maglinty

The Creative Dreamer

2012-02-05T11:22:00.003Z

I’m reading a rather interesting book at the moment; The creative Dreamer by Veronica Tonay PhD. The subtitle is ‘using your dreams to unlock your creativity’, which sounds a bit cheesy – more cheesy than the book actually is. So far anyway.

The first two thirds of the book are all about the psychology of dreaming, creative personality types and how the two fit together. There are some interesting statistics about the likelihood of creatives experiencing certain events and situations as a child and of the personality traits they may have as an adult. What I wanted to mention here though are the differences researchers have found between how men and women dream. Mostly, both genders dream in a similar way (as do people across cultures), but there a number of differences. Apparently, women dream equally of men and women whereas men dream more often of men. Women dream more often of people familiar to them whereas men dream of strangers more often. Research has shown than aggression is very common in dreams; women dream of themselves as the victims of another’s aggression more often; men have more aggression in their dreams and are more often the initiators than women. Women have roughly the same number of friendly and aggressive dream encounters, whereas mean have aggressive ones more often than friendly ones.

These are the findings having analysed the ‘average’ person’s dreams. Creative people however, seem to be more androgynous in their dreaming; the gender boundaries are blurred and there is more of a mix of the elements mentioned above. This is apparently because creative people tend to be more psychologically androgynous in that they display both feminine and masculine personality traits. Interesting stuff, although not sure where this is all leading. Better read on to find out…

It's all in the wiping

2012-01-24T14:50:00.004Z

The background aquatint is done. It’s a bit darker than I’d planned so the text is hard to read (more so on this scanned version) but I don’t think I mind that. I warmed the plate for the final wiping of the central figure for greater contrast but left the plate cold for the background. Tried wiping it warm to make it a bit lighter but it didn’t look right.

I think this image is finished but I’m not quite sure… I’ll put it away for a few days and come back to it with fresh eyes (hopefully). In the meantime, I’ll consider what Captain PB’s up to next.

out, out towards the horizon

2012-01-19T19:05:00.002Z

Finally finished working the text onto the plate; must have taken five hours just to do that bit. The text is just nonsense really. I didn’t want it to say anything specific but to suggest a sense of travelling.

This afternoon I put an aquatint on the plate to darken the area around the figure so that the text recedes a bit. There’ll be a bit of trial and error here to get the tone right; I want the background to be dark enough to bring out the figure without losing the text.

2012-01-15T10:03:00.003Z

Working away on the text this weekend. It’s intricate and slow-going but with a bit of John Dowland on the old ipod, I’ve been able to get into that zen-like state where there’s nothing but the line you’re making - it takes as long as it takes. Hoping to get the majority of the text finished today so I can etch next week. My plan is then to aquatint over the text so that it sinks into the background. I have a mental image of how it will look but part of the magic of printmaking is that quite often, things turn out differently to how you imagine.

You can’t keep an old etcher down

2012-01-05T11:48:00.003Z

After a hiatus of about six months, it’s good to be etching again. I started this image as a wood engraving but the call of the aquatint was too strong, so here he is on a 20 x 30 cm zinc plate. I’m trying to work more quickly and haphazardly, not so meticulously with this one so we’ll see how that approach goes; I’m pleased with how he’s coming along so far though. Working on some text to go with the image now.

Whilst I was at it, I mixed up a new batch of copper sulphate solution – quite a pleasing New Year ritual. The vibrant blue of the copper sulphate crystals and the way they turn green and yellow when mixed with salt and hot water, then back to a blue solution made me think of Spring. Not that I’m wishing my life away, but the days are getting longer now…

The Arnolfini in Bristol

2011-12-30T12:00:00.005Z

I went to Bristol yesterday to see a friend and took the opportunity to visit the Arnolfini, the city’s contemporary art gallery. Bit of a nostalgia trip too – used to visit the gallery regularly when I was at art school just across the bridge in Wales.

There are two exhibitions on in celebration of the Arnolfini's 50th anniversary. The first is Museum Show Part 2 which was a collection of ‘museums’ with titles such as the Museum on Non-Participation, the Museum of Television and the Museum of Forgotten History. This is the second part of a sort of survey of museums created by forty artists from around the world and consists of installations including a wide range of objects. The above image is the one I found most pleasing.

The second exhibition is Self-Portrait: Arnolfini by Neil Cummings; a series of water droplet-shaped patches with text on them arrange throughout the foyer and up the stairs of the gallery. The text gives various facts about the history of Bristol and the gallery starting from the Bristol Riots of 1831 through to 2061, 100 years after the gallery opened, as well as details of world organisations and advances in technology. The shapes are colour-coded: pale blue for the history of the Arnolfini and art in general, olive green for social and financial organisation and purple for technological innovation. The whole forms an elaborate timeline based on fact and flowing off into speculation - which actually drew me in more than I thought it would. Where the text which is purely speculative is laid out in exactly the same way as that which is historical fact, it's very easy to be sucked in to believing all is truth.

The Museum of Museums left me cold I’m afraid, as it seems most conceptual art does these days. I’ve been thinking about why this might be, having had a keen interest in it in the past. I can only assume that it’s because that brand of art is so far removed from my current situation, irrelevant to my life as it is now. I guess I just don’t have the time or mental energy to ponder these things anymore. Give me a painting by Vermeer or a Paula Rego etching any day - not that these aren’t thought-provoking of course; they most certainly are. They give me something conceptual art doesn’t though.

Origins

2011-12-20T15:30:00.001Z

Over the last few months I’ve been thinking on and off about beginnings and endings, birth and death, and how development is affected by external factors. I was weaving this into an etched self-portrait but as my etching mojo seems to have taken what I hope is just a temporary leave of absence, I need to rethink and carry this work in a new direction and in a new medium.

Foetuses are a rather obvious place to start as an emblem of new beginnings, but start there I shall. The drawing above is in the process of being transferred to a wood engraving block and will, I think, be surrounded by some text.

Finished frog

2011-12-20T10:56:00.003Z

And here he is, tidied up. Just took out some of the odd bits that I missed before proofing. Amazing what a difference that makes, although obviously, still pretty rough. I'd be embarrassed to show it to a real wood engraver. It was fun to do though.

First proof

2011-12-11T12:33:00.002Z

Took the first proof off my block yesterday and here it is; pretty rough around the edges but not as bad as I thought it would be... although possibly looks more like a wood cut than a wood engraving. Needs some tidying up. Oh and I need to order some relief ink as my tin had completely dried up (had to print it using etching ink) – shows how long it’s been since I last did any wood engraving!

Block size: 750 x 500 mm, 3 x 2 inches

New glasses can wait

2011-12-04T16:09:00.003Z

It seems I've found the solution to the problem of not being able to see what I'm doing on my wood block. Forget the new glasses; look what I found lying around in the studio (inherited from my father who was always making something and was very long sighted). This magnifying lens on a stand is the perfect size and shape – my sandbag fits exactly underneath. Working on the block this afternoon has been much easier. Well, from the point of seeing what I’m doing that is.

The image is very slowly taking shape – hope to be able to take a proof soon. My main problem is bruising the edges of the cuts with the bottom of the tool. I need to take some advice from Someone Who Knows about this and what I can do to stop it. I’m a bit embarrassed to show the block to a real wood engraver though as it’s so rough and badly done. Ah well, I’m not planning to use it for anything – it’s just for practice.

I may need new glasses

2011-11-27T17:57:00.002Z

Having made a start on a wood engraving, I am reminded of how fiendishly difficult and slow-going it is. I’m struggling to see what I’m doing too. After working on the block for an hour this afternoon, I scanned it and blew the image up large on my computer screen – what a mess! Shudder to think what’s going to come out when I finally get to the proofing stage. I’m beginning to regret adding the text – really fiddly. This is a maple block, 75 x 50 mm (approximately 3 x 2 inches).

Back to life

2011-11-22T09:41:00.003Z

It’s funny how time stands still when you’re ill… time out of time. Life goes on around you and you sort of feel yourself slipping behind; whilst everyone else is hurtling towards December, I’m just shuffling into November. Back to work this week though, and it feels so good to be back in the world again, even though I’ve lost a month.

Sadly, the above frogs are all I’ve managed artistically during that time. I have a hankering to do some wood engraving or linocutting; just can’t seem to settle back into etching at the moment. I have done both before and found it really challenging as it’s a very different way of working and thinking. It doesn’t naturally suit my images which are well-rooted in intaglio techniques so it’ll be good for me to adapt my work accordingly. Interestingly circular as I started this blog to record my progress with wood engraving.

What does it say?

2011-10-16T13:25:00.003+01:00

Should all art have something to say? What does that actually mean - having 'something to say'? I was talking to someone at a gallery earlier this year who made the comment, 'I like art by artists who have something to say' and I've been thinking about it ever since.

Obviously there's a lot of art which has a clear message, whether political, social, cultural or personal, but there's also much which is more ambiguous. Surely that must still say something to someone. Doesn't all art say something, even if it's just the artist showing what's in his/her head; another human being's experience of the world?

I really don't know. And I've lost sight of what my own work is saying, not least because I'm not really making at the moment. Maybe this isn't the best time to be pondering such questions; maybe the best thing is to just get back in the studio and do.

The perfect is the enemy of the good

2011-09-28T22:10:00.002+01:00

As I look at the dodgy nose and badly-rendered mouth on the above sketch, I’m thinking about the following passage on perfection from Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking by David Bayles and Ted Orland.

‘If you think good work is somehow synonymous with perfect work, you are headed for big trouble. Art is human; error is human; ergo, art is error. Inevitably, your work (like, uh, the preceding syllogism…) will be flawed. Why? Because you’re a human being, and only human beings, warts and all, make art. Without warts it is not clear what you would be, but clearly you wouldn’t be one of us.

Nonetheless, the belief persists among some artists (and lots of ex-artists) that doing art means doing things flawlessly – ignoring the fact that this prerequisite would disqualify most existing works of art. Indeed, it seems vastly more plausible to advance the counter-principle, namely that imperfection is not only a common ingredient in art, but very likely an essential ingredient. Ansel Adams, never one to mistake precision for perfection, often recalled the old adage that “the perfect is the enemy of the good”, his point being that if he waited for everything in the scene to be exactly right, he’d probably never make a photograph.

