Trying to Move Forward

I decided to try and progress the idea of automatic map-like drawing by experimenting with charcoal. I drew a single line and then rubbed it out and repeated the process numerous times, building up layers of mark-making. I then took some coloured pencils and traced a path randomly following the marks.

I’m not sure that it takes me much further forward in developing this line of enquiry. However, I enjoyed the process and I like the different nature of the coloured lines which I made consciously by making decisions as to which of the paths of faded charcoal to follow, almost like a dérive – they have a different character to the ones I make when I draw automatically.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the course, about being half-way through and what I would like to have achieved by the time it finishes – what work I might produce by the end of it. At the moment, the concept of mapping is at the centre of it. I want to produce something which reflects all that I have learnt during the course, about myself and how I relate to the world around me. It will inevitably be an artifact, a map, of some shape or form, but I want it to reflect a process which is ongoing, that will never be complete, a piece of work in a state of flux, constantly subject to change, so there has to be some sense of impermanence, of it being unfinished. I also want to encompass the idea that memory plays a large part in the process and much like maps which are constantly being made and remade, so are the memories on which the map is based. The idea of layers and distorted imagery seem to be relevant in this respect.

I’ve thought about paper and canvas, maps being folded and rolled , but I don’t think that these offer the ability to create layers in the way that I want. I’m currently thinking that I may make a number of squares which together make up the grids of a map.

I used a pen to try and keep a marble on the paper. I like the lines which were made as a result – they have a sense of fluidity about them, much more than the lines that I have been making up until now. I’ve been meaning to experiment with the size of the dots at the intersections, to see if different sizes create a sense of perspective and three dimensionality. I don’t think that I have managed to achieve enough diversity in the sizes – it was very much an afterthought – I’ll try again another time. The image makes me think of something neural, cognitive mapping?

I took some inkjet compatible transparencies and drew some lines to see if I could create layers. Unfortunately, they are not totally clear – they have a milky appearance, probably because of the coating which allows them to be used in inkjet printers. I need to do some research to see if this is the case or whether I can source some others. Having said that, the milky film does cloud what’s underneath, making it hazy, almost like a memory that’s not quite there. Ultimately, I’m thinking that I could use layers of acrylic sheets over a background image, possibly together with milky transparencies, some can be drawn, painted and printed on, and I can also include some cyanotype images as well a negatives. I could cut holes in some layers to allow direct access to layers below. The use of reflective surfaces would also add depth.

I layered up the sheets using small magnets which not only hold them stacked together but also act as spacers between the layers. I had to add one in the middle because otherwise the sheets would sag – this won’t be a problem with rigid acrylic sheets. The magnets themselves suggest impermanence, the ability to be easily changed.

Making A Face

A piece of carbon paper between two pieces of printer paper, a pen lid and a mirror. One minute of blind drawing.

I liked not being able to see the marks I was making, to lose all sense of where everything was, going back over areas and redefining without knowing it. I like the quality of the lines created by the carbon paper.

Reusing the same piece of carbon paper created an all-encompassing image.



Solitude

I feel particularly drawn to this photograph of my father. It’s solitary and contemplative, evoking a sense of vulnerability – a side which was never apparent whilst I was growing up. It makes me want to go and give him a hug. He was the world’s best hugger. Either that, or he’s watching someone doing something and he’s not that impressed – a more familiar experience.

Having missed out on visiting a couple of exhibitions on Sunday, I decided to experiment. I took a piece of A1 flipchart paper, a graphite stick and a 5B pencil and got to work. First I created multiple silhouettes of the image using the graphite stick.

I was inspired by the Richter drawings (The Rich Are Getting Richter) and used the tiles on the kitchen floor to create texture with some frottaging.

Having really liked the effect of some of the lines and marks made in my automatic drawings, I used the 5B pencil to create a wandering line, holding it at the top and twisting it from side to side in the process and then holding it on its side to create a second softer line. I like the idea of tree roots and mycorrhizas connecting and creating a support network for trees, a concept we touched on in last week’s session. The lines are connecting each figure so it’s no longer alone. They are also reminiscent of a map or a mapping out. Not sure which, but I like the effect. I like the delicacy of the lines. They also remind me of the lines in skulls at the points where the plates have fused or cracks in a surface, fault lines. I wasn’t keen on the overlap on the two figures on the right which created a hard box-like edge, so I cropped it out on the last image.

I really enjoyed doing this, particularly the lack of control of the line making and the unpredictability of the frottaging, and despite that, it does bear a resemblance to the vague image I had in my head. It ties in with the idea of shadow selves (Sniper’s Alley) and the idea of inheritance and being made up of multitudes (Bus Replacement Service). It’s definitely an approach I will develop further, but I’ll use better quality paper next time.

