I could put it off no longer. The idea that had been fermenting in the back of my head for a significant period of time had come to fruition. Although if it was fermenting it should surely by now be an alcoholic beverage. Never mind the detail. I had an idea, ages ago. As you already know, I live in northeast Scotland. The referendum about whether or not Scotland should become independent from the rest of the UK is happening this year. On 18th September, to be precise.
Travelling around the country, I've noticed signs in windows, declaring the inhabitants' voting intentions. Personally, I never do this. Declare my intentions. It's an inherited trait; my parents never told each other how they were voting, in anything from local to general elections. Sometimes I haven't decided until I read the ballot paper. Sometimes I have. I don't believe it's anyone else's business. So I have been intrigued to see the signs in house windows. Playing on my own extremely indecisive nature, I thought it would be fun to create a painting incorporating the sense of history, along with the possibility that different members of one household are likely to have different opinions. A recent trip to Perthshire provided me with the source material; a photograph which I took of a quintessentially Scottish house. A large house in the country, true, but a sandstone one and typical of the area. The rest of the task involved putting pencil to paper, brush into water, into watercolour and a fair bit of time. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labours. Now for the next task; to decide on a title.
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Last weekend I discovered that it's not easy to take photographs with gloves on. The air was chilly, as one would expect at the start of February in the Scottish Highlands. The pale turquoise soft wool gloves I received as a Christmas present nearly worked, though I struggled to take the lens cap on and off. Still, some photographs were taken; more "source material", as I have come to call it, for my boat paintings. And also some photos which I think work well just as they are - like the ones above. They are bits of a boat which has been lying on top of the harbour in Gairloch in Wester Ross for quite a while now. It's a great subject - I've taken pictures of it before. I love the peeling paint, where layers have come off to show what lies underneath; the corroded metal, like verdigris - perhaps it is.
Before Christmas, at a little fair where I was showing some of my recent work, an American lady asked me why I was painting boats. I hadn't really thought about this; I like them, the shape of the them, the colours. But it is more than that. I only started to discover the answer when I told them that I used to sail. And now I have thought about it some more and these memories have come to me. I used to sail a lot when I was young. I sailed at school, in the sailing club; in a dinghy, on Linlithgow Loch, on summer evenings. And then we sailed as a family, a wee blue wooden dinghy to start with, then a slightly bigger boat, a cruiser with an inboard engine and bunk beds, a gas stove for making toast and tea and heating soup. We sailed on the Firth of Forth during term time and then on the west coast of Scotland during the summer holidays The boats were towed north and then south. Long days were spent trekking the trailer down the shore, waiting for the tide to come in, floating the boat off and then mooring her safely in the bay. I was never so keen on sailing in the cruiser. There wasn't the immediacy, the closeness to the water, that one felt in a dinghy. The sound of the water lapping at the bow, the feel of the rudder in my hand, the tautness of the sheets, held against the wind. Watching the luff of the sail for any flapping, indicating that you were sailing too close to the wind. Or the homemade woolen telltales tied to the stays, showing exactly where the wind was coming from. All these memories, there in the back of my head; there whenever I paint another boat. There is more about this in there - more for another day. PROCRASTINATION Putting off the evil hour Running away from chores Owing much to others Costing us much more. Running rings around ourselves And setting pointless tasks Stand and watch the world go by Till someone comes and asks… Is it you that does this job? Not I, you sadly say, Another does these things That I once did, one day I only think about it now Or talk about it, even Not doing things is not the way To get oneself to heaven. Contemplating Oddness
The odder we are, the odder we think we are, But are we odd, or do we just think because Others aren’t the same - that we’re insane, Or somewhat odder than they are? But what is ‘odd’ And what is ‘sane’? The answer is odd itself. It cannot be found, For everyone’s bound To be odd, Some odder than others Because the others are, they think, Less odd than they are. This morning I read something online that reminded me of this poem, which I wrote in my teens. I still feel the same way. I have been collecting autumn leaves. Quite a few different kinds. Lime, sycamore, chestnut, beech, oak and gean (wild cherry). The colours at the moment are beautiful - gold, bronze, red, yellow, orange and mixtures of all these together, often all in one leaf. I was supposed to be at a printing workshop last weekend - it was postponed, but I still wanted to experiment with some printing ideas of my own. So I tried some different ways of printing, using the leaves I had collected. Watercolour paint proved to be a bit thin (at least the pan type, which I normally use for painting). Instead I tried gouache, which I have used very little for painting. The consistency proved to be much better for making impressions. I experimented with paper textures - smooth paper worked better than rough. The upper side of the leaves seemed to work better than the underside. Fresh leaves worked better than dried ones. It is all subjective, I suppose. It depends what kind of end result you are aiming for. It was fascinating to see the range of effects that could be achieved using such a simple method. Multiple layers of colours gave particularly interesting results. To be continued.