Adams was right: to require perfection is to invite paralysis. The pattern is predictable: as you see error in what you have done, you steer your work toward what you imagine you can do perfectly. You cling ever more tightly to what you already know you can do – away from risk and exploration, and possibly further from the work of your heart. You find reasons to procrastinate, since not to work is not to make mistakes. Believing that artwork should be perfect, you gradually become convinced that you cannot make such work. (You are correct.) Sooner or later, since you cannot do what you are trying to do, you quit. And in one of those perverse little ironies of life, only the pattern itself achieves perfection – a perfect death spiral: you misdirect your work; you stall; you quit.

To demand perfection is to deny your ordinary (and universal) humanity, as though you would be better off without it. Yet this humanity is the ultimate source of your work; your perfectionism denies you the very thing you need to get your work done. Getting on with your work requires a recognition that perfection itself is (paradoxically) a flawed concept. For Albert Einstein, even the seemingly perfect construct of mathematics yielded to his observation that “As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality.” For Charles Darwin, evolution lay revealed when a perfect survival strategy for one generation became, in a changing world, a liability for its offspring. For you, the seed of your next artwork lies embedded in the imperfections of your current piece. Such imperfections (or mistakes, if you’re feeling particularly depressed about them today) are your guides – valuable, reliable, objective, non-judgemental guides – to matters you need to reconsider or develop further. It is precisely this interaction between the ideal and the real that locks your art into the real world, and gives meaning to both.’

Pen drawings

2011-09-20T22:00:00.006+01:00

I recently bought a couple of fine-nibbed drawing pens. I used to draw in pen a lot; there’s something quite liberating about it. Not being able to rub out your mistakes means you don’t have to be precious about the drawing… it’s going to be a sketch rather than a finished piece. And somehow, that makes me draw better. Small, quick portraits like these. Freer, more energetic. The last was particularly interesting to do because this is a relatively new face, one I’m not that familiar with. Surprising what a difference that makes. Surprising how the features of a familiar face flow from the pen so readily. Maybe it’s not surprising at all; I’ve just not thought about it before.

The Flea

2011-09-16T08:20:00.004+01:00

Here’s a doodle I started a couple of weeks ago in an effort to kick-start some etching (it hasn’t worked so far). The cat had issues with fleas last month – sorted now thank goodness – so a flea print had to be made of course. A friend suggested illustrating John Donne’s rather racy poem The flea; interesting metaphysical mind games. So here’s the beginnings of it. Needs more work however. Maybe I could market it as a Valentine card…

MARK but this flea, and mark in this,
How little that which thou deniest me is ;
It suck'd me first, and now sucks thee,
And in this flea our two bloods mingled be.
Thou know'st that this cannot be said
A sin, nor shame, nor loss of maidenhead ;
Yet this enjoys before it woo,
And pamper'd swells with one blood made of two ;
And this, alas ! is more than we would do.

O stay, three lives in one flea spare,
Where we almost, yea, more than married are.
This flea is you and I, and this
Our marriage bed, and marriage temple is.
Though parents grudge, and you, we're met,
And cloister'd in these living walls of jet.
Though use make you apt to kill me,
Let not to that self-murder added be,
And sacrilege, three sins in killing three.

Cruel and sudden, hast thou since
Purpled thy nail in blood of innocence?
Wherein could this flea guilty be,
Except in that drop which it suck'd from thee?
Yet thou triumph'st, and say'st that thou
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now.
'Tis true ; then learn how false fears be ;
Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me,
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.

John Donne

I was Vermeer: the legend of the forger who swindled the Nazis

2011-09-06T14:05:00.001+01:00

I Was Vermeer by Frank Wynne is a biography of Han VanMeegeren, the ingenious Dutch art forger who managed to install, albeitunintentionally, one of his fake Vermeers into the private collection ofHermann Göring. Arrested for treason in 1945 – selling nationaltreasures to the Nazis being highly illegal – he was vilified as a traitor bythe press. However, once it was proven that he had painted it himself, hebecame a national hero; the humble painter who duped one of Hitler’s right-handmen. Van Meegeren’s own work is quite collectable now and he hassomewhat of a cult following.

The book starts off with an account of Van Meegeren’s arrestin July 1945, then goes back to his childhood. Born in 1889 in Deventer, Holland to an overbearing father who made him study architecture instead of fine art,it’s easy to see where Van Meegeren’s resentments started. He was a talentedpainter and very sure of his own abilities. Once finished with hisarchitectural training, he painted full-time and exhibited. He wasn’table to make much of a living from it though as his subject matter and styledidn’t fit what was going on in the art world in the 1910s. Dealers andcollectors considered his work out-of-date. Van Meegeren and his family (by now he had awife and two children to support) were constantly in debt. It was a combination of his association with some dodgy charactersand their nefarious art world dealings, his own overblown view of his talentand the festering resentment he nurtured against the Dutch art world for notrecognising such that gave him the idea of painting a Vermeer himself.

And this is the focus of the book. Wynne gives a very detailedaccount of how, familiar with the X-ray and chemical analysis techniques theexperts used to authenticate works of art, Van Meegeren painstakingly researchedVermeer’s pigments and painting structures to produce a work which wouldfool the art world. It took him ten years of very dedicated work to achieve this– and all his efforts paid off with TheSupper at Emmaus. He had cleverly created a new Vermeer whichconveniently fitted into a recognised gap in the painter’s oeuvre. Itwas heralded as a masterpiece, perhaps Vermeer’s greatest, by AbrahamBredius one of the foremost Dutch art critics of the time and sold to one ofthe country’s top galleries.

Originally his plan had been to create just one painting; when itwas declared as genuine, a newly discovered work by the great master himself, andhanging in the Rijksmuseum, Van Meegeren would come clean. Confess and embarrass the artworld for they’re gullibility. He had always had a taste for high livinghowever, and went on to forge other works by Vermeer and some of hiscontemporaries, amassing huge wealth in the process. It wasn’t until hewas forced to confess in 1945 that his career as a forger came to an end. Eventhen, the authorities didn’t want to believe him so he was tried, ratherbizarrely, by ordeal; he spent two months painting a replica of one of hisfakes whilst watched constantly by a rotating shift of lawyers, prison guards,art critics and journalists. At the end of this period it was no longer indoubt that Göring’s painting was a fake and Van Meegeren’s status changedfrom despised traitor to heroic rogue (Göring had given the art dealer a largenumber of other Dutch paintings as part payment for the fake Vermeer; thesewere restored to the nation).

Frank Wynne is a journalist, not an art critic; I find it hard to describequite in what style the book is written. Wynne recreates conversations and makesassumptions about what Van Meegeren was feeling and thinking and presents theseas fact, blurring truth with fiction. He uses the present tense at times tobuild tension and atmosphere. These elements make the book a quick and easyread; no impenetrable art theory here. It doesn’t even read like abiography really, more a tale of true life crime, particularly as Wynne tries to build a psychological profile of the painter. Even the title is a bit cheesy! This isn’t really whatI look for in a biography but I enjoyed it nonetheless. If you're interested in art forgery and after an enjoyable, light read, give it a go.

Tinkering with drypoint and etching

2011-09-03T18:26:00.001+01:00

These are some recent drypoint doodles just for something quick and easy to do. the second pull is actually better I think - the first is a bit too dark.

This etched pinecone isn't finished yet, needs more tone to 3D it up a bit (technical term). Maybe more line work, maybe some aquatint. Looking a bit lip-like at the moment. It's actually part of a larger image which I'm working on so the foul bite will be taken care of.

Sussex doodles

2011-08-28T07:57:00.007+01:00

I’ve just returned from a peaceful week in the East Sussex village of Herstmonceux. There was much walking (and some falling down in the mud) through fields, countryside and surrounding villages; most refreshing.

My plan was to make a drawing every day. Easier said than done for someone who’s not really into landscapes or buildings. I did manage it but they ended up more as doodles of things I picked up along the way.

Lucian Freud: The Painter's Etchings

2011-08-20T09:31:00.011+01:00

‘Etching’s not drawing exactly, but it’s a sort of drawing.’
Lucian Freud

I’ve just realised that it’s three months since I last touched an etching plate – well, worked on one that is. Three months. THREE MONTHS! That’s a quarter of a year. Way too long. I’ve been drawing and painting a bit during that time, so not completely idle creativiely, but it’s definitely time to get back to my core business.

I’ve been thinking of making some etchings with just line work; working more quickly and energetically, straight on the plate without preliminary drawings. I think I became bogged down with the process of aquatinting and with working and working and working the plate… the last few images have taken three or four months each to complete. I need some quick-fix-instant-gratification etching – not that etching is ever quick-fix exactly.

As a prelude to this, never being one to rush into things, I’ve been looking at Lucian Freud’s etchings. Fantastic things; beautiful, skilful, intuitive, sensitive, atmospheric… most definitely inspiring. Here are some for your delight and edification. And if you want to investigate further, get Lucian Freud: The Painter’s Etchings. An excellent book.

Pine cones and gravestones

2011-08-14T19:41:00.003+01:00

Here are some of this week’s doodles from my sketchbook. I picked up some rather satisfyingly shaped pine cones whilst vising the old military hospital cemetery at Netley. I love this place; it’s so peaceful and quiet. Perfect when one is feeling in need of solitude, which is ironic really considering it’s pretty crowded underground. They don’t say much though, the dead.

These drawings made me really scrutinise this little piece of the natural world; so intricate and well-made. Lead me to think about Uncle Henry and his passion for flora and fauna – and how understandable that is. All this natural stuff around us, even in a built up city… we so easily take it for granted. We don’t even see it half the time.

Seeds and gravestones. I could go all philosophical about the juxtaposition between beginnings and endings, birth and death. But I won’t.

Legion of gravestone sundials
Row upon row, uniform, solid, stationary, silent;
Shadows diurnal creep.
Dead soldiers in eternal ranks.

Henry Guermonprez: Victorian collector

2011-08-09T21:37:00.010+01:00

On Saturday I travelled down to Portsmouth Museum to see the Birds, Beasts and Bugs exhibition; a collection of over 10,000 items (apparently) belonging to Henry Leopold Foster Guermonprez, my great great uncle. These items include stuffed birds and animals, pickled fish and other sea creatures, case upon case of insects pinned in orderly ranks, plus many of his tools. Nets, microscope, jars, test tubes, his water colour set and many, many records and letters. Most of the specimens were collected by Henry himself in Sussex around the Bognor area but he also had a trail of people bringing dead creatures to his door and he occasionally bought more unusual specimens already preserved. He kept meticulous records of where, when and by whom each specimen was found and carefully labelled each with the information.

