £350

Onto the Island

Holy Island I (work in progress)


Holy Island II (work in progress)

I know what you're thinking: Not more new ones! When will he ever finish something? Well, this is how I prefer to work. I have a lot of work to do in the next few weeks and I find that getting the paintings actually begun is the best way of moving forward. From the initial blocking in, I move on to getting done most of the work, then bring the paintings to their final state by putting in small delineations, points of light, etc.

Whether or not I should be showing these two at this stage, however, is a moot point. A comment on the previous post suggests that I'm very brave to do so. There is a danger that you can't see what I can see in them and you may wonder how they''re going to turn out. In this case, I'm erring on the side of giving information about their construction. The paintings are the result of a commission to provide a painting of Holy Island and what I've decided to do is make several at one time. Expect more of these in the coming weeks.

Late Night on Dundas Street

Dundas Street (work in progress)

Late night sessions are nothing new with me, but it's some time since I really got into one. When I worked full time in an office, the only way I could get anything done, apart from at weekends, was to work at night. Now that I have the luxury of all my time to myself, I ought to be able to get things done during the day. However, sometimes days get broken up by shopping for food essentials and the like and the urge to work cannot be denied, whatever time it is.

I made good progress with this painting tonight, but I should perhaps have remembered that the studio clock hadn't been changed at the weekend for British Summer Time. So when I knocked off it turned out to be 12.45 am instead of 11.45 pm.

I'm nearly finished with this painting, but there are a couple of problems, most especially the tall spire at the right. It's a very dominant element in both the painting and the city, but memory tells me that it's much further away than it appears, so some real consideration needs to be given to it to make it sit right.

West End Fish

West End Fish (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cms)

One of the things I like about painting buildings in towns and cities is the opportunity it provides to celebrate the ordinary, the overlooked. I like to think that, without my painting, this building in Edinburgh on the corner of Queensferry Street and Charlotte Lane, would go largely unnoticed and uncelebrated.

Despite the busy traffic and pedestrians hurrying everywhere, the building's curves and cupola caught my eye and I knew I could do something with it. And I have.

I'm very pleased to report that after my tour of the galleries in and around Dundas Street, I was contacted by the Di Rollo Gallery and asked if I'd be interested in showing work with them during this year's Festival. You can probably guess what my answer was, especially in view of today's painting.

Purple and Green

Purple and Green (Oil on canvas, 8 x 8 ins.)

It's becoming eerie at the Club. People are taking their equipment home and the place is being stripped of much of its clutter. All in preparation for our move, of course.

On Monday we had our Annual Dinner and it was rather sobering to reflect on the fact that this would be the last we'd hold while in the Bolbec Hall premises. We ate in the Library of Neville Hall, home of the The North of England Institute of Mining and Mechanical Engineers. The building is a grand Neo-Gothic affair next door to the Neo-Classical Lit & Phil, which in turn is next door to Bolbec Hall.

The Library in Neville Hall, with its galleries, photographs and memorabilia is a moving reminder of the days before we started to turn this country into a retail park selling stuff made abroad. In a socialist country, the Library would be a notable monument to the working man but now it's struggling to make itself known and to find funding. I can't imagine there ever being a Library devoted to workers in the call centres of the UK.

Today I finished this little picture of some chocolates. They used to be made by a British owned company, but now they belong to Nestlé (*spit*). Next week I'll go back to the Club and take away my paints. And then, I guess, look forward to life in the Club's new home; but it won't be the same.

Working on Dundas Street

Dundas Street (work in progress)

True to my determination to make a mark in Edinburgh, here's the beginning of a painting looking up Dundas Street. There's no doubt that Edinburgh is a difficult city to paint and its buildings are far from being colourful, so I'm having to think my way back into a rather subdued palette, but this seems promising to me.

Official: Edinburgh Coldest Place on Earth

I've always had a great affection for Edinburgh. My Grandmother was born in Crammond, a little seaside village then just outside Edinburgh but now part of the city, and as a boy I spent many happy days staying with my "Auntie" Jessie (actually my Dad's aunt) in her flat overlooking Arthur's Seat.

This photograph from the family album shows me in August 1952, standing eating an ice cream cornet next to a sign saying PLEASE KEEP OFF THE GRASS - I guess I was always slightly rebellious.

Because of this love of Edinburgh, I'm always up for a stay there, so when a good offer of three nights became available, Pat and I decided we'd go. We travelled up on Tuesday last and came back on Friday. And all the time we were there I was freezing cold!

