daviddrawsandpaints

Over the Sea to Skye

2011-10-27T20:17:00.001+01:00

This blog is in grave danger of becoming inert and as unchanging as my socks, stuck in aspic you might say, and in need of a bloody great shove to overcome the inertia that has become as negligently pervasive as the space between my ears.

So in order to counteract that freefall I offer these small delights to keep y’all from pining and nodding off:

A short while ago my darling wife and I set off on the Road to the Isles (with the far Cuillins calling us away…anybody know that song: "Oh, The far cuillins are calling me away as step I with my crummock to the road…" fills yer hert wi joy! [don‘t know whit a crummock is so don‘t ask) to sample some unpolluted air and paddle a while in the ice-cold briney oceans around the dead romantic Hebridean island of Skye. The good news is that we no longer had to take a ferry-boat like some latter-day Flora McDonald and Prince Charlie(me being Charlie, of course) since they built the Skye Bridge - a big lump o’ a thing that flies you over from the Kyles of Lochalsh to land on the island without getting your feet wet.

A wonderful place on this earth. And peaceful too…ahh, I can still smell the tangle o’ the isles as I fondly reminisce.

Very little actual sketching done with so much grandeur on every side - endless seascapes to the horizon and atmospheric skies, rugged mountains and peaceful bays, lots of sheep and heilan’ coos, nae midges (too late in the season), and some excellent music at night in the Isles Bar.

Here is the sum total of my efforts, including one painting that sprung from my memories of a very special island:

Loch Leathan (the skinny bit between the hills in the distance and the scrub in the foreground), felt pen on paper, A4.

"Heartland", a husband and wife duo in the Isles Bar, pencil on paper, A5.

I liked the way this ended up with the girl flying over her husbands head like a pair of Chagall lovers.

"Kate on the Fiddle" pencil on paper, A5.

"Da Ferry Reel", pencil on paper, A5

Makes you want to get up and dance, especially wi' a few pints in ye!

Sgeir nan S'dhean (Waterstein Head), felt pen on paper, A4x2.

So windy at this most westerly point my bunnet and my rug nearly blew away!

"Beinn Bhreac and Loch Bay", felt pen on paper, A4x2.

The dark clouds gathered and heavy slanting rain rushed across the bay just to make me feel alive.

And from some of these sketches came this response:

"Red Headland and Dark Cloud", acrylics on hardboard, 45x61cm.

I hope you all have had as good a summer's break as I have and are cooking up your own storms!

Change

2011-06-26T07:20:00.000+01:00

Change is the one constant in life. Wanting to maintain the status quo we often resist it, but eventually we must embrace it.

There have been major changes in my life recently, and not just becoming a grand-parent, but in many other ways too, some good and some not so good. Such is life. And there are more changes on the way, so there has been little time for blogging at present which is not to say I haven’t been thinking of you lot, I just haven’t been able to keep up with all that’s going on for me and write about it as well.

So this is to say that it may be a little while before I get back to a more settled state and feel like blethering with yous again.

The good news for you art lovers out there is that drawing and painting is still my number one concern. It may no longer be the second career I hoped for but it is still my principal occupation.

And one thought I’ll leave you with for the present is: what do you do with all the artwork created when there is no more room left in your studio to turn around?

Hasta la vista!

Acrylics on canvas, 50x70cm.

Dhanakosa Day 2

2011-06-09T20:52:00.000+01:00

Another wet day. Dark clouds depositing everything they have on top of us - wouldn't be Scotland otherwise.

Beginning to get the idea that I am better off out on my own even if frequent showers catch me without warning. Not exactly ideal weather for painting watercolours - the paint refuses to dry with so much moisture in the air., but I start with a small pastel sketch to capture one moment:

Neocolours in Sketchbook, A6 x2.

I quite enjoy working at this scale, but of course I always try to put too much into it.

Further on I come across this stand of tall pines with just the merest glimpse of the loch:

Neocolours in Sketchbook, A5 x2.

Another sudden shower catches me unaware and splatters the page disolving some of the Neocolour pastel. I like it.

I dive under a beech tree humming a happy tune and wait while the rain batters down. Now this is the perfect moment for meditating on the impermanence of life.

After a while I venture out and the sun is shining once again so I wander along my merry way and down closer to the loch I am attracted to these trees on the shoreline:

Felt pen and watercolour in Sketchbook, A4.

What a beautiful place to sit sheltered from passing showers and a fresh breeze blowing through to keep them pesky flies from my fevered brow. Blue is, of course, my natural response, but what if...?

What if I let myself go for a moment and paint how I FEEL about it?

Orange felt pen and watercolour in Sketchbook, A5 x2.

This small double sketch is much more satisfying...I am getting out of my head and down into my gut.

A happy day but hark, I hear the bell summoning me to Metta Bhavana meditation when I shall engender some loving kindness towards my fellow human beans. But not the one I am sharing a room with who snores and farts!

Dhanakosa

2011-06-07T11:25:00.000+01:00

I had always wondered what it would be like to go on a “painting” holiday, and listening to others at the Glasgow Buddhist Centre talking of the meditation retreats they had been on I always wondered what that would be like too (this is why they call me The Wonder Boy). Last week I finally fulfilled both these things by going on a Painting and Meditation Retreat at one of the WBO’s centres in the Scottish Highlands at Dhanakosa on the shores of Loch Voil.

And I am cured. The boxes are ticked but never to be repeated.
On arrival, Friday evening, the first thing I was asked to do was put my name down for six (that’s right, 6) work activities ranging from breakfast prep and tidy away, food prep with the cook (vegetarian), dishes wash-up, kitchen cleaning, toilet cleaning, hoovering, etc. I agreed to do dishes wash-up on Saturday and Monday, morning noon and night. As luck would have it I actually only carried out one of those duties since two sisters, who arrived late, (both young, lively, and very beautiful) offered to take over all but one of my duties. Must have been my boyish charm! Sadly they then both left after a few days unable to stand it any longer, and I can’t blame them.
Instead of focusing on the negative aspects, however, I prefer to just tell you about the drawing and painting I did. Well, that’s what this blog is supposed to be about, ain’t it?
Day 1:
Saturday was the first full day of drawing activity starting with drawing flowers brought in from the garden. A pleasant enough activity and interesting to see everybody’s drawing capability but there were the seeds of my discontent right there: working alongside other people. I thought that I would like to do that kind of thing but when it came to it I was disconcerted. I couldn’t concentrate on the work for chatting - theirs, and mine!

Centaurea, pencil and watercolour on paper, A2

In the afternoon, even though it was quite wet we were allowed out to play and the task was to use charcoal and consider the landscape in tone:

Value Study #1, charcoal on paper, A4.

Value Study #2, charcoal on paper, A4.

Value Study #3, charcoal on paper, A4.

The sky was alive with swallows and martins swooping and diving. It's a long way to come from Africa just to catch our midges, but good on them I say!

Value Study #4, charcoal on paper, A4.

Value Study #5, charcoal on paper, A4.

Beginning to feel the more abstract qualities already after just a few sketches.

Value Study #6, charcoal on paper, A4.

Value Study #7, charcoal on paper, A4.

Moving on from just using charcoal I began to introduce some lines in ink:

Value Study #8, charcoal and ink on paper, A4.

Then, finally, I dispensed with the charcoal and just made these two ink drawings:

Hill and Sky Study #9, ink in sketchbook, A6.

Mountain Stream Study #1, ink in sketchbook, A6.

The best thing about it all was being out again in the living landscape (after months in the studio) with mountain, loch and sky before me and a rucksac of art materials and a fold-away chair.

This is my kind of meditation.

Arran 2011

2011-05-15T20:21:00.000+01:00

I go away for a week and get lost for another fortnight! Such is life. The problem is, even when you are working like a dervish, the minute you take a break the whole impetus collapses and you find a million other things needing done before you can bring your mind back to heel and restart work again. Well it is for me.

I thought I'd share the little of my holiday that I actually produced. Having taken a load of art materials with me expecting to be languishing around with little else to do I found the actuallity quite different with long walks through highland glens and paddling in the briney ocean taking most of my time.

On occassion I got to sit basking in the warm sunshine and observe nature going about it's business, in this case a bit of lovey-dovey:

Twin Terns, ink in sketchbook, A6.

What a racket these two made plighting their troth!

Even inanimate objects can exude the wondrous diversity of Nature. These rocks have been baring the brunt of biting wind and tides for millenia and their stoicism in the face of adversity give a foothold to bladderwrack:

Ink in Sketchbook, A6.

Spring is definitely in the air and these two have got the future in mind. Just as well it's fun for there's nothing like a cauld blast from the Urals to dampen yer ardour:

Wagtails of the Pied variety. Ink in sketchbook, A6.

After miles of walking it's good to park yourself for a few hours on a sand-dune and watch the gannets plunging dive and white-sailed yachts drift over a glassy sea, and watch dogs mad with liberation run their hearts out along the waters edge. Then suddenly, the sun slips over the yard-arm and it's time for tea:

Looking South from Drumadoon Bay. Ink in sketchpad, A6.

After a whole week of walter-wall sunshine on our last day deep in Glen Rosa the rain finally comes pouring off the mountains:

Creag Rosa. Pencil in sketchbook, A6.

Butit is with a tinge of sadness that we leave this Island of Dreams. A dead Shearwater lies on the beach as in sleep but lifeless:

Shearwater. Acrylics on board, 34x61cm.

The world turns and we move on.

A happy holiday nonetheless.

We Are Sailing

2011-04-22T20:30:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow we are off to the rainy Island of Arran so I thought I would post this painting before I go:

Mixed media on board, 59x87cm.

The important element in this is that when I do my Subconscious Musings each morning I do them on A1 paper. But on Tuesday there my Musing got more and more extended to the point that it has become a painting in it's own right:

Acrylics and oil pastel on paper, A1.

The obvious question which arose was: "Aye, but can you do it directly on a board responding only to your inner being and without a safety net?

You bet your sweet bippies I can.

And I did.

See y'all in a couple o' weeks when I get back from Arran weather-beaten and brown as a berry.

We are sailing,

we are sailing,

across the sea,

to have our tea (just made that bit up).

Scratchings

2011-04-17T20:06:00.000+01:00

Still searching for the image that says "abstract" while expresses "figure":

Acrylics on canvas, 30x40cm.

I feel that I'm getting closer.

The real step forward for me here is scratching through one colour to get to the colour below. That requires thinking ahead which, of course, is my forte.

Aye, right!

Snakeshead

2011-04-14T18:18:00.000+01:00

Fritilaria meleagris to be precise. Coming up everywhere in the garden they are. Except the ones my darling wife planted - turns out she put them in upside down, so all you Aust-raa-lians down under, "Cheers Mates, g'day, and enjoy!"

'Saturnus'

Pencil and watercolour in sketchbook, A4

'Alba'

Pencil and watercolour in sketchbook, A4

'Charon'

Pencil and watercolour in sketchbook, A4

The 'Snakeshead' common name refers to the resemblance these flowers have, with their scale-like markings and open mouth, to the head of a cobra.

Nice.

Peter Tudhope at Gracefield

2011-04-09T20:59:00.000+01:00

A fabulous summer-like day and a fine drive through wonderful countryside south from Glasgow to Dumfries and the Gracefield Arts Centre where we went to see some very fine paintings by fellow blogger, Peter Tudhope.

The main gallery:

A very nice venue but who is that wummin posing for her photie?

Gallery 2 set in beautiful mature gardens:

Environmental sculpture by Charlie Poulson:

No idea what it's about...

A corner of the cafe where Peter's paintings are displayed:

A nice space and a nice lunch surrounded by excellent paintings.

Another view:

There's that wummin again...I think she's following me! "Paintings?", "What paintings?" "Another coffee, please!" - that's all I get....
Actually all joking aside it was great to see Peter's painting 'in the flesh' so to speak - bold, energetic, and powerful strokes of colour that a computer screen hardly does any justice to. Much to enjoy and ponder on. My favourite is Galloway Hills which was the complete package - great colours and brush-strokes set off well in just the right frame. And I hope he doesn't mind me saying that his "Treescape" is pure Soutine - all slanty and expressive brush-strokes!

Congratulations on the exhibition, Peter!

Rhubarb

2011-04-03T20:24:00.000+01:00

Spring is rushing up on us here in Scotland and this can be seen potently with the bursting forth of brand new rhubarb leaves:

Neocolours in sketchbook, A4x2.

First drawing looking down on top of the 'barb stalks shows that give-away pale bulb of a flowering-head which will have to come off before too long if I want to have any stalks worth eating.

Second drawing from the side of my second clump is much more refined and will provide me with lots of strong stalks to bake in my crumble:

Neocolours in sketchbook, A4x2.

The ice-cream is in the freezer and the oven is warming in anticipation.

Good things come to those who wait.

Scratch My Back.

2011-04-01T20:56:00.000+01:00

A number of weeks ago while travelling home from Glasgow on the train I started doodling in my brand new A5 sketchpad. This is one of the pages in which I was considering what it would look like to try to scratch that annoying itch on my back when I could hardly reach it (lower sketch):

Ink on paper, A5.

This was developed a few days ago with a B&W value study first:

Neocolours on paper, A5.

...then a whole series of colour studies trying different colour combinations culminating in this one where I made a fantastic leap of the imagination to use orange and red to show where the irritation was just out of reach of my finger-tips:

Ink and Neocolours washed on paper, A3.

...don't know why it didn't occur to me earlier but there you are - the process has to be gone through and, with perseverance, there it is when it was in fact obvious all along.

And then, just as obvious when it happens, I see that the whole image needs to be turned upside down for the legs finally to take on the same contortions of the arms to express the madness of having an itch that cannot be reached!:

Charcoal and Neocolour on paper, A2.

I have got no idea how to paint it, but the good news is that my darling wife was able to put me out of my misery with a well-placed scratch after I put new batteries in Thomas the Tank Engine for her :o)

Prior to all this cavorting around the day was started, as usual, with a bit of Subconscious Musing:

Charcoal, ink, acrylics on paper, 59x87cm.

So, all-in-all a very good day and satisfying too, and no more itchy back. What more could a boy ask for?

Jacqui's New Laptop

2011-03-17T19:47:00.000Z

And now for something completely different...

Jacqueline enters the 21st Century and shows off her amazing computing skills with her brand new laptop:

Well, you can't be glum all the time!!!

Tsunami

2011-03-14T20:41:00.000Z

Charcoal and acrylics on paper, 59x83cm.

This is beyond words.

Double Three!

2011-02-19T20:17:00.000Z

Which is not bad at all since it adds up to a 6! [for all you inadequate innumerate adders out there]. And this six takes me forward and up a short ladder to a land of great promise, sunshine and twittering birdies (except I shouldn’t get too carried away for ye never know the next snake around the corner). But we’ll have no negative thinking here, for a corner has indeed been turned and it’s full steam ahead, damn the torpedoes:

"Fun Fur Two", Acrylics on canvas, 31x23cm.

"High Ball", Acrylics on canvas, 31x23cm.

"Emma", Acrylics on canvas, 31x23cm.This is my favourite of the three since it is closer to what my intentions really are.

Square One.

2011-02-11T19:21:00.007Z

It seems that while I thought I was engaging in real life, ducking and diving as usual, I was, in fact, playing a game of Snakes & Ladders!
You know how it goes: roll the dice and with a bit of luck you scoot along rising up the board with each throw, sometimes slipping back now and again (darn it) only to forge ahead at others by climbing up the ladders of great promise. Onwards and upwards, get outa ma way dinnae haud me back, - then, when you think you are heading down the home straight, cheering crowds on either side, riding high on a double-six, wham-bam thank-you-maam you’ve hit the longest slithery snake two boxes from the end and in a flash find yourself at the very bottom again next to square one. Expletives deleted.

I find that games are often analogies for real life, but wish I had been playing ‘Go For Broke’ instead ( I am very good at that game, unlike Monopoly which no one in our household wants ever to play at with me again because they say I don’t know when to give in).

Which leads me (neatly) to my main theme which is: I am still here, and even though I have given it serious thought, I will not give in! [Cherry Pie and Ice Cream, which I have just had put in front of me, helps an awful lot].
Instead, after much thought and contemplation - a long period of reflection and contemplation in the silence of my own empty head, I decide that continue I must. There is still so much I want to accomplish and the place to start is...at Square One, with charcoal in my hand:

The Polka Dot dress, all charcoal on cartridge paper, A2.

Now these this might seem a bit shaky but a boy has to re-start somewhere!

[Dedicated to Melanie “One Cow at a Time“]

Bottoms Up!