Henry was born in London in 1858. His father, Jean Henri Guermonprez, came over from Belgium in the 1850s and married an English woman, Charlotte Sarah Foster. The family moved from their home in Chelsea to Bognor in about 1892 and by 1897, Henry was married to the long-suffering Clara Sophia Phelps. I say long suffering because by all accounts, she – along with the rest of the family; Henry’s four children and his sister Harriet – was roped into Henry’s escapades with dead things. One of the display boards at the museum tells of how Clara stood on a chair holding a swan by its legs whilst it was skinned. Of course, there’s no evidence to suggest that Clara was an unwilling participant, even though she does look rather severe in the couple of photographs there are of her in the exhibition. Clearly Henry’s enthusiasm for flora and fauna was infectious; the children collected specimens for him and he had them and his sister making drawings and water colours of plants, fish, insects and birds – anything that (had once) lived. Henry carried out most of the taxidermy himself and mounted the stuffed birds and animals on pieces of cork float washed up on the beach from local fishing boats.

Henry and Clara had four children, Harry (my family connection on my father’s side), Jean, Walter and Stella. One can imagine them all tramping through the fields and along the shore always on the lookout for an interesting new something for Father. The exhibition displays many watercolours made by them and Henry, who was himself a proficient water colourist. Harry, the eldest son, my father’s uncle, went on to develop his own, quite different enthusiasm for amateur film making and co-founded the Bognor Regis Film Society (see my blog post of 9 May 2009).

Although trained as an architect, there is no evidence that Henry ever actually practiced. Legend has it that he stayed at home to look after his parents as the family was independently wealthy. Certainly these responsibilities didn’t stop him from having four children and spending much time on his interests. He did exercise his architectural training though in drawing up plans for an extension to Dalkeith (the family home) to house a small museum. These plans are on display at the exhibition. The extension was never built; however his home was open to anyone who wished to view his collection. There's a sweet letter from a schoolboy who wrote to express his thanks for having been shown around the collection by the master of the house. He dabbled in archaeology too and was involved in the discovery of the remains of a 13th century chapel at Manor Farm (Barton Manor), Nyetimber. He also had a hand in the discovery of a number of Bronze Age axes or palstaves in Bognor.

It all seems quite idyllic to me; an eternal summer. My overall impression of this distant relative, this typical Victorian collector, is that he was someone who was overflowing with a passion for natural history which he managed to communicate to those around him. I'd like to think that his family and friends benefited from his enthusiasm as much as those he invited into his home to see his collection, and indeed those who will enjoy it for years to come.

Strength, courage and majesty

2011-08-05T21:47:00.002+01:00

The kitchen fitters have done their work so I have my studio back now. The daily drawing slipped somewhat over the last couple of weeks (not that it was daily before that – more like every other daily…) so trying to get back on track now.

Continuing the theme of still life with narrative, this drawing is of part of an old standard lamp which my grandmother had in her sitting room. I remember the carved lion’s head with the brass ring through its mouth fascinated and spooked me when I was a kid – it is slightly sinister (and appealing to my inner goth). I’d like to know how old it is and where it came from; I have a vague recollection that someone said something about it being used as a prop in theatrical productions somewhere but sadly there’s no one left to ask now so I guess I’ll never know.

Apparently the motif of a lion’s head holding a ring in its mouth dates back to Roman times when it was a popular decoration on furniture, the ring often being used as a handle. It regained popularity in the early to mid-18^th century and can still be seen today in the form of door knockers. In Roman times, the lion head mask was a symbol of strength, courage and majesty.

I made this drawing over the course of three balmy summer evenings this week, sitting with the doors of the studio wide open. Sweet. I find it very useful to look at the scanned image afterwards; it often appears quite different and highlights elements I hadn’t noticed before. And sometimes I have to resist the urge to tinker further with a finished image.

Four figures

2011-07-23T20:34:00.003+01:00

Day six and the kitchen works are still doing. The plasterers arrived at some unearthly hour this morning; painful but it’s good to be getting it all done in one go rather than dragging it out. It’s beginning to look like a kitchen again now although still no sink or cooker. The absence of the sink has been the worst thing; you don’t realise how much you rely on it until it’s not there. We’ve resorted to paper plates to minimise the awkwardness of trying to wash up in a small cloakroom basin. It’s like camping only worse!

The studio has been full of kitchen parts, dishwasher and workmen all week so no printing or painting sadly. I have been drawing though; with a collection of small objects (above) which don’t take up much space, I’m pursuing my still life studies. Quick sketches of these four figures which I gathered together in a random but connected way… they seemed to fit well together, similar size and colour. Brass bell, Buddha and bodies. The brass bell has been knocking around since I was a kid – I remember playing with it when I was only just old enough to remember. The jade Buddha figure is a relatively recent acquisition and the two armless, legless, headless torsos I made from FIMO whilst doing A level art at sixth form, too many years ago now. They are quite satisfying shapes to draw and remind me of a fairly pivotal time in my art career. A little paint next I think.

Still life with new kitchen

2011-07-18T12:16:00.006+01:00

At last! The fitters are in and the new kitchen is underway. It’s going to take two weeks to complete because the floors, walls and ceiling need doing too; pipes need fixing, electrics need rewiring, gas supplies need capping. Plasterers, plumbers, electricians, carpenters… it’s a quite a production down there. And also in the studio which is full of new kitchen parts, dishwasher and workmen. I was hoping to be able to continue working in there but that doesn’t look hopeful, at least not for the next few days.

I’ve not done too badly with the drawing this week though – drawn four days out of seven. Not a bad start. It’s a bit A level Artish but have been drawing a glass decanter (it was destined for the dump but I decided it might be quite interesting to draw so I liberated it). Lots of weird reflections and distortions in the glass which was quite fun to draw. Perspective and proportions a bit wonky in places though. Next step is to have a go at painting it. I’ve never been very interested in still life but it seems sensible to revisit this whilst I’m in Back to Basics mode. And it doesn’t have to be all bowls of fruit and vases of flowers. Some research needed I think.

Eric Meadus

2011-07-12T15:10:00.007+01:00

On Friday I attended a private view of the work of local painter Eric Meadus. The exhibition at The First Gallery coincides with the naming of a street here in Southampton, Eric Meadus Close.

Meadus died in 1970 at the young age of 39 but left behind a huge amount of work. He was self-taught and experimented with a range of styles. Much of his work focused on townscapes; he made many drawings of Southampton’s urban sprawl but it’s a drawing of Swaythling Railway Station which has been used on the commemorative plaque at Eric Meadus Close.

For me, the evening was more than just a chance to look at a large number of Meadus’s drawings and paintings. It so happens that the drawing of the railway station belongs to my cousin; he kindly allowed it to be reproduced for the plaque and loaned it, along with another drawing and two paintings, to the gallery for the show. He’s been an avid collector of Meadus’s work since before the artist died. I don’t get to see him and his wife that often so it was most enjoyable to be able to catch up in the civilised surroundings of an art gallery.

I’ll probably get shot down for this; my feeling is that Meadus’s work is a bit variable. I don’t think his figurative work is as strong as his townscapes, some of which are quite charming. His drawings of Southampton's urban townscapes are distinctive and spare, the lumpy, little houses arranged all higgledy-piggledy. The locations are recognisable to those familiar with local housing estates – I was particularly taken with a drawing made from the hill at the top of Athelstan Road, looking out over the rooftops, the clusters of houses bisected by the river winding through. Nicely composed.

Meadus worked full-time at the now vanished Pirelli General here in Southampton until he died. He would go out sketching in his lunch hour and considered that ‘a day without drawing is a waste’. Judging by the amount of work he produced during his artistic career, he was pretty committed to his art. It made me reflect on my own work and in particular drawing, something I don’t do enough of. I taught a drawing class for Southampton Art Society last evening and heard myself telling my students to practice - draw, draw, draw, anything and everything. It’s the basis of what artists do after all. So, it’s back to basics for me too. I’m off to the studio to practice what I teach.

Eric Meadus, Self-portrait
Collection of Southampton City Art Gallery

When printmakers go rogue

2011-07-03T18:01:00.001+01:00

I am painting again. Having dabbled briefly last summer, I put the paint and brushes away and returned to my core business of etching. It’s been a slow year though and I’ve only produced one print I’m happy with. I think I’ve got a bit bogged down with process; the way I work takes so long – which would be okay if I could get regular studio time.

Back to basics then. Drawing and painting. Working quickly and loosely with line and colour. The colour bit is particularly challenging as you can see from the work in progress above. My etchings are quite painterly but pretty much monochrome so I’m enjoying playing with colour. And being able to alter the composition more easily.

So this is a good thing and of course, it’s not really going rogue (even though my inner etcher is whispering ‘traitor!’ in my ear, and ‘you’ve gone over to the dark side…’) as many printmakers paint. And the smell of oil paint is almost as nice as etching ink…

BP Portrait Award 2011

2011-06-30T12:26:00.025+01:00

The 2011 BP Portrait Award opened at the National Portrait Gallery last week so with much excitement I hot-footed it up to London at the weekend to have a look at this year’s selection. The only problem with going to see a show when it’s just opened (or just before it finishes) is that it’s pretty crowded. There was much weaving and jostling as we dodged from one painting to another, all out of sequence and diving for a free space wherever there was one. Not how one wants to experience a show really but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The BP Portrait Award is a prestigious annual competition which attracts entrants from all over the world. This year there were 2,372 submissions, which doesn’t sound that many actually when you consider that the competition has been going for 32 years and is therefore renowned throughout the art world here and abroad. Maybe portraiture just isn’t that popular these days.

55 works were selected; out of those, the prizes were awarded as follows:

First – Wim Heldens, Distracted

Second – Louis Smith, Holly

Third – Ian Cumberland, Just to Feel Normal

Young Artist Prize – Sertan Saltan, Mrs Cerna

Travel Award – Jo Fraser, Flora MacGregor

It’s disappointing that there doesn’t seem to be anything published about how the judges came to their decision. Apparently they select without knowing who the paintings are by to avoid any form of bias. These things are always so subjective though, and I find I rarely agree with the decisions. I really liked third prize winner Ian Cumberland’s Just to Feel Normal (take note of the size – 1500 x 1000 mm - not a small painting) but the first and second prize winning paintings, well… meh.

