Editor's Choice

The Side, with Snow (Oil on canvas, 36 x 36 ins)

I recently heard from The Artist magazine that they'd like to feature this painting as their Editor's Choice in the April edition. Of course I agreed, so more when the time comes.

Museum Sketchbook #1: Fossil Tree

Fossil Tree (2B pencil over two pages of A4 sketchbook)

In these times of slow progress to who knows where, I think I might return to pages from my sketchbooks. When last I thought about doing so, I couldn't quite decide which of the various sketchbooks I should tackle first, but in view of the recent attention I've given to the Great North Museum:Hancock the obvious is the Museum Sketchbook.

These first two pages from 1997 (my first year at Newcastle University) show one of the newly installed display areas built from MDF, the architect's material of choice. As you can see it had a lot of nicely curved coloured surfaces and umpteen lighting tracks illuminating ..... not a great deal. A lonely fossilised tree takes pride of place.

Two Emus

Two Emus (Oil on board, 24 x 24 ins)

Thinking about the time I spent in the Hancock Museum reminded me that I did a few paintings based on the sketches and photographs I brought back from there. This rather inadequate photograph is of a painting I did on a piece of blockboard rescued from the skip outside the School of Architecture. Framed up in a nice dark wood frame it still looks pretty good to me.

Mind Map

Mind Map (Oil on canvas, 12 x 12 in)

One of the things about having problems with my sight and distrusting my ability to see what I want to see in the world outside, is that I think it encourages me to turn inward, to look at the world of the imagination, of memory and fantasy. So you'd be forgiven for thinking that this painting is a fanciful invention, but that isn't quite the case.

In my first year at university we were given free access to the Hancock Museum which was then part of the university. That was before the Labour Government's enlightened Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport, Chris Smith, enabled many museums to give free admission and well before it was absorbed into Tyne & Wear's Great North Museum.

The Hancock in those days was still pretty much the way I remembered it as a child - full of dimly lit wooden galleries with rows and rows of cases full of beetles and butterflies and big glass cases with stuffed birds and ethnographic items from far off exotic places. I loved it and did a lot of drawing there as well as taking several rolls of film (I had to source very fast film to get what I wanted).

It was undergoing a makeover, however, with roaring life size dinosaurs being put in and new interactive displays to attract children who think they need modern devices to get their imaginations working.

Looking down from one of the galleries I saw two people pondering a new display which linked various collections in the museum. That's what this painting shows, the original rather poor photograph filtered through time and memory and the interested couple replaced by a man who owes his existence more to the workings of paint than to actuality.

Puzzling

Puzzle (work in progress)

Once I'd worked out what I wanted this picture to look like, which took me most of the week, the initial stage of painting has gone remarkably well, I think. Because of over- and re-working, the figure has taken on a degree of awkwardness, so that's what I'll have to try to address later, as well as working on the background.

Dreamer

Dreamer (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm)

I finished this yesterday but as luck and the weather would have it, I couldn't take it to the Painters' Group meeting. It snowed most of the night and although snow fall has eased off today, there's no sign of a thaw.

I got up early to see if I might be able to get to the meeting, but the main road looked bad and the front street was covered in a thick blanket of snow. In addition, the painting was still tacky, which made carrying it in bad conditions not an attractive proposition. I put the central heating on and went back to bed. The painting will keep for another month.

Refining

Sleeper (work in progress)

It may not be obvious that much has changed. What I've done is refine the image a little, close up the gaps between planes of colour, modify the hair and add toes and fingers. The problem with working on a painting like this is that the paint has to be dry before small additions can be made and inevitably this takes time. My object is to get it done before Saturday, when the Painters' Group reconvenes.

Progress of a sort.

Sleeper (work in progress)

I'm not sure this is necessarily where I expect to end up in my quest for something new, but it feels like a helpful place to pause on the way.

There's a good deal more to do to get it finished, of course, and even then it may simply be what was described to me today as "just a painting of a woman sleeping in a chair." But it feels different and if not on the direct route to the New, at least a useful Sidestep.

Canongate Kirk, Edinburgh

Canongate Kirk, Edinburgh (Oil on canvas, 30 x 30 cm)

Unravelling a bit of string, I left the darkened corridor last night to see if I might get at least one new painting finished this year. I knew this Edinburgh churchyard painting could be brought to a conclusion very easily; all it needed was the addition of some grave markers and crosses and a bit work on the tops of walls. 