Resisting The Urge

It’s been difficult, but I’ve been managing to stop myself from altering things after the event. To leave things undone with elements which really jar with me, which are clearly wrong and which look awful, and to post them anyway. I think that it’s starting to make a difference as to how I work – if I can get into the habit of showing the worst of it, the imperfect, work which I’d much rather never see the light of day, and preferably end up in the bin, I hope that I will be able to engage fully with the process, and not worry about the result.

The mantras I’ve adopted so far:

  • I will choose the mark-making processes which I enjoy, and not worry about the result
  • I choose the process, not the result
  • I don’t have to like what I make, and I don’t have to make what I like

So, we’ve been continuing with the subject of figures in my weekly oil painting class. We had a model today. I certainly haven’t done her justice, and just don’t get me onto the subject of faces. We had to do a few warm up drawings, starting with continuous line – always difficult to get things in the right place – and then just normal sketching, a couple of minutes each. I used an oil pastel – I like that it’s a commitment, and can’t be rubbed out. There’s nowhere to hide, mistakes remain visible – the new me. Then an hour painting.

What to say? I’ve realised that since I’ve been posting my ‘Undones’ (seems a more positive word than failures), no matter how unhappy I am with the result, I can always find something that I like, if I look hard enough. It has just dawned on me, that I probably wouldn’t notice these elements if I was happy with the end result if, indeed, they managed to survive the perfecting process. There’s always some beauty, no matter the ugliness.

I think that I’ve unintentionally transferred my feelings of being weighed down onto the model. The dress looks so heavy; although it was velvet. I think I’ve managed to capture the sense of velvet. I’m trying to avoid using any blending in my paintings at the moment – I’m working on keeping my brushstrokes defined and with a sense of movement – I think I’ve achieved this. The figure is generally good and I particularly like the neck.

I’ve just been watching Sky Arts LAOTY, and now Gareth Reid is now giving a masterclass on drawing faces – I could definitely do with watching this.

It’s All In The Tag

I was surprised when Jonathan pointed out in my tutorial that the most frequently used words in my tag cloud were ‘mother’ and ‘drawing’.

I thought that it would be words like ‘death’, ‘emotion’ etc – I feel that I’ve written enough about them. So, I’ve been through all of my posts and checked that I’ve categorised and tagged them correctly. I haven’t. I’ve failed to use more general terms – words like ‘resentment’ and ‘loss’ appeared but not the umbrella term of ‘emotion’. It’s important moving forward that I keep on top of this as the tag cloud will be integral in determining what is important to me.

Having completed that exercise, the words of the moment are ‘emotion’ and ‘process’. That sounds about right…

Figuring It Out

I’ve started back at my weekly art class after the Christmas break, and over the last two sessions we have been looking at figures, in particular, figures in an environment. I’m not very good at depicting humans (or any animate subject for that matter), so this was a bit of a challenge.

We had to work from images which we had sourced: I took my nieces ice-skating at Christmas, which was really entertaining to watch. There were the confident, well-practised skaters who came equipped with their own boots; the ‘I’m-competent-but every-now-and-then-lose-my-balance-and-windmill-my-arms-brigade; and then the rest – hopelessly clutching the side, or each other, for dear life, inching their way round. There was a whole range of shapes, gestures and weights, in the sense of where in the body the weight is being distributed, and there was a lot of tension.

We started by sketching out the composition.

I used a combination of photos and video stills from my phone – I could have been more organised because I lost track of which figure was on which photo, which wasted quite a bit of time. Next time I work from numerous image sources I will organise them so that they are more accessible and easier to switch between.

I then applied a ground to the support (I used oil paper as opposed to a canvas, as I wasn’t sure how it was going to go). As it was a painting of ice-skaters, I chose burnt umber thinned down with Sansador as my ground, as it’s the blue equivalent of the earth colours. I then drew in the figures using a rigger brush and thinned paint – I found the techniques covered by Chris Koning’s workshop of gestural drawing (‘Perception of the Whole’) to be really helpful in trying to get some dynamism in the portrayal of the figures. I also changed the composition from the pencil sketch to bring forward the pair of skaters on the left and to give the skater next to the pair some extra space into which he could move. I also packed some more figures in, including my favourites, the couple in the centre – the man skating alongside and watching his partner who is leaning forward – and the girl behind them.

The next step was to block in the background. I decided that I didn’t want to put the figures in the specific setting of an ice rink, so I left out the details of the roof and sides which were included in the original sketch. This gives a feeling of more space.

I used a thinned down mixture of titanium white, ultramarine blue and burnt umber to create a grey/blue and then scratched into it with the end of the paintbrush to create skate marks.

I then started blocking in some colour using thinned paint. I liked the fact that the burnt umber drawing was still visible and decided to try and retain as much of it as possible. This meant that I would not be able to use much thick paint in subsequent layers, and so the painting will retain a sketch-like quality. The purpose of the exercise was to capture the essence of the figures, so there will be very little detail in the figures and their faces, other than those in the foreground, and even then I will keep these limited.

I regretted having the large figure in the foreground, but he felt necessary to add variation to the height of the figures, and his static quality should hopefully contrast with the sense of movement in some of the other figures.