There were many other striking works in the show but one that particularly stood out for me (probably because it had a narrative element) was I could have been a contender by Wendy Elia (at the top of this post). There’s plenty going on in this painting which is an interesting take on the family portrait. It shows the artist herself with her children and grandchildren, some in photographs and postcards. The title adds another layer of meaning relating to her career as an artist and a woman in the art world.

I also liked David Carter at Home by Richard Brazier. The perspective was interesting as were the surroundings; I like the way the sculpture on the table echoes the pattern on the carpet. I also like the slightly uncomfortable way the subject is sitting. The diagonals of the legs disappearing out of the canvas give the feeling that maybe the subject was anxious to be off – even though he’s wearing his slippers!

There is the usual range of sizes from the gargantuan Holly with its imposing frame to the rather sweet and intimate Portrait of my father by Tomas Georgeson at just 300 x 230 mm. Smaller still are Matthew Schofield’s Six Decades, a series of six paintings each 10 cm square. Who said big is beautiful?

This year’s BP Portrait Award has the usual high standard of work and is well worth a look. If you’re interested in portraiture check it out.

The self-portrait as signature, experiment and publicity

2011-06-02T17:58:00.006+01:00

‘The history of self-portraiture is one of the most fascinating and complex of the whole genre [of portraiture]. Because self-portraits merge the artist and the sitter into one, they have the allure of a private diary, in that they seem to give us an artist’s insight into his or her own personality. However, interpreting self-portraiture as a transparent account of artistic personality is to ignore the many other factors that have an impact on both its creation and reception. Whilst the representational qualities of self-portraits allow them to be used as a means of self-examination, they have also functioned, for example, as signatures, as advertisement for an artist’s skill, and as experiments in technique or expression.
Shearer West, Portraiture

Like many artists, I make the odd self-portrait; working on one at the moment in fact. Does this smack of narcissism? Not really. For me, it’s a question of economics and convenience. I am my most available model and I don’t charge myself anything. I’m always around when I want to draw and I’ll pose in any position or for as long as I want me to. Simples.

Self-portraiture is also a documentary process. Not only am I charting my physical and emotional changes, but also my development as an artist.

I was interested to read what Shearer West has to say on the subject in her rather good book simply titled Portraiture. She expands on the ‘personal diary’ / ‘account of artistic personality’ idea by examining the history or self-portraiture to begin with.

Apparently there were very few self-portraits made before the sixteenth century. Those that do exist tend to be manuscript marginalia or the artist as minor witness / spectator in religious paintings. The theory is that piety prevented artists from bigging themselves up in free-standing self-portraiture; in other words, the main subject of a work. An interesting example of an artist adding himself as a sort of discrete footnote in a painting is Jan Van Eyck’s Arnolfini Marriage (1434) where the painter can just be seen reflected in the mirror on the wall behind the couple.

Albrecht Durer was one of the first to produce free-standing self-portraits (see the above image painted in 1500). An d what a self-portrait! Durer really went for it with the self-aggrandisement in portraying himself as a Christ-like figure. No worries about piety there then. It’s a beautiful, sumptuous painting in which a richly-dressed Durer gazes out at the viewer confidently. There is no trace of the tools of his trade; he has elevated himself from artisan and shows his view of his own self worth. He is declaring himself equal with the wealthy patrons who would have first seen the painting as an example of Durer’s skill.

There are several reasons why artists began to make self-portraits in the sixteenth century, the first being a matter of pure practicality. According to West, flat mirrors weren’t easy to come by outside Venice where they were invented, a significant obstacle to self-portraiture and one that is perhaps hard for us to imagine today. Secondly, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the phenomenon of autobiography as beginning to catch on, which meant that people were becoming increasingly aware of identity and a sense of self. Again, it’s hard for us to imagine a time when the notion of self and personal identity just didn’t exist.

Thirdly, the status of the artist was beginning to change with the setting up of academies and the birth of art theory. These brought the intellectual aspects of artistic production to the fore rather than the mechanical; fine art over craft. As the idea of the role of the artist was changing, so self-portraiture was a way of enhancing these new concepts of the worth of the artist.

So, as well as being a cheap and more flexible alternative to having to pay a model, documenting physical and psychological change and providing a platform for experimentation, self-portraiture gave artists a way of enhancing their status in society.

But there’s more. Early self-portraiture also provided artists with a useful marketing tool to advertise their skills. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, they would send them to courts to attract wealthy patrons, effectively touting for business. I suppose with the various method of reproduction we have today, artists don’t need to publicise themselves in the same way. Or at least, those seeking portrait commissions.

There’s a great deal more to say about self-portraiture; West goes on to explore gender, artistic identity, self-presentation and autobiography in relation to it, but I’ll save that for another blog post some other time.

On portraits and plumbing

2011-05-22T13:01:00.009+01:00

We are in chaos again. This seems to be a regular state of affairs these days as the house works continue. Having had the rotten floor joists replaced, we are now on the way to having a completely new kitchen installed. Or so I thought. What a lengthy, time-consuming faff it all is; meetings with the designer, surveys, more meetings with the designer, trips to the store to look at flooring, tiles and appliances, even more meetings with the designer... At some point, they will put my order through, then I will have to wait an interminable length of time for the installation. The tedium. Don't know what I expected really - having a new kitchen is a fairly involved (and expensive!) business.

In the meantime, those lovely kitchen people have given me a couple of tasks to keep me busy whilst I wait. They announced that they won't build a cupboard around the hot water tank as it is (as originally agreed) because they don't consider it safe (suspended four feet off the ground on two iron poles which fitted into the wall on one side and two pieces of 2 by 1 on the other). Fair dos; if the whole lot comes down in an unplanned way, it wouldn't be pretty. So, we're having the tank moved to the floor. Five days' work for the plumber (during which time we have no hot water or heating) and much mess and expense; particularly irritating as the new tank was put in less than two years ago. Yes, I KNOW I should have had a combination boiler.

Anyway, there is a point to me telling you all this - it's not just a whinge. The upside is I've had a couple of good days in the studio whilst the work is being done. I was planning to work at home (busy time of year in Children's Social Care data) but, well, the pull of the studio was just too strong. Etching or data analysis...? Etching or data analysis...? No contest really.

I recently completed the first in a new series of images in which I'm trying to combine narrative with portraiture. All portraits have an element of narrative to some degree; everyone has their story. I think it would be hard for the viewer not to pick something of this up from the portrait if the artist has done his/her job - whether it's the subject's true story is a different matter of course.

The above image, Sister Mary, Mother of H and M, evolved into something I hadn't foreseen really and became about family. I'm not entirely sure what it's saying though... they look kind of ghostly to me, ephemeral. I wanted to have them in a formal pose reminiscent of a Victorian photograph but M wasn't up for that particularly, so added two fingers and a poking-out tongue. A nice touch I feel. Of course, anyone who knows H and M will spot immediately that I've used a drawing which is nearly four years old. Knew it would come in handy some time.

April Exhibitions Part 2 - The Green Man

2011-04-29T16:31:00.003+01:00

The First Gallery here in Southampton has to be the most unusual art gallery I’ve ever visited, and certainly the most unusual I’ve exhibited in. Run by mother and son team, Margery and Paul Clarke, the gallery was set up in their home in the late 60s with the remit of providing a small, personal space in which professional artists can sell their work, and those with an interest in art can view and buy the work, having seen what it might look like in a domestic setting. The gallery has grown in reputation over the years whilst remaining small and personal.

I was pleased to have a print selected for the gallery’s exhibition entitled The Green Man. The show centred on a series of prints and paintings by Elizabeth Nash based on the subject of the green man (more information here). This was complimented by work on the same theme from other local artists including fellow Red Hot Press members Sue Anderson and Tamsin Loveday. As well as print, there were works in a variety of media; drawing, painting, bas-relief & wicker, sculpture, book-works, digital photography and textiles. My own piece was an aquatint of a Woodwose or wild man, a sort of distant relation of the green man, explained here in my blog post about the print.

There. Not everything's about the royal wedding today.

Image: Elizabeth Nash, Green Man

April Exhibitions Part 1 - Red Hot Impressions

2011-04-21T16:55:00.011+01:00

Private views were a bit like buses at the beginning of April; none for months then two in five days. Red Hot Impressions which runs from 5 April to 18 June 2011, is the first collaboration between Red Hot Press Printmaking Workshop and The Art House, Southampton’s not-for-profit café gallery and arts venue. It’s a great venue right in the city centre so we were very excited to be asked to show there.

The Art House has a lively programme of events including art, music and poetry, and workshops in just about anything you can think of, from English folk fiddle to drumming, and sign language to beadwork. They even run a workshop on how to run a workshop! The venue also provides a meeting place for a number of groups which include writers, knitting, language café and a group which makes stuff out of scrap anything – very much in line with The Art House’s green ethics. The café serves vegan food prepared and cooked on site, grown organically and locally sourced where possible. And those who run the show, mostly volunteers, are great. What’s not to like about this place?

Red Hot Impressions includes original prints from sixteen members of Red Hot Press and covers a wide range of printmaking techniques; etching, linocut, woodcut, drypoint, letterpress, screen printing, collagraph, gum transfer, monprinting… I’ve probably forgotten some. A full and varied show! We had fun hanging the exhibition - a team of seven of us did it in just under three hours, and during that time, I think we put every print on just about every screw in the gallery! It all came together really well in the end though. Here’s the Art House’s blog with some pictures of us hanging the show.

The opening was well-attended; the wine flowed, thanks to the Art House crew, and work sold. All in all, a very pleasant evening. More pictures here. If you haven’t paid a visit to The Art House, jog on down and have a coffee and some of their superb home-made cake - surrounded by excellent works of art of course!

Non-toxic etching

2011-04-14T13:24:00.008+01:00

Weekend before last, I was fortunate to be able to attend an etching master class at Red Hot Press taught by Andrew Baldwin, etcher extraordinaire and non-toxic printmaking evangelist.