2010-12-04T19:17:00.002Z

After an almighty struggle Harry finally gave in and fell asleep for his afternoon nap beside his Pappa and, after a while, I managed to sneak away and get some pastels and paper. I couldn't get round to see his face but thought the bums-up position was good enough to draw:

Neocolours on cartridge paper, A3.

Pre-Walking Harrison

2010-11-26T20:24:00.005Z

See on a Monday when we look after Harry it's the greatest pleasure and hardest test of our endurance!

He is such a bag of tricks for a wee baby not-yet-able-to-walk I am totally exhaused by five-o'clock when his daddy comes to take him home.

But what fun! Endless games of knock-the-box-over, and Old MacDonald, and wibbly-wobblies on unsure legs, and how-come-you've-got-all-those-teeth-and I have only got two?

How on earth do you capture any of that high-octane activity?

Snap-shots:

Watercolour pencils in sketchpad, A5.

This ones like Golom!
Watercolour pencils in sketchpad, A5.

I can do up-side-down!

Watercolour pencils in sketchpad, A5.

Raspberry to you, Pappa!

Watercolour pencils in sketchpad, A5.

Ah, if only I was ten years younger.

I wouldn't be a grand-pappy!

Roxy Bar Flies

2010-11-21T19:52:00.005Z

Reliving past glories here, since I am presently incapable of doing any drawing or painting.

This goes back to our first camping expedition this year in May when we visited Girvan on the coast of the Firth of Clyde, overlooking Ailsa Craig, and in the evenings downed a few pints in the hottest pub in town: The Roxy Bar.

And, as is my want, I sketch the clientel in all their Saturday Nite glory:

Pencil in Sketchbook, A6 x 3, #1

Pencil in Sketchbook, A6 x 3, #2

Pencil in Sketchbook, A6 x 3, #3

Pencil in Sketchbook, A6 x 2, #4

I liked the diamond cut-away sections of the back of this lassies dress.

And finally three american golfers who thought they had died and gone to heaven to be playing golf in Scotland AND spending an evening in the company of these sirens out on the town looking for a good time:

Pencil in Sketchbook, A6 x 3, #5

And I think they found it.

A good time was had by all!

The Long Black Coat

2010-11-05T19:47:00.003Z

I don't know if this is just a reflection of the mood I'm in or whether I just saw the graphic potential of her Long Black Coat with Fur Collar?

Since I can't get to Life Drawing Group at the moment and being perpetually skint, I have "employed" my darling wife to model for me once-a-week:

Pose #1, Charcoal on cartridge paper, A2.

Pose #2, Charcoal on cartridge paper, A2.

Pose #3, Charcoal on cartridge paper, A2.

Well, I might as well get something for the nine-and-sixpence SHE paid for the marriage license!

Degas Devotions

2010-11-01T09:22:00.006Z

I am writing this post in response to a new artist I have just met in Bloggerland, degasblog, and our common interest in the art of Edgar Degas, and also in ballet dance.

Myra_plus_paint_plus_degas (as she is otherwise known) and I share a mutual enjoyment not only of looking at Degas's work but also of making studies of his drawings and paintings, in particular those of the ballet dancers, always hoping to learn and hopefully have some of his magical ability rub off.

For me it's his pastel drawings that attract my greatest interest - the quality of his figure drawings and the pastel techniques that I love so much.

We are very fortunate here in the West of Scotland to have some terrific works exhibited in our Burrell Museum and Gallery in Pollock Park where I frequently spend many hours visiting. And, of course, making my own studies:

"The Green Dress".

"Behind the Scenes".

I have also tried my hand at painting in the same style in oils:

"The Rehersal Room".

and:

"Taking a Break Behind the Scenes".

As those of you who have been visiting this blog for a while will know whenever I attend any live performance I always make my own sketch impressions of the action and about two years ago made a series of sketches from Scottish Ballet production of Sleeping Beauty. These, along with sketches from Les Ballets Trocadero de Monte Carlo, were later to form the basis of five paintings done in February last year for Project 2 of my painting Course.

Now, I haven't made this posting in order to brag about anything I have managed to do but more as a conversation piece and sharing of artistic pleasures. And it has also given me a happy opportunity to look back again at stuff I have done and wonder anew as to how on earth it all came about!

Firth of Clyde

2010-10-30T19:50:00.005+01:00

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside,
Oh, I do like to be beside the sea....

Today found me with an hour to spend while I waited on my darling wife coming home on the ferry from her week's sojourn on Arran. The island was hardly discernable across the firth with dark clouds and mist and the sea between a brilliant shade of blue/purple and green:

Ink in small sketchbook, A6x2.

The tide was rapidly coming in and a strong breeze blowing: I found it exhilarating.

I also find rock-pools fascinating:

Ink and spit in small sketchbook, A6.

I can sea whole different worlds and great abstract shapes. Didn't find any crabs or whelks, or shrimps this time but I know they are lurking there waiting for high tide to liberate them.

Lay-zee Boy

2010-10-28T19:25:00.005+01:00

I took a few sketchpads and sketchbooks on holiday with me to Puerto Pollensa at the beginning of October along with watercolours, pastels and various other drawing implements, and apart from one day on the beach the only other time I pulled my little A6 sketchbook out was whiling the afternoon away at Club Pollenca cafe where I could order a constant stream of coffees and watch all the people - holiday-makers and locals - pass by.

Here's the first five:

Pencil in sketchbook, A6. #1

Pencil in sketchbook, A6. #2

Pencil in sketchbook, A6. #3

Pencil in sketchbook, A6. #4

Pencil in sketchbook, A6. #5

Each one is often jotted down after having only the merest glimpse, for example the little girl on her daddy's shoulders was "snapped" in my mind's eye when he stopped very briefly to read the menu outside the restaurant.

Don't these people realise they are being captured for posterity?

No wonder I have trouble sleeping at night!

Grace Hartigan

2010-10-27T19:43:00.006+01:00

I'm not sure where the original idea sprung from but I found myself searching out the work of Grace Hartigan, one of the American Abstract Expressionists...but with a difference. Mostly her work is based on figures and some more abstract than others.

Grace apparently spent a lot of time searching for figurative and abstract meaning in her "inner" and "outer" world. This has great resonance for me:

"Mott Street", Oils on canvas, 198x182cm.

Another painting, "The Massacre" painted in 1952 also resonates strongly with me:

It reminds me of a much smaller acrylic painting I made in 2002 which I called "Spot The Ball":

Acrylics on board, 30x40cm.

But, while I am currently researching the work of Hartigan the real joy behind this blog was when I Googled her name and came up with a whole bunch of Graces' paintings I was also surprised and thrilled to find a link to Melinda's "Shamans" included (albeit on page 15!). But why should I be so surprised for what Melinda has created is as good as anything Grace has done.

Amen.

Still Clinging On

2010-10-24T19:04:00.004+01:00

I'm like a mountain-climber taking on the North Face of the Eiger, alone and without crampons or a safety rope, clawing my way up the ice-bound faces by my fingernails (sends a shivver down yer spine!!!) knowing there is a point when I CAN claim the top is mine but cannot see it through the shrouding mist and wind-blown snow, exhausted but still clinging on, talking to myself (and getting quite coherent answers back), telling myself "I can do this", but always fearful I will lose my footing and plumet to the depths (been there alreadys), lacking oxygen and only a cheeky little shiraz to keep me going, urged on by many ethereal voices (some telling me they have the exact spanner size I'm looking for), when a shaft of light breaks forth and with frost encrusted nasal hairs I find the strength to....More Next Week.

In the meantime I am back my holidays, had a week recovering from 10hour delayed flights (never going abroad again) and a bout of the flu (which I still haven't recovered from yet and tomorrow I'm flying solo for the first time with wee Harry since his Nanna has deserted me yet again for another holiday with her sister on Arran [so watch out pottery]...I'm sure Harry will survive, but will I?)

Back to the North Face: It's within my grasp, but still it eludes me...I'm almost there (I can feel it) but it requires a supreme effort.

I know I am getting closer:

Mixed Media on board, 42x61cm.

Half close your eyes and hopefully you will see what I mean.

Subconscious Musing

2010-09-24T19:00:00.008+01:00

I've been doing this kind of thing for many years now but only recently have I made it a regular, daily, happening, and also dramatically changed the scale at which I am musing on. Previously it was always small "thumbnails" but, inspired by the daily emaki studies of Mayako Nakamura, a young, gifted student from Tokyo, in Japan, I have taken to make my own musings A1 size. This allows much more scope for the experience and memory inherent in the blood and bones and muscles of my arm to come into play.

The idea is, instead of launching into trying to paint the usual visual reality straightaway when entering the studio, I try to give expression to the other, unseen, reality first. Loosens up the arm and gets me thinking about abstract elements before I give them figurative descriptions:

Acrylics and black Neocolour pastel on paper, A1.

When I take my musing as far as I can at the time I then stand back and can often see the potential for solidifying these feelings into something more tangible and what arises is a painting like this:

Mixed Media on primed board, 42x61cm.

It may be a "road less travelled" but I know there is a road ahead somewhere along this grassy path, and where it leads is the adventure of my life.

Back to the Future

2010-09-16T19:33:00.008+01:00

Well here I am living in my bedouin tent somewhere in the wilderness of Western Sahara smokin' my hookah and trying to find the Meaning of Life and where my rounded edges fit with the square holes I have dug for myself, raising goats and milking camels, and fending off dark eyed beauties, and when I have time a little drawing and painting to while away the weary hours between sun-up and sunset. Not a bad life and something I could become accustomed to and yet there is the call to arms and what the hell is that camel-driver doing with my brushes?
In this state of in-between I turn first to Subconscious Musings to let my inner mind have it's say and because my fragile mind can't take too much excitement:

Mixed media on paper, 60x87cm.

Automatic painting with no design thoughts just whatever arises from within (anyone got a spanner?)

Then I return to things I know best: drawing with charcoal and straightforward painting with no intentions to bend reality:

Jacqueline's New Dress 1
Charcoal on paper, 61x42cm.

Jacqueline's New Dress 2
Charcoal on paper, 61x42cm.

Jacqueline's New Dress and Coat
Charcoal on paper, 61x42cm.

This is her outfit for Harry's christening this coming Sunday.

Jacqueline's New Dress
Mixed media: Acrylics and collage on primed paper, 61x42cm.

Was that a mosquito buzzing in my ear?

She really suits this type of dress. Reminds me of her style as a young woman.

Three Artists...

2010-08-17T14:28:00.004+01:00

…who happen to be women.

Last week (before our failed camping trip - broken tent-pole [say no more]) we set off for the Edinburgh Festival by train to see two current exhibitions of paintings. The first is of Impressionist paintings gathered from around the world and is getting big licks in newspaper reviews. Unfortunately it is also attracting huge crowds with airport-style queuing systems to get in. Not for me. Gave it a miss for the time being and hopefully in a month or so, after the Festival has packed up and gone, we will try again.
Their present loss however was undoubtedly our gain for in order to escape the crush and madness that is Princes Street and Waverley Gardens we headed out to peace and quiet of The Royal Botanic Gardens to see the other exhibition that is also getting big licks: Joan Mitchell at Inverleith House.
Now, with all this thrill and excitement coursing through my veins I enjoy what I call “delayed gratification”. It’s good for the soul, I believe (and a bit nutty). It means not rushing headlong to the object of your desire but holding off with other diversions first.
So, first stop along the way was into the Open Eye Gallery where they are showing my kinda stuff:

Barbara Rae

Colourful, loud, highly expressive abstracts based on landscape or as I would have it - semi-abstract landscape painting. A lot what I would have liked my semi-abstract figures to have been.
Next stop, the Scottish Gallery, in Dundas Street where they are showing new work by another Scottish artist, Victoria Crowe. Quite different to Rae’s work, quieter, more refined even, and very beautiful. In my less exuberant moments I sometimes paint like this. But not often. I am inspired again by both of these artists, but not as much as I am about to be by the third, non-Scottish artist on my itinerary, although I don’t see any reason not to make her an honorary Scot: Lady Joan of Inverleith perhaps?

What a fabulous park The Royal Botanic Gardens is. I need to get back there again soon, on my own, just to sketch and paint the wonderful parkland views. But it is to Inverleith House which stands on a promontory in the park and the exhibition I have come to see.
Greeted at the door by this fantastic poster I immediately buy one just in case there is a sudden rush and I am left disappointed:

“Untitled, 1969”

Inverleith House is an old 18th century mansion converted into an art gallery with spacious rooms, white walls and natural wood floors, large windows with a lovely quality of light flooding in, and views of the park looking out. What a wonderful place to show these monumental canvases:

“Cypress”

Well, it's big, but not that big, it's just that Jacqui is so small!

And smaller rooms showing some of her pastel studies:

“Untitled, 1992”
I wish that eejit would get outa the way and let me photograph the picture!

In the basement study room a 58 minute video was showing which was fascinating to listen to Joan, as an elderly lady, talking about her life and work. The quality of filming wasn’t always good and the soundtrack often hard to follow, but still so much to get from it:

“I paint from landscapes of the memory I carry with me - and feelings from the memory of them which naturally become transformed…I prefer to leave nature to itself. I do not intend to improve it…I could never mirror it. I love most of all what it leaves inside me”.

And this quote by her gallery owner, Robert Williams: “If only you were French, and male, and dead!”. I’m sure that may resonate with many of you ladies out there.

I liked this one - Joan says: “While out walking one morning (in New York) I met Hans (Hofmann) who says: ‘Why aren’t you working?!”.

And this one is for Melinda: “I often painted at night (in Paris). When it got light I went to sleep”.

So, three more women painters, each one inspiring me to get back painting again.

Now where did I put my brushes after cleaning out the budgie-cage?

Figurative Artists

2010-08-05T18:12:00.015+01:00

Last week I was pleasantly surprised to receive complimentary comments on both this site and my Semi-Abstract Figurative Paintings blogsite. Nothing new in that I hear you say since I get them all the time (or at least only the ones I allow you to see) but this time there was an added compliment which I was extremely pleased to accept at first asking - to join a new online registry of Figurative Artists being created by the loudest artist (her own words) I have ever met in Bloggerland: Paula O'Brien.

This would provide me with a direct link into my own principal website (www.davidcornelius.co.uk) which I set-up five years ago.

The big issue, common to many artists I hear, was that for the past two years while I was focused solely on the OCA Course, my own website was languishing in the doldrums. I often thought it was about time to re-jig the site and make it much more specific to figure painting but was always far too busy. This invite from Paula was just what I needed - no more summer holidays for me...it was time to get down to business!

With inclusion in Paula's new registry I could not allow any unsuspecting visitors to freefall into the assorted ragbag that was my official website. So I set about re-building it from scratch. And here is the results if you wish to have a look yourself: www.davidcornelius.co.uk

Now all of this raises the next, obvious, question - what do I expect from this sooper-dooper streamlined website? And more importantly, what do I expect from the production of my fabulous artwork?

Originally I had dreams of my opening show in New York, but with the passing years I will be lucky if I ever get anything accepted in Glasgow. You see, I have been hiding my talents under a bush. I know I need to promote myself more because I have always wanted my art to be at least be self-sustaining. So over the next few weeks I will be turning my mind to developing a strategy to try to sell at least one painting before the year is out.

"String of Pearls", oils on canvas, 40x30cm.

Any offers?

Poetry at Dove Cottage

2010-07-12T11:09:00.006+01:00

This will be the last post for a bit while I take off again in search of The Great Outdoors.

And a poetic one it will be.

The day before we left the Lake District we went to visit Dove Cottage where William Wordsworth lived and produced many of his finest poetry.

We were taking advantage of a programme of free poetry in the grounds at the rear of the Wordsworth Museum run each summer, sitting on wooden benches on a grassy slope in the dappled shade of great oak trees.

As usual I cannot miss not just the free poetry but the free models for me to draw while they recite their stuff:
Got the girl's name wrong...it is in fact Penny Boxall, and the bloke is Andrew Forster.

And this was Katie Hale telling us "How to Kill a Mermaid":

And while I draw, my darling wife amuses herself with the goings-on of Cheryl Cole in 'Hello' magazine!:
Keeps me from getting too high-falutin' she does!

Happy Pappy

2010-07-11T12:36:00.007+01:00

Ah, summer days...nae work and living the life o' Riley!

Fathers' Day took on a new meaning this year with wee Harry joining the Cornelius Clan:

Nanna the Photographer even managed to get herself in the picture!

And here's the proud mum with her son:

Apart from a few nice pressies for Fathers' Day I got an excellent bottle of wine:

As you can see, Pappa needs a bib in case he spills any!

Not much chance of that happening!!!

The Dream

2010-07-08T21:20:00.009+01:00

While on holiday last week we went to see a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream put on the local Village Hall by the Grasmere Players

Without wishing to over-exaggerate (which I am prone to do) this was undoubtably one of the best productions I have ever seen and although by amateurs you could be forgiven for thinking them professional. The set and costumes may not have been the most lavish but the acting, enthusiasm, and remembering all the words was top of the class!

