Emma Davies: Fine Artist

Moving House, First Impressions, Re- Visiting Sea Moon and It All Happens on Geddington Chase

2012-01-08T13:36:00.027Z

The Year ending 2010 to the year ending 2011 was a year in which life’s patterns and rhythm’s changed and it became a challenge to stoke up the fires of creativity and at times to keep alight the embers. We moved house and yet, even if just a few streets away, the emotional upheaval caused by loosing essential items in hidden cardboard boxes and negotiating new, smaller room layouts is enough to dampen any thoughts of creation. But, I have been here before and what saved me then, came to my rescue this time as I gazed out of my new studio window.
Roof tops, angles, chimneys, trees, slates, bricks, windows, distant woods and car headlights at night. It was a new Geddington vista; once again, compelled to document what I saw. I stole some time and amongst the piles of stuff, grabbed the nearest drawing support and implement and attempted to capture my first impressions of our new surroundings. Just before the house move, the computer died and once moved, BT decided to keep us waiting for 6 weeks to connect our phone line; this combined double whammy of technology deprivation was on the one hand frustrating, but on the other, wonderfully liberating as my mind was able to open to the real world, rather than experiencing the sensation of ones brain tunnelling like a hard, live, broadband wire.
I wasn’t able to indulge myself for long, as the unpacking was a more primary concern, but I produced enough to know that there was something there to return to, that like an old friend we could pick up from where we left off.

Before the move, in Dec 2010 I took part in a yearly group show called ‘Whisper Through the Trees’. Along with Open Studios, this is a great date to have in my art calendar as it is a goal to work towards; knowing that I have X amount of wall space that needs to be filled with new work. I was so pleased to be asked to take part and it was also an opportunity to show at The Yarrow Gallery in Oundle, which I hadn’t done before. After the move, the next main goal, once again was Open Studios. This time I hired a room at Barton Hall for the duration, which afforded me the opportunity to dedicate some serious time in attempting to finish ‘Sea Moon’ which I had begun in 2009; a seascape on canvas relating to a memory of a holiday to St David’s in Wales. My mission was to finish it, but although I put in a valiant effort, it will be some time before I make the last mark upon its surface.

The painting represents my talents mixed with areas of technique with which I struggle. I have often been described by other artists as a draughtsman rather than a painter. My skills lie more with delineating shape, carefully carving out space and form with line and tone, rather than the layering of colour and the accepting of the unpredictable nature of free flowing painterly brush strokes. This painting began as an abstract, an act of frustration, or more positively, experimentation, an un-thought out mission to conquer the act of painting, to allow myself to be led rather than lead. But I needed to bring order and organise the shapes and colours into something recognisable. A seas cape began to emerge from the crashing waves of marks and smears of paint. A memory started to surface and a need to describe the emotions attached to it. It was an interesting way to start a painting, because my natural way of working is to plan, to have at least, a mental map of a composition. The resulting first painting contained a dynamic composition, strong deep colours but with an un convincing geography and a confusing narrative. I knew I needed to change the whole painting to make it work, but to do that would mean that vast swathes of the painting, hours of work would need to go. I wasn’t ready to do this yet, it wasn’t the right time to say goodbye. For the next 18 months the painting became a teaching tool, an aid to demonstrate the theory of painting, colour work, composition ,visual storytelling and a tale of ‘what not to do’ in schools. In between its social engagements it rested, hidden from view, its owner too scared to face it.

The fear passed and with renewed vigour this September, I used chalk pastel to bravely obliterate areas, wetting in the chalk to fix it to the canvas and then over painting with acrylic, careful to keep the paint to a thin layer. In other sections I zoomed in and methodically and cautiously added detail. I felt a need to theorise the work and to pin down its intent and the story I wanted to tell. I made notes, researched and produced various sketches and plans. The act of painting, those first subconscious abstract expressionist marks gave birth to a vision. I had in part embraced a new way of working but now I needed to bring it to order, to use my key skills in order to produce a painting of merit. Casper David Friedrich, Leonardo Da Vinci, the Fibonacci Series and The Golden Section have all played a part in it’s re birth. But, I am not yet there; there are further areas that need re painting, and once again it is facing the wall, turned away from my stare, waiting until I am ready to face it again.

This December, I took part in the Whisper Through the Trees exhibition once again at the Yarrow Gallery. My goal this time was to complete a set of works continuing on from the initial sketches made of the scenes from the studio window and some new small paintings of Geddington Chase. Before venturing out and up into the woods and onto the fields, I scrutinized rooftops and chimneys from various angles and in different lights. I observed the interlacing vertical lines of the telegraph poles and the embedded trees, with the church standing high, surrounded by its congregation, its flock of cottages and garages. At night time I would see twinkling lights moving across the horizon - the distant traffic of the A43. Once dark, the same two windows would shine, street lights would flicker into being and the glaring beacons on the church roof would pierce the darkness.

A few of these pieces were inspired by the mid light; that time of day that passes by without us noticing: dusk. I would sit there and wait for this daily event and would have 20 minutes at the most to convey the passing of time, that point between day and night. Sitting there, ahead of me on the table, spread out, were my pencils, chalk pastels and paints; a murky cup part filled with water needing to be emptied and cleaned and a half finished painting waiting patiently for half past three. My eyes wide, darting about the scene, my mind absorbing what it could, noticing the smoky greys, the violet roofs, the yellow ochre bricks, raw umber trees, all beginning to melt into each other as this grey curtain draped over them to disguise their identities, their shapes and colours. The scene before me was reminiscent of C19th writing, great descriptions of romantic locations, such Silas Marner (George Eliot), or Great Expectations (Charles Dickens); this picturesque’ness acting as a veil disguising the real C21st lives being lived behind each plastic front door.

These vignettes of village life were documented onto small pieces of recycled cardboard, using mixed media. A technique perhaps started or at least made popular by Alfred Wallis who had a passion for describing his beloved fishing boats. A retired fisherman, he used pieces of found driftwood, on which he used household paint and an assortment of other materials. He could not afford fancy canvases and oil paints, but used materials that were free and familiar to him. It is one of my aims to embrace this ethos: art can be created out of anything.

It all Happens on Geddington Chase

After getting some way with the little cardboards, it was time to venture out and march up the track to paint Geddington Chase. I had stuffed my rucksack full with essentials: rags, paints, boards, water, mats to lean on and a hat, pair of gloves and a scarf. My mission was to complete 3 small boards. As it was cold, I intended not to be out for more than a few hours. I wanted to utilise the elements; the chill in the air and the biting breeze being a motivating force, my brain and hands needing to work at speed, engaging with the environment in an immediate way, thus creating dynamic responses.

I decided upon the three scenes, each with a near panoramic view of the valley below. For each I outlined the image with chalk pastel and then after fixing this sketch onto the board with water, worked on top with acrylic. By working quickly I was able to filter the image and portray only the key qualities that would describe the landscape. In one, from where I was first sitting, a mauve hedge with spiky branches dominated the picture frame and divided the landscape into two parts; from around the corner of the hedge I painted the second in which the distant church spires of Geddington and Newton shone in the sunlight; the third was painted from on top of a hill that boasts a vast space of rural idyll, a glorious continuous stream of Englishness; copses, glades, ploughed fields, farmland, houses nestling into valley’s and hills and woods cradling the scene on one side and then leading off into the distance on the other.

The process of painting is in itself an engaging and stimulating activity but the physical act of journeying, traversing the geography can be equally interesting and at times out of the ordinary. As well as navigating through the infinite interpretations of this precious landscape, it soon became apparent that I was participating in an impromptu Geddington Chase survival course, as I found myself encountering various natural and man made challenges.

The beginning of my expedition began at the bottom of the track at the end of Wood Street. The track way was strewn with torn branches and twigs, wrenched and hacked from the bodies of the hedge rows. Stacked along the edge, lay neat piles of logs, their orderliness a contrast to the cluttered pathway ahead. I negotiated my way along, mindful that tractors were at work nearby and that I may need to step aside to allow it access. I turned right up the little hill carefully avoiding the dog mess camouflaged by the ‘look a like’ stones. I met a man looking into the field on the left, his two dogs waiting by his side. He was watching another man, standing with his two dogs by the far edge of the field. I noticed the gun in his right hand and the dogs alert waiting for his command. I then heard some shots from inside the woodland. I asked the man if he knew what they were shooting, birds or deer? He wasn’t sure. ‘Great time for me to come out painting’ I quipped. ‘Mind the loggers up there; they are felling the trees’. ‘I better go this way then!’ and I turned right, past the old rusty kissing gate, hoping that my planned day of solitude, harmony and focused production wasn’t encroached upon further. I marched along, head down, targeted in my direction, past the empty pond and then left, continuing up the track. I glanced up and saw a small group of deer racing across the top of the field. The came to an abrupt stop by the junction and looked directly at me, a startled and frightened look in their eyes, their ears pricked and legs stiff with fear. I stopped and returned their gaze. I tried to communicate to them using my eyes that they were not to fear me. I spoke to them in my mind, urging them to carry on along the crest of the hill and into the safety of the next wood. I looked down to the ground for only a moment and when I returned my attention, they were gone.

Maintaining my course, I soon arrived at the spot where they had halted just moments before. It was here that was to be my first stop. Usually, when creating, I need to be in a hypnotic state, my mind disconnected from the realities of life; but sometimes I have to find a way to remain elevated, when the daily lives and needs of other humans are clashing with my own. After forty minutes or so, I heard a rumbling noise to my right, it was a tractor. I assessed the ground around me, attempting to calculate the surface area of the track against a rough approximation of the tractor. I ascertained that I could take a calculated risk and remain where I was without the need to pick up everything I had around me and possibly damaging my painting in the process. I waited nervously as this mechanical beast approached and when I could see the driver, looked up imploringly and hoped he would understand if I didn’t make way. Although seeming perplexed he obliged and steered his charge at a safe distance from me and away down the hill. I relaxed and continued the rhythmical pattern of looking painting, looking painting, rubbing hands to, keep them warm, looking painting, looking painting, standing, de tingling, looking painting, looking and painting. My farmer friend embarked on his return journey, chugging up through the mud and veering off around the corner with a nod of his head as he past me.
Thirty minutes went by. I had been working on two paintings simultaneously, so that the paint could dry in between coats; as the air was cold and damp this was taking considerably longer than if in a warm studio. I swiftly moved from one work to the other, spellbound, and mesmerized by the space around me; the subtle colours of the earth, the hazy cobalt blue of the sky and the rolling petering Northamptonshire hills. I was gripped by a determination to convey to the viewers of these paintings the beauty and sense of place of the landscape that surrounded me.

Suddenly I heard this terrific roar, a deafening screech which jolted right through me and wrenched me away from my work, my heart leaping into my mouth. Above me, directly above me, so low to the ground, a fighter jet tore through the air, piercing the atmosphere with such force and violence. The peace, the solitude was destroyed in an instant. The resident birds panicked and ascended into the sky en masse, flocks of terrified creatures forming a cloud of fear above the trees. The jet sped off, oblivious to its destructive force and the absolute alarm that had descended onto the Chase. I watched as it fled the scene, I stared hard with anger at this monstrous weapon as it rapidly diminished in size and its shriek and growl faded away to nothingness; how dare it invade our realm.

It took some time for us all to calm ourselves, to settle and resume our activities. The ringing in my ears lessened and the birds returned to their nests and resting places. I was feeling quite cold now, my fingers loosing control over the brush and emotionally I was feeling quite unnerved. I needed to return home soon and so the remainder of my time would need to be spent analyzing this work and taking mental notes as to how the paintings would progress back in the studio; I also need to move to another place and begin the third painting. While contemplating how the paintings may evolve I noticed a dark silent shape directly above me. I looked up and saw the underbelly of a red kite, resplendent in the winter sun. It gracefully glided past, taking its time as it was examining its territory for carrion. I am quite sure we exchanged glances as it looked directly at me. Being scrutinised by such a magnificent creature evoked a sense of awe and restored my sensibility. I was able to proceed with my tasks with renewed vigour. I gathered my materials together, packed up my bag and set out, back along the path.