The weekend started on Friday evening with Andrew giving a talk about how he’d got into printmaking and why he’s particularly keen to make it as non-toxic as possible. Having come from a family of commercial printers, Andrew feels that printing is in his blood. It was his interest in art however which led him to apply for a job as a print room technician at Aberystwyth University where he has taught for the last twenty years or so. It was there that he first discovered (and was smitten with) etching.

Problems with the etching bath ventilation system and his father’s health problems following a life time in the printing trade lead Andrew to start thinking about the hazards of printmaking, in particular etching; he told us horror stories about dissolving tooth enamel and exploding fingers. There are a myriad of dangers in the print room – arsenic, mercury and lead in traditional etching grounds which can be absorbed through the skin, vapours and gases given off by solvents and mordants which can cause all kinds of lung and central nervous system problems.

To avoid as many health hazards as possible, Andrew has researched and/or reinvented virtually every substance used by etchers, from degreasing solutions to aquatints, from stopping out to etching grounds. It’s his new ground, Baldwin’s Intaglio Ground (BIG) which is the real news however; a ground which can be used as hard, soft and liquid and which is completely non-toxic. Check out his video here.

Over the course of the weekend workshop, Andrew showed us as many of his non-toxic techniques as he was able to pack into two days; intense information upload! Topics covered include plate preparation, using hard and soft grounds, stopping out techniques using BIG and Copydex, sand paper aquatints, poor man’s mezzotint, blue guitar process, icing sugar aquatints, instant coffee sugar lift, etching mordants and how they work, spit bite, plate registration techniques, double drop printing… We even managed to fit in some etching of our own! We each made a three-plate sandpaper aquatint. I think it was his mission to tell us everything there is to know about etching!

Although there was quite a lot of basic information given, it filled in a few gaps for me, and I learnt new stuff too. I’m particularly keen to try printing some of my portraits double drop as I’ve been thinking about how to get some colour into my work for a while. For those who aren’t familiar with the technique, this provides a way of bringing some subtle colour to the work by printing the same plate twice on the same piece of paper but in two different colours. The best registration in the world is never going to be perfect and it’s the interplay of the two colours very slightly misregistered which give the image its quality. Now I’m looking forward to some solid studio time so I can apply some of this new knowledge to my own work.

Image: Andrew Baldwin
Punch Drunk
Etching and aquatint

I am a draper mad with love

2011-03-27T17:08:00.008+01:00

I’ve been reading a lot of Dylan Thomas recently. What happened to the Melville binge? Slight detour – sorry Herman, I’ll get back to you.

My current read is Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog, a book of semi-autobiographical short stories, tales of Thomas’s early life in Swansea, as beautifully written as his poetry; but it’s Under Milk Wood, Thomas’s play for voices, that I really want to talk about. It must surely be one of the most beautifully lyrical things ever written in the English language. Just the tumbling, twisting word-play alone is enough but I love the vivid character studies, bawdy black humour - ‘bombazine black’ – and the whole imbued with a wistful melancholy that makes it ripe for illustration. There are images spilling from every page.

Here’s a passage which epitomises Thomas’s expressive character descriptions, lyricism and observance of human relationships: the first exchange between the draper Mog Edwards and his inamorata Miss Myfanwy Price. Their passion for each other, declared through letters, flames with what could be though they have never met.

‘From where you are you can hear in Cockle Row in the spring,
moonless night, Miss Price, dressmaker and sweetshop-keeper,
dream of her lover, tall as the town clock tower, Samsonsyrup-gold-maned,
whacking thighed and piping hot, thunderbolt-bass'd and
barnacle-breasted, flailing up the cockles with his eyes
like blowlamps and scooping low over her lonely loving
hotwaterbottled body.

MR EDWARDS

Myfanwy Price!

MISS PRICE

Mr Mog Edwards!

MR EDWARDS

I am a draper mad with love. I love you more than all the
flannelette and calico, candlewick, dimity, crash and merino,
tussore, cretonne, crepon, muslin, poplin, ticking and twill
in the whole Cloth Hall of the world. I have come to take
you away to my Emporium on the hill, where the change hums
on wires. Throw away your little bedsocks and your Welsh
wool knitted jacket, I will warm the sheets like an electric
toaster, I will lie by your side like the Sunday roast.

MISS PRICE

I will knit you a wallet of forget-me-not blue, for the
money, to be comfy. I will warm your heart by the fire so
that you can slip it in under your vest when the shop is
closed.

MR EDWARDS

Myfanwy, Myfanwy, before the mice gnaw at your bottom drawer
will you say

MISS PRICE

Yes, Mog, yes, Mog, yes, yes, yes.

MR EDWARDS

And all the bells of the tills of the town shall ring for
our wedding.

[Noise of money-tills and chapel bells]’

What a joyful celebration of the English language Under Milk Wood is! And hearing it is even better than reading it so have a listen to the first part here. Enjoy.

The joys of teaching

2011-03-26T11:44:00.005Z

It’s all go art-wise at the moment with teaching, two exhibitions coming up and an etching workshop with master printmaker Andrew Baldwin, he of the BIG etching ground, next weekend.

My recent teaching was fun. I taught a group of experienced etchers how to use pine resin (otherwise known as rosin, colophony or Greek Pitch – splendid name!) as an aquatint; a first for me and the workshop.

It made me think particularly about the difference between teaching beginners and experienced printmakers. There’s a lot more process with beginners whereas with those who are coming to a technique with some experience already, it’s much more about the image; critiquing and problem-solving the composition etc. Both are fun and challenging but require different skills I think.

The course was fully booked and went very well, despite a slightly tense start to the day. The power went off half an hour before everyone was due to arrive but it was just a switch tripped fortunately. My students produced some interesting images and certainly kept me on my toes all day; felt quite pooped when I got home! In a good way of course. I love teaching.

Images:
top - Beatrice Caniggia, pine resin and drypoint print
bottom - Ruth Barratt-Danes, pine resin and drypoint print

The Passages of Herman Melville

2011-03-05T13:30:00.006Z

I’ve just finished reading The Passages of Herman Melville by Jay Parini; a satisfying and entertaining read. This is a novel, not a literary biography, in which Melville’s life and thoughts are laid out in alternating chapters, one narrated in the third person and the other by his wife Lizzie. The narrative isn’t chronological which I found a bit confusing at first, but once used to the form, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Parini is at pains to remind the reader that this is a novel. He has played with what facts are known about Melville, rearranging, surmising and embellishing here and there to forge a rollicking good tale of seafaring, cannibalism, homoeroticism and creative angst. Of Elizabeth Shaw Melville, the author writes, ‘I should add that very little is known about Lizzie Melville, so I made her up.’ Quite tantalising really; Parini’s Lizzie is an opinionated woman who isn’t afraid to tell her allegedly violent husband when she doesn’t think much of his work. An educated and well-read young woman, captivated by Dickens (she met him when he paid a visit to her father), it’s hardly surprising she was swept away by the hirsute Melville, romantic sailor-cum-writer full of fresh tales of the South Seas. According to the author anyway - one has to keep reminding oneself that this is a novel.

The ending is rather sentimental but not so overdone as to please Dickens. And you kind of want Melville’s story to end as benignly as it can. It’s a sad fact that in his lifetime, he just wasn’t appreciated for the great writer he is. I can’t help feeling the book could do with some pictures though; one can never have too many pictures.

I am no book reviewer so have a look at Phillip Hoare’s review in the Guardian for the views of someone who knows what’s what in these matters. And read the book yourself.

Herman Melville is one of those writers who keeps popping up for me. I greatly admire his work though I’m ashamed to say that I’ve only read Moby-Dick and his short stories. It’s daft really because I’ve certainly appreciated what I’ve read. And it has inspired some of my images. The characters and stories are entertaining and intriguing, sometimes downright befuddling (take Bartleby for instance), but for me, it’s the language that really does it. It’s so vivid and poetically put together, but not in a flowery way. A line that comes to mind is one from Moby-Dick where Ishmael is describing death by whaling as ‘a speechlessly quick chaotic bundling of a man into Eternity’.

Melville appeals to all the senses as this passage from Redburn shows. The young Wellingborough Redburn muses on one of his father’s paintings.

‘Then we had several oil-paintings and rare old engravings of my father’s, which he himself had bought in Paris, hanging up in the dining-room.

Two of these were sea-pieces. One represented a fat-looking, smoky fishing-boat, with three whiskerandoes in red caps, and their trowsers legs rolled up, hauling in a seine. There was high French-like land in one corner, and a tumble-down gray lighthouse surmounting it. The waves were toasted brown, and the whole picture looked mellow and old. I used to think a piece of it might taste good.’

I can almost taste that chocolaty painting as I read the passage… Or is it toffee?

2011 started out as the Year of The House owing to the large number of domestic challenges to be faced. I think I’m going to add to that the task of becoming much better acquainted with Melville’s work. Here’s to 2011 – my own personal Year of Herman Melville.

Garrick Palmer: A Life in Wood Engraving

2011-02-09T20:51:00.004Z

2011 got off to a slow start for me due to two bouts of illness and a variety of domestic disasters involving broken cars, rotten kitchen floor joists and cracked toilet cisterns. Creatively, January was pretty much a bust.

February however began much more promisingly with a visit to Pallant House Gallery in Chichester to see an exhibition of wood engravings by Garrick Palmer. I first came across his work about five years ago when I was working on a series of card cuts based on Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville. I found a copy of the Folio Society’s publication of the same from 1967 (Three Stories, Herman Melville) on ebay, illustrated by Palmer. Naturally I had to buy it, being very careful not to look at it until I had all my images established. I didn’t want to be influenced even subconsciously by another artist’s images of the story.

Garrick Palmer was born in Portsmouth in 1933 and studied Fine Art at Portsmouth College of Art and Design where he first learnt wood engraving, and at the Royal Academy Schools in London. He taught at Winchester School of Art from 1962 to 1986 where he was Head of the Foundation Department. This last is particularly interesting to me as I studied in that same department from 1987 to 1988 so missed him by a whisker; how annoying.

The retrospective exhibition brings together prints and book illustrations spanning Palmer’s whole career and includes many images of the English landscape, something he returns to time and time again and clearly loves. These are autobiographical to some extent, marking significant points in his life; his wife’s battle with cancer for instance, and when he himself was diagnosed with diabetes.