And, as usual, while waiting for 'curtain up' I get out my sketchbook and observe my fellow theatre-goers:

I think the guy was from Nose City.

Big Ba' Heid Strikes Again
Expletive deleted.
Why me? Is this guy wi the big ba' heid and sticky-oot ears following me around?

And now the play has started you must remember I am viewing the action through his lugs when he turns to the side, and drawing by the dim illumination of a fire escape light.

"...The actors are at hand; and, by their show,
You shall know all, that you are like to know."

A very creative touch to have all the tradesmen wearing dungarees:

The Rude Mechanicals
Snug, Quince, Starveling, Snout, Flute, Bottom.

Then here's the two young ladies in love with the same man:

Hermia and Helena
These two were excellent, even playing out a very realistic cat-fight on stage!
And, although the play is set in early Greece the costumes were more Arabian but still very good for all that.

But..."The course of true love never did run smooth":

Lysander and Hermia
Hermia arguing with Lysander and eventually throwing herself at his feet.

Bottom was absolutely brilliant with a perfectly glaiket face and daft expression:

Bottom
If ever I could remember any lines and got the chance to act in this play then I would most likely be cast as Bottom...overly enthusiastic, wanting to play all the parts, always falling in love with dangerous women, and a bit of an ass...
he-haw, he-haw!!!

But what is this?:

Cobweb and Mustardseed

"Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over Park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the Fairy Queen.."
These two wee lassies were just terrific!

And, of course, the second best joke in the play is when Bottom it turned into a donkey which Titania falls in love with:

The fairies tie this brilliant donkey-head hat onto Bottom's head (wish I could get a hat like that - I'm sure it would suit me). Then Titania falls asleep with him on her woodland bower.

But the very best part of the evening was the acting of this young lad as Flute, the Bellows Mender who is made to play the part of Thisby in their own play-within-a-play:

Flute/Thisby

"Nay, faith, let not me play a woman...I have a beard coming".

With a wig of wild shocking red hair, his lips plastered with bright red lipstick, and wearing a dress over his dungarees and wellington boots this guy was hilarious, although as he went on his words grew higher in pitch until he sounded more like Madge Simpson or Miss Piggy from the Muppets!

A brilliant evening which sent us out into the summer night feeling good and smiling :o)))

Mountaineering

2010-07-07T08:23:00.006+01:00

It's good to get out of the car and head for the hills on foot with only a rucksac full of sketching materials. Especially when it's not raining.

I'ts good to get back to drawing and painting direct from the subject even if it is hanging precariously from the side of a hill:

Tarn Crag and Gibson Knott
Ink and wash in sketchpad, A5x2.
Great name that - "Gibson Knott"!

And looking up through the glen, or whatever they are called in England, past a small, almost dry waterfall called Sour Milk Gill, to the peak of Tarn Crag:

Sour Milk Gill and Tarn Crag
Ink and wash in sketchpad, A5x2.

Then some time spent idling away the afternoon beside a pure and clear burn, or gill:

Greenhead Gill
Ink and wash in sketchpad, A5x2.

What a heavenly country.

What a good holiday.

A busman's holiday.

The Wanderer Returns

2010-07-04T17:01:00.005+01:00

Took off a week ago Wednesday and headed south to what is called the Lake District in England - a very good place to go to enjoy the English football fans’
humiliation at first hand!
And also a very good place to go hill-walking and to savour the delights of their pubs and ale-houses.
The initial concept was to camp for four days next to a lovely wee village called Hawkshead where we have spent many’s a holiday, and experience life in the rough (literally). Ah, the fresh air of a force-ten gale, dining al fresco wi‘ bugs in yer soup, waking up during the night with your lilo flat and the racket of the crows at five in the morning, then staggering to the communal showers hung-over from over-indulgence and carousing the night before - sheer delight :o{
But at least it didnae rain!

I’ve drawn and painted Hawkshead and the surrounding area many, many, times and if I can dig out those sketches and paintings sometime and I’ll post them to let you see how nice a place it is.

But this visit there wasn’t any time between the all the camping activities, walking in the countryside around Esthwaite Water, watching football and tennis in the Red Lion. The first time I produced my sketchpad was on the second night in the Kings Head where we had the great fortune to hear this local singer/songwriter, Pete Lashley. A great mixture of songs he sung to his own accompaniment, some of which I knew and could join in, like “Island in the Stream”:

Pencil in sketchbook, A6.

Two nights, however, was more than enough of that camping malarky so next morning we struck camp and set off for home.

On the way we stopped in at another lovely village, Grasmere, which we have often passed through but never stayed. That was when we spied a sign “Self-Catering Apartments: VACANCIES”. This was more like it - home from home, a comfortable bed, fully functioning kitchen, a bed, and a clean shower cabinet for one person. And a telly, yay!:

Beck Allan's Guest House

Pencil in sketchbook, A4.

Not cheap but available for a whole week. Unplanned vacations are the best. No time to think about making all the arrangements before hand just do it there and then.
And what a week it was: walter-wall sunshine and balmy hot like Italy nel’estate.

And this is where I hope it gets interesting.

After all the days, weeks, months, nay, years spent cooped up in a studio burning my brains out over semi-abstract figurations here I was in the most beautiful countryside with time on my hands. This is what I was born to do. This is probably where I am happiest - walking in the country with sketchpads, pencils, pens, brushes, and my wee travellers watercolour box, drawing and painting 'en plein air'…sheer heaven:

St. Oswalds Church

Pencil and watercolour in sketchbook, A4.
In the graveyard associated with this church lies the romantic poet William Wordsworth (of daffodils fame) and his wife, Mary.

Old Pine Tree

Pencil and watercolour in sketchbook, A4.
A very strange lop-sided pine tree standing alone in a field.

Grasmere and Heron Pike

Watercolour pencils and watercolour washes in sketchpad, A5x2.
Half-way on a four mile walk looking back across the mere to Heron Pike in the distance. This was my first attempt at drawing with watercolour pencils with the hope of blending-in washes and blurring the edges. Didn't work that way...needs more practice.

Heron Pike

Watercolour pencils and watercolour washes in sketchpad, A5x2.
Another attempt with the watercolour pencils and much closer up to the Pike.

More sketches to follow another day.

Hope you have all been nice while I've been away!

A Legend

2010-06-10T21:43:00.004+01:00

A true artist (and I am a true artist [indubitably]) never goes anywhere without his pencil and a sketchpad, even doon the pub intent on only drinkin'!

It's a bit of a hobby of mine to observe my fellow imbibers as they socialise and present me with subjects without having to pay them for their imortalisation:

Fascinating abstract pattern dress on rather large lady.

And this man reading "The Lost Army of Cambysus":

I have not read this book yet myself but it looks like my kinda thing - ancient armies lost in sandstorms.

One day, when I am sadly gone, these unknown bar-flies will be viewed in books about the artist and how he was mis-understood and under appreciated (except by those in Arizona at least) and really only a legend in his ain hoose.

Finished!

2010-06-09T19:45:00.003+01:00

I’ve just dragged my sorry ass over the finishing line, dehydrated and delirious!
(I need a drink - anybody want to come out for a few libations with me? :o)

The DHL van came today and took my portfolio of Semi-Abstract Figurative paintings and supporting Logbooks, Notebooks, Sketchbooks, and Sketchpads away down to Barnsley, in England, for Assessment by the Open College of the Arts. What the hell they will make of it is anybody’s guess. Time will tell.
In the meantime, I’m now officially on holiday and there won’t be much in the way of image making for a few months.
I’ve spent the last three weeks making a Portfolio and cardboard shipping containers, writing my Students Review of the Course, bonding finished paintings onto presentation boards, printing out titles for every piece, and generally making sure everything is as I want it.
I feel like a discarded lump of flotsam washed ashore and neither of the sea or the land. In limbo, wondering what it was all about, and where to go now. I think I’ll go camping and see what the countryside has to say, or maybe just take my grandson out for a spin in his pram. A major turn in my life is about to occur, and I don’t know what direction to take.
The one good thing is that the Course has helped me develop a good working process, and a manner of painting which suits my personality, and a consistency which was missing before.
In the autumn, in between pushing Harry’s pram and playing mandolin, I will find a new Project to engage me and try to produce paintings which try to catch the balance between representation and abstract:

"Two Girls", oils on canvas, 61x42cm.

There is much more waiting to be discovered.

Don McLean in Concert

2010-05-13T19:01:00.003+01:00

It was over 40 years ago when we first went to see Don McLean in concert. The second time was about ten years ago at the Kings and last night the Royal Concert Hall in Glasgow.
The first time, Jacqui reminds me, was for our 7th wedding anniversary when we saw him at The Glasgow Apollo Theatre sadly now demolished (and before you say it NO, it wisnae us, although we did our best on the night with a bunch of other juveniles :o{

The Apollo was so large an auditorium and we were so far away from the stage somewhere up in the darkest reaches of the gods that there were times when we could hardly hear anything let alone know that the tiny wee figure in the distance was in fact McLean. It could have been anybody and just playing records for all we knew.

So, I remember, we jumped around the seats having our own party.
All good fun but a million years and a million miles away from then, The RGCH, is much more civilised. And this time I got us very good seats. How the times have changed and what a difference having some spondoolies in my pocket.

Now these fantastic seats were not in the front row as you might expect for a big spender like me (believe it!) but up to one side so I could see the performers in profile. I have drawn hundreds of performers in action and usually I see them direct from the front so, for a change, getting a side view was important to me.

We were in early to hear the support act, a lassie from Camden in London, Lesley Rowley, who has the clearest and most beautiful voice which soared out across the auditorium:

A young singer/songwriter and great to listen to playing some good acoustic guitar. When I come to paint her I will definitely remember her richly dark red hair, a godsend for an avowed colourist!

For this fantastic support act the seats in front were, of course, empty. Some people appear to have tunnel vision when it comes to listening to anyone who isn't the headline act. And tunnel vision is what I needed when they finally arrived. How is it that in a hall of a few thousand people I get the biggest lad in front of me with sticky-out ears?:

It was only when he turned to one side that I could see anything through his lug-holes let alone draw!

But, even when the lights went down, trouper that I am, I managed to get some sketching done, that is while singing my heid aff to all the songs I love:

Winterwood, Crossroads, Empty Chairs, all from the American Pie album (which I bought way back when, in vinyl, and still treasure) building up to the whole auditorium belting out American Pie at least twice, after my very favourite of all time, Vincent.

"..You took your life as lovers often do,
but I could have told you, Vincent,
this world was never meant
for one as beautiful as you".

Here I am, misting up again as I write it!

And no wonder. When Jacqui and I got married the best I could do was to take us down to Rothesay, on the Island of Bute (just doon the watter from Glasgow) for our honeymoon. It wasn't till the following year, as a young student of architecture at the Glasgow School of Art, that I got a student offer to travel to Amsterdam. There we got to see van Goghs paintings in the flesh, so to speak, and were blown away, all the time singing McLeans song in our heads. And that was without any "grass" which is a whole other story (while walking in a park one day nursing hang-overs on cheap wine and Heinekin, a bloke comes up to us and says "Would you like to buy some grass?". Jacqui, ever the naive, says "get lost, we don't even have a garden!". Now you know why I married her :o)

Here's a second go at the man himself:

And the drummer:

The bass player:

Lead guitar:

And the drummer again, with all his equipment in front of him:

I can already see how all these sketches will come together in one composition. But that is for another day.

Found Out!

2010-05-11T18:34:00.006+01:00

It's just as well I didn't take bets on how long it would take my darling wife to find the broken vase. I was thinking at least 3 months, but there she was at the door of my studio this morning only two days after returning from her extended holidays on Arran wanting to know if I had been swinging from the light-fittings and causing certain "damage" as she called it.

Of course I blamed the speugs and reminded her of the new wee blue vase and showed her the picture I painted with flooers in it.

You can probably tell I got away with it and still have both arms unbroken and therefore able to write this epistle :o)

Although there was in fact some "damage" while she was away there was also a fair bit of positive work done. After a long period there where I couldn't raise sufficient motivation to even unlock the studio door I have been painting like a demon possessed.

Following on from yesterday's post regarding painting direct from life sometimes the subject just steps up and pokes you in the eye. I had just returned from a sorte to the supermarket and put my fresh melon on the worktop beside a bowl of apples when there it was:

Oils on board 36x61cm.
It looks a bit small here and I don't know how to have it published at a larger scale so you will need to click on this image to see it as intended.

The concept was to simply have the points of each oval disc touching each other and provide a richly textured background to set them off against.

Diversionary Tactics

2010-05-09T19:22:00.010+01:00

Still in one piece (unlike the vase, of course) after a fantastic weekend on our Island of Dreams (aka Arran) my cunning plan is to divert attention away from the broken vase by gifting a new wee blue bowl from a young potter, Jeff Irving, working out of his own workshop on the Island, Cladach Pottery:

And here is that wee blue bowl which has indeed worked it's magic:

Now, taking sound advice, I'm sure, from Melanie, I also need some flooers to draw further attention away from The Vase Wi' a Hole in It and keep everything sweet.

For well over a year now I have been painting figures, abstracts, and more figures in a semi-abstract fashion all done from pure imagination. For now, however, I need another diversion to retain my sanity (who said "aye, right"?) so I set up these Rhododendron flowers in a jug with my favourite yellow pot and a sweet pear to paint direct from observation:

Oils on board, 30x40cm.

There is a world of a difference between painting from imagination and direct from life. When painting from imagination the options are indeed only limited by your palette. But what colours to choose? Depends, of course, on what you are trying to say.
In my "Facial Feelings" series the colours arrived at were 'felt' rather than 'seen'. And while this is an incredible way of working sometimes it is good to return to what is seen to keep the eyes on their toes, so to speak, and observant.

Even though you may think that the options are limitless from imagination sometimes it is better to simply be expressive with the colours you see rather than just "making them up". Ask Melinda.

Oops!

2010-05-06T20:08:00.002+01:00

Had a bit of an axcident.

I was just leaning to one side to get a better view of what all the squabbling was about outside between a bunch of speugs (sparrows, to you non Scottish speakers out there) when her-who-must-be-obeyed's favourite vase ran into my elbow and then hit the floor:

Gawd! Panic! What to do? Where can I hide?

No, no, calm doon. It'll be ok wi' a spot of glue:

Perfect!
Do you think she'll notice?

It will be fine as long as she doesn't want to put floers in it with water.

Any questions (which is a certainty) I'll just say it's like the Japanese call it - Wabi Sabi - not quite perfect but full of character.
Yes, that'll do it.

Missing

2010-05-02T19:22:00.002+01:00

Just a wee additional blog for a Sunday Nite -think of it like having dessert.

The question is: Whit's missing in this photie:

Well, before you answer the question you should know that my darling wife has disappeared to Arran for a week with her sister and I am left to fend for myself. So, with that in mind, you now realise I have also to make my ain dinners. And tonights delicacy was to be stew with carrots (need to get my five a day somehow [that's five bits of carrot I think?]), a bit o' pastry and mashed tatties.

Look again.

Yer no wrang...I forgot to put the spuds on. Ah well, that's ok - for I need to be watching my sylph-like waist-line anyway!

On the up-side, while savouring this less-than-perfect delight, I did get the chance to listen to a fascinating programme on BBC Radio 3 on Gustav Mahler's often inclusion of voices in his Symphonys, including his "Songs Without Voices". Don't know how he worked that one out but, hey, can't critizise a fellow depressive :o{

And as far as the dinner went? Never missed the spuds at all. Goes to show what a good wine can do :o)

The Glasgow Lyric Choir

2010-05-02T16:22:00.005+01:00

A very good friend of mine, Rosemary, managed to sell me tickets for a concert last November by the choir she sings with, The Lyric Choir, for a performance of the 'Mass For St Cecilia's Day' by Franz Josef Hyden. And as if getting me to put my hand in my pocket wasn't enough the Recital was held in St Andrews in the Square Church in Glasgows city centre. And as if all that wasn't enough it started with 'Zadoc the Priest'. Ma heid was birlin'! But, then, almost immediately, so was my spirit. Absolutely sublime music in a most wonderful venue.

Shy to begin with (step out to the front the person who guffawed!) I soon got out my wee sketchbook and started scribbling:

The lassie in the middle is my pal Rosemary, and here is a close-up of her singing away like a lintie:

But the soloists for the evening were something else again. Soprano Emma Versteeg was a pure delight:

And Ian Paton was also terrific:

I couldn't get drawings of either the Mezzo-Soprano (person in front with big ears) or the Bass (so close I could only give you an impression of his nasal hairs) but I could just about see the closest celloist:

An absolutely fabulous evening which brightened up the deepest and darkest November in Glasgow last year.