I soon arrived on the brow of the hill at the place where the view over the village was it its best. I swiftly unpacked and with my chilled hands framed various sections of the valley in order to decide which section I wanted to focus on. I decided on the most subtle part, which contained the least visible identifying signs of human life. I sketched in the patchwork of fields and with the short stubs of pastel and then the remnants of paint on my pallet, blocked in the landscapes features. I wanted to use a limited pallet, inspired by the understated tones and shades of what lay out before me. On the horizon a soft violet grey sky blended in with the woods near Stanion and in front of this, in direct contrast, it was pure and bright. With my head bent down in concentration and placing the last marks of the under painting, I felt a sudden chill descend and the bright light suddenly vanish. I glanced upwards and ahead of me was this thick, near black ominous wall of cloud, spreading out across the whole outlook. Realising I was soon to be engulfed in a sea of rain; I promptly crammed my belongings into the bag, careful not to distress the surfaces of each landscape and strode home to safety.
As I approached the road on which I lived, the rain came, descending heavily onto the tarmac and my body with might. The material of my coat soon was soon sodden and drenched. I fumbled for the key in my pocket and hastily unlocked the door.

A Postcard from Cornwall

2010-10-21T13:18:00.009+01:00

A honeymoon planned, packed with cultural experiences, amongst which I intended to get reams of sketches and watercolours produced (or even just a few) to facilitate two things: the creation of some ‘Cornwall Scenes’ to adorn my friends health food shop in Camborne (Four Seasons Foods) and to write pages of notes inspired by this most romantic of settings that would then transform into my ‘An Artist's Diary – A Postcard from Cornwall’. But, I was far too immersed in having a wonderful romantic experience (a honeymoon being a cultural experience and work of art in itself)so my postcard has now become a Connoisseurs Tour of Devon and Cornwall.

Before our first major scheduled stop we (my wonderful new husband and I) began our tour in Salcombe, South Devon (where we stayed in a B and B with the hostess from hell) but then escaped to the fishing village and harbour of Bantham. This is where my step mum grew up, her father and grandfather were the harbour masters there; and there is a bench dedicated to their memories. Wonderfully eccentric boat houses and cottages cling to the cliffs or nestle amongst the rocks and two ships figureheads adorn the harbour masters house that sits at the foot of the cliff. Across the bay, in the distance, is the grand Burgh Island Hotel, a place in which I had always wanted to stay and a place where (my step mum) Alison’s grandfather would have watched as the hotel was being built by Archie Nettlefold (in 1929 and then modernized in 1932 by Paul Roseveare) and known of the celebrities of the day who were staying there.
No doubt he had his opinions as the rich transformed his heritage into their giant playground.

But, it is these characters, their way of life, fashions and culture that has always intrigued me; I wanted to tread in the footsteps of Agatha Christie and lounge in the cocktail bar imagining Noel Coward entertaining the guests. We had been instructed to ring the hotel from the golf club and our ‘driver’ would meet us at the private car park. We arrived in our rusty red Micra but then transferred ourselves and our luggage into a blacked out landrover and driven across the beach. As soon as we had passed through the electric gates and were escorted through the heavy entrance doors we were existing in a different time; we became aristocrats or icons such as Amy Johnson, who stayed here and who, while gazing at the Devon skies was possibly inspired to plan her daring solo flight across the world.
Cocktail drinks, dresses, tuxedos, silver service, champagne, parasols, walk in wardrobes, billiards, libraries, lido’s, rowing boats and private coves, the 21st century was just a few yards away but it was a ghost of an existence, it was as if we had strolled through a parted curtain into a lost world, a forgotten time. Modern life transformed into this monster, a monster which I no longer wanted to face.

Twenty four hours later, we were back in our little car, driving through a metropolis, past lorries, through florescent lit tunnels and under concrete bridges; the jaws of reality were on the other side of the car door. A cramped Sainsbury’s car park in Plymouth jolted us back into the ghost world, this parallel universe that I had never quite felt part of anyway.
I had glimpsed from the dual carriageway the Peninsula Art Gallery, part of the University of Plymouth and while we were momentarily back in the clutches of the beast decided to grab the opportunity to view drawings by two contemporary contentious art icons: Jake and Dinos Chapman who were on show there.
We weren’t however inspired by their work as much as hoped but were mesmerized by an animation called ‘The Moon Bird’ by the artists The Brothers McLoud, a disconcerting, eerie, beautiful moving drawing, telling a sad and macabre story of a little girl being cooked by a witch. Studying animation has been one of my goals for developing my arsenal of skills; it would add such an interesting dimension to my drawings – enhancing the narrative elements, to tell a whole story rather than a snapshot.

After being truly inspired, we set off armed with our Sainsbury’s plastic bags full of items for the next leg of our tour.
We arrived late to the campsite (Court Farm)and had one hour to erect the tent (in the rain) before the start gazing event at 8.00pm. It wasn’t the location of this campsite that attracted me, but what it had to offer. At the side of a secluded field full of tents, way down a long windy road, a few miles from St Austell, is a hidden observatory (Roseland Observatory) and in the middle, a family of tall telescopes tucked under some tarpaulin. There is also a wooden hut containing plastic blow up planets, space charts and boxes of meteorites. Outside is a barrel collecting cosmic dust, washed down to earth via the rain. One hour and a broken tent pole later, we were sitting in this hut listening to Brian the astronomer telling us all about the classification system of distant galaxies and unknown celestial objects; the pole star and his communications between the MOD and the media regarding mysterious audio disturbances in the sky.
As soon as the sky was dark enough his congregation headed up to the telescopes and an incredible hour was spent peering into them and gazing at distant stars and the moon, seeing with acute clarity the craters around her crisp milky white edges.
A couple of days later we visited the amazing Lost Gardens of Heligan packed with six foot rhubarb leaves, redwood trees and rhododendrons bushes: a botanical artist’s delight. We then trundled onto our next destination, the campsite at Noongallas,a remote farmhouse two miles down an unmade track. Open only for one month of the year, they allow campers to have open fires and BBQ’s. Burgh Island now seemed a distant memory as our hands blackened with coal and our feet became increasingly filthy with the pure Cornish soil.

High up on the hill, we could see the distant St Michaels Mount and behind us in fields below ancient standing stones. From Noongallas we travelled to the Geevor Tin Mines, a world heritage site; an amazing insight into the lives of miners and which provided an awe inspiring sight: the vastness of the barn where they sorted the tin from the rock – tumbling down the hill, the building, made entirely of wood, hugged the hill as it sloped down to the sea. The building was deceptive and it is only when you traverse through layer upon layer of machines and equipment do you realise its true scale. Imagine a game of mouse trap designed for a giant and made entirely of wood. The mines were steeped in atmosphere and were incredibly moving: the visibly harsh working conditions; the strong bonds between the men, documented through their graffiti left on the toilet walls; the remains of their clothing hanging from pegs and in lockers and the notable legacy of the early miners as they emigrated all over the world.

The Minack Theatre was our next stop. After languishing on a nearby beach for an hour we queued up patiently for our tickets, full of anticipation for what we knew was waiting for us. The Minack Theatre is an amphitheatre open to the elements, carved out from a cliff face. The stage floor is seemingly perched on the edge of the cliff, with the illusion that the actors are seconds from a dramatic plunge into the open sea. The scenery is beautiful and the actors are in direct competition with it for our attention. It provides a wonderfully romantic backdrop and as the evening drew in, we huddled beneath our blankets and strained to hear the muted whispers of the actors voices against the crashing of the waves below.

The following day we visited St. Ives. Billed as ‘The Artists Destination’, I had walked its winding streets nearly 20 years before as an art student. I must have journeyed there out of season or before it’s popularity exploded, as my memory does not compare to the St Ives that exists now. My visit then coincided with the opening of the St Ives Tate Gallery, a perfectly designed monument standing proud, white and stark against the huddle of seaside cottages. I was truly inspired back then with its contents, packed full of my favourites: Alfred Wallis, Peter Lanyon and William Scott. This time I was left disappointed. I may have viewed the work of some masters: Rothko, Pollock, Bourgeois (some of whom are my heroes) but it was not the work I had travelled to see. To increase my levels of disappointment further, the guest artist Lily van der Stokker, had created an incongruous and meaningless welcome, adoring the walls with pastel pink murals and doodles. I pride myself on my open mindedness and appreciate all forms of art, all its isms and styles, but this to me was a weak mix of pop and folk art dressed up as being conceptual art layered with hidden meanings. I was bored visually and intellectually and struggled to understand any positive argument as to why this work should be shown in any contemporary art of standing, let alone The Tate.
Our unfulfilled visit to The Tate, preceded by an uplifting swim in St Ives Bay, left us with no time to visit a place of pilgrimage to me, the Barbara Hepworth Sculpture Garden, which also, I had visited before. I will need to wait until I return to Cornwall to pay homage to this beautiful, meditative and tranquil venue.

On our final day in this amazing country, we journeyed north and visited Rick Steins Seafood Restaurant in Padstow, while stretching our stomach linings and filling them to full capacity with sumptuous food, we reminisced on our week and no sooner had we exited, realization dawned that our tour was drawing to an end.
We wandered down Padstows streets and sweetened our goodbye with a spot of retail therapy. Hidden in a back street, I discovered the one contemporary gallery (Padstow Fine Art)on my whole trip which contained some precious jewels of landscape and narrative paintings by the artists David Pearce. I found myself embroiled in lengthy conversations with the gallery manager about acrylic v oil; the struggles to find a decent yet inexpensive frame maker; the work life balance of artists and artist parents; and at what point does popularism and commercial success metamorphosize the artist into a factory instead of a creative free spirit. To any observer of me in a gallery, key indicators that I am engaged with an art work are: that I take my time looking, I peer closely to analyze the techniques and materials used, I move back to absorb its entirety and I revisit to allow myself one ‘last look’. Mostly all of the paintings captured me this way (apart from a few token tourist paintings of ‘arty boats’); turning my ‘I’m just going to nip in here’ into a rather lengthy stay.

Our final steps took in place in Lynmouth and Lynton in North Devon and then ending in Glastonbury. Enjoyable in themselves, but not providing creative fuel. After two weeks at home, we were off again, this time to Bristol, where I was to be transfixed by a collection of work. This collection was that of my father David Davies who was exhibiting his final work completed on his MA Printmaking Course.
I don’t see my father that often, perhaps a couple of times a year, but when we are together, it causes my step mum much amusement because our mannerisms syncopate and our mutual demeanor is that of twins. This natural synergy of personalities instantly mirrored in his work, on three levels; aesthetically, intellectually and the information it contained. Our preferred mediums are different – I feel more at home when I have a physical relationship with the media i.e. charcoal. Father tends to err towards graphic mediums and techniques. However, it was the presentation, the aesthetics that seemed to pertain towards a family or ‘group’ style. This may alarm him, or both of us, as we both strive to be individuals in an increasingly homogenized art world. Or, it may serve to have the opposite effect, providing us with a team mate in the battle for individual thought. Secondly, the works were autobiographically based exploring personal histories and our reflections and relationship with our pasts. Dad is exploring his scant memories he has of his childhood and early adulthood. I explore my memories, dreams and analyze my present by using symbolism with objects and landscape to represent my inner self.
Lastly, all of the works struck a deep emotional chord because fathers past, is my heritage. For the first time I saw photographs of my grandfather whom I have never met (he left my Nain, welsh for Grandmother, for someone else, when my father was just eighteen months old). I saw pictures of Nain wearing a silver bracelet that she gave to me a few years before she died, which I treasure and wore on my wedding day and a picture of father as a nine year old, which when looking at it I saw my daughter smiling back at me.
This emotional connection was not just reserved for me, two Malcolm’s, my husband and one of my fathers closest friends were both independently but profoundly affected. My husband too was left by his father, at the age of seven, I know not the reason for friend Malcolm’s reaction, but it touched him so much, he cried. Although both of our work can be deeply personal, I like to think that it has the ability to resonate with others and represent their lives and experiences.
There was a distinct moment of creative and emotional synergy when reading his statement. Last year I submitted work for an exhibition called ‘1984’. I created a black and white cartoon strip of my transitional year between middle and upper school. In one year, I was bullied, changed schools and began my first long term relationship. I was fourteen. In his statement my father wrote that 1984 was a year of crucial importance to him because it was the year in which his long term memory returned– he has no recollection of his own childhood and in many respects, mine.