I didn't much enjoy the experience of painting while wearing my near distance specs, but later it occurred to me that, given the small size of the painting, I might have been better off using my reading glasses.

Following the string back along the dark corridor, I'm standing here, finger tips on the wall, musing on the quaint Chinese method of making the stretcher on which this picture is completed. It has three sides 30cm long and one, 12 inches long. An interesting problem for my framer.

Feeling my way

The Blindfold (Oil on canvas, 16 x 16 ins)

Sometimes I feel I'm in a darkened corridor, inching my way along the wall, my hands outstretched, looking for an exit. It's an exit that may not be there, but there's a reassurance in the knowledge that I can easily find my way back to the entrance.

I'm still having trouble with my eyesight and am waiting for a hospital appointment to see what might be done about it. Meanwhile, I'm learning to cope with a couple of pairs of glasses for the first time in my life. One pair is for reading and they've already proven their worth, in that my rate of getting through books has increased dramatically. I've also been able to make use of them for cartooning because that kind of work I do quite close to the paper. You'll find some of my newly invigorated cartooning skills over on my other blog, The Cartoonist's Hat.

The other pair is for near distance and they're the ones I'm finding difficult to get used to. They're fine for reading the computer monitor screen and even for messing around in the kitchen, but I've yet to summon up the courage to use them for what the optician prescribed them for - painting.

In part, this is because I'm in the middle of a period of Not Knowing What to Paint. I have it in my mind to tackle some subject matter quite different to what I've dealt with over the last few years. These paintings wouldn't necessarily be to the exclusion of all else but they're things I've wanted to get at for a long time, so I set my sights on getting one or two moving - to no avail so far. 

Which is where the darkened corridor metaphor comes in. I think I know where I want to go, but finding the way into it is proving difficult. I could just retreat to the known exit and resume what I was doing before, but that's happened before and this time I really, really want to see if there's a different room beyond the one I know.

Foliate Head

Foliate Head (Fired clay)

I've always been fascinated by the Green Man. Carvings depicting the Green Man are usually referred to as foliate heads and are common in medieval architecture, especially churches, despite the image's pagan origins. 

This interest was rekindled recently when I found that foliate heads are something of an obsession with Clive Hicks-Jenkins on his Artlog and that there are one or two more on Phil Cooper's hedgecrows.

A little over twenty years ago I spent the day at Newcastle University doing a clay sculpture workshop with their sculpture technician. At the end of the day I had some clay left over and decided to make something quickly. Working quite intuitively, I found this foliate head growing under my fingers.

Unfortunately, one of the head's leafy "ears" broke off in the firing and is now, if not lost, mislaid. What you can see below is a repair using Photoshop, to give you an idea of what it ought to look like. 

One day, I'll colour it. Green, of course.

A Missing Piece

Funchal, from Hotel Sirius. 13 August 1992
(Rotring Art Pen in A5 sketchbook)

I knew when I posted the painting of Madeira that I'd missed out a sketchbook study that was an integral part of the painting. And here it is, found in the sketchbook which I've been using as my holiday travel sketchbook since September 1990.

This is where posting from the sketchbooks starts to get complicated. In the time I've been blogging here, I've posted a great deal from this Holidays Sketchbook, so I think it may not be desirable to post the same things again. But maybe I'm wrong. What do you think?

Sketchbook No.2 (#7)

Tree Form, Devon, August 1996 
(Rotring Art Pen and watercolour in A4 sketchbook)

One of my first drawings showing an interest in plant and tree forms, inspired by the work of Graham Sutherland, which continues to the present.

This is last drawing in Sketchbook No.2 and a big jump in time from the previous sketch - 1992 to 1996. I wonder if that means there's a gap to be filled by looking at other sketchbooks. As I've mentioned before, I began to buy sketchbooks faster than I could fill them and to use them for specific subjects.

Watch this space if you're interested. There'll be more to come. There's the Museum Sketchbook, the Saltwell Park Sketchbook, the Malta Sketchbook ......

