One of the many things I love about the west coast is the light. More specifically, the way the light changes. One minute you can be walking along the beach with blue skies all around and the next, the sky is slate grey and so is the sea. And more often than not, there are wet spots on the stones and pebbles on the beach, or pock marks in the sand, if there is a significant amount of precipitation. There may be a gleaming patch of sunlight on the sea, in the distance. Not so much a patch, perhaps, as a sliver, a sliver of silver. And then there are the beams of light which come down through the clouds, a reminder that the sun is in fact still up there, waiting to put in another appearance. This rapidly changing light is great for photography, but much trickier for painting in situ (or plein air, as they say). It's a good incentive to work quickly so as to capture the moment. Soon it will be warm enough again to do some outdoor sketching and painting again - I'm looking forward to it.
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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. I'm heading west this weekend, laden with some of my creations. Some original paintings (including those pictured above), mounted prints and a selection of greetings cards. The paintings are going to be brightening the walls of the lovely Steading Bistro in Gairloch (in behind the Gairloch Heritage Museum). The plain white walls will be a great backdrop for my boat paintings. There are a couple more which are now complete, but didn't quite make it to the framers in time - photos soon. I'm really enjoying painting boats, although getting all the curves and angles and proportions right can be quite a challenge!
I'm hoping there will some gaps in the rain over the weekend, to get out and about. Feeling in need of some brisk walks on the beach, to blow away my January cobwebs. If I'm lucky, there will be enough light for a few photos too. 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!
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". I have been putting together my first ever solo exhibition. "Local Letterboxes". This sounds exciting and it is, but I have this constant nagging voice at the back of my head saying things like : 1. "What if nobody comes to see it?" 2. "What if they do come and they don't like your paintings?" 3. "What if they do like them, make positive noises about them, but nobody buys anything?". The rational, sensible, scientific part of my brain can sometimes respond - but not usually at 4am - with something along the lines of : 1. "You have put up lots of posters, there's a piece about it in the local paper and you've been posting on Facebook and Twitter for weeks now - what more can you do?". 2. "If they don't like them, they will probably whizz round and then leave. They are not terribly likely to come up to you and say they think it's rubbish. They have not paid to view the exhibition. They will not be demanding their money back. Not everyone will like your paintings. Fact." 3. "Make the most of the feedback. Don't stress about selling - if you do, it will be obvious and probably put people off. It's more important that you're getting out there and showing the world (well, a small part of the world) what you do." All artists have to find a way of living with the fear of rejection. I have read about this on many artists' blogs; the above is simply a distillation of my thoughts on the subject. It is very simplified; there are plenty other things to worry about. But I intend to try and keep things in perspective and stick to these three. It's remembering the rational replies that's the tricky bit! My "Local Letterboxes" exhibition of watercolour paintings is on from 6th-11th August at the GALE centre in Gairloch, Wester Ross. I appear to be putting together a collection of paintings of letterboxes. I am not quite sure how the idea came to me - it was way back in January, I think, while staying on the west coast for New Year. Nearly all the letterboxes around Gairloch in Wester Ross have spectacular backdrops. I have learnt from various sources that landscapes are best painted with some feature in the foreground, whether it be a pair of mallard ducks, a rickety fence or a characterful tree. Having spotted several letterboxes in the vicinity of Gairloch during previous visits, they seemed to fit the bill rather snugly. On a bitterly cold January day, we drove around the area and I spent some time, in the rapidly disappearing daylight, taking photographs from various angles, of these rural relics. They may not be relics just quite yet, but it did make me start to wonder how long they will be there, how many pieces of mail pass through each one every year, and should I send myself something from each one?
The upshot of all this is that I will be holding an exhibition of these paintings at the relatively new GALE (Gairloch and Loch Ewe Action Forum) Centre in Gairloch from 6th-11th August. You can have a sneaky preview of some of them in the paintings section. They will all be framed and for sale. So far, I'm nearly half way through production. So I'd better sign off here and get on with some painting! I spent this past weekend in beautiful Perthshire, with friends. It was supposed to be a hill-walking weekend – indeed they all went off and bagged four Munros. My fitness levels did not permit such strenuous activity, so I broached the lower reaches of the mountains with them – high enough to have a lovely view back down the valley, but not so high that my oxygen levels were compromised. I then took the opportunity to explore the surrounding countryside, including a drive up the stunning Glen Lyon, through Bridge of Balgie and then down to the banks of Loch Tay. Some time was spent sketching and painting. Many photographs were also taken. I feel very fortunate to live in such a beautiful country and have promised myself I will get out and about to explore other areas as much as possible.
I was supposed to be painting for two hours in the studio at Oil and Glass yesterday, but ended up being there for more than three. It was a lovely space to work in; good light, good company and free access to tea and coffee. I had a few ideas in hand before I started, but decided on a favourite theme of dilapidation, corrugated iron and the west coast. The resulting watercolour painting is of a different view of an old croft which I have painted before. I always struggle to give titles to my paintings; called this one "Back Home", for various reasons. During my time in the studio, I was fortunate to meet with Rhian Johns and her mum, Iris. It was through meeting Iris that Shelagh Swanson of Oil and Glass decided to raise funds for Momentum Skills, as Rhian has found their support invaluable during her recovery from a brain injury in 2006. That recovery is still ongoing. They were having a go at glassmaking, constructing colourful coasters under Shelagh's tuition. Esther from the Evening Express joined them in their creativity; she admitted that it barely felt like work. It looked great fun - I can't wait to see how the finished articles look when they come out of the kiln. I'll just have to be patient until the 1st Birthday Party tomorrow evening to have a look. I think I may be tempted to sign up for a glass-making workshop at the studio before too long; it's my birthday in August, now there's a good idea for a present! "Back Home" Watercolour on paper. Unframed. 14" x 11". For Sale by auction.
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