I have not produced any art work these last four months, but I have crammed the weeks with experiences and discoveries that will engage with my creative soul and drive me to translate my memories and perceptions of these to you.

Ps. I Haven't quite figured how to create hyperlinks yet (or it is not letting me) so please find all links to places like St Ives Tate, or artist David Davies etc in my links section.

‘Commerciality V Individuality; Horizons and Hidden Dips’

2010-04-12T11:16:00.013+01:00

It’s a very arduous process deciding what rules you must submit adhere to, which are set by the gallery; and then you have to make decisions regarding your own preferences of work that best reflect your practice. I want to sell my work, so the question is does my ‘sellable’ work best reflect my artistic identity, truthfully represents my practice. These opposing aims are often in conflict. Things to think about: Gallery Rule No 1. (for ‘The Garden Show’): No work for sale less must be than £60.00. This eliminates a couple of pieces. Gallery Rule No 2. Unframed work may not be hung due to space. That’s the canvases out then. Rule No 3. No work must be more than 100cms in length; another few off the list. My Rules: I am on a mission (no doubt I have mentioned all of this before). I need my work to be immediately recognizable as an ‘Emma Davies’. As well as this, I now only want to go ‘public’ with work that strongly reflects my practice. My arts practice, for the most part, isn’t commercial; therefore not usually sellable. Yet, I need to retain a certain level of commerciality at particular venues and exhibitions, where the primary aim is to sell work; as I need to earn a living. So, with all this in mind, I sit here, deliberating between two pieces. I have decided on four, but the fifth is proving elusive. (Gallery Rule No4, only five pieces can be submitted).
A Few Days Later………………………I have succeeded in resolving the matter (to a degree). Two are NFS (not for sale), which best promote my creative identity and three are for sale; which are a combination of my two aims – commerciality and individuality.
This exhibition will take place at Luton Hoo Walled Gardens http://www.lutonhoo-walledgarden.co.uk/ , May 21st to May 23rd. I am looking forward to showing my work outside of Northamptonshire and gaining a new audience.
This show is the third stage of my recent renewed quest to expand the horizons in my artistic career – geographically and intellectually.The first stage began with my participation in the ‘Invisible Threads’ exhibition; a group show organized by the artist Carole Miles. The exhibition was part of a larger project including workshops with community groups and a residency by the author Kathy Page. The overriding theme was to explore ancestry, in particular female ancestors whose lives we admired or were fascinated by. The images inspired by this theme were printed or embroidered onto T Towels. I decided to monoprint mine. A risky venture, as I was without the luxury of a printing press. However, the process wasn’t a complete leap of faith as I had re-engaged with the monoprinting process (or monotype… if I am to be technically correct) with the print ‘Dorset Moon’ (Autumn Edition Geddington Village Newsletter, 2009, later renamed ‘Moon Rings and Ripples on the Sea’.)
I needed to construct a make shift print room; so I strung up a washing line between my easel and the coat hooks in the downstairs toilet (to become my drying racks). I banned the family (cat included) from entering the hall way as the floor was now the printing press. I then spent much of the following forty eight hours, painting and drawing onto a perspex plate, spraying the towel with water so that the ink would adhere to the material, carefully registering when applying t towel to plate so that the image would not be out of sync and then delicately but firmly applying pressure to achieve the print. I would then tentatively lift up a corner to reveal the image underneath… was the ink too think/ thin, too wet or two dry? Did the print bare any resemblance to the image on the plate? I needed to repeat this process about four times per print, gradually building up the image.
After my T Towels had dried I fixed them together with PVA and stitch as I wanted it to be a double sided T Towel; two stories and two separate lives, but which merged together when my parents met about seventeen years later.

The ancestors portrayed were my two grandmothers. I wanted to portray them in a ‘Freeze Frame’. It was March 1940 about 8.30am; Nan was seventeen and on her way to work, she worked for the Royal Army Pay Corp at Finsbury Circus, London. Nain was fifteen and on her way to school at Cardigan County Grammar School. I had no direct source material, so the research process took considerably longer than the production. Emails were relayed back and forth; hours of searching online for specific images, i.e. the actual school that Nain attended circa the 1940’s; the actual building that the RAPC was stationed in and photographs of the real characters stationed there. Conversations took place between me and the Imperial War Museum http://london.iwm.org.uk/ and the Adjutant General's Corps Museum http://www.armymuseums.org.uk/museums/0000000008-Adjutant-General-s-Corps-Museum-Collection.htm in Winchester. Ian, the curator there, after hours of sifting through boxes, found a DVD of an old film shot around the time that Nan was there.. it was filmed early morning when everyone was going to work. He is going to post it, how wonderful if Nan is in the film and my depiction of her was correct. A long bob, curled up at the ends, lipstick, a glamorous winter coat and a clutch bag.
My grandmothers could not be further apart in terms of lifestyle and image. Nan was a girl about London Town, all lipstick and handbags going on regular trips to Brighton with her girlfriends. Nain was a country girl with wild black hair, taking the school bus to her small town school. Both however, seemed carefree and game for adventures. This project was a voyage of discovery, tracing back my ‘Invisible Threads’ that binded us together; the umbilical chord that united us all. I saw myself in both of them, I am a hybrid – a country girl for the most part but, as I state in my profile (on my website) ‘I sometimes miss the push of the city, especially in cultural terms.’ By day, I wear tops with holes in and muddy boots, by night I may totter around in high heals and a pashmina about my shoulders, visiting theatres. My ‘herstory’ was displayed amongst hundreds of other ‘herstories’ – our mutual explorations were displayed at Sudborough Cottages, which is run by Fermyn Woods Contemporary Arts. The cottages are tucked away in some woods two miles from the nearest tarmacked road. A beautiful venue which gave so much added meaning to the exhibition. A myriad of life stories fluttering away on washing lines and hung up in the kitchens and bathrooms as if the families who had once loved there had just hung up their washing.

The second installment of the horizon quest features the new drawings in charcoal; ‘Hidden Dip’, ‘Army of Me’ and ‘Erosion’. Much of my work has centered on the human figure, particularly my own to convey narratives; but I am now branching away from this with some projects and using symbols and metaphors instead. With these drawings I am focusing on the notion of security/ insecurity; how sometimes it seems like we are all, as a society, reaching out and clinging to anything that provides us with some sense of stability and that at any moment the slightest thing could take it all away. For these works, there were many diverse influences and inspirations, some deliberate and some perhaps unconconcious, but included the film 'Cast Away' and the long hilly road to Oakham from Uppingham.
These pictures are now hanging up in the jgallery, http://www.jgallery.org.uk/ in Moulton, Northampton until the 30th April as part of the ‘In the Mix’ internationally selected group show. This is the gallery for which I won ‘Artist of the Month’ (an online competition) a year ago. I was determined to submit work for ‘In The Mix’. As an artist, it is important to find venues or galleries that suit your work - the work and the gallery, have a symbiotic
relationship. Gallery owners are particular about what graces their walls as the work reflects their identity as a gallery. Therefore I am proud to have been chosen.

So, what now? I strive on. Luton Hoo is in May and then: I plan to create a new work to submit for a selected show at The University of Glamorgan entitled ‘Female Wales’; I have submitted for a show in Omskirk centering around domesticity and close relationships, luckily I have already completed work for this. Lastly and more locally (and a return to my landscapes), I will be submitting work to show in the Cavell Centre, Peterborough in the Autumn. For this, no doubt I will find myself returning to the fields and woods of Geddington Chase. But, before any of this, in the coming weeks I will be painting some watercolours of the Cornish Coastline. I sketched down there a few weeks ago, sitting perilously on the edge of cliffs, amongst fighting seagulls in the bitter cold and then gazing at a calm and wondrous sunset. There will be a commissioned set of printed cards to accompany my handmade ones for sale in ‘Four Seasons Wholefoods’, Camborne, Cornwall (http://www.fourseasonswholefoods.com/). These watercolours may also be seen on a certain wedding invite soon. Surely now, I have expanded my horizons.

‘Billowing Groundsheets Reminding me of Distant Boats, Alone on the Sea’

2009-10-06T17:34:00.006+01:00

The groundsheet is bellowing in the gentle wind as it hangs to dry on our washing line. Shreds of grass, straw and grains of sand cling to it as I do to my memories of a blissful week away.
The suns rays create ripples of shimmering light on its surface like the glistening waves on the sea.
I ache to paint; I yearn to begin a sequel to ‘Sea Moon’. ‘Sea Moon’ was inspired from my week in St David’s last year; the desire to be free, the dream to immerse myself in deep pools of love and creativity. This story of my annual week away now continues and I need to express these amazing, rich emotions in a new seascape; this time of the Dorset Coastline.
The geography stretching from Boscombe to Lyme Regis and up to Sherbourne, Sailsbury and back down to Ringwood, Wimborne and Poole is ingrained into my soul and is as much a part of me as is Geddington; and the trees and soft rolling hills that surround it.

The week was so crammed with delightful runs over hills, swims in the sea and improvised banquets of fish and chips, in a tent in which the packed sketch book never saw the light of day.
‘Sea Moon’ was devised from: a combination of memories, assorted photos, pictures in leaflets and books and a single sketch which provided the basis for the composition.
I battle with my purist notions, wanting to draw on my direct visual account of the scenery – my drawn interpretation of the land and sea and sky that surrounded me. But I made a decision that the rushing of a drawing would be detrimental to my experience and ultimately impinge on the journey and creative processes that are required in creating a new piece of work.

Therefore, I will relent and utilize my adventurous spirit and create this next painting from memory and mobile phone photographs alone – oh, and the odd collected leaflet and postcard. In terms of subject, I have yet to decide, all I can do at this point is to list some of the images that I have absorbed into my body and mind; a dusk sky rich in cobalt blue and pink grapefruit clouds; the rolling Purbeck hills curving down to form either secluded or sweeping bays; an expansive night sky filled with distant suns, shooting stars and the milky way; distant boats alone on the sea, only identifiable by their twinkling lights in the distant darkness of the night; the near black forms of the trees, cows and cottages silhouetted against a backdrop of a moonlight sky; and the moon reflection on the gentle sea.

Postscript:
Inspired by writing this diary entry, I hot - footed to the studio and created this near finished piece. I was brave in my approach, tearing off the apron strings that have tied me for to long to physical source material. This mono-print/ mixed media work was drawn directly from my imagination. I am very pleased with it and I hope that the spirit of the Dorset Sea will stay with me for long enough to feed my creative soul and to produce a small series of mono-prints. A painting may well then result from these explorations.

For Blog Readers: Postcript on the Postcript:

I have now finished this piece. It engaged me for quite a few days and a stream of mono print babies are now in full flow. I have been energised by this immediate medium and its unpredictability. It is called:

'Moon Rings and Ripples on the Sea'

Open Studios Northamptonshire 2009, Followers and Feejit

2009-09-12T19:58:00.009+01:00

Firstly, WOW! 16 Followers!

I know some people have 200 or so, but I feel immensly proud that I have 16. Thankyou to those who have recently joined.

I also think WOW when I look at my feedjit stats. Now not everyone will be searching for ME, as there are quite a few artists called Emma Davies in the world. BUT someone from Vienna searched for Maria Lassnig Emma........ now I know that that MUST be me..... and..... someone from India was searching for me and then I can spot which websites people have found me on and whereabouts in the world people are logging on directly!

I haven't checked in for a while, so all of this was a lovely suprise.