Superhero

2010-04-23T22:01:00.003+01:00

I was having this conversation the ither day wi' my wee pal, Harry, sayin' just how much he needed to build himself up to take over the mantle of "West of Scotland Superhero of the 21st Century" from his ole' grand-pappy whenever I decide to hang up my skin-tights and cape. He listened attently and smiled (our very first that didn't include thrashing his legs around and strange lower abdominal noises) and a knowing look which said "you are the best, Big David" which is interesting in itself for that's whit my own son, Gavin, used to call me. Isn't ancestry a fascinating subject, I hear you say.
Or is that just the wine talking?

Anyway, here he is "working out" in his own little gym determined to make the grade before he is even two months old:

Which is a round-about way of telling you that I have got absolutely nothing more interesting to blether on about other than my two latest postings on two of my ither blogs: "Saturn" on my Semi-Abstract haverings, and my very last and final contribution to the Moleskine Exchange International, "Genesis".

Hope you all have a good wekend, and if I survive my second Bluegrass Jamming Session at Lauries Bar tomorrow I'll be back again next week bright eyed and bushy tailed to tell the tale.

With Outstretched Arms

2010-04-22T20:26:00.009+01:00

I'm posting this favourite image of mine simply because I refer to it in my latest posting about "Apollo, the sun god", in my ither blog "Semi-Abstract Figure Painting"

Astonishingly I have never ever punted this painting onto the internet before, which is a mystery to me since I'm not usually slow at coming forward!

I have used this image for my business card and also for my avatar image on Flickr as it embodies that most expressive attribute of mine: wild exaggeration!

Well, wouldn't you also become larger than life and extend your arms to greet your paramour?

Big Hair

2010-04-09T22:25:00.004+01:00

Still on a train theme I was treated yesterday to a fascinating show of female glamour and the whole gamut of it's application while returning home from Glasgow.

This young woman facing me futher down the carriage was carrying out some running repairs - blusher, eyelashes, lipstick, and the piece-de-resistance, back-combing her already wild hairstyle:

Pencil in scetchbook, A6.

Some poor boy ain't gonna stand a chance!

London to Glasgow

2010-04-08T21:18:00.004+01:00

Following on from my previous post about train journeys, and also returning to basics, I made some efforts this week to get moving again by turning, as always, to my sketchbooks. These are looking back to last year when I travelled all the way to London (4-and-a-half hours on a slow train going and 4 hours on a fast, tilting, train on the way back) just to see one painting by Mark Rothko. Can't say I'm not dedicated to art.
Or daft.
One or the other.

Anyways, on the way back, since I was otherwise bored with the murder and mayhem in my Michael Connolly thriller, I chose to pass the time capturing the passing landscape in the blink of an eye:

#1. Ball-point pen in sketchpad, A6.

Translating these few marks into a small painting:

1#. Acrylics on paper, A4.

#2. Ball-point pen in sketchpad, A6.

2#. Acrylics on paper, A4.

Then, getting bored with Nature, I turn my attention to the young woman who joined us at Crewe:

#3. Ball-point pen in sketchpad, A6.

3#. Acrylics on paper, A4.

At least I found my paint-brush.

Next time I may even have found my colour paints.

See ya!

Raspberry

2010-04-04T11:35:00.007+01:00

Encouraged by a recent blog-posting by Edgar on returning to basics as a way of dealing with life's traumas I am posting this set of sketches made yesterday, firstly while travelling by train into the big city, and secondly at a performance of "Raspberry" at the Tron Theatre. "Inspired by the life and songs of Ian Dury, Raspberry is a juicily gothic piece of music theatre that muses on the idea of perfection and perfectibility". The principal characters, some who are themselves disabled, play "crips" or as the Victorians would call them "cripples" - blind, spastic, and in a wheelchair. The blacksmith father, like some Frankenstein doctor, tries to make his crippled daughter "normal" by fitting metal plates to her legs on an anvil. Needless to say she wasn't really taken by his idea of normallity and just wanted to be herself!

But first, the journey into Glasgow.
A group of kids waiting at the station for a train:

Pencil in small sketchbook, A6.

On the train there was this teenage boy with excellent styled hair falling down to one side in a girlish way:

Pencil in small sketchbook, A6.

Waiting for the performance to start, two theatre goers:

Pencil in small sketchbook, A6.
Nice hair again (I notice these things :o)

Fittingly, this sketch was done "blind" when the lights went down and I could barely see the open sketchpad (at least I think the book was open):

Pencil in small sketchbook, A6.

Similarly this guy blowing his horn:

Pencil in small sketchbook, A6.
What a blast!

My Shining Star

2010-03-04T21:24:00.004Z

I've waited a long time to meet this little boy, and this morning, at twenty-past ten, he arrived:

Harrison "Harry" Derek Cornelius - my shining star:

And here is the first of hopefully many drawings to be made, only one hour into his wee life:

Dark damp hair and wee petted lip - just like his Pappa!

And here is a drawing of "Nanna Jacqui", nervously waiting for her first grand-child to arrive:

Her beauty continues to astound me.

And tonight, for the first time in eight months, I raise my glass of champaigne to my lovely daughter, Sharon, my own proud son, Gavin, and of course, to my Shining Star, Harry.

Cheers!

Lost and Found

2010-03-03T16:05:00.010Z

It's been a while - lost my pencil, lost my voice, lost my father, lost my balance, found a daughter, and also found the Tao.

Needing to get started again, start drawing again, start blogging again, speak to my friends again.

Charcoal on cartridge paper, A2.

Anniversary #38

2009-06-20T20:15:00.006+01:00

OK, OK, OK, I know I have gotten a bit lost in the labyrinths of my own mind for a while but, like a dead budgie, I always turn up sometime at the bottom of my cage.

What I have to gab about is my 38th Wedding Anniversary (a surprise even to myself that I could even remember the number!), but what a day it was. Read on:

Meditation at the Glasgow Buddhist Centre (Metta to you all) with long conversation with my friends on how it is possible to express emotion in paint (Buddha alone knows), followed by lunch at my very favourite Italian Ristorante (Topolino's) my absolutely favourite restaurant in Glasgow (it's impossible to eat anywhere else without making unfavouable comparisons), and the reasons will become clear even if the link doesn't. We (my darling wife and I) have been having lunch there for two years now every Thursday immediately after the going to the Buddhist Centre and have never yet had a poor meal. Quite the contrary, it is incomparable - and we have great patter with Ricardo (il cameriere extrordanaire [a bit o' French there just to show how cosmopolitan I can be] who is mad keen, not only with our mutual reverence for the Glasgow Rangers, but also his deep and passionate love for Andy Murray, our rising star (No3) in the tennis world (Ricky has the 't' shirt and the shoes (how sad is he?) but also, presently helping with the service, a lovely cameriere lass called Diane (love the hairstyle D!).
Many, many, thanks to Ricardo for waving the cost of the lunch on our anniversary day.
But the day didn't end there, Oh no:

Two hours at the Glasgow School of Art Degree Show (crap Fine Art [NONE of them can paint as far as I'm concerned!], but beautiful Silversmithing and Textile Design, as usual, as well as what they now call "Visual Communication" (Graphic Art to oldies like me).

But, La Piece de la Resistance:

I managed to get two tickets for a concert (for FREE [no cheapskate me - just canny])at the Glasgow City Halls to hear the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra who play a mixed bag of fantastic music starting with the most sublime excerpt from Mendelssohn's Hebridean Suite, "Fingal's Cave" (I have to admit I felt very emotional with the opening bars but instead of wallowing in it I observe the effect for my Grande Projet); then Hydyn's Trumpet Concerto; and pieces from Handel's "Water Music"; including the "Bouree" (which we play in Mandolin Class), finishing with the "Overture: Beatrice and Benedict" by Berlioz; and, finally, "The Young Persons Guide to the Orchestra" by Benjamin Britten (they put that one in especially for me :o)

And just to finish off the evening...a bit of Jazz. Right next door to the City Halls was a small cafe-bar with a live jazz band - the Michael Deans Quintet - with a friend from the Buddhist Center, John-Paul, playing fantastic bass guitar.
I didn't make any sketches from the SSO concert (miles too far away) but I did get some sketches in the more intimate atmosphere of the cafe:

Michael Deans playing Saxaphone.

The Drummer.

John-Paul on Bass.

Trumpet 1.

Trumpet 2.

Hope you also enjoyed the show :o)

WARNING!

2009-05-23T19:50:00.003+01:00

If you get any Emails telling you that ham and chopped pork has been infected with Swine Flu don't open them...it's just Spam!

A Scottish Garden in May

2009-05-22T20:41:00.006+01:00

In response to Vivien's Blog I am posting up some of the multitude of flowers presently astonishing me in my very own garden. Not many words (you'll be glad to know) but if only Blogger could offer an olfactory dimension to it's blogsite then you would half-ways understand why I get so exercised by this show of munificence:

"Centaurea montana", Feathery petals of the most delicious cornflower blue.

"Clematis Montana" covering the fence at my front door greeting me with it's abundance every morning with more buds than you can shake stick at giving promise of more abundance for weeks to come.

"Prunus laurocerausus", Laurel: Dark and quiet but reeking of early summer while I drink my Bordillino and dream of Lake Garda.

"Rhododendron Evelyn", Named after a close family friend of great intellect and deep compassion.

"Scilla", or Bluebell to you and me. Prolific and my absolutely favourite colour of blue, after cornflower, ultramarine, cobalt and cerulean, and, of course Sky blue, whenever we get the chance!

Such a Lovely Lass!

2009-04-19T18:48:00.002+01:00

I drew this a couple of months ago while we were travelling on a train down to the coast and she was all wrapped up against the cold, which now seems a million miles away, and another country:

Pencil on paper, 2xA6.
The days fly by so quickly and now we are approaching what we laughingly call 'summer', and I still think I'm a young thing, but know I am not.
I've spent the last half-hour watching a big grey cat in our garden that I call 'Smokey-the-Bandit' because he used to come and eat some of the food I left out for Leo! Until I know better, I call him "he", but he won't come anywhere near me (much to Jacqui's relief), but I would love to make contact with him.
And now I am eating the first rhubarb crumble of the season, with ice-cream.
Such a good day, and my football team, Rangers, also won their league game against Hibernian.
I am happy , and everything is right with the world (even though I know it is not).

OCA Exhibition at Ocean Terminal

2009-04-11T16:37:00.003+01:00

Taking a moment's breather from the confusion of abstracted thoughts so I'm doing a bit of tidying round and catching up.

Time flies when you are enjoying yourself, as they say, and I've been having lots of fun recently but it appears that five weeks have passed since I put my three paintings into this exhibition, organised by the Open College of the Arts (OCA), and a whole month since I went back for a visit to see how it all looked.

I thought you might like to see what the exhibition looked like in-situ:

This is one of the better areas (above), albeit a corridor, but don't let that lady with the serious look on her face kid you - I know for a fact she is skint and has no intention of buying!

Looking down the length of the mall. My paintings are somewhere along there on the third floor's thirty-fourth column:

The exhibition is made up of both present and past students, and this past student's work (below) is also by my present Tutor, Jane Mitchell:

Ah, here's what I'm looking for:

Goldenbury Hill in all it's glory, but what's this...nobody looking at it? Hey everybody, up here --->>>>>!

Apparently six paintings were sold, but I don't need to tell you that none of them were mine. If any of them had then you wouldn't have needed the internet to hear about it!!!

OCA Changeing Lives Exhibition

2009-03-05T21:32:00.006Z

Yesterday I drove through from the Wild West (of Scotland) to the Erudite East to submit three paintings into an Open College of the Arts (OCA) exhibition at Ocean Terminal, Leith Docks, Edinburgh.
I could have submitted three more recent paintings but I didn't really have anything else created under the auspices of the OCA. These three were done circa 2005 when I last painted anything for the "Painting 2: Finding Your Way" Course, or as I like to term it: "Painting 2: Losing Your Way". I lost all confidence in my painting at that time, although when I look back I now feel perhaps I shouldn't have.
Ce'st la vie, can't re-live time, I can only move forward from here. And these are what I chose to put into this exhibition:

All three are painted in acrylics on paper, and framed in natural wood.

The exhibition space is not ideal, being 3 or 4 stories up on a kind of top-level open gallery of a shopping mall with the paintings displayed high on widely spaced columns. I'll go back there again next week and take some photo's to show you what I mean. Still, I understand it is almost impossible to get affordable gallery space anywhere in our nation's capital city, or anywhere for that matter.
So, I shouldn't complain - I am just happy to have three paintings hanging anywhere in public at the moment without me nailed up there beside them :o{

First Album

2009-03-01T21:35:00.007Z

I must be off my head - this has taken me just about all day to assemble but I'm sure you'll a' think it's worth it and be clamouring for copies!

And it is Melanie at My Croft that's all to blame. You see I was checking to see if she was back blogging again and sure enough there she was, the wee lamb, blethering away about this fabby new Blogger-Land game she herself was caught up in and I thought it was brilliant too!

The game is to follow a set of instructions and randomly come up with the name of your band, the title of your first album, and the cover artwork. This is doing the rounds so I'll give a mention to those from whence it apparently has come:
66squarefeet
Secretnotebookswildpages , and
moreidlethoughts

And here are the instructions:
To create your own band name and album cover, follow these easy instructions from m. heart:
1. Click wikipedia. The first random article you get is the name of your band.

2. Click quotations. The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.
3. Click flicker. Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
4. Use Photoshop (or similar) to put it all together.

Anyway, here's my take on it:

"Emotions are Violent" by Danskammer.

Danskammer Point Light is, of course, a lighthouse sitting out on some exposed coastal headland near New York (I'm sure you know it well Melanie?), and the quote comes from W.Somerset Maugham - "When you're eighteen your emotions are violent but they're not durable".

And the excellent photo of a lovely lassie is by Stink Poop on Flickr.

I thought the three parts came together rather well with the Scandanavian name, the coldly lit girl, and the raw emotional tag.

Anyway if all of that hasn't made you weep yet, then this will: My first track on the album will be "La Campursita" by Gerardo Matos Rodriguez, played deftly on an A+ Moon mandolin by that Plucky Plectrum all the way from East Kilbride -
yours truly, "Wee Davey Twangathon" :

[standing ovation and thunderous applause]

Thank you, thank you, thank you, don't throw flowers, just throw money!

Les Ballets Trocadero de Monte Carlo

2009-02-21T19:31:00.013Z

Absolutely fantastic!

Ballet Trocadero at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow.

What a show, what movement, what colour, what grace, what technique, what broad shoulders!

These guys were just fantastic..a brilliant parody on female ballerina's, and their facial expressions as well :o{

The dying swan from Swan Lake was...to die laughing for, with his/her tutu shedding feathers like a hen being plucked!

I cannot really do any justice to the fun and amazement this bunch of guys provided, but, for what it's worth, here goes:

If only I was 40 years younger and didn't give a toss!

Change of Name.

2009-02-04T18:09:00.003Z

Having thought this ower for a few days (who said ah wisnae quick?) ah hae decided that "Sleekit" is far too derogatory a term fur sich a nice lady from New Zealand, whom I hardly even ken (yet).
So, since it's ma game and ah can dae whit ah like, ah'm gonnae gae her a new nom-de-plume: Hens Forth she sall be lumbered wi'...Lady Neeps!!! Yayyyyyayayay!!!

So, wi' Lady Haggis, and now Lady Neeps, a' that's needed is fur us tae find a 'Lord, or Lady Tatties'.

Any offers oot there?

Anybody daft enough?

Ye ken whit ye huv tae dae!

Dinnae be shy :o)

Lady Sleekit!

2009-02-01T16:26:00.008Z

And my second award for services to the Scottish Vernacular goes to...dinahmow (http://moreidlethoughts.wordpress.com/)! Yayyy!!!

She is only the second person (with an empty brain) to receive this prestigous accolade, and from Hens Forth will be known as...Lady Sleekit (as in "Wee sleekit, cowrin', tim'rous beastie) frae Aft Agley (as in "the best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley").

Keep up the guid work, hen!

Happy 250th Birthday Rabbie!

2009-01-25T19:19:00.007Z

Jacqueline, Pencil on paper, circa 1975

"My love is like a red, red rose
That’s newly sprung in June :
My love is like the melody
That’s sweetly played in tune.

As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in love am I :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun :
And I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only love,
And fare thee weel a while !
And I will come again, my love,
Thou’ it were ten thousand mile."

Happy 250th birthday Rabbie!

It also happens to be my mothers birthday, even though she's gone these past 20 years.

