Wee Scotland Shop

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

This fine emporium of .... Scottish memorabilia and ... um..... tartan stuff is on the Royal Mile leading up to the Castle. I think peculiar little shops like this help to make a city human.

Jekyll & Hyde

Jekyll & Hyde (Oil on canvas, 12 x 12 ins)

This pub is on Hanover Street, not too far from the Di Rollo Gallery. Amazingly, I've never been inside.

Evening, Hanover Street

Evening, Hanover Street (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm)

Paint what you see, not what you know, is a useful maxim and one I usually subscribe to. So why did I question the way this painting was going? Because I didn't believe the evidence of my eyes, or at least what I could see in my own photograph. I knew the spire in this view was a long way behind everything else, so I wanted aerial perspective to make it fall back.

When I went to Edinburgh again recently, I made a point of looking at this view again and again and sure enough the visual weight of the spire (which appears to belong to The Hub) is such that it really does force itself forward. So finishing the painting turned out to be far easier than I'd persuaded myself it would be.

In my report of the research trip to Edinburgh I neglected to mention the very warm welcome Pat and I received when we called in at the Di Rollo Gallery. A special expedition was launched to bring in a supply of very good biscuits and wine and coffee flowed. We really enjoyed what was intended to be simply a brief "hello".

Pub No.2

Second Pub (work in progress)

Late last night I decided I needed another Edinburgh pub painting. This is the result. It's moved along quite nicely, so I'm confident it can be finished in time to take them all to the gallery on Saturday where they'll be framed.

Shop Work

Shop (work in progress)

Some corrections and redefining on this painting today. One of the dangers of buying relatively cheap Chinese canvases is that they're not always perfectly made. In this case, I realised yesterday that the canvas is not a true square. It's slightly off-square, enough to throw some of my earlier work out of square too.. I reckon I've put that right today and when the canvas is framed, there won't be anything amiss.

More Pub Work

Pub (work in progress)

An hour or two today moving this pub painting along. Forget what I said about one painting being more difficult than the other. In fact, this is likely to prove the more difficult, whereas I thought the shop painting would pose problems.

It was unfair of me to ask you to say which would be the difficult one and even more unfair to ask you to say why. The actual reason is because the photograph I have of the shop is full of people milling about in front of the door and downstairs window. Luckily, the Interweb managed to fill in the missing information for me.But you weren't to know that. I think I was just talking to myself out loud.

The Race is On Again

Pub (work in progress)



Shop (work in progress)

The race in the title is a race against time, of course. I have just over a week to complete my pictures for inclusion in the Di Rollo exhibition, if I want them to be framed by the gallery.

Pat and I spent a day in Edinburgh last week collecting material for paintings but I've had trouble with my printer which insists on printing everything far too dark. Eventually I had to resort to having my photographs printed professionally but this meant some delay in getting started on the new work.

Nevertheless, here I am now with two new small paintings begun of a pub and a shop in Edinburgh. One of them may prove more difficult to complete than the other. Can you guess which, and for what reason?

In the South Tyne Valley

In the South Tyne Valley (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm)

The second of this pair of paintings from the South Tyne Valley.

South Tyne Valley Landscape

South Tyne Valley Landscape (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm)

Looking round the studio yesterday, I noticed how much the study of landscape has occupied my time recently. I never thought I'd say that, but I suppose it's due to a shift in perspective and a realisation that over time I've amassed quite a store of reference material not related to towns.

Boating Again

Boat with Pines (work in progress)

This is a painting of a little boat moored near the marina at Trogir in Croatia. My plan today was to finish off the small painting I began last week, but before I did so, to start another so I'd have something to keep me going when the small one was done.

As sometimes happens, however, I got so absorbed in this new boat painting that I just keep going until it was time to go home. So now I'll have two to finish off next week

89 Cornwall Street

89 Cornwall Street (Oil on canvas, 145 x 180 mm approx)

My recent excursion into working to commission worked really well, I thought, so I was interested to read John Salmon's blog post, Commissions? No thanks, in which he recounts the awkward progress of a commission he undertook and the increasingly bizarre items he was asked to include.

John's article reminded me that the Holy Island commission isn't my first commission. The painting shown here was done as the result of a commission I was offered in October 2006. The proposal looked promising. As one of a group of artists, I was to paint a "portrait" of the headquarters of a financial services company. The resulting work would be hung there, a brochure would be printed to include all the works and prints would be shown in their offices round the country. No extra payment for the prints, but I was content that my work would be seen widely.

I accepted and completed the painting using photographs provided by the commissioning agent (who was not the client), shipping it off in November 2006.

By December I learned that the client had decided to postpone printing the brochure until the following March, but I would be contacted in the near future for a written perspective on my work to be included in the brochure.

By July 2007 nothing further had been heard and I had yet to issue an Invoice (foolish me). The commissioners told me the project was still on hold but that I should issue my invoice direct to the client. I did so on 10 July.

I issued a Statement in August and followed that with a letter later that month.

On 4 January 2008 I sent a new Invoice and Statement to the commissioning agents, arguing that my contract was with them rather than the client and asking for payment within seven days.

That did at least shake things up, finally. By return of post my Invoice and Statement came back with an apologetic letter, suggesting that "the confusion may stem from a changeover in staff" at the client's offices.

Payment arrived from the client on 9 January 2008.

It might be argued that I should have been more proactive in chasing up the payment, but this was my first experience of a formal commission and was unsure of how things worked. I also had other problems in my life. The most annoying aspect of it is that I rather enjoyed carrying out the work and had hopes that it might lead to similar commissions. The whole episode depressed me and I put it out of my mind. Even the original photographs I took of the painting have disappeared - the one shown here is taken from the inkjet print I attached to the Invoices.

[Later: A trawl of the Internet shows that the client company went into administration in May 2008, after allegations of "financial irregularities." and was sold shortly afterwards. A history of the business, following the arrival of the man whom I was told in January 2008 had all of the pictures, makes fascinating reading. I don't know where he is now, or where my painting might be.]

Four Balconies, Crete

Four Balconies, Crete (Oil on board, 12 x 12 ins)

Saturday's not usually a painting day for me, but while Pat's away having fun in London, I thought I'd press on with Finishing Off. Here's one I don't seem to have touched for just over three years. Maybe it's because I've strengthened my colour sense in the intervening years, but today it moved along very well. Well enough to reach completion, in fact.

Oh, I do like it when things go well, don't you?

Clubbing

Riverboat (work in progress)

Today was my first real afternoon of painting in the new Club premises, and it worked pretty well. I thought it might be too crowded and maybe a little stuffy, but there was only a handful of people there and the extractor fan was working efficiently.

I settled in quite quickly and the very small new painting I'd sketched out on an old piece of board cut from another painting went remarkably smoothly. In fact, had I not needed to go shopping, I could easily have finished the picture in one go. As it is, there's really only the river left to work on.

Transformer

Transformer (Oil on board, 21 x 30 cm)

It's that period after an intensely creative spell, when I tend to roam the studio looking for something to do that won't involve too much time. On such occasions, my eye usually turns to unfinished pieces, of which there are many (too many, some may say).

Today it lit upon this remnant of a past obsession with bits of strange and possibly unsafe electrical wiring which Greece has aplenty.

So here it is finished. File it under "Oddities".

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.