I have been experimenting with collage this week. I saw quite a few examples of this technique, using all sorts of different materials, during my tour of North East Open Studios last month. Perhaps some of the pieces I saw could be classed as mixed media; I'm sure there are specific definitions somewhere. I stuck (pardon the pun) to paper and glue for my playtime. A pile of old magazines, some newspapers, my pot of PVA glue (which temporarily went missing), a pair of scissors and some pieces of cardboard for bases, and I was off! It is a surprisingly absorbing occupation, I found. I did not consciously look for patterns or themes. I also did not aim for an overall picture or image (such as a landscape) as the end result. In fact I am not even sure that these are end results! I am tempted to add some paint (acrylic, or gouache perhaps) to some of them. I will be revisiting collage very soon, I think. The Orange and Blue effort above, based on the sheet music of the tune with that name, inspired a painting I did today. It's fascinating how different types of creativity feed each other. Fascinating, and fun!
I have been hearing about "Small Stones" recently - small pieces of observational writing. This reminded me of an exercise I learnt while doing an online writing course a few years ago. It was called the "Egg timer exercise". The task was to set a timer for one minute and to write down exactly what you saw. And then what you heard, smelt, felt and tasted. For a minute each; no more, no less. The aim was to switch one's brain from the conscious to the sensory - to switch off from email and Facebook, from the dirty washing in the laundry basket, the dinner waiting to be be made and the bills to be paid. And on to what was around you. Real and immediate. And then you would be ready to write. I tried it. It works. I am reminded that I should do it more often. Here is an example of my "egg timer exercise" completed on 30th June 2010. ************************************************************************************ I see the blue sky, the dazzling white of the window frames of the house, the plum tree with its burgundy leaves and embryonic plums shining red in the sun. I see the washing moving gently in the breeze, the dog scooping up guinea pig poo from the grass. I hear the dog next door barking in an empty house, a car passing, a car door slamming, a crow chattering, an aeroplane passing overhead. Distant traffic. I smell the wood of the inside of the shed, musty dustiness, grass, flowers in the garden, fabric softener from the washing. My skin. I feel the warmth of the laptop on my lap, the cool of the wooden arms of the chair against my bare arms, the bendy support of the flexible chair at my back. I can’t remember what the fifth sense is! Ah yes, taste. I taste the remains of coffee from breakfast time, blood from the inside of my mouth where I have chewed the skin a little too vigorously, a tiny taste of toothpaste from a while ago. Every so often, it is necessary to refill one's well of inspiration. That's one of the many things I love about North East Open Studios - I can go out and fill my well with all sorts of lovely things. These are not necessarily finished pieces, or paintings, or creations. They may be fabrics, or an assortment of tools on a workbench, or raw materials waiting to be made into something new. Or they may indeed be finished items. Paintings, ceramics, textiles. All with their own colours and textures and depths. Here are a few images of things I have seen during my days out visiting NEOS participants. I am sure you will understand what I mean. North East Open Studios (NEOS) is on this week, in my area. I finally managed to get the cabin ready for visitors, tidying away my art materials into the garage and making space for folk to see my paintings and daughter's photographs. We've been open for two days so far; Saturday and Sunday. It's been fun again, meeting new folk and welcoming in old friends who I realise I don't see often enough throughout the year. Some of them I am guilty of not having seen since this time last year! It's been great to catch up over a cup of tea and a muffin - baking before breakfast is part of the routine this week. It's always fascinating to find out the reasons for folk visiting NEOS venues. Because there always is a reason. Nosiness, interest in art, or photography, or creativity in general. Many, many folk are looking to be more creative themselves, and are keen to hear about classes in the area, how to start, how to keep going and all those dark arts that creative people apparently possess. For those keen to paint and draw, I encourage them to carry a sketch book. And to use it! That's one of the key things I have learnt from the classes I have been going to for the past few years at Udny Green. Draw, draw, draw. And for the photographers, look at things differently, if you can. Zoom in on a puddle and see the reflections, or an ancient rock to see the patterns made by the lichens, or examine the patterns left by a receding tide on a sandy beach. It's all there. Just look. Thanks to Mike for the photo of me "at work". |
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