Very Bad

2009-01-14T09:03:00.004Z

It’s very strange how words, often spoken in jest, can come back and bite you on the arm - literally.
Last week when I replied to comments from ‘Susans’ I quoted Mae West with her famous words - “When I’m good I’m good, but when I’m bad I’m very bad!”. Now I don’t know who is the worst here but when Sparky’s increasingly aggressive behaviour towards me reached a scary pitch I had no choice but to return him to the cattery.
The first couple of incidents I just passed off as initial nervousness by him at being in a whole new environment with people he didn’t know yet, but as the week progressed he started attacking me, hissing and baring his teeth and lashing out. In the first major attack he managed to claw my forehead with deep cuts, just above my left eye, and in the second, while I was preparing a bedtime meal for him, he launched himself off the kitchen unit and bit me on my arm. I threw him off but still he was hissing and snarling, facing up to me. I don’t know what I did to provoke this but it left me badly shaken. Next morning when I came down to give him breakfast he was still bristling at me and made to go for my leg. I couldn’t handle this and no longer trusted him wondering when next he would turn on me. Although he hadn’t attacked Jacqui yet, apart from a bit of hissing, I couldn’t allow that to happen - she would freak out if it did and I thought it was only a matter of time. I decided there and then that I had to return him to the cattery which I did on Saturday. It broke my heart. I feel so sorry for him. We were told he had behavioural problems without specifying what they were and I just thought it was finding himself in a Rescue Centre cage with lots of strange people and noise - nothing a bit of TLC wouldn’t cure. So now I am without a cat again and don’t know if and when I will try again.
A sorry tale, and one that causes me a lot of sadness and pain, but another experience of life which I have learned much from.

Introducing Sparky!

2009-01-04T19:43:00.003Z

Yesterday we went down to the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SSPCA) dog and cat rescue centre in Hamilton [just about 5 miles from East Kilbride] to see in person which poor animals they were holding and offering for re-homing. They had some beautiful animals many of which were in pairs [ J could not deal with two at a time (even though I could!) so we limited our viewing to single cats].
"Gizmo" was not the prettiest cat (I was not particularly looking for Miss, or Mr Cat 2009) and he was quite old at 9years (that also was not a problem). He was very, very friendly, and anyone would absolutely love him, especially children, so it seemed to me he was not in any desperate need of me.
"Mustafa" was a fabulous bright orange British Tabby who endeared himself to everyone who approached his cage and meowed constantly (would that get on your nerves, or what?). Again he seemed to be suitable for a family with young children.
When I set off yesterday on this quest I had two things in mind: to be open minded, and to be open hearted.
Three things in mind: to seek to give an unfortunate cat a new, loving, home. It could be the oldest feline who has lost it's owner aftr many years and in desperate need, or like, 'Sparky', been abandonded and showing some behavioural problems stemming from lack of TLC:

First photo. Here he is. Totally agitated and unsure of his surrundings he is, to start with constrained to the kitchen. So he's checking out the high surfaces with eyes like saucers.

Sparky doesn't stand still for a moment at present to get his photo taken!

Ah, got him on the prowl, now introduced to the Living Room.

Calming down a lot, here he is on a kitchen chair with his big saucer eyes!

Then, after a while , he settles down on my lap (which is amazing after only one day) and sleeps a happy sleep.

As I write this he is on my lap watching everything I do!

Sparky is the name I have given him since I didn't really like the name he came with which was Fletcher. He is about a-year-and-a-half to 2years old and found abandoned in an empty house. I presume Fletcher was the name on the door. So I don't want to lumber him with a name from his unfortunate past. Today, giving him the run of the house (which has been an exciting day of discovery) he has settled and changed almost beyond recogintion. He is developing a confidence already, and is more than happy to sit on my lap for a bit of petting.

So welcome Sparky - you are now international, and can expect not only a lot of petting but a lot of drawing too!

Fantabulosa!

2008-12-19T21:07:00.006Z

Yesterday, after meditation at the Glasgow Buddhist Centre, we took a walk along to the Theatre Royal to see if if we could get a couple of seats for the afternoon matinee performance of Scottish ballet's SleepingBeauty. As is our normal tactic we turn up half-an-hour before the show starts to see a) if there are any seats, and b) if we ask for the cheapest in the hall will they up-grade us to the Dress Circle :o) It's worked many times before, but sadly not yesterday. However...out comes our Auld Git's cards and we get a big discount to fairly decent seats to the front of the Upper Circle. Just as well I'm long sighted though 'cause it's still a fair distance from the action. That doesn't spoil our enjoyment tho' bacause Tchaikovsky's music is just sublime and the whirling movement of the dancers mesmerising!

Under the dim light of a Fire Exit I get out my small sketchpad, and flowing with the music, jot down some images using my photoshutter method - stare, and stare, and then quickly close your eyes and see what image you can remember:

Pencil on paper, A6: Sleeping Beauty #1.

Pencil on paper, A6; Sleeping Beauty #2.

Pencil on paper, A6; Sleeping Beauty #3.

Pencil on paper, A6; Sleeping Beauty #4.

There were a few more sketches started but didn't progress beyond the gesture of an arm, the turn of a foot, the flying through the air of a beautiful princess missed by her supporting male dancer and lying in a heap on the floor (very undignified) but that would be naughty to show those momentary lapses :o)

So I won't!

Still, the music and the spectacle dance through my head...da da da da da dee dee dee dum de da dee dum (the Rose Waltz).

Sunworshippers

2008-12-15T18:48:00.010Z

I've got a lot on my mind at the moment (whether to comb my hair {what's left of it!} to the left or the right; what to ask Santa for Christmas - a Playstation3 LittleBigPlanet, or an Oor Wullie book; and how to design an Advanced painting course for myself [of which much more later]).

In the meantime I was asked a few weeks ago by my son to paint a couple of pictures for his Kitchen with the colour yellow in it (although I wasn't too happy when he turned up a week later asking if it was done or should he just go to Ikea and buy something off the shelf? See what I've got to put up with! The word is: 'incandescent') Ah, Ive become a decorator just like my dear old dad!

More fool me, but I said yes and have been sporadically working on this two-some set of sunflowers:
Acrylics on canvas, 50x40cm: "Sunworshippers 1"; Based on a watercolour of sunflowers I made last summer (for some strange reason I didn't sow any sunflower seed this year even though I love them to bits) they seemed the natural subject for Kitchen decoration.

Acrylics on canvas, 50x40cm: "Sunworshippers 2"; After the initial impetus of drawing out the design and laying down the first wash the Ikea comment kinda put me off for a while, but with Christmas charging up on us like a raging bull I thought I better get my finger out and finish these two of a kind so I can wrap them up separately and give them as presents to my son and his pard'ner.

Acrylics on canvas, 100x40cm: "Sunworshippers": This is what they look like together (although my photography would have them different {can't argue with a camera that can do a fantastic range of functions mostly at the same time AND remember where it put things!}).

I can see them getting pride of place for about a month then disappearing into the cupboard under the stairs, or being offered back (as my brother once did) when they no longer match the curtains!

C'est la vie.

Anyway my mind is on more academic matters.

Blog Scot Award!

2008-12-10T21:00:00.004Z

Now, you can be assured there won't be many people getting this Award (not many daft enough!) so this is a bit of a rarety - in fact, so far, it's the only one of it's kind!

And it has been awarded to... Melinda (yayyyyy!) for her services to the Auld Scot (that's me) 's lingo and her cheery disposition, even when it's raining cats and dogs here in Scotland (tho' it's as dry as an auld bone in Arizona), and who from hencefoth will be dubbed :

"Lady Haggis of Clartymidden"!

Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o' the Puddin-race!
Aboon them a' ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang's my arm.

(AddresstoaHaggis)

Haggis Neeps and Tatties
a' washed doon wi' a wee dram o' the guid stuff!

Ye've got tae try it!

Standing Stones

2008-12-03T15:53:00.008Z

Held off posting these various development drawings of the Machrie Moor Standing Stones, on the Isle of Arran, until Brian received Vivien's moleskine which I sent and posted up another of my drawings as part of our MoleskineExchange. The moley drawing came out of the final drawing in this series but I'll go back to the beginning (which is a very good place to start) and see if I can remember how it all came about (it now seems like a very long time ago when I did these, either that or my memory is fading faster than .....oh dear, I forgot what I was trying to say!)

Since I didn't make any drawings direct from life when I went to Arran last month I was working from my own photographs. After a couple of more realistic interpretations I then shifted gear and going off at a tangent (which is often my want) and started applying a new dynamic using heightened colouring to say more about the subject than is immediately apparent from 'real' life:

Neocolour II on paper, 40x30cm: Development #4.

Well the sky was blue and the bracken was kind of redish, and the Stones were lit to one side by the setting sun. All that was needed was a bit of heightening of those colours to start getting 4,000 years worth of history talking!

Fine but what if the mood needs to be colder and more distant?:

Neocolour II on paper, 40x30cm: Development #5.

Blue and grey takes us back to the ice-age, long before central heating (although the way things are going in this country and in this present century we are all going back there at an alarming speed and wanting to move to Arizona!) This development was simply a chance to use a favourite colour combination of colours, but I was especially pleased with the grassy green suggestion of a circle as though there were more Stones just out of picture. In reality there weren't any more having been pilfered by even more ancient men than me to make new structures elsewhere.

But what if.....:

Neocolour II on paper, 40x30cm: Development #6.

A portentious sky and two Stones standing forever at the edge of an abyss. The Stone on the left is so tall it disappears out of the picture getting darker all the time, and both Stones are rooted into the earth from where they came.

What else can I do with these fellows? :

Neocolour II on paper, 40x30cm: Development #7;

Previous developments are all standing back in admiration so I thought it was time to get up close and personal with one of them at least and see how the centuries have left their mark. Scarring and fissures, love-hearts (for f*** sake!) and lichen, and blooms of algae all writing their own history. Tablets of stone down from the mountains with messages of wonder from our predecessors. Good on ye, mates, and thanks - I would drop you an email to tell you how much I love these Stones but I don't appear to have your address!

Never mind, I can always post this appreciation and hope you are listening out there!

Neocolour II on paper, 40x40cm: Development #8.

This final piece came with a desire to soften the scene and make the Stones an integral part of their open moorland, windswept, environment. But what is this? One of the ancient peoples come back to honour their own monument? Na, it's just wee Jacqui posing beside the tallest Stone to give it scale (she says that's all I ever ask her to do when I take photographs of buildings and structures. Problem is she is so small it gives quite a skewed view of what you are looking at!)

So there you have it: Standing Stones on Machrie Moor. A wonderful place to visit and stand within the circle marvelling at the organisation and desire of peoples from 4,000 years ago. Makes you think.

Tagged!

2008-12-01T14:19:00.008Z

Or as we call it here in the West of Scotland: ‘tig‘. And when you’ve been ‘tigged’ you are then ‘het’! But even though I was tigged, or tagged, I’m no het because I jumped up off the ground onto a high ledge which made me immune from being het!

It seems that everyone on the planet is currently being tagged (well, at least in Bloggerland) and I was no exception with my dear friend Melinda conferring the accolade onto me last week to which I graciously (I hope) declined (and I hope she is still talking to me!). And I also have to thank my cyber pal Edgar for outing me and telling the world that I AM the Paranoid Prince of Party-Poopers! But at least he did give a generous pointer to the MoleskineExchange group I contribute to. Thanks for that Edgar!
My reason for not participating is two-fold: firstly, I’m just not happy about asking people in turn to do this and perhaps missing someone out who might have liked to take part; and secondly, I don't think my life is interesting enough to share in this way (not as interesting as Melinda's anyway). But, if you'll listen, I don’t mind sharing with you some of my own fishy foibles just don’t ask me to pass it on.
So, just to show the world I’m not really an auld grouch, I am going to play ‘Solo Tag’ which shouldn’t hurt anyone or offend if they are not on my list at the end, because there won’t be one!
Right, it’s here that I must now tell you seven little known factoids about myself set down in roughly chronological order:
1. When I was a nipper still in my pram I won a Beautiful Baby Contest and still hold my youthful good looks to this day! (the rest were pot ugly and greetin’).
2. At the tender age of ten I first left home to serve as a cabin boy on the Black Pig and we sailed the Southern Oceans in search of pirate treasure and I came back a real man.
3. When I was sixteen I winched (courted) a young 14 year old babe called Claudia Skiffer (or something like that) but soon chucked her when she grew ten feet tall and I couldn’t reach up to kiss her!
4. In my early twenties I played Centre-Forward for the mighty Glasgow Rangers and scored a hat-trick against our deadly rivals, Celtic, in the Scottish Cup Final. The first was a peach; I took the ball from the half-way line and dribbled round ten players, sometimes twice, including my own, and fired a fabulous left-foot volley high into the net taking the goalkeeper with it. No wonder they call it ‘the Beautiful Game’. The second was a headed goal when I out-leaped Celtic’s giant defenders and bulleted the ball into and through the net; and the third was similar to Diego Maradona’s ‘HandofGod' which put England out of the 1986 World Cup. I got away with it because the Ref was just as mesmerised by my fancy foot and hand work as all the other players and the 100,000 crowd!
5. As a young architect I was commissioned to design and supervise the construction of a grand opera house for Sydney which I duly did but lost the plans down the back of my settee. A certain young Mr Utzon was visiting at that time, but I never knew what became of the plans.
6. After I left Architecture and took up painting I once got a painting commissioned by the French Government and it now hangs in the Louvre two along from the Mona Lisa. It’s called “Mon Grande Cul“, and here it is to show I’m not lying:

Acrylics on board. The sub-text to this painting goes like this: Lady on left says to lady on right:"Does this dress make me look big"? To which the lady on the right replies:"Naw, it's your enormous boobs and yer big fat arse that does it"!
7. I once was travelling on an open-topped bus when it passed under a low bridge and I got my head knocked clean off. The surgeon was a real genius and managed to sew it back on again, unfortunately back-to-front, however it wasn’t noticed until a nurse said to me three days later: “Ye’know, yer talkin' oot the back o’ yer heid!”. I still do so to this day!
8. Finally, earlier this year I was abducted by aliens and flown to the planet Zorg where I was kept as a sex slave for six years to the evil Queen Dominatrix (affectionately known as “Trixie”). However I did manage to escape on an un-attended solar skater-board and after traversing the outer reaches of the universe found my way back home in time for tea. Apparently I was only away for six hours and was seen dozing the afternoon away up the Queens Park.

So there you have it, all true :o)

Well it beats the mundane reality like: I once dropped a stitch while knitting a dress for my dolly; or I still take my teddy to bed at night, or I used to wear my hair down to my shoulders but now I don’t have any.

Well that last one is definitely true!

And the very last part is to pass the baton on. So to all the cats I know, and all the cats I don’t know, yer het!

That just about covers it, so now Im away to get on with some painting!
ttfn :o)

Navel Gazing

2008-11-28T20:17:00.008Z

I've been away travelling in my head and navel gazing at the same time. Not easy for a chap of a certain age! And apart from some fluff and biscuit crumbs there was not a lot to blog about. Except, that is, about some conclusions I have come to:
While I am fascinated with abstract painting and abstraction I may not be the best exponent of the art. It doesn't come particularly natural to me, and perhaps I should leave it to others who make a better go of it. So what am I to do? Every time I go round this dilemma the same answer comes back - figuration. Go back to doing what you really like best, that is drawing and painting figures. Now with fewer years ahead of me than lie behind it's about time I settled down to developing a singular and personal imagery which is mine, all mine, and nobody elses but mine!

So with that in mind I return to my sketchbooks and set out on the long road through the development of a painting:

Pencil on paper, A6 sketchbook: Two female figures seen from the back at last years Artburst Festival in the streets of East Kilbride Village. The Art Festival title is a bit of a misnomer. In my opinion it should be properly named the 'Open Air Piss-Up' since drink laws are relaxed for the three day duration and people can take their swally out into the street. Oh to be in Paris, or the side-walk cafes of Sorrento, but certainly not here about ten o'clock on a wet Saturday night! Still it gives me the opportunity to sketch my fellow revellers.

Working from those two sketches I bring the figures together and try to create some dynamic between them:

Neocolours on paper, 21x30cm: "Development 1: Girlfriends"; I invariably like compositions with only two figures to explore the interaction between them. But I need to go further, and larger:

Neocolours on paper, 44x60cm: "Development 2: Two Figures"; The figures are still female but a change is taking place - the one on the left has become more non-sex specific, and the other is now holding a long staff. Where that comes from I don't know but there you are. I think it was just a device to create an edge to the picture. What you do see here is an attempt to blur the edges such that background crosses over into the figures space. This device fascinates me.