I expect it to be noticeably colder that little bit further north, and Edinburgh is certainly prone to strong winds blowing in off the Firth, but I wasn't prepared for the icy blasts blowing in from the west. None of my clothes proved adequate and I even had to pick up an extra M&S jumper from Princes Street (Thank you, Pat!). On Wednesday morning we had snow and on Thursday we got caught in a hailstorm.

But there are ways of staying warm, of course, not least the galleries, pubs and even the glasshouses of the Royal Botanic Garden. As well as the good selection of galleries down Dundas Street, we explored the area of Stockbridge for the first time, after walking down part of the Water of Leith Walkway.

At the The Scottish Gallery of Modern Art & Dean Gallery we had lunch (the Dean Gallery is the better of the two, I think, in terms of food - and there's table service) and then looked at the wonderful early 20th century photographs of August Sander and the Paolozzi Studio.

The National Gallery of Scotland were showing three rarely seen early Vermeers and a fascinating collection of French drawings.

The Open Eye, on the corner of Abercromby Place and Dundas Street, had a show of watercolours by the late Jack Firth RSW. Great fresh work. And I was able to pick up a facsimile of one of Leon Morrocco's sketchbooks - a real delight that made me want, yet again, to get back to that sketching habit.

The DiRollo Gallery. As its website says, it's friendly and sociable and when we visited they were showing some good new work by John V Gardner. I hope I may have made a friend there.

The Dundas Street Gallery is a hire gallery which I've never been in before, but I liked the look of the india ink drawings of Edinburgh by Jamie Primrose. We had a chat with him and I was delighted to find that he'd actually done his BA in Fine Art at Newcastle University at the same time as Andrew Gifford. Not so delighted to find that he shares my view of the standard of teaching there, even several years before I experienced it. By the time we left, it looked like his show had got off to a good start with quite a few sales.

In Stockbridge, we looked for and found the Laurel Gallery, a curious little one room gallery with a welcoming atmosphere. I'd wanted to find it because they were showing some work by David Body whose work I'd last seen on a day trip to Kirkcudbright, and I think it repaid the revisit.

Another tiny one room gallery we came across while looking for shelter from a freezing downpour, was the Sarah Dallas Gallery. Just as welcoming as the others and with some really excellent work by Sandra Moffat & Emerson Mayes.

Finally, there was Scotlandart.com, a good well-laid out gallery with stripped wood floors, very comfortable seating and showing a lot of very professional work. They have another gallery in Glasgow.

I came back with a renewed determination to get some work shown in Edinburgh and with a new knowledge of the dearth of paintings of Edinburgh in galleries there. Thoughts to dwell on. And act on.

Sweet Things

Purple and Green (work in progress)

Over a year ago, I planned a small painting of two Quality Street chocolates to go on the lid of a Xmas present. For one reason or another, the painting never got started, but because I knew finishing Shark Rock wouldn't take too long, I was looking for something new to start and came across the source material yesterday.

In the studio is a carton of 8 x 8 inch canvases I bought last year with a view to making some small paintings of food inspired by Wayne Thiebaud's wonderful cakes, so pulled one of them out and took it to the Club.

I rather like the arrangement of the chocolates and had the paint not become overworked in places, I'd have happily pushed on and finished this one today.

The chocolates? They were eaten a long time ago.

Shark Rock

Shark Rock (Oil on canvas, 12 x 12 ins.)

So here we are, back at the Club and Shark Rock is finished. [Note to self: get a better photograph]

The rock itself is at Blawearie, a place I've talked about painted before, but the name is for it is my own. Sometimes, I get a name in my head which makes sense to me and after a while it sticks, so I append it to the painting.

In a Venice Frame of Mind

Venetian Balcony (work in progress)

I should perhaps be pursuing those outstanding Tyne Valley landscapes, but I firmly believe that, unless you have an overriding reason (like a gallery deadline) for pushing on with work when you don't feel the desire to do so, it's generally counter-productive.

I was watching a TV programme set in Venice last week and the city has been on my mind. Despite the crowds (and the mosquitoes!) Pat and I loved our time there and will surely go again one day. It's a place unlike any other I've visited and at times it fills my head with images, so when I had the idea for this painting I decided to get on with it straight away.

I'm glad I did. The painting went well, the paint flying onto the canvas and the colours setting themselves up for later adjustments perfectly.