Showing posts with label abstraction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abstraction. Show all posts

Thursday, 11 March 2010

another illusion

... of a seascape.

Freire, WIP, monotype, 24x50cm on Tosa Shi paper


other than the water to clean my printing tools with, there hasn't been any water in sight of my artmaking over the last months. i am busily working away on another round through fields in the landscape. chilean ones, this time. while the main project is in a lemon yellow/orange/cyan palette, i wanted a counterpart to be much more sombre, autumn-haze like. and oops, it looks i ended up with something else altogether.

the print is a build of two layers of raw umber, one dark purple grey and a light blue grey on top. they are markings with a knife on an inked up sheet of perspex. much of the effect is in fact due of the paper - it's a very fibrous japanese paper with a lot of the inking sinking into it. so while the top layers where in fact rather light and opaque, they sunk into the previous (still wet) umber layers and neutralised the value contrast considerably.

there's a lino layer to go on top as in this one here, but i think i will leave this one print as it is - the illusion of a seascape at night.

this is the end of this particular printing project and i have written up some more on the process here, if you are interested

Wednesday, 24 June 2009

Beach patterns

... and while I'm hunting for individual treasures I stumble across these... patterns: all over the beach, shoreline and in shallow waters. The marks nature makes... lines left by waves, by sand worms, snails, and other assorted life that crosses the water line.

So many possibilities. Or will I just stand and watch a little longer.

Sunday, 31 May 2009

From valley floor to seascape...

Elqui 2, oil on canvas, 50x50cm

oops... how did this happen? Unintentionally, my recent series of oil paintings, which started with a view of Elquí Valle in Northern Chile, turned into seascapes.

Let's backtrack for a bit. I haven't posted much here of late. Rather than marking water I have been back marking fields, woods and forests as subject for some printmaking. While I continue to visit Loch Lomond for some water sketches, it seems a bit distant at the moment.

But, anyhow: for the past couple of months I have been working on three oil paintings out of the impressions of sky, hillside and valley floor left by the magnificient Elquí Valle. Much of these developments were not about a particular place but about an exploration of palette (cobalt blue, two cadmium yellows and burnt siena) and markmaking.

And, in this process something happened. While I wasn't looking and my hand were busy with paint brush and palette knife, seascapes appeared out of the fog of various grey layers.

Elqui 3, oil on canvas, 50x50cm

So suggestive is the palette of landscape references that they easily appear; attempts at undoing the land- and seascapes then got interspersed with working precisely on those connections. It's a process I've found utterly enjoyable - a couple of years ago I had begun to develop some landscapes out of incidental marks on paper. This - with the oil paint as medium and on a larger scale - was even more exciting.

So, I leave you with some seascapes, appropriately misnamed Elquí 1 and Elquí 2.

If you're interested in a bit more detail on the work process of making appear and disappear, here's a process post on my blog.

Elqui 3, Detail, oil on canvas, 50x50cm

Tuesday, 6 January 2009

Kurt Jackson, mark making and influences

This is a follow up to Lindsay's really interesting post on Kurt Jackson.

I discovered his work some years back and it really resonated for me - the way he catches the light, the drama, the deep sense of place, the particular colours of a region. I go to see his shows in person whenever possible - there is one coming up in the Spring at the John Davies gallery, about 70 miles from me - if anyone can get to it they are guaranteed an interesting day. It's in a very nice part of the country with lots of small galleries so it makes a great day out.

There is also a show at the end of this month at Messums gallery in London, the theme of this is Forest Gardens. What may be of particular interest to readers of this blog is the interview with him on his Thames Project. Look under videos.

It was interesting reading on Tina's blog how she doesn't like brush marks in her work - and it works utterly beautifully for her. But I love marks - brush marks, drawn marks, scratches, glazes, splatters and splotches and scumbles that all suggest the textures and elements in the scene. Though this is what I want in my own work I can thoroughly appreciate the subtle glazes of Tina's or the quietness of a Gwen John or Morandi and want to own one :>) I do in fact have small painting of Tina's and Lindsay's :>) (and Lindsay, Ronell and Gesa's from the FPP exchange :>) )

That first painting is a watercolour of mine, done plein air, on the east coast, on a very wild day with brushmarks, scribbles of oil pastel, scratches through wet watercolour and glazes and wet-in-wet paint. It's only about 6 inches square.


This second painting, about 11 inches square on the right, is an oil done plein air on a breezy day as the tide was high. No stretches of wet sand shining. There are splatters and scratches of paint, some sand deliberately integrated with the wet oil paint and lots of marks, suggesting the shells, pebbles and fragments along a previous higher tide line - the majority of it was done with a knife - it's so easy to clean in the sand! but the paint isn't applied thickly - I rarely apply paint in thick layers.

Generally I love to arrive when the tide is fully in, allowing me close ups of the waves and then views of the shimmering wet sand and pools as it recedes . On this part of the east coast the tide goes out for over a mile - so at low tide the sea is just a thin blue line on the horizon. Because the land is almost flat, the tide moves very fast so it's essential to paint equally fast! Take 2 hours over this painting and what started as a scene of waves only feet in front of you is now a view of half a mile of drying sand with the sea in the distance. My natural painting speed is to work fast plein air, so that doesn't worry me.

