These three small abstract paintings on postcards will be somewhere on display in the main galleries at the King's Lynn Arts Centre from this weekend to the 22nd May 2010.
Three painted postcardsThey will be for sale at £20 each, as are all the mini artwork postcards works on show.I hope that someone likes them enough to buy them because I spent some time on them, trying to effect the bleak midwinter Suffolk landscape in abstracted form: dark clods of striated earth, the light dusting of a frost in the furrows, the dull yellowy grey-white skies. I like winter because it seems quieter (but it is not) and less fussy, stripped of all the showiness of nature in full bloom. Daffodils? Who wants to be given flowers with an ugly trumpet nose and no scent? Let them wilt and wither...I sketched this tree yesterday, a wonderfully knotted, gnarled and probably quite dead oak tree, but still looking dignified in the middle of a lush green meadow near the river...
Sketchbook study of an oak tree, in wax crayon, watercolour and pencilI have also been asked to donate an artwork to na art auction (not just any artwork, but a high quality, statement piece to attract buyers), which, if it sells (and all works will sell as they start the bidding at £1), myself as the artist will receive nothing.In all other respects using art to raise funds for an organisation is a very good thing, but I am struggling to find the 'ends' let alone make those ends meet. If my work sells I would quite like to have a small cut, if only for the fact that I have invested both time and money into creating it.Shouldn't the creator, the artist also be a small beneficiary in the transaction? Would they perhaps like to bid on this page from my sketchbook instead - it only took a few minutes, and in time and money it's not worth as much as the large painting I intend to donate.
Sketchbook drawing - coppiced hazel near the riverbank, graphite on paper...Today I discovered a small artwork on the website Etsy (a drawing, not a painting) that I immediately liked and I wanted to buy it because: 1. I just knew I would enjoy looking at it day after day; and 2. I looked at the artist's website and I quickly gleaned that this artist was earnest, sensitive, skillful and talented. They were not spewing out some random, vomity paintings (VPs with the sides neatly painted), or offering to create any painting to order (an example of the artist's incredible range of styles).VP rant aside (I digress), I knew that by buying the small drawing on Etsy that I would contribute to that artist's wellbeing somehow, and it would motivate them to keep making new art, and it would further validate them as a professional artist. I also thought the drawing might go quite nicely with another piece of art I have. I have a very small art collection, but I'm working on it.Some artists say that they work full-time but this is not to mean that all of them are making a living wage from selling their art, in excess of £15,000 per year, which is significantly below the current national average wage. Artists find other means of support such as in education and teaching (as I have done), or receive the support of family in their basic living or accommodation needs. Most artists are dedicated professionals and that often means doing other jobs to support the making of their work - but it would be too detracting to say you were an office clerk or a labourer for some hours of the week - professional artists are full-time regardless of the day job.Dig a little, and you find artists have jobs in every conceivable employment sector, from supermarkets and shops (which I did, when a post-graduate student) to working in factories or warehouses (which I also did for a brief period prior to taking up teaching). My eight weeks working in the toy warehouse was the most tiring, mundane (and noisy!) job ever - any creative drive I thought I possessed immediately faded into the grey cardboard dust of the windowless storeroom. I created no art during this period. However, other jobs such as office administration or customer service do engage some of the transferable skills that contribute to the professionalism of the artist.I once worked evenings in the call centre of a large mail-order company. I tolerated it because I knew it was only a temporary contract to Christmas, but I hated sitting still for hours in front of a computer. I had to learn everything in the company catalogue - all the special order/dept codes - which, as they were mainly toys and gadgets was perhaps not so dull! When they asked me back the following year I asked to work in packing and dispatch.I also had a job working in a herbal dispensary where I had diverse duties such as weighing, measuring and labelling stock, packaging products for dispatch, processing orders, parcel tracking, stock-control - made all the more interesting with the support of a close-knit and fun team. Probably the most interesting job I have had was as an usherette at a notable music venue in London - when I left I had to give the torch back.When I get the opportunity to exhibit my artwork it displaces any despondency I might have about not yet making it as an artist. However, the proposed changes in education funding mean that many contracted teaching hours are likely to be cut - referred to diplomatically as a 'more for less' policy. This has created some anxiety. In the meantime I will have to survive - many creative opportunities are lost this way - I miss travelling, seeing new things, meeting new people.So, if someone says art!, is that a real job? what do you really do for a living?.. or even worse, is that really art?! my dog could paint that!, then I would have to reply gracefully - Yes, art is a real job, a job that requires skill, sensitivity and intelligence, and... your dog paints?...I wrote too much already, too much lazing on a sunny afternoon...
artworks, a private view
It was the private view of the second Spring exhibition of Artworks yesterday evening. It was very well attended with well over 150 guests arriving over the two or so hours - all helped no doubt by a lovely, balmy spring evening.
Farmscape II, 2010, mixed media on canvasThere was a policy not to take photographs of the artworks, but I sneaked this little photograph with my mobile phone just as we left. You can read more about this abstract painting here. I also have three smaller paintings on show, together with some mounted artworks in one of the browsers and some little cards in the gallery shop.It was good to meet and talk with lots of people. I bumped into someone that I see at most private views and she remarked as such (I don't think she realised I was actually an exhibitor, even though I wore a badge) - so I replied that it was my professional occupation to attend such events, but she was free to enjoy the art and the generous hospitality at her leisure. I even met somebody who had bought some of my work many years ago from a little solo exhibition that I had at Gallery44 in Aldeburgh.I think that my main work, Farmscape II, looked a little sombre compared to the other more colourful works on show, but I was a reassured by another artist who said that it looked quite minimal and stylish - and that the point of the exhibition is to showcase the variety of work by Artworks members. Given that some of the inspiration for this abstract painting is the mud, grit and grime of the farm, then perhaps when seen out of that context it succeeds in my attempt to isolate surfaces from their mundane locations - where there's muck...
