Egg Envy, egg tempera on panel, 30 x 20 cm, 

I set up a still life on Monday morning.  No more frivolous trips to the supermarket to buy  fancy spring flowers. Here we are in 'lockdown and it's ''make do and mend, 'victory garden' and 'pick your own'. Luckily my bulbs are coming up and a new roadside egg seller sells scrumptiously beautiful pastel coloured eggs!

My Monday stilllife was not peaceful and I had a lot of jobs to do (including sewing a cloth mask) so I got through the day without beginning it.  It is difficult to settle down in lockdown. On Tuesday morning I began again.  This set up was easy on my unsettled eyes so I stuck to it all day and thought about it when I woke in the middle of the night and continued today. 

I never thought I would paint a cat figurine, but I hadn't expected my mother would carry a cat figurine from Orlando and give it to me for Christmas. She must have known that on a Tuesday in March we'd all be social distancing and I'd need a little pastel coloured light relief. 

Sadie in under thirty minutes

Sadie, 20 minutes, 17 x 12 cm, pastel on paper 

 Sadie is slight and not tall.  Fitting her on the page when she is stretched out is problematic… she only fills a little of the space. I took the Felicity House approach to masking the background with white and then erased the white to find the body in the drawing at the top.  Sadie grew and shrank into the space until I got her proportions right and her right heel into the frame. I wasn't sure about the bright pink ground but surprise.  It worked.

Sadie, 10 minutes, 12 x 18 cm, pastel on paper

I suspect this drawing was less than ten minutes.  Sue had lost track of time and when she called time I had only just begun. Later we returned to the pose but Sadie's head was entirely different so I began again in a book.

Sadie, 25 minutes, 13 x 20 cm, pastel on book page

Sadie, 20 minutes, 13 x 16 cm, pastel on paper

Sadie, 10 minutes, 10 x 10 cm, pastel on paper

Taking an idea through

Stalking Spring, oil on canvas, 50 x 40 cm

Today I think I finished an oil painting. I haven't been painting in oils for months, maybe even a year or more. I love working in oil but getting started with it just seems to be a big commitment. I hate cleaning my brushes, I get paint all over me in a way no other media does and I have to move furniture to set things up to paint at an easel. I work in so many different media and lately it has felt like I have needed to work in those, for upcoming exhibitions. OIl has taken a back seat.  

I have heard myself telling people that what I like about egg tempera is that it dries so quickly and you can layer in the space of minutes, not days, like with oils. It isn't smelly and the clean up is simple. On Saturday I sat next to an RBA exhibititor at the dinner and she did intricate paintings with 'wet on wet' oils. I had already started this. I think I got out my oils because my last egg tempera felt like it could work better/needed a bigger scale. But after taling to Sue, I has a different attitude to the layers and the oils were different, not more cumbersome.

A5 oil sketch

 Before I began on the first day, I decided to do a small oil sketch on gessoed paper.  I have agreed to donate a few pieces (A5) for a fundraiser, to aid the animals that were affected in the Australian wildfires. I thought perhaps an oil sketch work.

working bigger

 I worked form life.  I realised I needed another motif on the left side, so added a bouquet on the second day to balance out the colour and shapes.

egg tempera Composition and Saint

This was the original idea,  painting.  I used a photo of a bowl/cup to imagine an alternative composition.  In the painting I have done the same.

Some Visual Storytelling in the 303rd RBA Exhibition

It's all so subjective… the way a painting can reach down into you and make you feel something. Yesterday I visited the Royal Society of British Painters for the private view. I have two pieces in the show and it was fun to see my work on the wall and watch people looking at them, reacting to them, but it was also a chance for me to see the work of those I admire and to speak to a few of the artists to say how much I am inspired by their work. I have chosen a few which, for me, are exquisite pieces of visual story-telling to share.  If you can, go to the exhibit which is on from today through the 29th of Feb.  You can see the catalogue here: https://www.mallgalleries.org.uk/whats-on/exhibitions/royal-society-british-artists-303rd-annual-exhibition-2020

Briget Moore

Bridget Moore 

Bridget Moore, above, tells stories about memories from childhood. As I peer into the windows of her past I am the child and feel my arms stretch, the hoop go round and hear the dog barking. Her beautiful sense of colour, texture, form, composition… these very strong, yet small, paintings stir me.

Robert E Wells

Robert Wells made one of my favourite paintings at last years' exhibition and this year his painting of his daughter was one which my family and I returned to often. He uses paint in a way that tells stories we can all remember too. He also evokes an age of painting and a fight with paint that makes his message especially poignant.

Below are two paintings by Alan Lambirth, but they are not the paintings in the exhibition. Alan doesn't have a presence on the internet, his work is not in the catalogue or in the online catalogue, so you will have to go to the exhibition to see his beautiful, beautifully framed vignettes of life. I think his work is all on the small wall, around the corner from my work.  Like everything I am showing you, I would have any of his on my wall! 

Alan Lambirth

Alan Lambirth Winner of the Michael Harding Award II
'Afternoon Tea'

Richard Sorrel

Richard Sorrel captures humanity with all its flaws.  His gestural people are both beautiful and amusing. Richard works on a small scale and on a large scale!