But how to turn these sketches into a painting?:

Oils on board, 44x61cm: "Development 3: Standing Figures"; Using closely harmonising colours applied with palette knife I play with the image trying to create greater ambiguity (my current favourite word). But somehow when forming the right figure's head that touch of complementary colour explodes upwards. She's on fire! This kind of takes me back to my experiments with Free Abstracts where I just painted as it came to me, just going with the lava flow, which in this instance was bright orange and red! Anger? Amorous thoughts? Embarassment? You choose!

I'm pretty pleased with this development and now that I'm on a roll I need to do it again and hopefully take it further. The figure on the right was compromised by my placing such that I had to bend her arm upwards since I couldn't get it in outstretched as in the sketch. That was OK, but I want to shift the figures to one side and capture the extended arm again:

Oils on Board, 48x61cm: "Final Development: Guardians at the Gate"; Perhaps getting too mannerist but there they are, standing guard at a doorway. Where they came from is unknown but with each development new ideas, colours, and applications, spring forth. Excited by this development but I need to see if I can do it again, to consider it's merit. But that is for another day . See you soon, I hope!

Nothing New

2008-11-15T18:46:00.009Z

As some wag said: "What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again, there is nothing new under the sun..."[Eclesiastes 1:9]

It would make you sick: just when you think you are doing great you turn a corner, go into a gallery, and see that it has all been done before - only better!

I'd been reading about "free abstraction" as done during the 1950's by the English artist Gillian Ayres ["...(her) painting refuses to present an image that might invite pictorial interpretation, or that might propose any analogy beyond that manifest in the energetic distribution of pigmented material across a characterless fabricated surface" (usually hardboard) to quote Mel Gooding in his 2001 biography of GA ]. I decided after reading this that what was required was to cast off inhibition and make my own attempts allowing my subconscious, and brush, free reign.

After a good few, stilted, disasters these three appeared out of the chaos of my mind:

Acrylics on paper, 60x45cm:"Free Abstraction #7";

Acrylics on paper, 60x45cm:"Free Abstraction #8";

And:

Acrylics on paper, 45x60cm:"Free Abstraction #9";

There is no attempt to represent anything. What I am searching for is an expression of something intangible, ungraspable, inexpressable in words. They won't 'mean' anything to anyone else, but they mean something to me and gave me great satisfaction.

Until....

...until I walked into Roger Billcliffe's gallery in Glasgow and was astonished to see these fabulous freely expressed abstractions by Gail Harvey, a Glasgow artist now based in Shetland:

Mixed media on canvas, 177x152cm:"Journey";

Mixed media, 99x69cm:"Blue on the Horizon"

These just blew my socks off! I said to the young guy at the desk "these just look like one of my favourite artists Duncan Shanks, to which he replied - "Aye, she was taught by him!". to which I retorted:"I wish I had been taught by him too!".

Go and have a look at her stuff for yourselves here: http://www.billcliffegallery.com/

I have run out of words (at the moment) to describe just how much I love this stuff!

Respite

2008-11-14T17:17:00.004Z

Took ourselves away for a week at my favourite self-catering cottage, Hope Cottage, on the island of Arran, just off the West coast of Scotland. This is our "bolt-hole" in times of stress and upset and every day we walked the hills, through the forests and across the moors all the time bathing in the most glorious weather we've had for a long time. Cleansing and refreshing, but no drawing or painting - couldn't get down to it.
So the best I can do at the moment is to translate some of the many photographs I took into these sketches:

Pencil on paper, A5: "Stone of Hope"; Fairly representational to start but a good exercise to remind myself about drawing.

Every morning I walked down to the shore to watch the Ringed Plover and Curlews, and throw some angry stones into the water:

Neocolour II on paper, A5: "Rock Pool"; Extending myself a bit further with a range of colour markings.

One afternoon after J had got her make-up on to face the world (takes all morning, y'know, and three cups of coffee! but it's worth it - a work of what I call Raw Visionary Art [but please don't tell her I said so :o} and we wouldn't like to scare any kids out there] we climbed up through the forests of Glenashdale, a circular route of only four miles but probably another two vertically! All the time you are puffing and stopping for some oxygen you look upwards at the towering pine trees, bare lower down their trunks showing glimpses of yellow Larch needles against a clear blue sky:

Neocolour II on paper, A5: "Towering Pines"; Trying to get this slender verticality in an A5 pad.

And then you break out into open ground where great swathes of forest have already been cleared leaving a small stand of European Larch turning to these wonderful shades of autumnal colour enhanced by the clear blue sky:

Neocolour II on paper: "Autumn Larches"; There may be other pine trees that are deciduous but these are probably the most common, and a beautiful sight to behold with the freshest green needles in Spring and these rich yellows and orange in the Autumn.

Lastly, looking across the Kilbrannan Sound in the gloaming:

Neocolour on paper, A5:"Kilbrannan Sundowners"; This is a wonderful stretch of water between Arran and the Mull of Kintyre. Often we see the most glorious sunsets looking in this direction and sometimes, if we are lucky, we can see whales or dolphins swimming down the Sound on their way to the open sea. And one day we did! A large pod of at least a dozen animals gently working their way Southwards not too far from shore that we got a good sight of them. Spellbound we were - for a while. But the spell of this wondrous sight was broken by a complete eejit on a powerboat who came skelping round the point and charged straight into the middle of the pod. Dolphins going everywhichway trying to get away from him, but he continued to chase them for miles, past Davaar and Sanda, out into the Atlantic.

Some humans don't deserve the title! Fortunately there are many more, like you dear readers, who do.

Thank you for your time, and goodnight!

ps: a special thanks to Brian for getting me up off my butt and writing again. Cheers mate!

Last Post For Leo

2008-10-30T21:08:00.009Z

Now I am no poet (and I know it) but here are some thoughts and feelings composed this morning while supposed to be doing the metta bavahna:

My garden is empty now

My garden is empty now
Like a deserted plain
No more shall I see you
Bound across the lawn with gay abandon
Legs in all directions as you charge
Into my heart.

My window ledge is empty now
Like a hole in my heart
No more shall I see your
Mischievous face looking in waiting
Patiently for me to come down the stairs
And let you in.

The seat by my side is empty now
Like a vacant parking space
No more shall I see you
Sleeping on your back with legs in the air
And slitted eyes watching my every move
As I try to pull at your tail.

My lap is empty now
Like a part of my body
Has been taken away
No more shall I stroke your willing head
And suffer your glare
When I stop for a moment.

My heart is empty now
Like a black hole
Heavy with sadness
No more shall we share our uncertain lives
Nor meet for the daily round
Of love and respect.

My garden is empty now.

And here is a small selection of the many photographs I took of Leo (most of them rubbish but kept just the same):

When First He Came To Stay:

The red collar was very short lived until I gave up and let him be the wildcat he was.

Chums on a Sunny Day in the Garden:

A bit out of focus but it shows right from the beginning that of all places he chose my lap to sit on.

Last Christmas:

He loved getting into boxes and bags. The mouse present was purely an aside. And anyway he gave me more gifts of mice than I can remember. Who will control them now?

Workmate:

How many days did we share in the studio? He would sit at the glazed door waiting patiently for me to let him in then dive up onto the table and into his own corner (top right) to sleep the afternoon away while I worked. This is the Master giving me some needy advice.

The Last Photograph I Took Just Last Week:

I've got a million photos of him sleeping like this. It never ceased to amaze me and I wouldn't have wanted him to be uncomfortable!

Goodbye my friend.

Dear Friends

2008-10-29T09:11:00.002Z

It grieves me to have to tell you that as far as I can be certain Leo is dead and gone.

I duly phoned the Council yesterday morning and they confirmed it was a black&white cat that was removed but they also immediately incinerated his body. I understand their responsibility to do that quickly but I am angered they did not scan him for the record. I was told they do not have the time or the equipment to do so. I will write to the South Lanarkshire Council's Director of Land Services to express my dismay that they cannot make the time or have the small hand-held piece of equipment to scan what was obviously a family pet as a matter of standard proceedure. It may be a nuisance to them but it is of great importance to me and others who might lose their furry friend and not know what happened.

I still look for him at the window.

Lost

2008-10-27T17:02:00.005Z

And I'm not talking about the cat!

He's gone out of my life about as quickly as he came into it. He's been gone now for four full days and I can hardly do anything except look for his mischievous wee face at the window waiting to get in (I never installed a cat-flap because I knew he would bring in daily conquests so he had to sit on the window ledge waiting, patiently to get in). Perhaps that's why he left?

But I haven't given up on him: So far I've got the local shop owner to put up a small poster asking for anyone who sees him to give me a call; I've also been round the local neighbourhood handing out leaflets and asking if anyone has seen him would they also give me a call (they all know this cat because he regularly passes through their gardens on his travels, or sits under bushes waiting for unsuspecting birdies). Apart from the one cat hater I spoke to who would chase him, all my other neighbours were as concerned as me about his welfare. It took me a whole morning to go round them with all their own stories of missing cats! So not only is Leo now a celebrity but I've become the local idiot who's life seems to revolve around a pussy-cat!

After checking round my own patch lest he was lying injured under the shrubery I phoned Leo's first family (that's how I know his name is Leo and not really Toots {which is the name I gave her before I took her to the vet worried that I would end up with a litter of kittens, only to be told she was a boy!} - that's me: man of the world who can't tell the difference, ha!). Apparently Leo had turned up at their house three months ago, been fed, and disappeared again - back to my house! Obviously he has done this before - wandering off to ingratiate himself with another soft-touch family who will pet him stupid. So perhaps I shouldn't be surprised he's gone again.
I got two telephone calls yesterday: the first from a lady down the street saying she saw him wander through her garden. Out I went hoping that it was him, but no, it was an all black, long-hair and not my bold boy. The second call was from his previous family saying they were sure they saw him last night, but, again, when I got there no sign.

This is my wee pal giving me the eye as I try to photograph him for 'Cat' magazine or 'Cosmopolitan' or 'Time'.

Today I called the Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (SSPCA, of which I am a supporter) to register his disappearance in the hope that if he is reported as injured, handed in, or even killed, they will get to know about it and reading his "chip" will contact me. Nothing recorded yet.

What more can I do except walk the streets looking?

I've been giving this a lot of thought (obviously!) and it seems to me whatever his reasons for leaving I can only hope that it is by his own choice. I always recognised his free spirit (that's largely what I liked about him) and perhaps knew one day he would leave. He came into my life during a very low and dark period (J was ill and I had no-one to share my deepest thoughts) and quickly he became my pal (feeding him chewies might have had something to do with it, you think?). But it seems to me that in life we hate change and try to hang on to the status quo when, in fact, life constantly changes around us (nothing is permanent) and we either resist this change in circumstances and struggle, or we embrace the change and move forward. I don't want to move forward without Leo - but I may have to.

Latest update: Tonight, just as I was sitting down to dinner, I got a call from the daughter of one of my neighbours who lives close by in another area telling me of a dead cat lying in the street close to her house. I immediately set of to see for myself (I need to know either way). It was gone. I knocked the nearest door and spoke to the guy who firstly phoned the SSPCA, and then phoned the Council. He confirmed it was black&white and they must have removed it. J was in tears when I returned, but I am more positive: I will phone the Council in the morning and we will try to determine if it was Leo or not. My mixed-feeling hope is that it was another B&W who roamed that area - a cat with an endearing startled look on his face, but definitely not Leo.

We shall know tomorrow (I hope).

I'm sorry there is no arwork to talk about but I can't.

Fragments

2008-10-24T20:19:00.005+01:00

A fragmented day. Whoever said only women can multi-task got it completely wrong. My mind has been in at least six places all day.
Firstly (and most importantly), the cat: it's not unusual for Leo not to turn up in the morning, but he is usually there at the window at least by mid-day. No sign of him. And still at half-past-eight this evening still no sign of him. Not like him at all. Eight o'clock is his sweetie-time. Either he's copped his whack under the wheels of a car (which I don't believe because he is very fast indeed), or someone is keeping him. I wouldn't blame them for Leo is one good looking feline. But HE IS MINE! LET HIM GO!!!!
Secondly, painting: Hard to concentrate today. Attempting to push my boundaries a little further (while at the same time continuously looking out of the studio door hoping to see il mio gatto sitting patiently for me, waiting to get in) working on pastel images and acrylic paintings of abstracted fragments straight from my subconscious. No thinking - just doing. Responding intuitively with a bunch of colours in my hand [see images below].
Thirdly: the new boiler is acting up - it frequently "locks-out" which means when hot water is required it fails to ignite and warning lights come on requiring re-setting. I am unable to induce this to happen and find myself watching it for ages so I can catch it 'in flagrante' so to speak. No luck - it apparently knows when I am observing it - but there it goes again just when I turn away! Bandit (to put it mildly)!
Fourthly: I've had to get two new front tyres for my car this morning before the winter sets in properly since those on the front are too close to the limit (oh what fun sitting in the garage waiting room trying to read a newspaper and ignore the numpties on day-time telly who expose their miserable lives to the world {she wants to give her ex-con, pot-smoking, lazy-bastard of a live-in boyfriend, and father of her three children who he couldn't give a damn about, another chance after he has cheated on her for an EIGHTH time!!!! [and not only is he unintelligible when he speaks but more than half of it is bleeped out to save my delicate ears] I think: when the hell will my tyres be ready and where the hell is my cat! Important things, ye'know?
Fifthly: trying to break in these new Timberland clod-hoppers to wear with my kilt at tomorrow night's ceilidh {one of The Mandolin Boys (big Alan) is getting hitched and there will be a party with no holds barred!} [so if there are no postings for a few days you will know the reason why!] It's pure agony and a bit distracting. So don't tell me about multi-tasking - ma heid, as well as ma feet, 's about burstin'!
Sixthly: Had to go to the clinic to get my annual flu jab but when I presented myself at Reception was told I was a whole week too early! See what happens? As they say in these parts: "Auld age disnae come alane!" What with the failing eyesight, loss of memory, and the bad back!
Which brings me neatly to my abstracts:

Neocolour II on paper, 21x15cm: "Fragments #1"; started by randomly drawing patches of colour and binding them together. A kind of loosening-up exercise, but too stiff for where I want to go.

Neocolour II on paper, 21x15cm: "Fragments #3"; Now we're whistlin' Dixie! Without boundaries these fragments leapt out onto the page.

Neocolour II on paper, 21x15cm: "Fragments #5"; Using a technique here suggested by Melinda - burnishing the Neocolours with a moistened pad, which of course fills in the white gapos between my pastel strokes. I can see uses for this, so thanks Melinda!

Neocolour II on paper, 21x15cm: "Fragments #8": This one struck me as being not too unlike Monet's lily-pond with reflections of the sky and some dark structure. You can purchase this from me for, oh, about £2million? Done - sold to the lady with the lost look on her face!

Neocolour II on paper, 28x20cm: "Last of the Nasturtiums"; Gazing out of the studio window waiting for you-know-who to turn up I see these nasturtiums desparately clinging on to some life when they should in fact be consigned to the compost bin. So I give them one last hurrah. Hurrah!

But still no sign of Leo :o(

Oh, and the bad back? When I stand for long periods at the easel my back starts to give me gyp. So now I'm doing my work sitting on the floor. Ok till one of them big tarantula spiders scurries on by. I wouldn't mind too much but it's the disdainfull look on it's face when it stops to see what I'm doing. Cheeky bandit!

And still no sign of Leo :o((((

Infinity Vortex

2008-10-23T19:21:00.007+01:00

Usually I stumble about, each day bringing fresh challenges (which is the same for all of us) and then I have rare moments of clarity (which might be the same for some of us).

It's a strange world.

This is the last of my Subconscious Musings for the present: ([{I've forgotten what number I'd gotten to, so we'll just call it SM#Infinity}]) Nothing special except it brings that series to a close:

Neocolour II on paper, 30x25cm: "Vortex";

Now I can move on.

The Beast

2008-10-19T19:37:00.005+01:00

Now that I've got your undivided attention with this Hammer Horror title I'm sorry to have to let you down. The real subject of this posting is this most wonderful mandolin player:
Alison Stephens :

Last Friday I travelled south from Glasgow with two of my mandolinista compatriots, Billy and Ian (and laughed all the way!) to the Borders town of Biggar to see and hear young Alison give a recital in "The Aroma" cafe as part of the Biggar Little Arts Festival. The cafe was packed and expectant for this young woman is credited as being one of the very best mandolin players in Britain, if not the world. And, you've guessed it, we were not dissappointed. She has an easy and personable manner gently interpersing history and facts about the mandolin with the most sublime pieces of real music you can ever hope to hear. This is the woman who played for the soundtrack of Captain Corelli's Mandolin, and while many pieces were which she called "soft and fluffy", she also played what I would call "High Classical" with such dexterity and confidence, all from memory, I was mesmerised. I can never hope to achieve these dizzy heights in my playing since I know I've started far too auld but I was lost for an afternoon in the company of an attentive audience and wonderful live music.