Sketchbook No.2 (#6)

Still Life, Hotel Sirius balcony, Madeira - 14 August 1992
(2B mechanical pencil in A4 sketchbook)

The day after drawing this table of stuff on our hotel balcony, I decided I'd have a go at the hills to the north of the hotel:

Hill above Funchal, 15 August 1992
(Watercolour and oil pastel on 7 x 9 in.watercolour paper)

Some time later I put the two together and made this painting:

Madeira (Oil on board, 28 x 14 ins)

Not entirely successful as a painting, but it was important at the time. It's still on my living room wall.

Sketchbook No.2 (#5)

In the Boatyard, Funchal. 10 August 1992 (Mixed media in A5 sketchbook)

Drawn the same day as the previous post, this is a pair of a huge tanks normally floated in the harbour to keep ships from bumping into the harbour walls.

It was probably a mistake to favour the dark local colour of the tanks when drawing this. I should have simply concentrated on the linear and tonal qualities.

Sketchbook No.2 (#4)

On the Mole, Funchal, 10 August 1992 (Rotring Art Pen in A4 sketchbook)

It was quite intimidating drawing this huge grab. It towered over me and getting the perspective right was a challenge. Putting the two pages together in Photoshop proved almost beyond me, however, so apologies for the slight disconnect at the top of the drawing.

Sketchbook No.2 (#3)

Funchal, 7 August 1992 (Coloured pencil in A4 sketchbook)

I sat on a bench in one of the municipal gardens of Funchal,the capital of Madeira, and drew this. I wanted to see how I might tackle the subject with coloured pencil and the end result seems to owe just a little to Pointillism. 

Not entirely a success, but not a waste of time either.

Sketchbook No.2 (#2)

Up Cuthbert Street, 27 October 1991
(2B pencil in A4 sketchbook)

I'd recently discovered the paintings of Wayne Thiebaud when I drew this. Trying to capture something of his vertiginous San Francisco views, I chose one of the steeper streets in Gateshead and looked up Cuthbert Street to the  houses on Bensham Road.

I don't think I really caught Thiebaud's essence, but looking at this drawing now, complete with colour notes, I think it might still make an interesting painting.

Sketchbook No.2 (#1)

Northern Goldsmiths, 4th November 1990 
(Fine point marker and sepia ArtPen in A4 sketchbook))

Having begun a course in painting with the OCA, I decided I needed to get serious about my sketchbook, so this drawing is the first done in a lovely black bound A4 sketchbook from Atlantis.

It was a freezing cold Saturday afternoon in November and I stood on a corner of Westgate Road to draw this great example of Victorian Newcastle. I was just outside a pub that was later closed for allowing drug dealing on the premises..My thermal socks, fingerless gloves and whisky-primed hip flask failed to keep me warm and by the time I went home I was almost frozen solid.

It's interesting to note that in 1990 there were still flocks of starlings settling on the tops of buildings. Even individual starlings are a rare sight in town now.

Henry Pijohn

Henry Pijohn, 4 May 1972 (Ballpoint on scrap paper)

Drawn the year following the other fragments, this is a quick sketch of Henry Pijohn who sat opposite me in the office. He and I became firm friends for many years until - and no one really understands why - he abruptly cut off contact with me and his other friends in our circle.

Fragments

Norman, 28 July 1971

CA filing, 28 July 1971

Peter Healy, 29 July 1971

For some incomprehensible reason, a number of the comments made made most recently on this blog have disappeared. As a consequence, I'm unable to assess the size of the probable flood of requests from the Boogie Street Readership for me to continue posting from my sketchbooks. 

Anyway, in the absence of comments to the contrary, I'm going to assume that there's a real desire to see where sketching took me after the end of the Very First Sketchbook. Meanwhile, however, here are three fragments I found tucked away at the back of the Very First Sketchbook. They were all done in  in the office with ballpoint on scrap paper, then torn off to keep for posterity.

Norman, I believe, was then the Executive Officer and Peter Healy the Senior Clerical Officer. I worked with both of them at different times and in different situations throughout my Civil Service career, The Clerical Assistant's name escapes me altogether.

Very First Sketchbook #19

Poly corridor, 16 October 1990(Fine point marker in A5 sketchbook)

Like the previous sketch from the Very First Sketchbook (#18), this was done while roaming the corridors of Newcastle Polytechnic one night. I like the sense of emptiness in the corridor, the feeling that no one else is around. It's an idea I've returned to many times in my paintings.