There will be a proper LONGER posting soon as it is nearing the time to write for my village newsletter, but it won't be as LONNNGGG as it usually is as I have agreed with the editor to cut it down... just a bit... for this issue.

The main reason for writing is that I am in the middle of this years Open Studios stint. http://www.openstudios.org.uk/

I am a bit disheartened as I have had few visitors. I am hoping that my recent web campaign... for which this is the last stop will do the trick. As I live in a village and there are no other artists within a 5 mile radius.... I tend to get left off the rounds by visitors. I braved a more challenging image in the brochure (Want Wish) but this does not attract the visitors. Oh, the dilemmas of living in a rural environment and wanting to produce work that challenges and promotes discussion.

I thank the artist who visited me yesterday and who stayed for a good hour. He WAS attracted by my image, it was the reason for his visit. We talked about artists and relationships, artists and mental health, working in a rural environment, communicating with the viewer, being open and honest about ones self and ones art. We talked about not wanting to conform but feeling the ever present pull to conform.

What to do. What to do? I never had the answer when I co ordinated this event and I don't have the answer now.

So: WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME AND SEE ME?

I won't display my address here as I am showing from home.

But, you can either: log on to h t tp://www.openstudios.org.uk/ and look for me on the online brochure - I am NO 15, or you can email me direct and I can send you an invite.

I am open on the following dates and times:

Sunday 13th September 10.30am to 6.30pm

Friday 18th September 10am to 2.30pm, 7pm to 9pm

Saturday 19th September 10.30am to 6.30pm

Sunday 20th September 10.30am to 6.30pm

My studio and downstairs toliet is packed full to the brim with drawings and paintings in progress, sketches and scribbles and notes.

My living room, hall and stairway is chocca with paintings and cards for sale.

It would be lovely to see you!

June 2009, Languishing in the Freedom of Acceptance (Geddington Village Newsletter)

2009-07-02T21:27:00.006+01:00

I am buzzing with ideas, it is a task to know where to start/ stop/ take breath and conclude a piece of work.

I will free flow through the wades of colour and line and describe to you a random mass of creative electrical charges.

(A Glass of Perry Aids a Merry Brain)

An idea came to me on the night of 20th June around about 8.50pm, which is about one hour and five minutes before I knew that I was free. It was an idea for a painting. I was sipping Perry from a plastic glass, listening to a folk festival band singing about long ago battles in a wet muddy field; when the answer arrived as to how to approach a sequel to ‘Want Wish Waste Wane’.
‘Want Wish Waste Wane’ is to become the first installment of a trypditch. While trying to enjoy my drink I realized I wanted the trypditch to relate an intense emotional journey that I have been on this last year. A story about how we can feel trapped within ourselves, how we feel that our value is being wasted; balancing existences, running from one life away to another; and then finally languishing in the freedom of acceptance and mutual respect.

The idea for the third part of the story came with the wish to experience it, but then an hour and 5 minutes later, fate fulfilled that wish and I can now paint from reality rather than hope.

So, now, I am all set to go: but I must be patient and understand that these sequels will take a good year to do. I want them to be my grand statement. I must not rush them.

‘Similar but Different’ (The story of Commission No 2a and 2b)

I sit here under the Barrel Oak with sore knees and a rumbly tummy. I have been sketching this tree from under the ‘last tree on the right’. The nettles have grown higher since I was last here and it was perhaps the effect of their stings that has made my knees somewhat sore.

I am finding it hard to ‘fit in’ the tree as it is so vast. To fully appreciate its majestic quality one needs to walk quite near. However this renders it quite a challenge to fit it into the picture frame – with the inclusion of the sky.

I have been asked to paint two watercolours ‘similar but different’ of this tree that is so important to all that know it. There are touching reasons as to the nature of the commission and so it is paramount that these reasons are respected and translated fully in the finished piece.

An Adapting Spirit

As I sit here at the dining room table I am trying to picture the painting shelf on the other side of this wall. It is cluttered with drawings and unfinished paintings. My life has changed quite rapidly over the last few months, particularly these last 10 days and my creative spirit is trying to adapt.

I need a repetitive rhythm of life in order to have a mind that can easily retract from the day to day and focus into a Zen like manner into and onto my work. But what with busy weeks, broken cameras and a new found soul my work has become rather disparate.
(Disparate is a rather negative word, but my mental thesaurus isn’t really on full alert today)
So – let me try and explain why the ‘disparate’ state of the painting shelf is in reality full of life and buzzing with ideas.

I had organized in a very business like fashion a painting schedule in my diary for the forthcoming months. However, a dropped camera put paid to these plans for a while. Not knowing when the situation would resolve, I embarked on a series of drawings. Quick, half hour drawings.
Quick does not describe the drawing style – the lines are not frenetic nor a tangled mass; but are controlled, considered and calm. The narrative being described by these calm lines was perhaps a prediction of a kind of calmness I would soon feel.

The content however told a different story. My head had been throbbing for a few days, the resulting effect from a combination of thundery weather and an angered heart. So, the drawings describe my physicality – how I physically felt rather than looked. I closed my eyes and centered my mind onto the throb of my temples, the weight of my palm against my brow, the furrowed lines on my forehead.
The images are not anatomically correct, but are homage to an artist called Maria Lassnig (born Austria in 1919). http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/gallery/2008/apr/24/marialassnig?picture=333704538

“… and found that the body I inhabit to be by far the most real of all realities” (Maria Lassnig)

Maria is a very recent discovery and one that has had a profound effect. The discovery was made – or given to me in the loveliest of ways. I had received a package one day from my dear artist friend BM. That was a joy in itself, but what was inside was to send shockwaves of delight, awe, realization and an intense connection with an artist 50 years my senior, whom I have never met.
BM had been on holiday and had visited this exhibition. He collected the associated leaflets and sent them to me. Certain things happen in your life that will prove to be monumental in deciding the direction in which your life will take.

As an artist, these moments are just as crucial, these meetings of minds, these enlightened discoveries, all impact greatly on your artistic identity; your ‘raison detre’ and the route that that your work will take.

Maria Lassnig was one of these moments. In the 1940’s she developed a style of painting called ‘Body Awareness’. Here is an extract from the exhibition leaflet:
‘For Maria Lassnig, every painting springs from the conviction that the only thing she knows for sure, are the feelings that evolve inside the shell of her body……. “Once I wearied of depicting nature analytically, I began looking for a reality which would quintessentially be mine than was the outside world, and found the body I inhabit to be by far the most real of all realities; I had only to become aware of it to be able to project its’ impression in fixed centers of gravity onto the image plane”.
This was precisely what I was trying to do with ‘Want Wish’, six months previously; to portray what I was feeling emotionally and physically rather than a portrait based on the anatomical cloak.

‘There is Nothing Left to be Said, we are Spent’

Some may say that there is no originality in art. But we creatives; musicians, artists, actors, writers, refuse to believe this sentiment. For how would life be without art in it, if we all downed tools and cried unanimously ‘There is nothing left to be said, we are spent’.
There would be no new music in the John Peel Tent, no ‘Mr. Hopkinsons’ Computer’ http://www.myspace.com/computersings no Schindlers List or Slumdog Millionaire (thank you MB), no Angel of the North. Therefore I refuse to down my tools in protest that an artist has beaten me to it nearly 70 years ago.

This has happened to me twice before. During the final year of my fine art degree, I was creating an installation of photographic works; slides, collages, prints and the written word. I had set up a photographic studio in my bedroom and for three months photographed myself in various positions and outfits; all to create a strong narrative exploring the notion of identity, how we come to be and who we hope to be. Some of the issues explored were body image and self confidence. At the culmination of this project, after all the work had been hung, a tutor mentioned in passing, ‘Emma, were you inspired by Cindy Sherman?’ ‘No’ was my reply. ‘Who is she?’ ‘You must go and find her work Emma’.
An hour later, stepping out from the university library, I felt a mixture of utter despondency that my work wasn’t entirely ‘original’ and sheer elation that I was not alone in this method of creating.

http://www.arthistoryarchive.com/arthistory/photography/Cindy-Sherman.html

Two years later, I was painting furiously in my studio in Knighton Lane, Leicester. More self portraits, this time in paint and experimenting with Body Language and how to communicate particular emotions with the viewer. Once again, many paintings later a dear friend of mine (TS) said to me ‘Have you been looking at Paula Rego then?’
‘No, who is she?’ So, once again, I set off on a quest to find out about an artist.

The specific piece of work by Paula that TS was referring to was a portrait commissioned by the National Portrait Gallery of Germaine Greer, completed in 1995. Although the sentiment behind the work wasn’t necessarily setting out to communicate a particular emotion (in relation to my own work) , the way Paula Rego had placed Germaine's body centrally within the frame and the body language which Germaine was subconsciously exhibiting gives the work a strong and determined presence.
Germaine was sat on a low leather sofa, with a red dress on, black tights and black lace up shoes. She is leaning forward , her knees up, but spread wide apart, creating a strong triangle down towards her feet, which are together – sole to sole. Germaine’s head is cocked to one side, her eyes distant and her hair languid and free. To achieve this informal result, Paula asked Germaine to recount the story from Wagner’s’ Ring. Germaine was instantly relaxed.

http://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait.php?locid=56&rNo=1

Back to My Drawing

Intermittently on the same pages on my ‘Body Awareness’ drawings, I am sketching my body from life – parts of the body that are the hardest to draw. When I am working on my narratives, which are primarily drawn from memory, I always struggle with hands, feet and noses, or, for example, the foreshortening of an arm as it is outstretched. So it is a mission now to observe, scrutinize, analyse and then draw, draw and draw again.
In some way, the reasoning for this is to prove myself that I can actually ‘draw’, because the quality of the line is an essential component in all of my work.

In the 1970’s after a period of abstract works, Maria Lassnig returned to painting using observation as her key motivation. This, in her own admission was a definitive reaction to criticisms voiced in America in response to her Body Awareness paintings. She resorted to realism in an effort to prove her skills as a draughtswoman; that she could actually paint and draw accurately and skillfully.

My observational drawings are in some way there to appease my self criticisms.

Mentor Morag (or Katie Morag: especially for those children’s book lovers)

For the last few months I have been visited by a lovely lady from Creative Northants. I was so pleased to be accepted on to this mentoring scheme; and what a Godsend it has been.
Morag drove for miles from the south of the county, three times, to sit with me all day; eat cake, drink too much coffee and listen to me. She listened and listened and wrote and wrote. The whole of my artistic career to this point came pouring out in a stream of consciousness and then, all of my many and often contradictory dreams and visions for my creative future. She was always there to give advice and emailed back at ridiculous hours in the morning when we were both up late working.
She has helped me so much. I now have specific goals, I have a map of plans; I have the determination, confidence and positivity to follow through with all of my ideas.
I have made a good friend.
Thank you MV

‘Girls On Film’

A few weeks ago I was very brave and accepted an offer that had the potential to go disastrously wrong. Oh Ye of Little Faith.

A dear musician friend of mine, (SR) had rather naughtily but flatteringly ‘taken’ some lines from my last An Artists Diary entry on my blog and composed a song from it.
After a diva strop, some amusing email exchanges and a tutorial session on copyright and crediting, I came around wholeheartedly to the idea and now publicly say sorry to Mr Rigsby (but don’t forget the credits!)

(Photo Credit: Matthew Hobson)

As a result of this, Stevie then wanted to use this song as a showcase for his wondrous talents (my words, not his) and wanted to make a video.
He enlisted his good friend Matthew and off we trundled up to Barrel Oak. This place is becoming quite a centre piece in my life. The plot for the video was hatched behind my self and my daughter as we stepped over puddles and kept watch for fairies.
I was to be filmed drawing the view from sitting in front of this fantastic tree looking down the Brigstock track. Stevie was filmed walking up the track, singing his song. He then sat on the log under the wide boughs and continued singing. I was to then include him in my drawing. He was my long lost love and I missed him. The trouble is, Stevie got bored of singing the same song so decided to cover Girls Aloud. This didn’t do much for my Mojo.
I loved the whole experience, but unfortunately was not impressed with my artistic efforts. So I have asked very nicely, to have another diva strop, and start from scratch the drawing of my lost love sitting under the Barrel Oak.