It was Palmer’s book illustrations I was drawn too though, particularly the nautically themed ones. His illustrations for Moby-Dick are breathtaking in complexity, composition and atmosphere, as are those for The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (the latter took ten years to complete). I found it hard to tear myself away from these. And although not my favourite of Palmer’s images, I was pleased to see an original copy of Bartleby himself. I love Melville’s story of the Wall Street Scrivener.

Not being a wood engaver myself, I don’t feel qualified to comment on his technique; I do know however, that he’s a master of it and if you’re at all interested in wood engraving, go and see this show before it finishes on 13 March.

Images:
Ancient Mariner II
Hampshire Fields

Temporary winter quarters

2010-12-27T14:30:00.003Z

It was -2°C in the studio yesterday; the water in my plate-rinsing bowl had frozen over. That’s the coldest it’s been in there so far this winter (when I’ve wanted to work anyway) and even with the heater on, it’s not warm enough to ink up. So, I have decamped to the kitchen and utility room for the time being, with swift sorties to the studio to print.

I finished a plate yesterday which is satisfying; it’s taken me just over two months which is quite fast for me so I’m pleased with that too. My big problem is that I work so slowly, partly because I just don’t get much time to spend on my artwork these days. Or write blog posts; when was the last one…?

I’m glad this particular plate is finished because having worked on aluminium for the last few months, I can now go back to zinc which I prefer. This particular plate has come out peculiarly speckly in comparison with other aluminium plates I’ve worked on (see image with blog post dated 13 October 2010) and I have absolutely no idea why. Does aluminium have a ‘grain’? With zinc, I find I can get much cleaner lines and more variety of tone and texture. Shame it’s so much more expensive and not so easy to source and cut. Aluminium is great in that respect.

Well, that’ll be the last plate of the year; a very good time to finish it. Time now to reflect on what I’ve achieved over the last year and what’s coming up in the next. Some exciting firsts on the horizon for me - looking forward to it.

Create from a place of no-mind

2010-11-20T13:58:00.002Z

A friend lent me a book recently – The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. I’m not entirely sure where I stand with this fellow. He has some interesting things to say but I don’t like the way he writes (too mystical) and I’m uncomfortable with the way he’s set himself up as a kind of spiritual teacher. His ideas are drawn from many different religions and philosophies including Zen Buddhism, Sufism, Hinduism and the Bible. He talks a lot about mindfulness which I have a great interest in but there are other writers I prefer on this topic; Jon Kabat-Zinn and Russ Harris for example.

I thought I would share this excerpt about creativity from Tolle’s book which relates back to my posts Art practice as meditation? (May) and Doing non-doing (June).

‘The mind is essentially a survival machine. Attack and defense against other minds, gathering, storing, and analysing information – this is what it is good at, but it is not at all creative. All true artists, whether they know it or not, create from a place of no-mind, from inner stillness. The mind then gives form to the creative impulse or insight. Even the great scientists have reported that their creative breakthroughs came at a time of mental quietude. The surprising result of a nation-wide inquiry among America’s most eminent mathematicians, including Einstein, to find out their working methods, was that thinking “plays only a subordinate part in the brief, decisive phase of the creative act itself.” So I would say that the simple reason why the majority of scientists are not creative is not because they don’t know how to think but because they don’t know how to stop thinking!’

The Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle

Bridget Riley: Flashback

2010-11-14T20:07:00.005Z

I had an interesting afternoon at Southampton City Art Gallery taking in the Bridget Riley exhibition, Bridget Riley: Flashback. The show covers work from the early 60s up to more or less present day and includes some of her preparatory studies. These, many of which were plotted out on graph paper, took me right back to my to my student days at art school when most of my images were created using mathematical systems. Whereas the other students could be seen carrying sketchbooks, I was usually brandishing a pad of graph paper. Very different from the kind of work I’m making now.

There was a selection of books on Riley for browsing at the exhibition; ten or twelve with her customary op art images on the front. I was immediately drawn to the one with a conte sketch of a woman on the front. It seems that Riley was an ardent portrtaitist and spent her three years at Goldsmiths drawing, drawing, drawing from life. Although her work changed direction dramatically in the early 60s when she began to produce the sort of images she is so well known for, this early experience of looking and drawing has been crucial to the way she has worked throughout her career.

'A great deal is involuntary. At best the drawing seems to unfold on the paper almost by itself, the hand being directly guided by the eye. Drawing is an exercise in looking: one finds out what can being seen and at the same time one finds oneself having to organise the visual and emotional information extracted. How to sort out and clarify this confusing wealth?'

Bridget Riley, From Life

Cataract 3, 1967

Less swilling, more forming

2010-11-07T10:54:00.006Z

I’ve a lot of ideas about my artwork swilling around in my head at the moment; swilling but not forming properly, which probably means my work needs to change direction. Portraits seem to be where I’m at right now but I’m still very much drawn to narrative images. As The Undertaker’s Nuptials seems to have stalled (temporarily I hope), I’m thinking about how I can work narrative into straight portraiture. This has lead me to consider how we all have our own personal stories; who we are, where we’ve come from, what’s shaped us, what’s important to us, where we’re going and so on.

I’m reading an interesting book at the moment – Portraiture by Shearer West. How about this:

‘Portraits are not just likenesses but works of art that engage with ideas of identity as they are perceived, represented, and understood in different times and places. ‘Identity’ can encompass the character, personality, social standing, relationships, profession, age, and gender of the portrait subject. These qualities are not fixed but are expressive of the expectations and circumstances of the time the portrait was made. These aspects of identity cannot be reproduced, but they can only be suggested or evoked. Thus although portraits depict individuals, it is often the typical or conventional – rather than unique – qualities of the subject that are stressed by the artist, as demonstrated in Holbein’s George Gisze. Portraiture has also been subject to major changes in artistic practice and convention. Even though most portraits retain some degree of verisimilitude, they are nonetheless products of prevailing artistic fashions and favoured styles, techniques, and media. Portraiture is thus a vast art category that offers a rich range of engagements with social, psychological, and artistic practices and expectations.’

Less swilling, more forming.

Image: Hans Holbein the Younger, George Gisze, 1532

It lives...!

2010-10-13T10:16:00.002+01:00

Last week was a productive week. Not only did I finish a plate I’d been working on for far too long, but my website redesign was completed and the new site went live. The latter was courtesy of the excellent Martin Davis of Still-Moving.co.uk. The final result is quite different to how I originally envisaged it – and much better I think.

Green Door International Print Exchange 2010

2010-09-21T13:57:00.008+01:00

Last week, I was really excited to receive my package from Green Door Print Studio in Derby containing prints by ten other participants in the exchange. This is the first time I’ve taken part and only the second year the exchange has been running; 103 printmakers from 11 different countries took part.

I’ve participated in other exchanges but this one has been the best so far, partly because it’s so well organised and professionally presented. The standard of work is high too. A particularly useful aspect is the personalised insert within the folio detailing whose prints I’ve received and who my prints have been sent to. Well done and thank you to the Johnson family for all their hard work.

I received prints from Candice Perry, Chris Rollins, Gina Louthian-Stanley, Judith G Leppert, Julianna Joos, Kirsten Kinnear, Michelle Keegan and Pat Crombie. These should be available to view on the exchange website shortly.

Printing for Etsy

2010-09-11T16:31:00.006+01:00

The last couple of weeks have been enjoyably busy in a printmakerly way. I spent a large part of the bank holiday weekend holed up in the studio looking through packaged prints and printing older plates to ‘stock’ my Etsy shop. I rarely revisit old plates, even though I haven’t printed the whole edition, but it was quite fun relearning the plates… remembering where to wipe more for cleaner whites, where to let the ink sit for a richer tone, which to tonk before pulling the final print. No sales on Etsy yet but a couple of my prints have been included in treasuries (these are themed collections of items for sale which Etsy members put together and publish on the site; a little help with advertising has to be a good thing).

I also had a meeting with a web designer to discuss revamping my website – get me! That made me really think about my target audience and the message I want to give. I learnt some useful stuff about marketing and how the web works so I’m all fired up to get the overhaul underway.

Summer's almost over

2010-08-24T15:42:00.003+01:00

It seems that summer is nearly over; there’s definitely something autumnal about the early mornings now. As we’re preparing for the start of a new academic year, and as I’ve had a seriously uncreative summer, this feels like a good time to review where I’m at with my printmaking projects.

Production has been slow over the last year or so, partly owing to learning new techniques and partly by experiencing a creative bottleneck (there’s also that little thing called life which tends to get in the way too). I’ve not taken up so many exhibiting opportunities this year so I’m feeling the need to focus on getting my work out there.

Two things which have been on my To Do list for some time are overhauling my website and setting up an Etsy shop. The first I’m going to need some help with but the second I’ve already made a start on. The shop is set up and I’ve listed a couple of prints already. Now comes the fun part of seeing what else I have in stock and what needs printing. Who knows if I’ll make any sales but I’ve nothing to lose in trying.

Painting is good for me...

2010-07-06T21:50:00.004+01:00

It was a varied couple of days in the studio this weekend. I spent time working on an etching (printing and aquatinting) and did some layout and design on a leaflet for a friend who’s just going into business; two quite different activities.

I also threw some painting into the mix. A big box of oil paints and gesso arrived on Friday, so on Sunday, I started a self portrait (24” by 18”). It was a very interesting experience. I don’t like what I produced but considering it’s been about 23 years since I last painted (and never in oils), it could have been a lot worse! A portrait was maybe a little ambitious to start with but it’s what I’m drawn to (pardon the pun).

My etchings are predominantly monochrome so using colour will be good practice for me. I enjoyed the freedom and immediacy of mixing the paint and moving it around on the gessoed surface, being able to build up layers so quickly. The etching process takes so long – which I quite enjoy – but it made a pleasant change to be able to work swiftly with the paint.

Even though this was very much a practice piece, I want to work on it some more, playing with colour and light and dark. I was surprised to find this afternoon that most of the paint is dry already, just two days after it was painted. I was expecting it to take much longer. My knowledge of the technicalities of oil painting is virtually non-existent so steep learning curve ahead.

Diverting from my core business

2010-06-27T16:13:00.009+01:00

Just recently, I’ve developed a strong desire to paint. Odd because in the last six years, I’ve been rather stubborn about NOT painting, seeing myself as a hardcore printmaker and nothing else. Short-sighted I admit; several people have told me lately that painting would help my etching, especially now that I’m using aquatint in quite a painterly way. I blame my old adversary, time – there never seems to be enough of it for printmaking, never mind painting.