This is the final sketch in my Very First Sketchbook. Although there were many pages left untouched, I decided that I didn't like the ring binding or indeed the fine point marker I'd stored in the binding, so I moved on to a series of differently sized sketchbooks. Whether this was a good move is debatable, as it eventually seems to have led to a falling away of the sketching habit. However, if you'd like me to, I think it might be interesting to post sketches and drawings from those other sketchbooks. Let me know what you think.

Pot

Pot (2B mechanical pencil in A5 sketchbook)

There are times when inertia builds up so much that the only thing to do is to pick up a pencil and draw. Draw anything, whatever comes to hand. In this case it was a ceramic pot, so I guess it qualifies as EDM #43 - "Draw something china or ceramic".

Very First Sketchbook #18

Poly lift, 16 October 1990 (Fine point marker in A5 sketchbook)

One evening, at an OCA tutorial in Newcastle Polytechnic (now the University of Northumbria), we were sent away to find something to draw. Wandering the corridors of the building, I eventually settled on this lift as a subject. Not very exciting, perhaps, but looking into (and out of) interiors proved to be a recurrent theme for me later.

Missoni

While we were in Dubrovnik this year, we found an exhibition of decorative fabrics by Ottavio MIssoni. Missoni was born in Dubrovnik and it was as the founder of the Missoni fashion house that I knew his name, but the wall hangings and rugs were a real visual delight.

Missoni Rug

Missoni Screenprint

Missoni Wall Hanging














Missoni Wall Hanging

Missoni Wall Hanging

Missoni Four Panel Wall Piece

Very First Sketchbook #17

Heraklion (Fine point marker in A5 sketchbook)

A return to Crete in September 1990 and here I am, sitting in a pavement cafe, drawing the building opposite. One of the difficulties in having only a fine point marker was that it took some time to fill in that black square with the Loggia Piano Bar sign on it.

Very First Sketchbook #16

Tangier House, 1990 (Fine point marker and felt pen in A5 sketchbook)

On a whim, and as a result of an offer from my Union, I decided to spend a week in Morocco early in 1990.. This drawing, the only one in the sketchbook although there are others on loose paper,was done from the window of our hotel looking across the street.

By 1990 I'd started to do a painting course with the Open College of the Arts and in the seasonal break we'd been tasked with doing a painting for the next session. I made this painting from my sketch, backed up with photographs:

Tangier 1990 (Acrylic on board, 24 x 36 ins)

This was the biggest painting I'd done so far and I was quite pleased with it, so I was hoping for a bit of praise when I took it to the next OCA tutorial. The tutor looked briefly at it then, without a word, passed quickly on to a her favourite pupil and spent the night extolling the value of his work. That was the beginning of my realisation that  simply occupying the position of  tutor does not make you a good one.

Just so you know ....

Underpass (Oil on canvas, 36 x 72 ins)

I know I've been letting my blog slide a bit, but there are mitigating circumstances. The cold I spoke of last time dragged on and dragged on and even now I'm feeling a few lingering effects. More importantly, the problem  I wrote about quite a while ago, the ocular hypertension in my left eye, continues to plague me and has now entered the stage of being classed as open angle glaucoma. There has been some damage to my vision and I'm learning to come to terms with that.

But I'm resilient and there are ideas buzzing around in my head that must eventually come out onto paper or canvas. I hope you'll stick around for the journey.

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe"

"Ceci n'est pas une pipe"

On the flight back from Croatia I picked up a cold which has plagued me for the last three weeks. As a result I haven't felt up to posting anything here. Yesterday, however, I got round to looking at my photographs from the trip and picked out this example of Belgian Surrealism found on the island of Lokrum within spitting distance of Dubrovnik.

Two Towers

Two Towers, Korcula (0.8 marker in A5 sketchbook)

The last drawing I did in Croatia this year. I did it leaning up against the end of a wall while people went past me, in and out of a pastry shop, a dog snuffled round my feet, and fags were stubbed out in the litter bin next to me.

It's this kind of lovely detail that comes back to me whenever I look back over my sketchbook drawings.