It may be that in the next episode of An Artists Diary, I can confirm the completion of both the drawing and the video.

This is diary entry is dedicated to Mr MB.

“Patience, Thought and a Steady Hand”

2009-04-02T13:38:00.010+01:00

March 2009 - Geddington Village Newsletter

(With added images especially for blog readers)

Six months have gone by and I am trying to relate back to September. What has happened to my artistic self since then? From those six months I have to discount the first three or four as various life/ work situations impacted on all creative processes. I tell a lie. For those four months it works out as an approximate percentage of 98% life and 2% creative activities.

The 2% in the first four months
Cheap Camera Phones
The 2% of time available for creative purposes was mainly utilized exploring all of the photographic opportunities on my cheap camera phone – moody lamp lit self portraits that looked like stills from a French Art House film; sepia portraits of family members enjoying New Years Eve celebrations; and cool blue seascapes taken in Holes Bay, Poole Harbour. I am intrigued as to how these photographs turn out in print; whether they are good photographs and posses a quirky charm, or quite the opposite. My father bought a cheap Japanese camera that all the photographers were raving about – the poor quality of the camera produced idiosyncratic images with strange colours; I am not so sure that mine will have quite the same effect.

Holes Bay, Poole Harbour. Taken with a cheap camera phone

Mail Art
The drawing morphed into something quite different, far more complicated than originally intended. It remains unfinished, balancing precariously in pieces on top a pile of books in the studio. To be finished it requires a craft knife, wood glue, patience, thought and a steady hand. And so I wait for the day when these are all present together in my mind, body and tool box.

Out of the four months and 2% and into the two months and let’s say 50%.
50% is a good figure. 50% art and 50% life. But as
Eileen Agar said: “Art or Life; it is never either/ or it is always both”, which is a lovely way to look at it. So my 98% was really 49% life and 49% creative nourishment.

The Seascape
The seascape has changed its identity, its spirit, three times now. At first it was too ‘jolly’ – far too bright in colours and tone. Then it became too dark, too ominous. There is now a balance between these two extremes. It is dark in tone but is spiritual and mystical rather than mysterious and oppressive. I had battled with the composition, fazed by the large expanses of surface area. My fellow artist RM said that this is where the lovely glorious act of Painting (with a capital P) comes in; these large areas scream out for the artist to dive in and feel the push and pull of the brushstrokes and experience, truly experience the physical act of Painting. I am not there yet. I am not yet able to let myself go and immerse myself in a sea of greens, greys and blues. I am not yet secure enough to leap into its depths and explore its expanse, not knowing where its edges are, where the rocks, seaweed and driftwood are to cling on to. So, I invented them. A foreground, with a cliff top full of coastline flowers reaching tall into the nights sky; a mid-ground, with a cave and tumbling boulders; a background with its moon and its reflections dancing across the sea. I felt safe with these devices to cling to; I had clearly defined shapes to draw around, my eye was not lost but could follow a logical route and could stop at designated points along the way.

The Seascape...... nearly there now

The Three Paintings on the Painting Shelf.
The Other Two
The readers of my blog will know that the figurative painting ‘Want, Wish, Waste, Wane’ is finished (bar a softening of the jaw line) and became a great ambassador for my art practice. I submitted this painting to the jgallery website (www.jgallery.org.uk) along with a few other artists and I was voted to be the jgallery Featured Artist for March 2009. What a great start to 2009. Ironically, this same painting wasn’t selected for the City Gallery Open 08 exhibition. Hey Ho, such is life and the vagaries of subjectivity.

The Commission (it’s a long title: "...... and all the time, the light is changing..... curving and sweeping, rising and reaching...."*
"...... and the leaves are dancing in the dappled evening light, the landscape suffused and resonating their warmth *The first part of this title is from 'Architects Dream' by Kate Bush.)
is now hanging proudly on the clients’ living room wall. They were so pleased with it; what a relief and a delight. I value so much the appreciation that people have for my work. Thank you for asking me.

Artists Statements
In my last entry I was discussing my continual struggle with my artists’ statement. I had arrived at one simple phrase with the help of a friend. Since then I sought additional advice and my statement has now developed further. Here it is:
‘I create in response to life; life and its emotional reactions are in a permanent state of flux; so too is my work. The simplest way to describe it is that I tell stories. It may be a story of a memory (painted from my imagination); a story of emotion told through self portraiture; or it may be a story of a landscape - where the trees, the hills or the rooftops are doing the speaking. I hope to be able to communicate with the viewer, that they can relate in some way to my experience and then to make it their own. It is as if we are having a conversation and relating our stories with one and other; but this is being done in silence through imagery and thought’.

The Written Word has been a great help to me recently. I have always been an avid reader, but have resurrected my interest in amassing quotes which assist in assessing ones existence and also creative purpose and practice. I have come to realize that the way in which I live my life has to be in balance with my creativity. My approach to life is a holistic one; therefore it is also with my art. Through reading and discussion, I now understand that my creative practice and other existences must be symbiotic. Through this research and analysis I have reached a greater understanding of who I am and how my holistic and philosophical approach to life has a direct bearing on my creative practice; I hope to convey all of this through the painting of my stories.

Words and Charts upon the studio wall

I have so many more things to say……… I shall try and run through them.

1. A recent success was being accepted onto the Sketchbooks for Schools Website (http://www.accessart.org.uk/sketchbook/?page_id=429). This is a fabulous new rescource for teachers, students, artists and anybody who is interested in the use of sketchbooks. I was very proud to have been the 2nd featured artist on there.

Some sketches for a submission exhibition '1984'. The sketches were far better than the finished product. I doubt very much that I will get in.

I think I noted that I looked like my father

2. I have been accepted onto the mentoring programme with Creative Northants (http://www.creative-northants.org.uk/) . My mentor has been fantastic. She has stayed with me for hours listening, nodding and writing as I circumnavigate the world inside my head. Questions and many answers. What has been the journey to this point and where do I now want my journey to lead? What has blocked my path? How do I approach my work? What would I want to have achieved in 10 years time? Probing questions like these helped me to understand what it is I need/ want to do. It has heightened my awareness of the passing of time and the urgent need to focus.

3. I visited the Imperial War Museum a couple of weeks ago in London. (http://london.iwm.org.uk/server/show/conEvent.22920) I saw two exhibitions; ‘Breakthrough’ which showed some amazing paintings by established war artists such as Paul Nash, CRW Nevinson, John Piper and Eric Ravilious. How wonderful to see them in the flesh after so long seeing them only in books; then, ‘Unspeakable’: The Artist as Witness to the Holocaust’(http://london.iwm.org.uk/server/show/conEvent.2496)
– quite simply, harrowing. Beautiful, sensitive paintings and drawings, but the eyes refusing to believe that what the artists were seeing was real.
Then last week I discovered a gem – just down from Waterloo Station. The Topolski ‘Century’ Gallery (http://www.topolskicentury.org.uk/). Topolski was an Artist and a Chronicler. He witnessed so much. The gallery was his studio and in it he painted murals; a vast visual journey from the pre war era to the drug induced 60’s and 70’s. This is what made an impact on me: the similarities of facial expressions between the people suffering immense pain and emotional torment in the holocaust with those involved in those hedonistic and drug fuelled times, except the eyes… eyes of abject fear next to eyes of psychotic delight… just 20 years apart.

4. Now that I am less of an arts coordinator and more of an artist, it is pleasure to be able to talk art: making, imagining, theorizing… rather than the complexities and politics of arts admin. I am lucky to have fantastic art chums who are supportive but honest in their appraisals. RM wants me to loose myself in a sea of paint and dispose of my need to reach for the security blanket of my drawing and pictorial devices. I am listening, I am listening! BM pays me surprise visits and keeps an eye on me from afar. NF shows me his latest wooden incarnations. M can read my work with such clarity that I am shocked each time, but simultaneously, I have a great satisfaction in knowing that I communicating my thoughts and emotions succinctly. LJ has enabled me to expand my emotions and to dream of show to end all shows. We may, or we may not… but the dreams are there.

Featured Artist for March at the jgallery

2009-03-10T19:21:00.005Z

Some great news!

I have been voted to be the Featured Artist for March 2009 at the jgallery in Moulton, Nr Northampton. The votes were cast for my painting 'Want Wish Waste Wane'.

The jgallery is a fantastic gallery showing a wide range of contemporary work... from light installations to seascapes.

Please follow the link to see my work on the jgallery website.www.jgallery.org.uk/exhibit-art/featured_artist.asp

Here is what I said about the painting.

'Want, Wish, Waste, Wane' is a self portrait; created with a combination of painting from observation and direct from my imagination. The aim was to express how I physically and emotionally felt through body posture, colour and exaggeration of form - rather than being exact anatomically. It is a statement I guess on age and relationships (non gender specific), motherhood and female sexuality.

Five new artists are waiting for votes... so please vote for your favourite.

The Commission is Finished

2009-02-13T18:13:00.003Z

Here it is - complete. There is a long title - I played a particular Kate Bush song again and again while painting; and both the words and music inspired me, so, I have included some of the lyrics in the title.

The client loves the painting and I loved painting it. As the client has bought from me before - my brief really was to 'do what I do'. What a great experience to paint for someone who is in tune with how and why I work - and my inspirations. We both loose ourselves in the subtlety and sense of history of the landscape around where we live.

I want to hold out for commissions like this... I value the emotional impact that it has with the client as much as the financial gain - we experienced the journey of the painting process together.

"...... and all the time, the light is changing..... curving and sweeping, rising and reaching...."*

"...... and the leaves are dancing in the dappled evening light, the landscape suffused and resonating their warmth"

(*The first part of this title is from 'Architects Dream' by Kate Bush.)

Acrylic on Canvas

2008 - 2009

A view from a bedroom window.

Mono Prints on the Painting Shelf

2009-02-05T14:02:00.001Z

Here are my first attempts at mono prints in a very long while. I have done better since these.
I am turning these into collages.

'Want, Wish, Waste, Wane'

2009-02-05T13:45:00.003Z

I have had an 'issue off' from the latest issue of The Village Newsletter. Areas in my life have undergone change and there was no time for reflection during the winter months. I will be back on course with the newsletter writing in March.

However, this is a snippet of my creative news. I have now finished two of the paintings that were on the painting shelf - the narrative and the commission. The seascape is very nearly there - as is also the 'Mail Art' (this has become a bit of a 'mini project' and a bit of an experiment).

The narrative has this title: 'Want, Wish, Waste, Wane'. I need to soften the jawline, other than that - it is complete.

The commission (landscape) is awaiting a title, but it will include a line from a Kate Bush song - as the music helped to inspire me... the words and the rhythm and sound of the music. I am having difficulty photographing this painting... but I will post an image as soon as it is done.

'The Three Paintings on the Painting Shelf...'

2008-10-18T04:06:00.004+01:00

Some quick notes away from the village newsletter (in three months time, when I write at length again, I hope that there will be new works reclining here) :

The latest developments on these three paintings................

The Narrative - the aches, pains, wants and needs of a woman........

The Seascape - a struggle with the compostiton. The sky has darkened, I am struggling to find the story. I need shapes, I need a story to cling to.....

The Commission - going strong - I am on trusted familiar ground.....

Mid Way now with 'The Commission'

2008-10-18T03:53:00.002+01:00

‘A Flurry of Thoughts and a Ripping of Rags’

2008-09-30T14:23:00.000+01:00

The Commission. The first three layers are down. There have been more since. My client visited last night and they are really pleased with the direction it is taking. Of which I am very very pleased.

The 'painting shelf' in The New Studio (of which I may christen 'My Bit on the Side' as a friend jokingly remarked - it has been built on the side of the house - ha ha) and - some New Work. The middle peice I am not so sure about - I have written about my struggles with this below.

I am sitting here on my ‘director’s chair’ in the studio. I am leaning my writing paper on an old sketch book that I have brought down from the attic.