I’m not sure exactly what’s triggered this urge to paint. There have been a number of contributing factors I think. Recently I taught a portrait drawing class to twenty-five or so members of a local art society which was great fun and took me outside printmaking. My students obviously enjoyed it too as I have been asked to do some more sessions with them. I’ve been looking at a lot of painters too of late – or should I say relooking. They’re all artists whose work I’ve admired for years; Lucian Freud, Caravaggio, Stuart Luke Gatherer. The cream of international portrait painting is now on show at the BP Portrait Awards which has just opened at the National Portrait Gallery (it’ll be interesting to see if visitor numbers are lower this year). And of course there’s dear old Flagstaff Jim feverishly painting away out there in the Arizona desert; a constant source of inspiration for me.

I love etching and still have much to learn and master, but I think part of the painting urge has to do with size. I’m limited in how big I can work by my press and I think I want to work really large for a change. My head is reasoning with my intuition and says that practically, it’s not a good thing to do (time, space, cost…) but my intuition says do it. And as I’ve decided (rationally of course) that I need to listen to the latter more, it’s time to head off to buy paint.

Top: Self-Portrait: Reflection, Lucian Freud, 2002
Middle: Lucian Freud
Bottom: Decisions, Stuart Luke Gatherer

Doing non-doing

2010-06-19T12:16:00.003+01:00

Following on from my Art practice as meditation? post, I thought I’d share a passage of the book I’m reading at the moment – Wherever You Go, There You Are by mindfulness expert Jon Kabat-Zinn.

‘Non-doing has nothing to do with being indolent or passive. Quite the contrary. It takes great courage and energy to cultivate non-doing, both in stillness and activity. Nor is it easy to make a special time for non-doing and to keep at it in the face of everything in our lives which needs to be done.

But non-doing doesn’t have to be threatening to people who feel they always have to get things done. They might find they get even more “done,” and done better, by practicing non-doing. Non-doing simply means letting things be and allowing them to unfold in their own way. Enormous effort can be involved, but it is a graceful, knowledgeable, effortless effort, a “doerless doing,” cultivated over a lifetime.

Effortless activity happens at moments in dance and in sports at the highest levels of performance; when it does, it takes everybody’s breath away. But it also happens in every area of human activity, from painting to car repair to parenting. Years of practice and experience combine on some occasions, giving rise to a new capacity to let execution unfold beyond technique, beyond exertion, beyond thinking. Action then becomes a pure expression of art, of being, of letting go of all doing – a merging of mind and body in motion. We thrill in watching a superb performance, whether athletic or artistic, because it allows us to participate in the magic of true mastery, to be uplifted, if only briefly, and perhaps to share in the intention that each of us, in our own way, might touch such moments of grace and harmony in the living of our own lives.’

The Royal Society of Painter-Printmakers Annual Exhibition

2010-05-31T14:54:00.007+01:00

I sloshed my way up to the Bankside Gallery in London on Saturday to have a look at the annual RE show which was as rich and varied as always. It’s a bit of a two-edged sword for me because I find it inspiring and motivating but at the same time, a bit depressing as it reminds me of how little time I get to work on my art.

A print that really caught my eye was Decadensian by Frederick Morris, a newly-elected student member of the Society. This large etching and aquatint appealed to my penchant for atmosphere and narrative. It reminded me of an updated version of Hogarth’s Gin Lane although rather darker and more chaotic if that can be imagined.

During the duration of the show, several of the participants have given demonstrations of their particular medium; Angie Lewin and Gail Brodholt were giving linocut and wood engraving demos on Saturday. Still to come are demonstrations in linocutting, wood engraving and etching by Roy Willingham, Daphne Casdagli and Kate Dicker. The show ends on Sunday 6 June.

Art practice as meditation?

2010-05-23T16:37:00.007+01:00

I’ve developed an interest in meditation recently. This had nothing to do with my art making initially; it was in response to the emotional and physical strain of over two years of caring for elderly parents with dementia whilst trying to juggle the day job as a children’s social care data analyst, make art, run a home and have a social life. Throw in the countless other things that have to be dealt with and it leaves my brain feeling a little fried at times, something that a lot of people can sympathise with I’m sure. Life for most people these days is hectic at best.

I’m not sure what lead me to meditation but having read up a bit, there’s a lot of research which seems to suggest it’s a good thing for emotional, mental and physical health. My main aim is to find space to calm my mind and therefore help it to function better in day-to-day life. I’m not by nature a patient person, so this is going to be a test of my discipline and perseverance; there won’t be a miraculous overnight improvement.

I’ve been reading about brain activity in relation to meditation. There are four kinds of brainwaves apparently; alpha, beta, delta and theta. As I understand it, the mind is in a beta brainwave state most of the day when we are awake and active; thinking, talking, dealing with a huge range of stimuli and abstract thoughts about the past and future. These are the fastest brainwaves. Alpha brainwaves are slower; the mind is in this state when relaxed but still alert. We are receptive; not thinking but sensing, feeling and very much in the moment. Meditation induces this brainwave state apparently. Delta and theta brainwaves relate to sleep.

Where does this fit in with art practice? Over the years, I’ve had a number of conversations with people about what’s going through my mind when I’m working on a plate or a drawing. It sounds rather esoteric and a bit tree-hugging but the only way I’ve been able to describe it is as an almost zen-like state where I’m not really thinking about anything, just focusing on the artwork. I don’t think I even really think about what I’m working on; it’s almost as if my hands are working automatically. Thoughts come and go but I’m not really aware of them. As I said above, I’m not a patient person and the thought of starting a new piece of work can be daunting; and yet, when I’m working on a plate, I find I can work on a small area for hours without any kind of fatigue or irritation. It takes as long as it takes. In fact, I find it peaceful and restful. So I’m assuming that my mind must be in an alpha brainwave state and therefore in the same state as it would be during meditation. This is a very good thing and I obviously need to find time (somehow) to do more of it!

The Undertaker's Nuptials: the Datamonger

2010-05-03T15:12:00.003+01:00

‘Good morning Mr Spearman!’

As the clatter of the shop door closing subsided, all rattling glass and jangling bells, a behatted head appeared above the counter.

‘Ah. Miss Moir.’

‘I have some choice samples for you today Mr Spearman.’ Lycoris Moir reached inside her oversized gabardine and pulled out her notebook with a flourish. The pages flapped and a fine shower of what one would imagine was dust fluttered out and tumbled in the air, catching the sunlight. Instinctively Spearman went to reach forward, then checked himself.

‘Careful Miss Moir, you’ll be spoiling the contraband.’ Spearman’s boot-button eyes blinked rapidly; he appeared nervous.

‘Nonsense Mr Spearman! Contraband indeed! This is a perfectly legitimate service we perform. If only people knew Mr Spearman, if only people knew. They would thank us. Indeed.’ The datamonger looked doubtful and noticing some coppery specks on the glass counter, snatched a cloth from somewhere behind him and rubbed quickly at the glass. It left a smear. Beneath lay large enamel trays containing numbers; some made of copper, some brass, and of varying sizes, piled up just anyhow.

‘I hear Mr Wheelwright’s had a busy week,’ Spearman stuffed the cloth into the back pocket of his trousers and manoeuvred his bulk around Lycoris and hurried to the door. He pushed across the two bolts and let slip the catch so that the door was locked and turned the open sign around to read CLOSED to any potential customers. He scuttled back round Lycoris, who had remained where she was, unmoved by his obvious unease, and towards a doorway at the back of the shop. Spearman drew aside the beaded curtain and extended a hand towards Lycoris, a beckoning gesture.

‘Do come through Miss Moir.’

The Datamonger

2010-04-08T14:27:00.002+01:00

As mentioned in my previous post, I was able to spend quite a large portion of the Easter weekend working on my Green Door print exchange submission; the Datamonger. This image came about as a result of a conversation I had with Georgia, fellow data analyst. I’d been telling her about a trip to the local fishmonger (what exciting lives we lead!) and she decided that as data analysts-cum-statisticians, we are datamongers.

I don’t know whether it was because I had a more sustained period of time in the studio over the weekend, which stimulated my creativity generally, but The Undertaker’s Nuptials is underway again. The Datamonger, purveyor of rare and exotic numerals, has entered the narrative now so more images are on the way.

A printmaker's Easter

2010-04-06T17:53:00.004+01:00

The few days over the bank holiday weekend have been quite intensely printmakerish and really rather good. As well as getting plenty of studio time to work on my Green Door print exchange submission (more on that later), I was able to see Urban Evolution, an exhibition of prints by Anne Desmet at St Barbe Museum and Art Gallery in Lymington. It’s an intimate space, ideal for her linocuts, wood engravings and collages, most of which focus on architectural themes. That’s an extremely inadequate way to describe the exhibition - Anne Desmet takes wood engraving to a whole new level – but I think I need to digest the exhibition catalogue before I can say more.

Today at Red Hot Press, I had the opportunity to see a demonstration of a new etching ground developed by Andrew Baldwin at Aberystwyth University. Sarah heard about the ground at last year’s Impact conference in Bristol and has been using it since with good results. The beauty of this ground is that it doesn’t give off unpleasant fumes like other liquid hard grounds and is therefore safer to use – a big plus for educational establishments and open access workshops. It doubles as a hard and soft ground too. It’s rolled onto the plate like ink and at this point can be used as a soft ground, or bake it on the hot plate for half an hour and you have a hard ground. It’s red instead of the traditional brown which makes working on and etching the plate easier too. Sarah’s not sure if it’s available commercially yet but she gives it the thumbs up so I hope to give it a go sometime soon.

Image: Anne Desmet, Deserted Pool VMB, linocut 2007

Originals 10

2010-04-01T16:19:00.016+01:00

I paid my annual visit to the Mall Galleries on Saturday for
Originals 10, the top UK open exhibition for contemporary printmaking in which works by emerging talent hang along side those of established printmakers and members of the Royal Society of Painter Printmakers. Virtually every printmaking technique is covered from etching (check out Martin Ridgwell and Mychael Barratt), wood engraving (Hilary Paynter was on excellent form as usual), linocuts (Gail Brodholdt and Angie Lewin) and mezzotints (Martin Langford) to collagraphs, screenprints, digital and lasercut works.