Which all made up for the interminable traffic jams on the way there and on the way home.

Above is the sketch I made from many half-glimpses through the ears of the big chap who sat in front of me. Alison very graciously signed it for me.

Oh, and "The Beast" was the name she gave to her Octave Mandolin which was about the size of a full-scale guitar.

Wee lassie, big mandolin - rock on!

I Like a Challenge!

2008-10-10T18:15:00.007+01:00

Having had a good few days to consider what exactly happened with my unsuccessful attempt at getting accepted as an Artist Member of the Paisley Art Institute (PAI), and now that my chin has lifted back up to about chin level (with the help of multi-coloured braces), I have come to some conclusions {with more than a little help from my friends around the globe} which will help me understand where I went wrong and what I’m going to do about it:
1. Although my confidence was high, and I thought Mother Universe was sending me a positive message by plonking the call for new Artist Members on my doormat, I unthinkingly jumped into that application far too quickly. I had a choice - whether to do nothing and let it slide (as usual), or get my act together and have a go. I should have recognised I really wasn’t ready for this year. Ho-hum!
2. In retrospect I know I should have already been submitting paintings over the last few years into the PAI’s annual exhibition until I started getting some accepted [I have had drawings accepted before but never a painting] then after a few years applied for Artist Membership. I got it arse for elbow!
3. Instead of submitting a range of drawings and paintings I should have kept a much narrower focus that showed consistency. A flower watercolour, a charcoal portrait drawing, and a figure painting in oils was obviously too diverse. Now this takes me back to my second solo exhibition I held in 2002 where I had got together 37 diverse pieces, all properly framed. I remember the gallery owner saying how great he thought it was but it did look like a mixed exhibition! Ha! - will I never learn?
4. While I might think my work is the bee’s knees, in the cold light of day I can see that my painting technique needs to improve. I can only do that by working harder (slap about the head!).
5. My choice of framing was poor. I thought I could get away with cobbling a few different frames together and I can see now that was a big mistake. Whether I like it or not, the PAI is looking for better presentation with quality framing. I know this, so why didn’t I do it? - Idiocy, that’s why! (I hope you guys out there are also learning from this!)
6. I do not know anyone in the Paisley Art Institute, and they don’t know me because even as a Lay Member I have missed their AGM for the last couple of years. What do I expect? So if I want to do this I need to make more of an effort and try to get to know them better by continuing as a Lay Member and being seen.
7. I suspect not having a Fine Art degree is a hindrance but there’s nothing I can, or will, do about that.

Now whether I ultimately try again next year or not, there is no doubt in my mind that sitting here today I have two options:
1. Accept defeat and give up on it.
2. Consider it as a challenge and work for a year towards re-application.

The first option may appear to be the easiest - I just try to put it out of my mind and carry on the way I have been going, jumping about from one project to another. Unfortunately on this road lies perdition: I fail to make proper or sustained progress.

I know instinctively that Option 1 is not an option for me, or at least shouldn’t be. It will always be there at the back of my mind, gnawing away, as a constant sense of failure.
The second option is, on the face of it, much harder and with no guarantee of a positive outcome, but if I choose Option 2 what is the worst that can happen? I make better use of this coming year and create and develop a better quality of work which, properly framed, makes me stand a chance IF I CHOOSE to apply again. In other words - there is no harm in it, and most definitely a lot of good.
So there - I have talked myself into it and relish the challenge. Option 2 it is. Tally-ho!

But how do I illustrate this post? (because I know you have all dropped off ...yawn...reading this...yawn again…epistle..wishing there was something interesting to look at 'cause reading more than two words is awfu', awfu' hard). So, I’m going to finish off with my penultimate subconscious musing:

Neocolour II on paper, 40x30cm: "Curl"; I am very keen to pursue some sort of abstract painting but I recognise the love and enjoyment I get from figurative work, so the task I set myself is somehow to combine them. Not much to ask, so I've got a lot of thinking to do, and a lot of work ahead of me. I hope you won't be bored with the journey I have now set off on! Join me in my Great Big Adventure!
Andiamo!

Toots

2008-10-08T19:32:00.006+01:00

Poor wee bugger - today started out great for my little feline friend, with the sun shining and the birds singing (watch out - he's got his slitty yellow eye on you!), but took a rapidly downward turn around lunchtime when I evily enticed him into the house with the promise of sweety-chewies, bundled him in to his carry-box (after a short wrestling match - two falls, two submissions and a knock-out!) then into the car for an horrendous mile trip along to the vetinarians to get him a jag up the bum and chipped to tell the world he belongs to me! It's his own fault for adopting me: if he didn't like getting petted so much and fed every day and treated to his sweety-chewies every night then he could go somewhere else to live and get none of these expressions of unconditional love. Still, he's a poor wee bugger. He came home and flaked out on the living-room floor for half-an-hour obviously traumatised from his Great Big Adventure! (he mieows in the car all the way there and all the way back again - it would break my heart if I had one, ha!) And there he is - out for the count on the sofa still having nightmares of fighting dogs in the waiting room and pointy needles in the scruff of the neck:

Oils on board, 40x30cm: "Recovery Position"; But he's a survivor. After sleeping the afternoon away he was right as rain and out to the back garden again to take up where he left off: hunting unsuspecting wee birdies. It's a cruel world!

Bums Rush!

2008-10-04T20:05:00.004+01:00

This is painful for me (and calls for extra lashings of vino colapso) but you might as well share my tribulations as well as my joys.
The Big Submission I was being so coy and secretive about was my application to become an Artist Member of the Paisley Art Institute (PAI) which, you will gather from the title of this piece, was unsuccessful.
I have been a lay member of this organisation for some time and when the latest newsletter came through my door intimating that new Artist Membership was about to be considered I decided that rather than let the opportunity pass by I was feeling confident enough to submit the following drawing and two paintings (suitably framed):

Now I know it's difficult for any of you to pass any real qualitative judgement on what you see as cyber images but I felt that these were generally indicative of the work I do - a broad range (within the limitation of three) of bold watercolours, strong pencil drawings, and dynamic figurative painting. Alas not what is acceptable to the Paisley Art Institute.
I do not really understand why I was rejected (pours another drink). Either it has something to do with the raw nature of my work (West of Scotland Art currently tends to be pretty smooth) or my framing was inadequate: I wasn't prepared to splash out on all new custom framing hoping the artwork would speak for itself so I re-used a professional double-mounted black frame for the sunflowers, an off-the-shelf beech frame for the drawing (this would have cost me a fortune to get my framer to do at this size), and a self-made stripwood edging, painted white, for the oil painting. I thought they each looked great, and was pretty pleased, but obviously my taste is in my bahookie! (pours another drink).

Where to now?

This is undoubtably a bit of a set-back for me, but as my grannie used to say: "Whit's fur ye (for you) will no go bye ye".

Looks like the PAI wisnae fur me!

Ye Thocht Ah'd Bin Murdered....

2008-10-03T21:12:00.004+01:00

....but luckily I survived!

I'm pleased to say that I took Melanie's advice and hoovered like my life depended on it and boy was she right! I just passed inspection by the skin o' ma teeth! I'd like to report that I've been "off air" canoodeling and making up for a whole weeks separation from my paramour, but (sadly) that's only the half of it! There's been a few other goings-on that have kept me away from the keyboard: Principally, the Plumber (and his Mate) have been wreaking havoc on our household, ripping up floorboards and knocking huge holes in the wall to fit a new combi-boiler and four new radiators (Part II of our energy-saving strategy). Bloody hell what a mess! It's been like downtown Bagdad before the 'surge'. It might be OK for them to spend their working days like demolition contractors but we have to work like the devil to recover our household into some semblance of order after they have gone (laughing with wads of money in their hands!). But as the dust settles we can see that it has indeed been worth it (although it might take me another fortnight to work out how this new heating programmer works!)

We did get one nights relief from heating contractors when we went out to an excellent concert with Mick West Trio at East Kilbride Arts Centre. Singing traditional folk music they brought a new perspective to old and new Scottish tunes. Mick has an amazingly rich voice and a brilliant sense of the romantic in his renditions of songs by Robert Burns. A lovely night which I can only support and applaud with these mediocre pencil sketches in a small sketchbook:

The man himself: a big lad with a big, beautiful, rich voice.

Mick with one of his accompanyists, Steve Laurence, on the five-string guitar, who also played Bazooka. Top-class playing!

Then there was Frank McLoughlan on guitar and the Scottish Sma' Pipes:
These guys were great, but beforehand there were some other 'folkies' doing their thing to get us in the mood:

A good night out. There is nothing (to my mind) to beat live music from top-class performers.

Still Rumaging

2008-09-26T19:09:00.004+01:00

It's like when you go up into your granny's loft and find all sorts of rubbish (which you see as delights) and think "This is amazing - I could do something wonderful with this!" and then you get it home and sure enough...it's rubbish! Well here is the latest 'delight' for your delectation:

Neocolour II on paper 29x19cm: "The Claw"; Struggling to give it a title so just plumped for 'The Claw' because my imaginative way with words has just deserted me. Not enough wine, that's the problem! Excuse me while I get a refill....talk amongst yourselves.....Right I'm back. So what do I say of this? Actually I think it's one of the best so far (but don't dismay - there is better to come, I promise). Or is that my other delusional self talking? The truth is I'm a bit freaked out at the moment. Not just because my better half is due back from vacation tomorrow and I've still got a mountainous amount of housework to get stuck into (more later) but I see I have now got TWO followers to this blog and I'm panicking! "Help Ma Boab" as Oor Wullie used to say [ Oor Wullie is a fictional Scottish boy whom I grew up with, and was always getting up to high-jinx, but still consider my ultimate hero (not withstanding Homer Simpson, Pinocchio, and Plug {see previous posting:...}) (Note to self: must get a keyboard with more styles of parenthesis). Back to panic: Now that I know people are not only reading this rubbish but actually looking out for it gives me the heebie-jeebies. What if I let them down? What if they eventually see through it and think I'm a tit? What if I get another glass of wine and don't give a damn? What if I get back to the plot?
The plot: These attempts at abstract art seem to me to be pretty poor when I see what my other abstractionist heroes (previously mentioned) get up to. Theirs' (I was reading a book about puctuation the other day and I hope I understood enough to get the apostrophe in the right place there) (I love parenthesis because I can wander off and have a discussion with myself while you lot wonder what's going on!) where was I?... ah yes: theirs' is a much free'r expression which one day I hope to emulate. These images that I am presently coming up with are, I hope, simply the precursers of better things to come.
Housework: (Told you I'd get back to it!) Since 'She Who Will Be Obeyed" returns tomorrow I've got to make sure everything is ship-shape and Bristol fashion. I've done two washings so far, hung them out, and taken them in. Done a big ironing, and now I'm about to clear all the bottles and cans lined up along the mantlepiece after a whole week of partying (those of you who didn't manage have only got yourselves to blame - you were invited), wash every plate and pan in the house that seems to have found it's way into my sink (pretty sure the next-door neighbours dishes are in there too!) and clear all the paintings that I've got lined up on the living-room floor in preparation for the big submission (which is still a secret and don't say a word because I haven't told you about it yet). The one thing I absolutely will not do is... the hoovering. Why? Because she will only do it again anyway! Keeps her happy.

More Musings

2008-09-25T18:32:00.006+01:00

Working up a storm here with more musings from the inner recesses of my mind:

Neocolour II on paper, 29x19cm: "Blue Ridge"; It didn't start with mountainous thoughts just a quiet meditation on how the pastel moved in my hand uninhibited.

Still on a craggy theme out came this crack in the space/time continuum:

Neocolour II on paper, 29x19cm: "Fissure"; Only joking - it's got nothing to do with the 'space/time thingy..' just me dreaming and having a lark at my own expense :o)

Putting these images down onto paper gives me a real up-lift as though I have found a voice which is just my own. Life couldn't get any better. And on top of that, after all those years in complete ignorance, I have just recently found "The Simpsons" and laugh out loud at it's truth and idiocy. Not only do I find I have a real affinity with Homer but also a great affection for Marge, whom I quote here: "Most women will tell you that you're a fool to think you can change a man. But those women are quitters!"

Talking of which - you'll be glad to know it's only two days till my darling wife returns from vacation and she'll sort me out again!

More musings tomorrow,

caio!

Subconscious Musing #7

2008-09-24T19:05:00.003+01:00

Still musing on what goes on between my ears!
Musings #2 to #6 scared me a bit and therefore not willing to impose these images on an unsuspecting public. So I jump forward, and backwards at the same time. What fun - it's like a game of hopscotch or an episode from Dr Who. This image came out of my subconscious a few full moons ago but kicked about in an unfinished state until today (what do you mean "still looks unfinished to me!") I'll have you know that this took many hours contemplation, some green for the iris, and a bit of red for the eyeball to say "IT IS FINISHED!":

Acrylics on primed cardboard, 40x50cm: "Icon"; Don't shoot the messenger. I only report what is revealed!

Abstract Notions

2008-09-23T17:09:00.011+01:00

Every so often I go looking for something else. Sometimes when I'm posting stuff on Flikr I come across either new artists or old contacts/friends who have highly a developed sense of the abstract, for example: maryannwakeley (who has also just started a new blog which you can find here: http://maryannwakeley.blogspot.com/); annabarne ; hiroshimatsumoto ; and leekaloidis . The problem is, however, that these artists appear to paint from somewhere deep down, somewhere that I seem to be unable to find. And it drives me nuts. (well a bit more than usual!). But it doesn't stop me trying. Here is one such attempt:

Acrylics on hardboard, 61x39cm: "Subconscious Musings #1"; Well the image has to come from somewhere so why not my subconscious. There's all sorts of things going on in there it's just a matter of digging them out! One of my favourite films is "Pollock" with Ed Harris playing the nutcase... sorry, the great man himself and the best scene of all was when JP was in his bare barn studio with a length of canvas rolled out on the floor and a can of household paint poised over it waiting for inspiration...waiting...waiting (wait for it....) and it comes (phew!) in the form of a drip from the can - splorp...splorrrp...dribble, dribbbble, wheeeeeech.......and the rest, as they say, is history! His history, not mine. The best I can do at this moment in time is to guddle around my own subconscious and (apart from the broken bottles and wee motors a' crashing [as my mother used to say]) and try to make something of what I find.

Don't try to analyse it. There is no rational. All is chaos!

The Firth of Clyde

2008-09-20T20:09:00.005+01:00

My wife and her sister, Anne, have taken the ferry over to Arran for a whole week on holiday and I am on my lonesome! Apart from having an empty for the week I am able to do just as I like without reference to anyone else, except the cat! So mine's is an empty for the week and you are all welcome to crash out and party with me. The only proviso I got when Jacqui left was to not bring any more cats into the house! But do I ever listen? NO!!! The party starts tonight, so get yersel's up here and don't hold back.

Meanwhile, for my first day of "freedom", I took myself along the coast to Portencross, near West Kilbride, and went wandering along the beach. And here's what I found:

Pastels on Ingres paper, 22x15cm: "Sailing on the Firth"; The sea was alive with small boats dotting here and there, some with their spinnackers out like galleons in full flow, and others with them folded but still skiting along at a rate of knots!
Then, after a long wearisom treck along the sands, watching the black-headed gulls and the oystercatchers, and the gannets diving into the sea in search of mackerel, I sit myself down on a sandbank and watch the tide surreptitiously creep in, each wavelet seeping forward, covering the sand, and let the afternoon wash over me:

Pastels on Ingres paper, 22x15cm: "Across the Firth"; The colours are there if you have eyes to see. I am drunk with the brilliance. I never want to leave!

Fork

2008-09-18T18:58:00.004+01:00

Food is always a subject close to my heart and on today's menu is Fish Pie. Well not the pie itself because that would be gross, and in any case long gone tho' not forgotten, but the fork-I-ate-the-pie-with. That's the same Fish Pie, by the way, I ate with such satisfaction at the weekend when we stayed late on Rothesay for dinner.
Imagine the scene: we've placed our order from the Specials board and eagerly await it's arrival. The sun is dropping down below the distant hills and the warmth of a fruity Shiraz is warming my cockles. And there it is right in front of me:

Acrylics on primed plywood, 45.5x30.5cm: "Fork"; It's strange, isn't it, that you can travel all over the place searching for subjects to paint and then there it is staring you right in the face! But then food and all that is related to it has a special, magical, meaning. It's like having fairies at the bottom of your garden only much more exciting! Salute alla forchetta!