Amongst these old forgotten pages are sketches of some mountains in the Lake District. A group of us from art college went on a hike, clambering over rocks and muddy banks in order to feast our eyes on the tremendous views, and be inspired. Some of us sketched, some took photographs and others just sat and absorbed.
These sketches were produced 16 years ago. The pages have now become ashen with age, but when I slowly turn each page to reveal the next drawing – I find myself stepping back in time to a lost existence, but while also experiencing the fullness of time; these drawings hold as much resonance for me as do the drawings I produce now. I often feel that I have lost myself creatively, since having that luxury of allowing every waking hour to be devoted the creation of art. I can learn from these pages and relate these studies to my current work: the strong forms amongst the shapes of the rocks and the sense of depth created by the great chasms; then, it was the rocks and mountains being carved out by my pencil - now it is trees.

So, as I said - I am sitting here in the finished studio. The peace, the freedom and the space of thought is truly wonderful. There are three canvases lined up along my ‘painting shelf’ – all of which are being worked on simultaneously: a narrative/ figure painting, a seascape – and The Commission – which is a landscape that has lots of trees in it. All different subject matter, but as I said in my previous entry, my goal is to link all of these themes together.

I have just finished an ‘Open Studio’, where the public are invited in to see my work and work space. One of the hot topics of conversation was – ‘Where is my work going’? How am I going to gain access to the hallowed walls of a commercial gallery? Was I going to cram inside a pigeon hole to describe myself as just a ‘landscape artist’ or, was I going to stick steadfastly to my philosophy and approach? What makes my work – my work? The many conversations, questions and answers on this theme helped me to gain a new found confidence and assertiveness when describing myself – i.e. the dreaded ‘Artists Statement’. There are reasons why I work the way I do and I will not change that. Every ones brains operate in different ways. We all have different learning styles and use various methods in approaching tasks – and artists are no different. So how do I use my brain to keep my work fresh? What maintains my interest? Well, for want of a better word – I ‘flit’ from one piece of work to the other. I let a piece of work breath and rest after each layer and then I move onto the next. My brain is energized by the new image. This gives me a fresh impetus and thus my mark making is not laboured, but directional.

It has been suggested by galleries and during an interview for an MA course, that I produce a ‘set’ of work. But the idea of rigidly painting a series of trees, I have come to realize – scares me rigid. I will become bored and frustrated. My father, in the end, couldn’t make it up in his rusty old van to deck out the studio - that honour went to somebody else and I shall be eternally grateful to that person! But he did come to my Open Studio and while I was recalling all these conversations and thoughts to him, he suggested that all I needed to do is unify the presentation of my work. So, I have now established a format of presentation: set sizes of canvases, and a style of frames and mounts. (I would like to eventually emulate an artist called Gluck – b.1885, d.1970, who designed her own bespoke frames that were integral to her work. These were called ‘The Gluck Frames’) So, coupled with the positive comments from some of the visitors when saying that they already like the way in which I frame my work - that it is individual and has a personality of its own (so I am half way there at least), all of this has enabled me to come to a positive conclusion – and plan the next stage of my practice. I will set up system where I have the flexibility to diversify, but which allows the work to be read and viewed easily as a whole. This new studio will allow me to do that.

The autumnal and winter months are those months in my working calendar that allow me more time to be creative. I must be balanced by seizing opportunities whilst remaining focused. One of these opportunities is by becoming involved in ‘Mail Art’. This is where artists send each other art works through the post. Postcard sized pieces which have been produced especially for the artists who will be receiving them. So, I am working on a drawing that I will be sending to an artist called Sevgul who is based in Belgium. We have struck up an artistic friendship over the internet and offer each other, now and again, words of encouragement. I cannot describe to you what it is that I am drawing for her as it will spoil the surprise for Sevgul. She will be reading this entry when it is posted on my blog today (http://www.anartistsdiary.blogspot.com/). I hope you like it Sevgul!

While painting some trees yesterday, I looked around my studio at all the other trees and wondered why I feel so at home with them - that I am instinctively able to draw them. You see, I love the sea – yet, after battling with the seascape I am currently painting, I am realizing that although I yearn to be by the sea more than anything else – creatively, my passion is trees. The sea, I escape through, my thoughts and troubles are whisked away along the waves and the sea breeze; trees however, I relate to. It is as if they embody human qualities and spirits. They resonate with mysteries and hold such history. I am sure I have mentioned this before. But it is also the shapes, the angles, the twists and turns of the branches and the spaces in between. I thought back to all the woods and forests that I have visited, each time wanting to be silent as I walked through them. Each forest and wood is unique. All the trees gather, their leaves rustling as they chatter, unified together, their aching bones creaking in the wind.
In my childhood there was the Bluebell Woods in Yorkshire: this was full of fairy grass and pixie hiding places; then there was Badbury Rings in Dorset, a regular haunt of my youth: cycling through the cavernous avenue of trees that were protecting me from the crushing world outside; later, as a young adult I explored the famous woods in Lyme Regis, where John Fowles’ French Lieutenant's Woman roamed, the Black Forest in Germany and the mystical Newborough forest on Anglesey; and now, I visit Wakerley Woods, Geddington Chase and the clusters of trees surrounding Newton Field Centre. All of these places and trees that live in them are steeped in history and have thousands of stories to tell.

A good friend and fellow artist interjected during one of my ‘What do I write on my Artist Statement’ rants (my continual struggle to establish a basic concise phrase to describe my inspirations as an artist). She said to me “(my name) you tell stories.... that is what you do!” This sounded so simple, yet it encapsulated all of my inspirations and ideas into one phrase, which I can then elaborate on as the situation dictates. So, I can finally, after months of deliberation say this about my work: ‘Through all of my subject areas – I am telling the viewer a story’.

Well, that is the first diary entry that has been directly inspired from being in the studio and not, I am SO GLAD to say, born out of the frustrations of NOT being in it. There was plenty more I wanted to say today, but time is ticking, so I shall try and remember to tell you these things next time. Meanwhile I shall melt into the palette and flow into the colours, I shall tingle with the flurry of all my thoughts and delight in the rapturous sound of the ripping of rags.

‘There is only the flooring to go………’

2008-06-29T19:55:00.000+01:00

29th June 2008

‘There is only the flooring to go………’

This will be a very brief entry. I am one week away from moving into the studio - there is only the flooring to go.

Save for my teaching, I have not picked up a pencil or a sketchbook. I am truly saving myself. Instead, I have been painting with my mind; allowing myself this privilege, knowing that it will not frustrate me being unable to make it into reality – for this will be reality will be a week from now.

The commission waits patiently on the easel. I have drawn it out with charcoal and for now, its sits. We (my client and I) are waiting for the right light to appear in the sky before I put paint to canvas. I only want to begin when I know what the colours and tones will be. I will be using acrylics, building up layers of paint; the first wash to be strong, either a yellow ochre or an orange. This will be the under painting. The colours that will then go on top of this will be complementary – opposite colours, either a smoky blue grey or a violet grey. At first, this will look stark and daring, but in time the two opposing colours will fuse and create a subtle balance.

As well as the commission, I will start a series of paintings and drawings based on trees. This period of ‘time out’ as enabled me to gain an understanding of my practice, its journey so far and where, from now I wish it to go. I need to consolidate my work. I need my portfolio to be able to speak quite clearly. To be able to communicate in one clear statement, what my work is about. I don’t like being put into a box usually – as a person or as an artist. But, it helps to box oneself when approaching galleries, funding bodies or commission opportunities. It helps them to get a clear understanding of what it is you are about. Essentially it comes down to marketing and money. Commercial galleries will not take you on unless they can see that you will be able to make them money. They need to survive and so will only take on an artist that they can be sure will deliver. They will not have confidence in an artist who has a bit of this and a bit of that. These ‘bits of this and that’ may well amount to a project – but only in ten years time. Unfortunately, if I am to make it at all, I need to play the game.

The other aspect of this, is the description of my work. Whenever I get asked to describe my work to - put it into a statement, I can guarantee that, although much of the time parts of the statement will be repeated, other parts will be different each time. It is practically impossible to have a standard theory regarding your own work if who want to change and progress. This becomes a balancing act for me. I know artists who have kept with the same description of their work for years and whose style and subject pretty much remains unchanged – and they have made it in terms of financial success. But would I like to be like that? I know not. But neither do I wish to remain as I am. My step mother once said to me, when I was having an attack of the ‘what have I done with my life’ and ‘is my father proud of me’ thoughts: “I have always admired you because you have stuck to your principals”. This has stayed with me and validated my life and career choices. So, as an artist, I don’t want to go down the commercial route, box myself in, go against my philosophy and have a ‘theory’ that stays with me for all time, but, on the other hand, I need to adopt some business like principles in order to move forward - I need to come up with a marketable paragraph. To be honest, the thought of it fills me with horrors. I went to see the De Montfort Degree show the other weekend. My daughter’s uncle had just finished his degree. These thoughts were on his mind also. Most of his fellow students had long statements describing their work. Lots of long words ending in ism. Lots of long sentences citing this period of art or that theory. How they are following this tradition or that school of thought. In all honesty, I stopped reading after a paragraph. All I wished to know were the essentials; what ideas/ emotions they were trying to convey – a few sentences would have sufficed – and then I like to fill in with my own ideas – what I am understanding from the work. None of the theorizing and intellectualizing interested me. That sort of thing is for the art critics and academics. And so thought Uncle Nick, who had no statement next to his work and - in the degree brochure where there was meant to be a paragraph next to his image, he simply wrote ‘not quite a fine artist’. He then proceeded to get a 2:1 - so it did him no harm.

Well, what was meant to be a few sentences, has turned into rather more.

And to repeat the words from my last entry: ‘The end is in sight. And I am preparing for the onslaught. When I will have taken up arms once again and filled the room with the dust of pastels and the acrid stench of fixative and varnish’.

April Fools Day 2008

2008-04-02T01:26:00.000+01:00

A couple of weeks ago:

‘The end is in sight. And I am preparing for the onslaught. When I will have taken up arms once again and filled the room with the dust of pastels and the acrid stench of fixative and varnish.

(At the moment) I am battling with a sketch book (one of many) – turning this collection of hurried unloved sketches into a tome – a bible of colour, concentration and creativity – each page being treated with utter respect and devotion. This particular sketch book is devoted to colour – the observation of colour – its myriad of hues and shades. How, in one autumnal leaf, as I see before me, there are olive greens, yellow ochres and russet reds and an ever so slight touch of violet. I am always fascinated by how nature creates such balance of colour. Nothing is ever just one colour. Our skins are not just brown, pink or yellow but a mix of all those colours and many more besides.

As I stare at my hand, there are the blue grey veins protruding from beneath my skin, the red dry skin on my knuckles, the yellow of the ageing cuticles. Add this to the soft white of the reflected light from the windows and the subtle violet shadows as my hand curves around. On one hand I see five colours at a glance – and two of these are opposites of the colour circle – violet and yellow. Observe then, before the leaves begin to emerge, a hedgerow – with the field behind or the grass below. The hedgerow may be a purple brown and the grass a strong yellow green – opposites, yet how perfectly balanced.

The buddleia in the garden (that really does need a trim) displays old rusty red/ brown flower heads alongside perky green leaves – opposites – yet in tune – they compliment each other – they are known as ‘complimentary colours’.

The challenge then, is how to describe all of this – this bombardment of colour. Questions. Which pigments do I select - the raw or the burnt umber? The cobalt or the cerulean blue? And, so, this is what the sketch book is for. I am observing what is around me; the garden shed and the overgrown buddleia, the fallen winter leaves. The fresh blue skies and the crisp green shoots of spring; the soft pinks of a poppy seed head, the deep maroon of a dried red rose. I am looking intensely and exploring my colour palette.

I am also using this sketch book as a chance to experiment. How different materials respond to different subjects. How varying mediums can interact with each other. Investigate interesting ways of working and presenting work – a graphic chart of colour, a splurge of mark making, a closely observed drawing.