In past years the show has felt a bit samey; same people showing the same kind of work, but this year, there seemed to be much more of a range of techniques and styles. In Venetian Diary III, Mila Furstova had wrapped her etchings of Venetian buildings in sheets of clear acetate covered in handwritten text, rolled into tubes. Jenny Smith’s Circles II and Circles IV are laser cut screen prints, combining a traditional printmaking technique with the relatively new technology of laser cutting. Carol Hensher specialises on printing on fabric; My fingers grasp at floating feathers comprises four white silk evening gloves with hands printed on them using lithographic methods. Fiona Hepburn cuts out hundreds of tiny woodcut and screen prints and fixes them in clusters using pins to create intricate fungal and bacterial forms.

My own tastes are more traditional; I find myself drawn to figurative works with something of a narrative in them. Personal favourites were Jessie Brennan’s Six Boys, Catherine Anne Hiley’s Untitled I (Dietrich) and Untitled III (Orhan), and Katherine Jones’s Magenta Strip. These are just a few; in a show like Originals, there are so many prints to look at it can be quite overwhelming.

Whilst there, we had the pleasant surprise of bumping into Katherine Anteney, one of the directors of Red Hot Press Printmaking Workshop here in Southampton. She made an interesting comment that the show was very ‘black and white’ this year; more monochrome prints than in previous years maybe. Presumably that was just the way the selection went but it would be interesting to know if the selectors were aware of this at the time. And speaking of Red Hot Press, our very own Wendy Couchman, one of the members, had a print included – congratulations Wendy!

All in all, it was a really interesting show this year, well worth a visit. Shall look forward to Originals 11.

Images:
Katherine Jones, Magenta Strip
Catherine Anne Hiley, Untitled III (Orhan)
Jessie Brennan, Six Boys

Aluminium versus zinc

2010-03-25T20:26:00.008Z

On Tuesday, I paid a visit to Metal Supermarkets here in Southampton in search of zinc plate. It was my first visit as I usually get my plates from printmaking suppliers but I was after some tricky sizes. Sarah and Katherine, who run Red Hot Press, mostly use aluminium for etching and source it there so I thought I’d give it a go. No solid zinc sadly, just Zintec sheet which is mild steel electro-coated with zinc apparently. Not sure how thick the coating is but I would imagine it doesn’t bear too much reworking before you’re down to the steel. I bought some aluminium instead - never tried it before but Sarah gets good results with it - and it was much cheaper than equivalent sized plates from printmaking suppliers. Bonus.

Was lucky enough to squeeze a couple of studio hours in this afternoon, between the chores, family stuff and general domestic flim-flam, so prepared a couple of small test plates for line work and aquatinting. I’m still getting a grip on how aquatinting works on zinc so this probably isn’t the best time to be experimenting with a new material, but there we are. And the aluminium does indeed feel and look very different to zinc when etched. It seems to take a lot longer to bite in the copper sulphate solution and the marks left around the particles of resin look very different too. Even the inking and wiping feels different and the weight and density of the plate in the hand. Odd how familiar one can get with (and attached to I suppose) the feel of a piece of metal.

The photos show the difference between pine resin aquatint on aluminium (top) and zinc (bottom).

An experiment in burnishing

2010-03-18T20:31:00.002Z

I’ve always wanted to have a go at mezzotinting; I love the soft, velvety quality which can be quite ethereal at times. I don’t fancy rocking my own plates though and my burnishing skills need improving so, for practice, I’ve aquatinted a plate and bitten it all over. This gave me a grey surface to start with and allowed me to burnish the image up.

A recent life drawing gave me a fairly simple form to start off with as I didn’t want to do anything too detailed (hence the headless torso!). It’s quite hard to see what you’re doing actually; I don’t know whether it’s easier on a mezzotint but it’s a bit trial and error on my aquatinted plate.

I don’t think I left the plate in the etch long enough though – I’d like to try again and bite it darker next time so I can get a better range of tone. I shall continue to tinker with this plate, maybe bite it again. That’s the great thing about etching, you can keep reworking the plate. Etching rocks.

An art-filled week

2010-03-11T16:02:00.003Z

Although last week was a bad one domestically (leaky pipes and plumbers – AGAIN), it was a good week for art. There was life drawing on Saturday - poses inspired by Degas’s intimate paintings of women going about their daily rituals; studio time on Sunday; an intaglio supervised practice session at the workshop on Tuesday which was fun – three people using four different techniques (as technician/facilitator, that kept me on my toes!); on Wednesday I gave someone at work some advice about drawing and critiqued a portrait he was working on, and on Saturday, I received an email from Green Door Printmaking Studio in Derby announcing this year’s international print exchange. A delightfully varied week – rare these days. If only there could be more like those!

Self-imposed exile

2010-02-27T21:16:00.003Z

Returning from some time away, it’s amazing how quickly a week of peace and quiet relaxation can be wiped out when one steps back into the fray! It was a restful week though, out in the middle of the New Forest with just the birds, squirrels, horses, the odd deer and very patchy mobile phone signal. I recommend it.

I had planned to do some drawing and writing whilst away but didn’t get around to either. And that’s fine (she says, trying not to beat herself up for wasting all that potential creative time) because the purpose of the week was to wind down from a gruelling couple of years, the first proper break in that time.

I did read a book about creativity however. It isn’t the greatest book by any means (a bit cheesy and RIDDLED with typos) but it gave me one or two things to think about. The author makes the point that it is essential for us to express our creativity in order to lead fulfilling lives and not to feel impoverished mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Whilst this may be obvious to those who spend a significant proportion of their time creating in one form or another, I don’t think it hurts to be reminded every now and then; especially for those of us who don’t make a living from our art. Life – the day job, family, caring responsibilities, socialising – can so easily squeeze out creativity and make one feel guilty for spending time on it.

Incidentally, it was a year ago today I started my blog. A lot has happened creatively over the last year. The original intention was to use the blog to document my progress in wood engraving but somehow, that was hijacked by me setting up my own etching studio, a significant and rather marvellous change in direction. This gave me the opportunity to start using and experiment with pine resin as an aquatint, courtesy of Jim Spence, printmaker extraordinaire and master of the monoprint. This has moved my work forward significantly and has helped me achieve some of the tonal and textural qualities I was getting from card cuts. Still a long way for me to go to really get to grips with it but I’m already getting some interesting results.

The year was also quite a busy one for exhibiting; two US print exchanges, Printmakers Cut 3 in Chichester, Hampshire Open Studios and best of all, I had work selected for the international printmaking conference, IMPACT 6 in Bristol. A hectic year creatively, considering everything else that was going on. I think this year will be quieter; one in which I hope to concentrate on improving my aquatinting skills and progress some more narrative work. Always plenty to think about!

The Aphasiac's Dictionary

2010-02-12T22:32:00.002Z

Aphasia is a strange condition which, without first-hand experience, I would have struggled to understand I think. Briefly, it’s the impairment of the language centre in the brain by stroke or other injury. It can manifest in many different ways; some people lose all speech, some can speak but not read or write (or vice versa), some may be able to sing but not speak, others who have been fluently bilingual, may be able to speak one language but not the other. These are just a few examples.

The form with which I am in daily contact is paraphasia where the speaker (my mother) substitutes the correct word with another, such as ‘tight’ for dressing gown. Sometimes she makes up words, for example ‘petcher’ when meaning crispy. This can lead to some very odd combinations of words and bizarre sentences which range from making no sense at all to strangely apt. Instead of saying ‘the doctors are thinking’, she said, ‘the sailors are oberating’. You can imagine how tangled and protracted conversations can be; frustrating for both parties. I have been trying to capture as many of the more interesting words and phrases but sometimes they come so thick and fast I can’t catch them all. Twitter and facebook are ideal for this; wherever we are, I can just fire off a text and it’s there on the net for me to pick up later.

As artists, we draw inspiration from so many different sources, not least from that which is around us. Maybe then, it’s only natural to try to find a creative outlet for some of this stuff, especially as most of my work involves words in one way or another. I don’t know what form the Aphasiac’s Dictionary will take visually yet but I think the words will be incorporated into the images somehow. There will also be some pieces of narrative; again no firm ideas as yet. Meanwhile, the compiling goes on.

Portraiture

2010-01-31T15:00:00.005Z

I did a four hour life drawing session yesterday; I’d forgotten how tiring that can be. It wasn’t quite what I’d expected as the model is a local burlesque artist and had one of her show outfits on most of the time (fishnet stockings aren’t the easiest thing to draw, so I didn’t try!). It was a useful exercise though, in that it made me sit down and draw what was in front of me for a concentrated period of time.

I’ve been asked by a local art society to lead a session on portraiture, specifically drawn portraits, which has made me think much more about what I do - and about the nature of portraiture. As the session will be fairly short, we’ll be concentrating on the traditional concept of a portrait, the head and face, but it can be so much more than that; the full figure, the things the subject has around him or her and the spaces he or she occupies. These can enrich the work by giving the viewer greater insight into the subject’s character and life. Maybe it’s not even necessary to have the person in the image at all. A few years ago I made a series of prints based on characters from Dickens’s Bleak House. One of these was entitled ‘Mr Jellyby’ and is in fact a ‘portrait’ of him. The man himself is absent from the image however.

‘"And how is your mama, Caddy?" said I.

"Why, I hear of her, Esther," replied Caddy, "through Pa, but I see very little of her. We are good friends, I am glad to say, but Ma thinks there is something absurd in my having married a dancing-master, and she is rather afraid of its extending to her."

It struck me that if Mrs. Jellyby had discharged her own natural duties and obligations before she swept the horizon with a telescope in search of others, she would have taken the best precautions against becoming absurd, but I need scarcely observe that I kept this to myself.

"And your papa, Caddy?"

"He comes here every evening," returned Caddy, "and is so fond of sitting in the corner there that it's a treat to see him."

Looking at the corner, I plainly perceived the mark of Mr. Jellyby's head against the wall. It was consolatory to know that he had found such a resting-place for it.’

This brings up an interesting question around figures in illustrative and narrative work. My niece posed for me as Ginger Nut, a character from a short story by Herman Mellville - Barleby the Scrivener. Is the result print therefore a portrait of Ginger Nut (a boy) or my niece? Or both? Where does the sitter end and the character begin?