The rural setting of the barns is quite beautiful in its welcoming and calm atmosphere, full of history but not at all quaint. As we were all leaving I took this photograph of the courtyard... I have actually exhibited here before, back in late 2004, in an environmental art exhibition entitled Land and Light...The Artworks' Spring exhibition is currently on at the Wingfield Barns Arts Centre from 10th to 25th April 2010, open daily 10am – 5pm.
on having a conversation with a tree
Felt quite stressed yesterday even though I'm on a break (of sorts): car troubles, finances, bills, the negative stuff that always surfaces to shatter one's hope that things are beginning to look up for a change. So, I decided to take an hour out, in order to keep calm and carry on...
Drawing of a tree (coppiced), in the woods - wax crayon, watercolour and watercolour pencil - in a sketchbook, about 9" x 12". I was surprised that this study took me about twenty minutes - I probably should have spent longer on it, but I can always return... I will need to if I want to discover what species of tree this is.What is it about trees that is so fascinating to draw? Their gnarled trunks and writhing branches and limbs, the sinewy, spindly twigs, the downy covering of moss or the crust of lichen, the crags, crevices, ridges and striations in the texture of the bark - echo aspects of the human condition or form, and thus become imbued with some character - but with no deceit - genuine, pure, unrefined, resilient. It is often said that one should always draw just what one sees, not what (one thinks) one knows - that is, to translate through material marks the visual sensation or experience in the moment, and not try to reproduce a convincing reality, since reality is prone to being influenced by cultural factors - what is deemed as being (or looking) right or wrong.Having a conversation with a tree is not so loopy as it at first sounds, if one interprets converse to mean an exchange (not necessarially in words or speech). Oddly, converse also means opposite. When one draws one hopes to break down or unpack (as we say in education) the complexity of the situation - the shapes and forms, in the perceived effects of light and shade - a largely neurological process. If I observe a tree as magnificent or beautiful then it becomes a projection (of my opinion, not a fact) and therefore not a clear perception. A tree presents itself as (or just is) interesting due to its pattern of growth in the location. The tree's existence (or rather its appearance) then induces some contemplation and reflection in the viewer, and thus begins a type of conversation or discourse between the viewer and the subject.This particular tree (which may be about 200 years old) continues to grow despite previous injury - it slowly grows new branches and limbs, as a means to later reproduce itself, securing the future or survival of its particular species. As I begin to observe and draw, it reveals its wounds, and its personal history - how the bark has cracked and splintered according to the growing conditions, of light and water, how its basal branches have grown, bent and leant according to the dappled light of the woods, and as with the other trees nearby, all following the path of the sun's rays. The tree becomes food and shelter to assorted organisms. A tree that seems concerned only by its own survival is a temporary host to others. The others may in fact aid the tree's dispersal of seeds. The light covering of moss on the bark softens its rough edges, it seems modestly camouflaged, and looks to be clothed for inclement weather. This tree is clearly different in form to the others, it has an individuality. I want to preserve that individuality and so the surrounding trees are only suggested with the lightest of marks in the sketch, but it seems important to retain some of the setting - such as a glimpse of greenery through the the criss-crossing of spindly growth in the middle-ground. The primary trunk of the tree is firmly-rooted within a frilly, soft skirt of curled brown leaves, broken twigs and compacted soil.I chose not to (nor did I have time to on this occasion) record every nuance or intricacy of texture or surface as I was sat too far away to see sharply - so I focused on the three main branches and how they seemed to diverge, taking their separate paths to the sunlight. As I drew I realised that first few lines that I put down on paper were following quite truthfully the vertical path of growth, from the base of the main trunk up through the main branches, limbs and twigs and into the light - but then I ran out of a surface on which to draw (the paper). So, it was back down to the ground, and then extending the drawing outwards, beginning to set down the wider scene. Out came the wax crayons (acting as resist to the later watercolour) which being quite chunky, wanted to be dabbed, dotted and scrawled. I was fascinated by the vibrant green of the velvety moss and the dusting of algae, which, in a shaft of sunlight, looked almost chartreuse. I used some watercolour pencils to sharpen and define the tree and a little watercolour to flesh out and solidify it - but then my time was up - time to head off home.There is a another (dual) aspect to observational drawing (for me) - which is, the challenge and the commitment. A challenge to unravel the complex truth in what you perceive, and a commitment to working through this with some form of material, concrete resolution, even if there is little time - in that what results on the paper is cohesive and sincere, sensitive to the subject matter, intelligently and thoughtfully rendered. It is not practical to spend hours on observational drawing due to other commitments - so I find myself always sketching quickly - and then I curse myself for forgetting some fixative, a particular colour of pencil (I take just the ones I think I will need), another (larger) sketchbook, or another brush that would better suit broad sweeps of colour or texture. Photography sometimes replaces the need to look long and hard at things in the way that drawing requires, so I made the decision that when I plan to go out sketching I will not take a camera.Of course, drawing this tree didn't solve any problems (except perhaps how to draw a tree better), but it was a much-needed breathing space. I spied the skip of a muntjac, saw a squirrel race up a tree, and some flustering pheasants squawked and scattered in a nearby clearing. Aside from the rumble of a passing tractor, I was also privileged to hear the myriad sounds of life in the woods... a hollow knocking (tap, tap, tap, and then silence, then tap, tap...), some low, long creaking...N.b. Coppicing is a form of woodland management, but it also extends the life of a tree, providing more fuel (logs) over a longer period of time than if it was left to grow normally and then eventually felled. Thus, this tree has yet another (hidden) historical narrative...