It becomes an obsession.’

Sunday:

‘What would I paint to express the coming of spring?

The rush of water as it speeds by the clusters of daffodils on a manicured lawn; a spattering of daisies clinging to the embankment; the wood pigeon calling and all the other birds chattering, happy for the return of spring. The sun beating down and the midges hovering. The two lads play fighting on the cricket pitch and the children busying themselves inventing a science fiction adventure game amongst the silent trees; the rhythmic rhythms of the water, reflecting on the bark of a tree, the pulsating dance of the reflected light dappling across the roughened bark and gnarled roots. The pheasant strutting beneath the poplar tree and barking to announce its presence.

My mind is full of this richness of life, and yet, if I had my sketch book to hand, what, visually would I be drawn to? I think perhaps the view from where I now sit. The sweep of the flood plain, the distant bridge - with the lone tree behind – standing tall, saved from the fate that befell the other three. The deep curve of the tree in the foreground, bending down to frame the bridge –seeming as if to chatter to the tree that was saved.’

Happy Spring.

Ps. I may not have had my sketch book – but I had this – an old card and a biro.

I can't go in there, they're going to think I'm a bloody idiot'

2008-01-14T13:39:00.000Z

Alone on the hill, surrounded by the expanse, reaching for the whatever.

2008-01-14T13:33:00.000Z

New Years Eve, 2007

2008-01-14T13:19:00.000Z

Well, father indeed came up in his rusty old jeep, but unfortunately there was no need for his tools to be clanging away in the back. The extension isn’t finished yet (although very nearly) so I am still waiting in abject anticipation to deck out the studio and get to work. It is all very, very imminent however.

I took the decision soon after writing my last entry that I was gong to take a creative holiday. I was becoming more and more frustrated with the tiny bits of paper with which I had to work with. Even more frustrated with not being able to start work until gone 10pm at night, after having to get everything out and then pack it all away again. It was doing me no good on compromising so much on my work – I wasn’t producing anything worthwhile particularly – nothing that I would want to show to the world. I am now safe in the knowledge that I will soon no longer be imprisoned within these four walls with my mind and spirit being starved of the nutrition of art – I will be set free from this in the coming months.

Just before Christmas I was commissioned to paint a local landscape. This will be my return. I will be working on a much larger canvas than I have been able to these last couple of years, and I have been given license to go with my own flows and paint how I how feel that I should (as opposed to the client being particularly particular). This is my favorite type of commission and the sort that I would always want to receive, no matter how far apart in being offered. This client knows my work and we have a shared appreciation of the local landscape – its subtle beauty, its history and sense of place. This really helps in the process – there is understanding on both sides: the artist understanding the wishes of the client and the client appreciating the artists methodology, inspirations and visions.

Throughout these last few months I have had a saving grace however –the periodic creative release of my teaching. Ideally, I need to be practicing what I am teaching as then it will all be ‘there’ in the forefront of my mind; but, I have had to remember what it feels like to hold a brush, the sensation of charcoal across the rough paper, the give of the canvas as you press your brush into it, and the experience of understanding what it is that you are seeing. There is seeing and there is looking; observational art is all about deciphering all the information you have before you, i.e. in a still life for example, how the two jugs are placed together – the spacial relationship between them, the negative shapes in between the stalks and flowers, and the effect of chiaroscuro – light and shade. I need to try and recall from the recesses of my mind those intuitive actions of an artist that you would only know if you were practicing. It is so easy to forget. I am looking forward to teaching with more fluidity as a result of working again.

As I had less to tell you about, I thought I would share with you some of those thoughts that pass through my mind when I am creating. These have all been written over the years as notes in my sketch books, or scribbles on the sides of my drawings or on scrap pieces of paper. They serve me in a variety of forms – a diary, instructions as to how to improve a piece of work, or a written reminder of the weather, the light, or the atmosphere. Sometimes, my writing takes the form of prose. Some of these notes then become titles for my work.

They are noted down in the order that they appear before me as I leaf through my books.

3/3/06
‘It’s spring! 2 weeks ago, mother and I were walking in a blizzard. Now its’ so warm. Been ill for 2 weeks. I have a new lease of life as well as the land’

7/3/06
‘Really cold, standing still. The Chase, first tree on the right’

2004 sometime
‘I look across at this scene and if I look through the dimness of the church and the trees, and the houses in front of me and I look into the distance; I see a place I want to be, the atmosphere, the colours its soul. It has a spirit…………….’ I wrote reams on this occasion – it became a title: ‘I see a place where I want to be and hear distant memories of sounds and a place where I once felt safe and secure’

2005 sometime
Church Watercolour
1. Darken bright trees (keeping some of the lightness/ brightness)
2. More delineation on right hand roof – tighter line at the top.
3. Bit more detail on blue chimney.
4. Mot more detail on church bricks.
5. Highlight the moon on the right hand side of the church…………………..’

And later:
‘Needs more weight, more atmosphere. Trees need to have more presence – strength, unity’.

2006 sometime
Still Life Collage
‘1. Improve the pages on the left.
2. Either darken page on right/ or lighten vase (a touch)
3. Decide what to do with the flowers – add blue pastel?
4. Are there more shadows to go in? Put these in………………….’

1995 sometime
‘For the large self portrait:
Experiment using bold gestures/ marks: broad strokes with the knife, scuffles with paint brushes – leave obvious paint marks painterly – is as much about painting as about subject – influenced by late Degas paintings – as saw on Omnibus – red painting. Subtle pose, but suggests something.’

Sometime – not at all sure of the year:

‘What is it that I like?
Rambling, busy, yet subtle, reflections in the windows, shininess against the roughness, seclusion, history, rustic ness, sound of the wind blowing the grasses - have movement in the grass’

And lastly, November 2003

‘Layers. Texture – textures and colours, exploring different mediums. Drawing – medium and technique. Landscape – Form, colours, light. History – historical changes. Emotion – connections to the landscape, daily emotional changes.’

'Drooping Daisies..... Part 2'

2007-10-21T17:47:00.000+01:00

'Drooping Daisies.... Part 1'

2007-10-21T17:43:00.000+01:00

'Drooping Daisies...........' Part 4

2007-10-21T17:36:00.000+01:00

2007-10-21T17:30:00.000+01:00

2007-10-05T14:59:00.000+01:00

An Artists Diary
3rd October 2007

“BUILDING………….. Extensions, Websites and Anticipation”

I am having a bit of an Autumn Spring Clean at the moment. It may be an avoidance tactic for not doing any work, but it is doing me the world of good. I am happy to report that I have tidied the: ‘easel corner’ – filed drawings into folders, arranged frames and papers into appropriate sections; ‘materials store on the stairs’ – sourced handy bags and containers in which to put ‘stuff’ (pencils, chalk pastels, oil pastels, poster paints, rags………..); ‘library’ – all my art books lovingly dusted and re- arranged. The rest of the clear out will have to wait until the new extension is completed…..

I am BESIDE MYSELF WITH EXCITEMENT over this. I am in ABJECT ANTICIPATION. I am greatly looking forward to the PURE UNADULTERATED JOY of being able to have a separate work space. To be able to create a mess, to wander into MY STUDIO for just one minute, pick up a stub of charcoal and attack the HUGE sheet of fabriano that I will be attached to the wall. ATTACK IT with a sheer force of creativity. At the moment, all I feel that I am doing is tentatively daubing, making small ineffectual marks on small surface which only faintly satisfies a need. When I am being objective, I know that I am in fact not producing ineffectual works, I realize that I am being far too negative, it’s just that being forced to produce small works is making me feel like that. Thinking about it, I feel as though I have been imprisoned inside a creative vacuum. However, I have made the best of my circumstance, explored working small - but now I want to work HUGE. If this impeding freedom doesn’t release my pent up energies, I don’t know what will.

My father always asks what I would like for Christmas (at the age of 37 this is still greatly appreciated!) This year my request will be for him to travel over from Wales in his rusty old Jeep, with his tool kit clattering around in the back, and set about in kitting out MY STUDIO. (The emphasizing of certain words is to highlight the height of my excitement!) I know he has recently treated himself to one of those posh hanging systems (he is a photographer and has established a gallery area in his home) and so he will be fully conversant with how to set it up. Now, ummm, what else, well; in order to fling myself at these large sheets of paper I will need some kind of large drawing board fixed to the wall; and finally, some shelves would also be very nice - thank you. I don’t know how much of this he will agree to do – in order of preference I opt for the large drawing board.

So that is one thing that has happened since my last entry - the builders have started bridging pipes, pouring concrete and laying down the first layer of bricks. I look each day to see what is ‘new’ and imagine myself inside this virgin space – cleaning brushes, stretching paper and loading some yellow ochre oil paint onto a brush…… .

So what else is there to report? Well, ‘The Proud Tree’ was exhibited in Northampton. I am rather proud that it caught the eye of a gallery owner and we have had a positive chat about possible future exhibitions……….. I daren’t say much else at the moment, I don’t want to jinx anything, but it helped to reinforce my confidence in that particular direction of work.

I exhibited a lot of my work for the Open Studios Northamptonshire event. That went really well, I sold a painting and a lot of my cards. It’s great when I sell work, to know that somebody appreciates what you have produced so much that they are willing to part with money. Meeting people though, is the second joy of Open Studios- the opportunity to explain in depth your motivations and inspirations, to exchange ideas, to discuss history and philosophy of art.

As far as new work is concerned, I have not produced anything new in these last couple of months. But, I have been working on my internet presence. I have had to postpone the development of my own website for financial reasons – it’s so expensive! But in the meantime, I have set up some free sites. The ‘Artists Diary’s’ are now online at www.anartistsdiary.blogspot.com ‘The Proud Tree’ is on there and I will soon be adding further images. I have also set up a Flickr page (www.flickr.com) but I am still getting my head round how that one all works, so details of this will follow in my next entry.

As far as future exhibitions are concerned and producing new work, there are three exhibitions at the moment that I can go for. The City Gallery Open Submission in Leicester, The Catmose Gallery Open Submission in Oakham and Kettering and District Art Society at the Alfred East. Two of these shows state that they require new work, and one needs my titles by next week, so I am facing those late nights working again. Mind you, I don’t feel quite so alone in that regard at the moment, as a neighbour seems to be working well into the night on his woodwork – I find the shrieks of a saw/ grinder/ sander more of a comfort than an annoyance. Anyway, what am I going to produce for these shows? Quite frankly, I don’t know. I have got as far as measuring frames and making notes, but that was a few weeks ago and I have forgotten whatever it was that that I had scribbled down. Let me go and have a look…………. well, the jist of it is – trees in either: collage, inks or watercolours. The trees are shedding their coats for the winter, it would be nice to capture them changing. I shall let you know in January, when their bare bones are displayed, if I managed to portray their rustling leaves as they glided down to the ground.

An Artists Diary - Geddington Village Newsletter June 07

2007-09-28T14:15:00.000+01:00

An Artists Diary

June 30th 2007

‘Awkward Artists, Karma, Jackson Pollock and Royal Academy Beef Tea………….’

Well, the Northampton exhibition has nearly finished. The work was not completed but the pieces were in a good enough state to go onto a wall (visitors would probably be none the wiser, but I know that there was a lot more work to do on them in order for them to be at the standard that I would like). I was up to the small hours the night before, as predicted. In fact, I had to schedule myself a two week timetable of painting each and every night, with a few solid days in between as well.