Sailing Down The Clyde

2008-09-17T16:36:00.002+01:00

Following my Grand Day Out I managed to have a couple of Grand Days In! The results of which are these two yachting images (among other stuff):

Acrylics on primed hardboard, 42.5x61cm: "Spinnacker 1"; During our ferry crossing from Wemyss Bay over to Rothesay on Saturday we passed this lone sailor far out in the Firth scudding along to a merry hornpipe. How much I wished I was him with the wind in my sails and only dolphins for company...or so I would have it but then along comes another one chasing my rudder and trying to beat me into port. The race is on:

Acrylics on primed hardboard, 61x41cm: "Spinnacker 2"; This yacht has bright bands of colour on his spinnacker sail and a mean look as though nothing will get in his way and he intends to win this race come hell or high water!

Painted over two days both of these images were developed from distant photographic views, the smell of salt water in my nostrils, and the wind blowing through my ears because it can't blow through my hair any more as I don't have any!

You know it's funny, when I write the word 'yacht' it still takes me right back to my primary school days when I was learning to spell. We had just spelled this word pronounced as 'yawt' and were asked for any other boats or ships. I had my hand up in a flash offering another sailing vessel called a 'yach-t'! Ho ho ho what a tit! I've never changed. Still hopless at spelling. Thank goodness to Google. Where would I be without it!

A Grand Day Out

2008-09-13T13:58:00.003+01:00

There are some compensations to turning 60 - it's not all greying hair and teeth falling out, failing eyesight and getting measured for a zimmer frame (don't be cheeky - in my case it's only the grey hair!) here in Scotland we "Senoir Citizens" also get free bus travel and cheap-rate rail fares. With that in mind we were up with the larks yesterday and setting off for a trip "Doon The Watter", which is a term we use in Glasgow for going on a ferry trip across the Firth of Clyde to either Dunoon or Rothesay on the Isle of Bute. These two destinations were extremely popular around the turn of the 20th century up until about the 1960's when the advent of cheap air travel to Spain and the Balearic Islands turned these resorts into sad decline. Rothesay is, however, still a favourite place for us to visit. We went there on our honeymoon in 1971, and have been going back every year since. This is a view from the ferry top deck overlooking the tiny marina towards the town frontage:

After walking around the town to re-aquaint ourselves with our favourite haunts we headed out along the shore towards Bogany Point at the entrance to Rothesay Bay. It was out there that I came across this small boathouse jutting out from a cleft in the rocks and surrounded by gorse bushes and trees:
Pencil in Moleskine sketchbook, 19x14cm: Starting with some tentative marks testing my mood for drawing, I quickly realise I'm feeling bullish and get steamed in! Moleskines, however, have a life of their own - so here's my "Tip of the Day": Instead of just opening the sketchbook and starting to draw it's a good idea first to wrap the the elasticated band around the end of the book or it will conjure an escape from your hands and concertina out till it lands at your feet! Right, that bad boy goes back in the bag and out comes a spiral-bound ingress sketchbook and my box of pastels. Time for colour:

Pastels on Ingres paper, 30x25cm: "Boathouse"; Apart from the eminently suitability of the subject for pastelling I was attracted by the colouring with it's slated grey tiled roof, those painted blue slatted gates, and the corner of a bright orange plastic upturned boat.

We continued on our walk over Canada Hill and back down into the town where we slaked our thirst with cold pints of beer and dinner in a small family-run restaurant which offered us an excellent fish pie made entirely from local catches. Then it was back on the last ferry and heading home tired but happy. This shot was taken as we gently sailed back across the Firth with the sun going down over Toward Point and the hills of Bute Island:

It was unusual for the water to be as calm as this and the scene reminded me of a song my father used to sing by Robert Wilson, which goes like this:

"At hush of eventide/ O'er the hills beyond the Clyde/ I go roaming to my haven/ Down in the glen".

The words and music were by Harry Gordon & Tommy Connor, and was typical tartan Scottish pap, but I loved it. Still do. You should hear me sing it after a few - I can bring the house down. Literally!

Then it was onto the train and heading back to Glasgow as darkness deepened. This lady with extraordinary straight white hair sat in the seat in front and to the right of me occassionally turning to speak to her companion, so this sketch was made over about a half-hour period from momentary glimpses as she turned to her left to speak:

With her severely cut bob haircut and dark set eyes she looked striking but a bit fearsome too!

Gladioli

2008-09-08T18:03:00.003+01:00

This blog's in severe danger of becoming a weather report! Yet another dreich day in the West of Scotland with heavy downpours all afternoon. The rain batters off the flat roof of my studio so hard and loud you'd think it was going to come right in and wash everything out into the street and down the nearest stank! (Scots for rainwater sewer). So I think I'll use watercolours to stay with the day's wet and watery theme.

The other week when my double-glazing fitters arrived I chopped down some gladioli which were planted right under the front window before they were trampled into the ground as I knew they would be. I kept them in a vase for over a week and each time I looked at them said: "I really must draw/paint these before they fade". But never quite got to them. My wife was asking me for days if she could throw them out yet since they were totally wilted and sad. I gave in at the weekend recognising the opportunity was gone. However, the idea was firmly planted in my head and yesterday when I was up at the supermarket I picked up these two bunches reduced in price to £1.50 ($3) each. It was only when I got home that I saw from the recipt that the checkout boy had only charged me for one bunch. I thought he looked a bit dozy that morning!

Watercolour on paper, 56x76cm: "Red Gladioli"; Started with watersoluable colour pencils on a full imperial sheet of not paper. This is the first time I have painted in this way on a full-sized sheet feeling that I needed a bit of elbow movement to capture these long spikes.

Watercolour on paper, 56x76cm: "Yellow Gladioli"; Same process as the last since I felt in the mood!

Right now I'm off to Flickr to post these as "Gladioli for Dame Edna"!

Peruvian Trumpets

2008-08-27T14:15:00.006+01:00

Tomorrow I will be getting my whole house re-fitted with new double glazing as part of a wider strategy to combat outrageously high (and rising) energy prices. Next month I will also have my decrepit, totally inefficient, boiler replaced with a new Grade A fuel efficient combi-boiler, again to allay some of these costs (and make the house cosier). And so today I have a million-zillion things to do in preparation for the contractor's early start tomorrow morning. But I can't put myself anywhere and I certainly can't think about creating artwork. This is typical of me - The Eternal Procrastinator: I would rather do other more interesting things than what I am supposed to. So this afternoon I have been visiting some other friendly bloggers to see what they have been up to and as promised to Melinda I have posted this sketch of a Peruvian plant called 'Datura sanguinea' to compliment the sketch she has recently posted: TobaccoSphinxandDatura:
Pencil and watercolour on paper, 2xA4: "Blazing Trumpets"; Made direct from life while sitting sketching in our local country park conservatory with maw, paw, and a' the weans looking over my shoulder watching me! You will note that this plant is not a native of Scotland and therefore could'nae last ten minutes outside, even at the height of summer on a good day. 40degrees indeed!

Crocosmia

2008-08-25T21:06:00.006+01:00

The Shasta Daisies are long gone now - cut to the ground and consigned to the compost bin. The one thing I'll do differently next year is to give them some support as they grow so tall strong winds just blow them over. Not so these Crocosmia. They are much stiffer and spikey and can put up with the gale force winds we have had recently. As well as the torrential rain. These bright beauties can handle just about anything Mother Nature throws at them and they still stand there beaming. And the bees just love them too. A lovely warm and sunny afternoon brings me out into the garden again for another painting session starting with a sketch drawing to help me feel my way into the subject:

Neocolour II on paper, A4: "Crocosmia"; Without preliminaries I dive straight in with these water-soluable pastels dancing my way across the paper trying to capture the flowers orange and scarlet exhuberance with the long green spearlike leaves pointing towards them as though they might have been missed! With some touches of water to blend the colours a bit smoother I am finished with the sketch and looking to move on to a larger painting. I feel a surge of confidence and decide I will paint with acrylics to keep it clean and fresh:

Mixed Media on board, 46x61cm: "Crocosmia Clump"; After making initial marks to place the flower racemes with yellow, orange and scarlet Neocolour pastels on the primed hardboard I work in and around them with cerulean mixed with white very fluidly to try to make the image lively. Where the wet acrylics touches the Neocolours they blend and run into each other blurring the edges and running in a way that satisfies a sense of playfulness. So much so I start another one to see if I can do it again:

Mixed Media on plywood, 39x61cm: "Crocosmia Again"; Now I'm having fun! I recently bought some thin sheets of plywood (6mm) cut them to various sizes and primed them with gesso. They have been lying around the studio waiting for a moment like this. And I love the open texture of the plywood surface as the acrylic paint soaks right into it. Repeating the process as the first one I am enjoying the action as I stand in the warm sunshine painting 'en plein air'. In fact here's the garden set up:

You will notice how large the clump of Crocosmia is, and there are a few others like this in different parts of the garden. Next you will notice the great lump of concrete holding my easle in place. Strong gusts of wind were just about lifting it (and me) off the ground with the painting acting like a sail! The strong sunlight is bouncing off my two tin plate palettes which is a pity because they are works of art in their own right with all that brightly coloured acrylic paint. Finally you might just notice the glazed door to my studio top right. I put that door in especially so I could look out on cold winter days and dream of painting outside in the summer. And here I am doing it!

Crashing and Burning!

2008-08-21T22:32:00.004+01:00

Oils on board: "Green Man Falling"; Strange - you get an image in your head and nothing will shift it until you exorcise it in paint.

Sfumato Peonies

2008-08-01T18:34:00.004+01:00

I was reading this book about painting 'sfumato' and thought: "Hey, I must try that!"

Oils on plywood board, 61x40cm: "Sfumato Peonies"; Anything Italian interests me (wine, food, fashion and car design, politics, history [especially Rome], love, lifestyle, coffee, women) and this method of painting by brushing over the painted image with a dry brush to create this kind of "smokey" atmosphere seemed like a good idea at the time. Personally I feel that the original bold image I had painted was lost. Still it was an interesting exercise to do. I will probably re-work this painting to re-establish the stronger dynamics I prefer.

The Beano

2008-07-30T18:59:00.004+01:00

Happy 70'th Birthday to the: My favourite comic when I was a madcap 7year-old. With Dennis the Menace and Beryl the Peril I learned that mischief was a lot more fun than being a goody-two-shoes like Horace!

My favourite character was Plug:

You live on, big Pal. He is still My Hero!

The Monoprint Monologues: Day#3

2008-07-28T18:20:00.004+01:00

Beginning to get a degree of consistency, and you'll be glad to know this is the last of the black block-printing ink. Tomorrow I will try my luck will colour!
First print made by inking the glass plate, laying a clean sheet over it, and tracing over a previous drawing to pick up the ink where I have pressed with my hand. It looks like I've picked up too much ink (the measel dots were intentionally made with my fingertips) but of course you've no idea what you are going to get exactly till you peel the cartridge sheet away. I call this: "Wheesht!"

The second print was made in the same way but this time I have managed to get a cleaner print. Not quite sure why but at least the light areas are whiter and the scribbled background cleaner.
The joke is that I tried to sign the image while it was still on the plate and got the "s" back to front. Typical!
Third print is perhaps the cleanest yet, although I have no idea why!

It must have been because I didn't press too heavily and only picked up ink (mostly) where I overdrew with the lead pencil.

With a fair amount of ink left on the plate I took a final 'ghost' print of the session and instead of using my hand I used the back of a wooden spoon, as recommended in my printmaking handbook: 'Monoprinting' by Jackie Newell & Dee Whittington.

As you see, it might have worked for Dee, but it didn't work for Mee!

Anyway, even if it was taxing at times, and regardless of my doubts about it's efficacy, it is indeed fun to do. We'll see what delights colour brings to the party tomorrow!

The Vagrant Monoprints: Day #2

2008-07-24T20:18:00.009+01:00

Up to my elbows in printing ink, Day #2 starts with an image painted directly onto the plate with a brush (copied by eye from an existing painted image). Not too happy with the way the ink separates but lay a sheet of cartridge paper over it anyway and press down with my hand:

Sure enough - it's a bit what we would call in these parts "scabby"! I keep in mind it is all a learning experience, but I won't do that again, certainly not with this type of ink. Start again:

Now we're whistlin' Dixie! After inking the plate and placing a sheet of clean cartridge paper over it I re-draw over the top of a tracing of the original and use my fingers to press down where I think important. That's what the big dollopey blotches are. It's got a certain je ne sais quoi with measels! But a vast improvement on the previous ones. There's still so much ink left on the plate I make a "ghost" print:
Obviously less distinct but usable in the way I have read Degas used certain prints as a base for some of his pastels. We'll see. With that "success" I try again, this time working on the backside of my tracing which brings the image back to something like the original:

Oops, missed one line of the left arm but not bothered as it creates a bit of ambiguity which I like. Got some reservations, but I press on! I read somewhere else ( I do a lot of reading!) that Neocolours can be used effectively for monoprinting, and since these water-soluable pastels are a great favourite of mine I think I will give it a go. Having drawn my image directly onto the plate I immediately have misgivings: I don't believe the dry pastels will transfer adequately. So I spray some water over it then take a print:

The result is a ghostly image which I quite like probably because of the colour but it really isn't good or strong enough as an image. Perhaps this can be worked over with pastels to make a better image.

Which brings me to the BIG problem I am having niggling away at the back of my mind:

WHAT'S THE POINT OF ALL THIS?

Why not just draw your image, in colour, onto a sheet of paper and be done with all this faffing about?

I'm sure you are about to tell me, so I am all ears!

Please note: There will be a two day hiatus while I go off and celebrate my 60th birthday (whatever happened to that callow youth with the skinny waist? I can hardly see my feet now!)

Back on Sunday with the next installment!

Monoprinting Discoveries: Day #1

2008-07-23T18:37:00.010+01:00

For those of you with a nervous disposition (for now I accept that I do in fact have more than one reader) LOOK AWAY NOW!!!

As though I didn't have enough to keep me amused I now launch the Good Ship Cornelius onto a new venture: MONOPRINTING.
I have threatened this for some time now and even spoke to Andrea about it when she visited these shores a few weeks ago (she is good at it and I have much to learn from her).

So here are my very first attempts at this type of imagemaking: Having bought a single tube of Daler Rowney Block Printing water-based ink my first attempt (shown above) was simply inking a 24x30cm sheet of plain glass with a rubber brayer which I already had in my possession, and drawing a design with an old felt pen through the ink. As you see it was an unmitigated failure!
Second attempt (shown below) is not a lot better, but I kinda like it. It was simply done when inking the plate and stopping mid roller when I saw the image as it was. I thought:"Hey, that looks interesting!":

Well maybe not!

Final image for the day was made after inking up the plate I dragged a wet sponge down the plate and thought:"Hey (again), not bad. I like it!" and "This is the kind of thing I see in the Glasgow Print Studio selling for a couple of hundred pounds", "If they can do it, then so can I!"

Don't worry, tomorrow it will get better, I assure you!

Dancing Daisies

2008-07-19T16:41:00.006+01:00

The weather is fine so I de-camp my studio out into the garden to continue my dance with these dancing Shasta Daisies. But to get to where I want to go (into some sort of abstraction) first I have to start at the very beginning with some expressive representation:

Ink and watercolour on paper, 28x40cm: "Dancing Daisies #1"; I let my pen dance around the flowerheads listening to the music and feeling for form. Which reminds me of a this dialogue I quote from the film "The Red Shoes" which I watched this afternoon (instead of painting - naughty boy!). The young composer says to the young ballet dancer:"When you hear the music, my music, you will be transformed!" She asks:"Transformed into what?" "Transformed into a...dancing flower!" is the reply. Well my hope is that I can be inspired to transform these daisies into something which captures their essence without labouring their appearance.

Ink and watercolour on paper, 28x40cm:"Dancing Daisies #2"; This is not the first drawing with watercolour added (#1) but a fresh drawing including blue watercolour. The idea is forming. The tempo is rising:
Ink and watercolour on paper, 30x43cm:"Dancing Daisies #3"; And now I am getting closer. This is the first one to capture the essence of their amazingly long stalks with frilly white flowerheads swaying around in the breeze. It is also beginning to take on an Abstract Expressionist feel which I am often searching for. I put this on hold for a moment while I regress to check out another idea. I wonder how it would be in landscape format:

Ink and watercolour on paper, 43x30cm:"Dancing Daisies #4"; There is definitely something here. But this isn't it. Yet. I try again:

Ink and watercolour on paper, 43x30cm:"Dancing Daisies #5"; And apart from #3 (which I will develop further) this is also closest to what I am looking for in terms of an image. All I need to do now is convert it into a finished painting and I'm well on my way to making my fortune! "Flowers for the lady, Sir?"