These are all quite old pieces, done as I was getting to grips with the ways I could get down, on paper or canvas, the weather, the light, the particular colours. the bones of the land beneath the sand (or grass/whatever), the way is sweeps and swirls and the kind of marks I could make to suggest it.

On my degree we were encouraged to build a rich diversity of mark making so that we could draw on this at need. We had to take in a variety of items like rollers and combs and sticks and twigs, rags, sponges, knives of course, cotton reels, jugs and much much more - anything went!

KJ didn't go to art college but did a degree in zoology at Oxford University. His parents were both artists though, so from a young age he learned at first hand about art and artists and would have had a deeper than average knowledge and understanding of the arts and of course he studied it at school.

I studied art at school, went to art college and did my foundation year and then 'dropped out', married and had a family and completed my degree some years later when I really really wanted to paint again.


The third piece on the left here is a large long thin canvas - about 4 feet high I think it was. A studio piece with paint poured onto the canvas with a jug, splashed on, then powdered pigment dropped into the wet paint. Glazes were added and final small areas of thicker paint to edit out areas and simplify where it was overcomplicated.

It was painted in thinned acrylics on raw, unprimed, stretched canvas. The acrylic sealed it and some of the final more opaque layers are in oil paint.

This was from memory of sketching in the winter, abstracted and simplified.

Lindsay pointed out KJ owes some of his techniques to the likes of Jackson Pollock - but close inspection of Rembrandt too, shows gloops and trickles of paint and a wonderful freedom of mark making, that as you step back resolves into intricate lace. So I wonder, where did Pollock get his inspiration? elements of work can deeply influence other artists and it may be only a small element. KJ lists the artists he admires as Anselm Kiefer, Miguel Barcelo, Tapies and Andy Goldsworthy. also th poetry of Ted Hughes.

For instance, using unprimed canvas was an idea I tried out after seeing Hannemuhle's work - the paintings themselves, process-led, didn't interest me particularly - but the fact that she was pouring paint onto raw canvas and the effects it could produce certainly did. It enabled me to get watercolour like effects, with colours bleeding into each other in subtle transitions. It was easy to pour and splash - my lawn was often multicoloured at this time!

With studio work it's possible to take more time. I work fast but can build layers over weeks, glazes and scratching through to show underlying colours, change elements totally as the painting evolves and there is a lot of thinking time. In plein air work it's a case of responding instinctively to what is there and catching it before it changes.

KJ visits and revisits places through changing light and weather and explores themes in depth, following a valley to the sea or a river from source to sea, a mining route, Cornish hedges or woods or simply a field looked at in many ways over time (The Long Field). Many of these have books/catalogues associated with them that you can see on his website or often on ebay.

I like to do the same sort of thing and tend to work in long series - it's the changing light and weather that I find so interesting.

I would love to do some huge canvasses like KJ's - they are amazing when seen in real life, texture and marks and drama and light. I don't have the space :>( 5 foot is my limit really for ease of transport.

We are all influenced, consciously or unconsciously by work we see. David Prentice quotes Rupert Bear (childrens books) as an influence with their aerial viewpoint in the illustrations.

I think KJ is certainly an influence on my work, along with Monet, Turner, Gwen John, Joan Eardley, Egon Schiele (love his use of line), Cezanne, Ross Loveday, David Tress, Rembrandt, Aubrey Beardsley, Rothko, Pollock, Toulouse Lautrec ...... and so many more, elements of lots of people have influenced me - some seemingly incompatible - the incisive lines of Schiele and the colour fields of Rothko - but hopefully that's what makes me, ME.

Monday, 22 December 2008

Summer sketches of the sea

My most concerted effort to date of working with seascapes have their origin in a week this July spent on the isle of Eigg in the Inner Hebrides off the West Coast of Scotland. While the weather was largely overcast, cloudy, foggy and rainy, I nonetheless managed to fill plenty of pages in my sketchbook as well as a number of sheets with plein air pastel drawings.

I have started to take a rather limited palette as well as small sheets of 25x35cm pastel board (in shades of sand, hazy blue and my favourite aubergine) with me, and they work so well for drawing on location. Here are some of the pastel sketches.

Above Kildonnan Bay
Above Kildonnan Bay,
Pastel on board, 34x24cm

Singing Sands
Singing Sands,
Pastel on board, 34x24cm


More Singing Sands
More Singing Sands
Pastel on board, 34x24cm


For the full set, see here.

Much of my circling around these sketches - both in sketchbook and as pastel drawings has been to take them elsewhere as abstractions. I had been writing about this process of abstraction as a way of avoiding some of the obvious pitfalls of turning what we see into a landscape.

Here, my reasoning was that 'landscapes' do not exist but are in fact made by the painter, viewer or author - much of cultural studies therefore talks of the production of landscape.

For me, adding distance thus is a form of trying to avoid such obvious framing devices - and once I started to look through more reference on abstraction and art history, I found more and more thoughts, debates and links on this. Funnily enough, though, my sense of unfamiliarity with the sea, beaches and oceans means that I'm struggling to add distance deliberately, if that kind of makes sense. With much of my previous work based on woods, fields and more woods and fields which are much more familiar to me, such distancing through abstraction seemed more easily achieved.

Here are some of my posts I had written on this

I'd be curious how others approach this:
  • How familiar or strange does something have to be to be represented abstract or realist?
  • How strongly do you rely on conventional framing devices, e.g. for landscape compositions?