Exhibitions have all sorts of different rules for artists, one of which for this show is that I had to tell the organizers well in advance the titles of the pictures that I was going to enter, so that they can produce a catalogue, make the labels and plan the hang. As an organizer myself for art events, I know the importance of rules, as there are lots of different factors to consider. But there are always going to be awkward artists that pay no attention to the guidelines and go their own merry way. On this occasion, I was being the awkward artist. I was not paying attention to the rules. I had been concentrating so hard on the paintings themselves that I had forgotten to make sure that they were mirror plated – so that they were all ready to hang. Consequently, I was frantically asking the gallery for spare mirror plates and fellow artists for help in mirror plating eleven pieces of work. I was being shameful, embarrassing and an absolute pain in the behind. Then to make matters even more infuriating, I had to rush back to Kettering to go to another job, (which, incidentally, upon arrival I found out that it had been cancelled without me being informed - aaagghh) – so, I was unable to supervise the hanging of my paintings……. Consequently, karma caught up with me and a set of four paintings were hung in the wrong order, which has a themed set, a concept piece - the meaning behind them was subsequently lost. I mentioned this piece in my last entry – it was the Drooping Daisies – I am pleased with it though, after all this moaning. It is a confident step in a new direction – and I am curious where it may take me.

The Private View however was a great success - and no one noticed the mistake, which, makes you wonder how much a viewer actually takes in when viewing art work for the first time. For myself, I think that it takes me quite a while, that there are stages in my appreciation of work. There is the first glance – how a piece works on an immediate level – the colours, the composition, the atmosphere and the subject. I then look closely at the texture, technique, quality of drawing and application of materials. It is, after all of this that I look at the title, and if this has any meaning (as mine did). I then relate this to the work and ponder on any theme, meaning or narrative that the artist intended.

And now on to something that I nearly did and so glad that I didn’t. Did anyone see the Royal Academy Shows on the television? I was very tempted to apply this year, for the TV series as well as the exhibition. In hindsight I am very glad that I didn’t. I just wouldn’t have been able to produce any work in time. And - I certainly don’t relish any TV cameras hanging around this tiny space that I live in, complete with knickers drying on clothes horses and washing up piled up in the sink. It was a near miss, I was all ready to send an email to the TV Company and send my cheque in to the Royal Academy. You have to pay to enter these things – it gets very expensive. They charge about ten pounds per work – and you can enter up to three (not to mention the travel costs). You have to pay well in advance of the submission dates – so there you are, once you have posted that envelope in the post box, you are committed.
Fiona Rae, a Royal Acadamian was filmed painting her entry. It all went wrong and in the end she shooed the cameras away as they were distracting her. She was unable to do a Jackson Pollock and perform to the camera – but he was aided by the effect of a good few bottles of wine - Fiona Rae was more reliant on cups of tea I think. All was not lost though, instead, she entered a ‘and here is one I did earlier’ for this years show and has promised for next year – she will enter the improved and worked on piece that was filmed being produced.

Watching this (and an artist whose clay sculpture exploded in the kiln together with Maureen Lipman handing in a still wet painting) has not deterred me from entering– and I may well send off that cheque next spring . I will then imagine the judges, when viewing my work, holding up either their X’s for a no or a D for doubtful (which means ‘possibly’ in Royal Academy speak) and drinking this disgusting concoction of Beef Tea during their break .

So what’s next on my painting timetable? Well, I will be finishing off a graphite tree drawing (I think I mentioned this in one of my diaries) - this will be going into a show in September. I need to produce a set of them really – I want to make a strong visual statement with them. I am also painting Geddington Churchyard for a local exhibition, this is an acrylic on canvas – I am looking at how the evening sunlight lights up some of the grave stones and leaves others in shadow with the backdrop of trees and a thatched roof behind. It is looking like a mini tableau. The sketch book project continues – a friend said to me today that I am approaching my sketch books like scrap books – sketches on scraps of paper, lovingly collected together in themed books – I hadn’t realized that that is what I am doing – it was good to hear, it helped me to understood more of what and why I do what I do.

An Artists Diary - Geddington Village Newsletter March 2007

2007-09-28T14:13:00.000+01:00

An Artists Diary
27th March 2007

Life Cycles; Birth and Buds, Blossoming Bodies and Drooping Daisy’s.

Well Spring has arrived and I can see the first sprouts of colour peeping through the bracken, the birds are singing and the cat is sunning itself by the open back door.

I want to be out there. Walking, listening to the sound of birdsong and breathing in the new air. But I’m tied to the computer and have been for the last two months. I feel inspired and awakened, but my ‘work work’ dictates otherwise.

I was getting rather worried that I wouldn’t have anything to report on the old artistic front. The work that I said I would do didn’t materialize. The graphite drawing of the tree is still sitting on the easel and I didn’t do any more ink drawings. Christmas happened. And we all know what happens then. I hibernated for a couple of months more after that, sinking lower and lower into the sofa. Until one day, a few weeks ago I just started working – just like the time that I suddenly cleared out my studio. It wasn’t planned and I didn’t have a list of paintings I wanted to do. The work I did was born out of the frustration of being practically glued to the computer and not being able to get out during the day to paint.

I went back to a subject matter that I didn’t think I was going to do again for a long while. I did some life drawing – self portraits. I didn’t worry about the charcoal marks on the carpet; I attacked the paper and utilized my raw pent up energy.

After a couple more drawings like this, I decided to draw some cut flowers that were wilting in a vase. Again, with charcoal – compressed charcoal to be exact (this is a lot darker and produces rich dark tones in a fantastically gritty way). While working on these flowers, a theme started to emerge. A story about life cycles, new birth, ageing and death. I had noticed the comparisons between a wilting daisy and the sagging flesh on my body. I began to think about my daughter and her rosy face, and the buds appearing in the garden. And there before me was a project. Something I could do at night and that would fit in with my current ‘work work’ timetable- a series of works exploring life cycles and looking at the visual comparisons of the human figure and flowers.

The next drawing was done in chalk pastels and lead pencil. Rather than produce separate images of figures and flowers, I tried to combine the two in one piece, so that the flowers became symbolic. I am still working on this drawing but it has also enabled me to think about colour and what colours would be best to use for each part of the life cycle. I also started a canvas in acrylic, working from the charcoal drawing of the drooping flowers. At the moment the flowers look as if they are drifting across the canvas, a bit lost – perhaps that is a good thing, adds to the meaning. I have only laid down the first drawing and colour wash – so I will be interested to see where it takes me.

This new set of work came at a fortunate time as I have some exhibitions coming up – where a set of new work is needed and I had been worrying as to what I was going to put in it. Once the decision had been made that this was the route I was going to be taking, I set about planning the project in my sketch book. When I plan for a show I sketch out all the different works, - just the shapes and sizes with a brief outline of the main composition. I label them all underneath and arrange them in groups that work thematically. From this I am able to see what other works I need to do and how it is all going to work together as a whole piece, so that the whole show is a piece of work in itself. I am exited really as to how this is going to turn out. It is a bit of a new departure for me – I am combining two genres – still life and figure painting; the challenge is for it to all work as a whole.

This foray into my sketch books inspired me to do some sketching each day. Someone once said (sorry but I am hopeless at quotes and who said what – so I give can give no reference here) that an artist should make sure that they work for at least half an hour a day – to keep their hand in. So I embraced this and had embarked on this mission for a couple of weeks. At the end of each day thinking “Have I done my sketch yet”? A problem soon emerged however; my mind was already full from a combination of my new lifecycles project and the ‘work work’ and I found that my mind was ‘wired’ when it was time to sleep, so much so that I couldn’t switch off. One night I was awake right through until the alarm went off for the start of the next day. I went from Hibernation to a state of Hypertension in one foul swoop.

I read a newspaper column recently, in which the author (Lucy Caldwell – I noted this one down!) says “It seemed the most romantic thing to be awake at 2, 3, 4am, writing, drinking neat whiskey, while the rest of the world slept” Well, I can say from experience, (though not including the whiskey) that it is and it isn’t. I have sometimes worked right through the night when I have to hand in work for an exhibition the next day. This does have a romantic quality, – as you are on a quest, a mission. You revel in the knowledge, that you are alone in this battle! But for the rest of the time, all you want to do is to go to sleep like everybody else, to be part of that collective routine of settling down for the night. These times are distinctly unromantic and rather lonely.

So I have taken a few days off from creating and will resume shortly after joining everybody else in some sleep. I don’t think I am cut out for always doing 30 minutes a day – but saying that, by the time I next write, the Life Cycle work will be nearing the end of its exhibition in Northampton – oh no! –I think I need to do at least 3 hours a day to get all this finished.

An Artists Diary - Geddington Village Newsletter Dec 06

2007-09-28T14:09:00.000+01:00

An Artists Diary
1st December 2006

Hibernation, Excavation, Exploration

Hello. I was hoping to start this Artists Diary full of the joys of spring and provide you with an abundance of enthusiasm and inspiration. But I am not quite feeling that way at the moment.

Life seems to be going into meltdown, what with the onslaught of Christmas and survival in general. My creativity seems to be being pushed deeper and deeper inside of me, while the worries of life take over. I have to be careful though, I have been here before.

About 10 years ago I had embarked on an alternative career path, one which I very much enjoyed, but it was a career that required a great deal of emotional input every day. And I found that, when I got home, despite having a studio all ready and waiting in the house, I just couldn’t face going in there. All I wanted to do was curl up on the sofa and go to sleep. It was like I was hibernating – but not just for the winter season but for all four of them – three times over. Upon reflection I could say that I was suffering from some form of depression.

But then one day (and I can’t pinpoint this to any day or reason in particular) I opened the door and faced it all. To be exact, I couldn’t actually open the door as the studio was in such a mess- rolls of paper, sheets of mount card and drawing boards all blocking my path. They had all been haphazardly dumped, chucked in. Everything was strewn across the floor and tables. A layer of dust and pencil shavings covered pieces of paper, upon which were long forgotten half finished drawings.

Without any deliberation, I attacked this tomb of forgotten ideas, emotion and thought.
I sorted, filed and cleaned. I rediscovered the respect for my life and my reason for being here. It took just one day to do. I stood back, gazing upon this room of order and couldn’t quite believe that I had left it like this for so long –‘it’, being my creative spirit as well as my studio.

The next part of this re awakening was the hardest. For the next six months I produced work which found itself being thrown straight into the bin. As an artist (and I think also, as a person) I had lost my identity and I needed to find it again. When I looked out of the studio window, I knew that I was full of inspiration, but I didn’t really know what it was that I was inspired by. I also felt that I couldn’t draw anymore – I really had to start from scratch. Gradually though, my creative spirit was reemerging and I began to explore and visualize my thoughts and ideas.

This whole process took a couple of years – to get myself back to the place that I had been when I’d stopped. It then took a life changing experience to provide me with total clarification. I became a parent.

Through this little bundle of energy, full of promise and adventure, I was finally released. My own inhibitions and self doubt had been trapping me all of this time and suddenly, I knew as an artist what it was I wanted to say, that it was alright to say it and that I was able to say it. I sketched every day, even if it was for only 1 minute. I drew on anything, bus tickets, serviettes or receipts. All the frustration and pent up emotion splurged out on to the paper. It became unfathomable to me how I had ever allowed myself to stop something which totally defined me as a person. Art was a vital nutrient for me.
I never wanted to go to that place again.

So now, I am thinking back to that time. And even though sometimes, I find it hard to emotionally excavate myself, in order to be fluid in thought – I am telling myself that it is a mere blip, for it just doesn’t compare. My creativity is only being slightly covered by a thin layer of bills and stress and that by just picking up the pencil, all my worries will seem far less significant. The electricity can be cut off, but not my spirit.

I need to get off this sofa and do some work, especially as ‘I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here’ has nearly finished. I really have absolutely no reason to stay sitting on it. I realize I am going to have to set myself some short term goals. Last week, I did give myself a little push up the behind and produced some small ink works for an exhibition in Nottingham – it didn’t sap me and I felt energized the next day, proud that I had made the effort. I think, this weekend, I will do some more of those. Also, I have a nearly finished a large graphite drawing of a tree in Geddington Chase, which is sitting on the easel. I last worked on that in October. I must get it finished by Christmas, because if I leave it too long, the moment will pass and I won’t finish it at all.

I hope that this has not been a too depressing read. As an artist I create work to do with what I feel at the time and I wanted this writing to reflect that also. In my work I try and communicate emotions that we all may feel, so this story could be put into any context.

I look forward to telling you in the spring about all the work I am now about to do.