Low footfall, why not paint?

I thought about making badges during the down time of my open studio today.  That was the plan but when it came down to it, I wanted to paint or draw.  My flowers are starting to flower and it seemed to me that it might be interesting to visitors if I was doing something that reflects my current interests. While I was working on my little egg tempera, Fiona Camp, a fellow artist and sort-of neighbour came by. She was interested in egg tempera and had even done some herself.  She watched me paint, something I never really understand, but was willing to do. I was fine. I haven't finished...  something to do tomorrow if it's not too busy. I was pleased that I was integrating the various strands of what I am doing: portraiture, still life, egg tempera, painting on the spot and story telling.

What was also intersting about the day was that the picture I almost didn't frame was the favourite of three people. - an egg tempera of Lyra and Patrick on a cold morning. Who knew?

Little sketches in cracks of time

We had a lot of rain in Maine and as my mum had injured her back there was just that little bit more to do in the garden...so this year so I drew less and had less 'headspace' in general for imagery. I carried my altered sketch books to Maine, so was determined to use them when I could. Hopefully I will use these notes later.

We went off the island to do chores. My mother and I collected new vessels from Goodwill.  Back home when it rained, we made bouquets from whatever we could find in the garden. The hellebore was the star of the counter.

One of the things I did in my 'spare time' was to renovate my travelling pastel 'kit'. The pastels have been in saggy cardboard boxes that were falling apart for the past few years - all held together with elastic bands. This year the elastic bands broke in my hands and my backpack was a big grey mess. At the workshop I took with Felicity House, I discovered the power of using rice to keep the pastels from turning grey so I searched for some new clear screw-top holders and it is like magic! It was so hard to say goodbye to this new system that on the way to the airport I stopped to buy another set and have replicated it here.

Back home I'm just coming out of catch-up mode. In the 20 mins when I should have been heading to the house to get on with dinner prep, I paused and drew the stuff at the other end of my studio. One day I went to draw with the IBBAS artists at Old Hall in Southwold. Yesterday Christopher Lucas came by and sat for me.  When I have a chance I will return to the egg tempera portrait below. Today I called into the Handmade shop.  The work by our trail looked fabulous!

Fig comes back tomorrow and It's Suffolk Open Studios soon so it will be a struggle to find even little cracks of time to sketch in...

As Spring Becomes Summer

Tulip Blossom Pear, egg tempera on panel, 27x24 cm, 

I find that so much of what I begin with feels intuitive but may actually be intentional, even though my mind hasn't caught up with what I'm responding to yet. 

I picked some flowers from the garden, wanted to use the dress I'd impulsively bought at a charity shop that was a great colour and had a great pattern but that I would never wear. I liked the idea of the IBBI bowls inside one another… As I was matching things, trying to get the balance (without thinking about it) I chose some similar blue items with bits of bright red on them. I needed height and structure to work, orange, green, more fascia.  The last few items and re-arranging them always takes the most real looking and nudging time.  The green cup on the right came towards the end of the painting, not part of the original still life at all but necessary in the end.

So what's it all about? Why did I gravitate towards those colours in the first place? I'm not sure that I can answer truthfully now that I am done but it was starting to get hotter, the tulip and the figure has a blossom feel, it's all making me feel exuberant... but is that language or what I was looking at? It felt wholesome and fecund, how do you show that, create that mood? 

Which of the players in the arrangement did I want to focus on, what does that say about my mood, the season, my thinking?  Is it really just a case of nostalgia or that thing that I love about pattern and colour? You tell me.

An Afternoon of drawing with Annabel

drawing 4, Whatfield, - looking uphill at sun, 16 x 18 cm

Even though it was a bit misty, the pastel colours glowed yesterday. Annabel took me to some of her favourite spots.  I had my french easel that I use as a table and my travelling pastel 'kit' -just little bits of broken pastels in two tins: hots and colds. I also had some chinese ink, a couple of brushes and my sketchpads. 

drawing 1, Semer, Blackthorn and Hill, 17x 15 cm

drawing 3, Annabel and the Sheep, 16 x18 cm

drawing 4, The Colour of Spring, 12x13cm

Spring and the Still Life

Ibbi Bowls and Green, pastel on paper, 29x29cm

Lifetimes ago when we were living in Rome I went to the market and bought some peaches.  It must have been the summer.  I had a tablecloth of blue and white that I got at an off-cut supplier in Warwickshire and apparently it was the same upholstery fabric they'd used in the BBC studio.  It was calm and perfect for our table in Rome.  The peaches spilled out of my bag and I noticed the most divine still life. I brought my drawing pad into the kitchen and drew the scene in pastel and later painted it adding some made up china. 

Today I woke ready to incorporate the divine bowls I was sent by Claire McAlpine from IBBI interiors. Claire discovered my work on Instagram and ended up buying two pieces.  She sent me the bowls after an aside comment I made about loving their china. As I started putting together my set up, I couldn't help feeling the excitement I felt with the peaches in Rome.  I sold that painting to Lena and Hennig so only have the memory of it.

Last night I was in Colchester at a talk by Charlotte Verity.  Her work is beautifully spare and she explained that her still lifes are not just still lifes. I'm not sure mine are more but I think I do my best work when I feel enchanted by what I am looking at and like Charlotte sometimes my subject becomes a portrait. Perhaps these bowls were my people this time. 

Digressing, this morning Henry Finkelstien was talking about Chuck Close's comment,  “Inspiration is for amateurs; the rest of us just go to work”.  Everyone commenting disagreed with that. I think I remember Charles Williams or maybe Jason Bowyer saying he doesn't value 'work'. I know what he meant, the struggle is a particular way of being an artist. Then there's the playful thin. I know I'm for inspiration. and if you want to call my work nostalgic, and sometimes playful that's OK.

Drawing to fix things in time

Voluptuous Bouquet, pastel on paper, 23x22, 2019

For Mothers' day, Figgy got me a bouquet of flowers.  There were protea, some heather and some dried fuscia flowers. I had never had my own protea which was exciting. Today I combined some of the flowers with some tulips that have been in the house and were on their last legs and set up a new 'story'.  

Story suggests intentionality.  I liked the green in the kantha and found a green cup then my rubber stamp tin for the spots and for the cup to sit on … the figure is me, languishing in the scene. I suspended a fused plastic collage from a staple and then edited out the frame as I worked. The vase is a charity shop find, vintage Honiton, as I discovered.  It conjures up Duncan Grant for me. There is a deco linen tablecloth with a green, beige and ochre motif and a pashmina in the background. In the front, the kantha some velvet and the back of the velvet, a swatch of fabric from a fabric book and a mexican belt. As I drew the tulip moved and the leaves withered. I wanted to fix the bouquet and the only way to do it justice was to draw it. I had to learn a new language to say soemthign baout the protea.  

Tell me a story

Red Scholar, 23x22 cm, pastel on paper, 2019

When I was young I read The Borrowers. When our children were young I read them The Indian in the Cupboard. I wonder if my fascination with the still life as a genre comes from stories that captivated my imagination and were about things coming to life. 

Setting up a situation to draw becomes about story telling for me. I think I have a synesthesia thing about colour and stories.  I can't be any more specific than that but it's a visceral thing when the colours speak in the way the characters might.  The little blue demi-tasse in the front is some kind of blue! It is japanese and very delicate, probably not really to drink out of.  I bought two for under £2 from a Stowmarket charity shop and have been excited to draw (and share in the empathy of the colour) for days.