Shanti Panchal

Shanti Panchal evokes a world where the light is brighter and even the more mundane becomes exotic. I love his sense of colour, the way he builds his surface and how he can conjure a place with a face.

Melissa Scott-Miller

Melissa takes apart london life and reflects it back to us so we are part of it. I have watched her work and her process is unique and results in these slices of London life that are instantly recognizeable and tell her story and our story. Up close the detail and the way she dabs paint unlocks a unique vision.

Annie Boisseau

When I think of Annie Boisseau I think of smaller oils painted on board.  They are each little gems. This luminous oil on canvas stopped us all in our tracks, though… It is bigger and what colour! Annie sketches outside and works in her studio to paint. The quality of light, the abstracted nature of the paint blend to create a place that you want to walk into.

John Pryke does something similar with pastel. His sky makes me look up at all skies, to feel I am there during the day and to promise to look harder the next time I am out at night.

John Pryke

The work I had accepted for this show is different to the work I responded viscerally to at the exhibition.  That is curious.  A few years ago I read Art as Therapy, https://www.amazon.co.uk/Art-as-Therapy-Alain-Botton/dp/0714865915/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=art+as+therapy&qid=1582196235&sr=8-1

by Alan De Boton and John Armstrong  which postulates that one thing we find in art is what we don't have, or what we need in order to balance ourselves. 

I work in a few different media to do different things in the work I make. You can see the variety on my website. https://www.rebeccaguyverart.com 

When I talked to Alan and Bridget we all agreed that you do what you do. When I bumped into Mary (in front of Bridget Moore's work) who I met at a course delivered by Daniel Shadbolt, we agreed that there is something special in ambiguity.

Rebecca Moss Guyver - Colour of Dahlias after Frost

Rebecca Moss Guyver - We Three Kings

A crush of visitors at the Mall Galleries

Hope you get a chance to visit this wonderful show! there was much much more that I liked and loved.  I'm sure you will find your own too.

New model and some dramatic poses

What the post brought, Emily G, pastel drawing in altered sketchbook

It's always fun to draw a new model in Sudbury Life Drawing Group. Emily G is a performance artist who works mostly with children. I was on the side of the room with the light at my back, close to the model, so for once I could see really well. That didn't mean my drawings were better, though. Of the seven I made, these three were the best. Two ten-minute poses and the portrait which was about 25 mins. Emily has some large tattoos.  You can see one peeking over her shoulder.

10 minute pose, Emily G, charcoal on paper

Head back, Emily G, charcoal on paper

Poor Emily found almost immediately that her neck was hurting in this pose, so she tilted her head back further... rather than change the shapes, I left the head unfinished. 

I'm not sure when I made these  pastel drawings in my altered sketchbook, A Bold Venture, of Terry… it may have been the same day as what happened next.

A Shattering Blow, Terry, pastel drawing in altered sketchbook

Quenched Flames, pastel drawing in altered sketchbook

A Friend in Need, pastel drawing in altered sketchbook

The last time I drew Terry I began by covering my paper in vine charcoal and used the subtractive method of drawing to begin. As it turned out, that was a good warm-up for Terry's unusual scenario next...

Add caption

Terry had brought a big piece of plastic sheeting which he draped over himself. It forced even the most figurative of us to work more abstractly.

Composition and St Francis

Composition and St Francis, egg tempera on panel 16 x 23 cm

There is that game that writers play where they try to put random words in their text.  This still life is certainly a random mix of objects. And I had this idea as I was composing a still life another time that it would be interesting to print out some other objects (besides the myriad that I have collected - too many) to place in front of the actual different objects. Sometimes I change the objects into other objects than are in front of me in the painting process, but in this case it would be declaritvely not what it appears.

Since a still life is really just an arrangement of shapes and colours, by having a paper version of exactly the colour and shape I want, it would be playful and self-conciously direct, I thought - maybe.

I guess it turned out to be Mary Fedden meets surrealism! 

Inside out and Sauerkraut

Inside Out and Sauerkraut, egg tempera on panel, 30 x 20cm

Sometimes when I set up a still life I get really excited because the beauty of the colour relationships and shapes just feels right. On Sunday, when I put this together (minus the tulips and plums) I couldn't wait to get started.  First I needed some tulips and some fruit. I raced to Stowmarket before the shops shut and had to visit two stores and there were only yellow tulips available. I thought the plums would work. 

From the start, this was a stop and go still life - I've had a busy week. Busy because the first three days of my week I leave the studio for as much as half the day: Once for life drawing; once for portrait group and once for Pilates.  This week I also met up with three artists.  And it was also the culmination of the Impeachment Hearings so my podcasts and live stream filled the studio with intrigue.  

I named the painting from a line in an opinion column, a line that seemed to me like the perfect metaphor for the world we inhabit at the moment. I don't find the radio distracting. Painting takes over and fills my brain -  I turn the 'inside out and Sauerkraut' into something else - dabs of colour on a support, that make me feel happy. Returning to the painting again and again, gave me the opportunity to look again and again and  time to think.  Yesterday I got to that place when I couldn't make what I was painting work and then I remembered that it was time to stop painting exactly what I saw in front of me.  I needed to create a version of the stilllife that had the feel that seeing the colours and shapes had instiled in me when I began.  That's a funny thing I find happens. The most exciting beginnings often become the longest toughest slogs.  Can you tell?