I carried on adding some more colour and changed the colour of the skater’s hoodie to differentiate him from the figure in the foreground.

I really enjoyed the process of being looser: the multiple visible alterations and the pared back application of paint. I’m not sure that I like the finished piece, probably because of its subject matter – it’s all a bit twee. But that’s my own fault – I hadn’t adequately prepared for the class and so made a rushed decision. Next time we have to work from a preselected source, I will make sure that I prepare properly, so that the subject matter appeals to me as much as possible.

There are areas which really appeal to me; I like the way I have treated the ice and I think that I have managed to capture the sense of movement, the hesitancy and tension in the figures, and the atmosphere. I don’t like the way I’ve painted the faces in the foreground. Whilst the exercise was all about the figures, I don’t think I’ve managed to find a method to render faces in a non-detailed way which does not look childish. I need to work on this.

I was thinking about this painting whilst I was out on a dog walk yesterday. I enjoyed making it, but I’m not that enamoured with the overall result, which made me ask myself whether I need to like the work I make or whether enjoying the process is enough. Also, I like and am attracted to a wide variety of artists working in very different ways. I suspect that I have previously thought that I need to make myself like them and make the sort of work they make because it is something that I like and am drawn to. I’m starting to realise that this isn’t necessarily the case – I just need to be ‘me’.

Generally, the work which I produce at my art class is not something that I would ordinarily choose to do, (which is a good thing) and won’t necessarily be relevant to my field of study in terms of subject matter, but it will provide a useful source of exploration in terms of technique and approach in my art practice. As such it is a valuable resource and a good use of time as well as a commitment which ensures that I create work on a regular basis.

Never Drinking Coke Again

I had some free time yesterday, so I decided to try out kitchen lithography using some aluminium foil and cola.

This is the first time I’ve tried it – I’ve been interested in doing it since I came across a Canadian artist who uses it in her work, in addition to other printing processes, Valerie Syposz. Her work primarily deals with self-perception and existence.

I like the surreal quality of her work, and her subject matter is relevant to what I’m exploring.

I have to be honest and say that it didn’t really go to plan. First of all, I discovered that the foil I have in my kitchen drawer has a honeycomb pattern embossed on it, and then I forgot to use the dull rather than the shiny side of the foil. I made various marks using different pencils, pens, markers, graphite sticks and pastels, but I was doomed to failure. Not wanting to go out into the cold to my shed to find some plexiglass sheets to wrap the foil around, I had used an Amazon envelope which I found in the recycling bin, which turns out had some raised edges on it. But, hey, it’s just an experiment. I also didn’t apply enough water to the plate which meant that the ink adhered to areas it shouldn’t have.

Once I had realised my mistakes I gave it another go. I used a small plexiglass sheet this time, and found some other foil which had a smooth surface. I made a quick, not so good, drawing of the plant in front of me. I used a combination of a chinagraph pencil, basic oil pastel, and a 6B graphite pencil. I did try using a biro, but it ripped a hole in the foil – this was probably because the foil wasn’t very strong. I then poured cola over the top of the plate, rinsed it off, and then rubbed the image away using vegetable oil. Once the plate was dampened with water, I rolled on the ink, re-applying water using a sponge between each ink application. The idea is that the cola contains gum arabic and phosphoric acid which makes the foil which hasn’t been drawn on, hygroscopic. I then used a bamboo baren to transfer the image to a sheet of Hosho paper.

They’re not great, but I’m just happy that I managed to get a defined image at all, bearing in mind my first attempt was such a complete Horlicks.

It felt good trying something new, and what made it particularly enjoyable was the fact that it could be done at home with easily accessible tools and supplies. I will definitely explore it further perhaps after doing some further research so that I can appreciate its full potential. There is a lot of scope for experimentation with different printmakers having different opinions as to the best methodology to adopt: some lightly sand the foil before drawing on it, others use cornflour and maple syrup on the plate; some don’t use a support and just use the foil as a sheet. Maybe the brand of cola has a bearing on whether the process is successful: perhaps I’ll need to have a Pepsi challenge.

Poets And Lovers, And A Side Of Bacon

Well, I made it through without a tear. It might have been the sheer number of people which meant that it was impossible to stand and contemplate too deeply, or the audio commentary going on in my ear which distracted me. The ‘Poets and Lovers’ exhibition at the National Gallery was a cornucopia of Van Gogh brilliance, although I was left wondering why it didn’t include some of the Van Goghs I had seen in other galleries, such as the self-portrait with bandaged ear at the Courtauld, but then I don’t have the faintest idea about curation. That said, it didn’t detract from the luscious visual delights on offer, many of which I hadn’t come across before.

What struck me more than anything was the direct correlation between how he drew and how he painted. The range and quality of mark-making was phenomenal. Whilst up close, the brushstrokes and colour palette made me virtually tachycardial, it was standing in the centre of each of the rooms which gave the most rewarding experience.

The only moment when I almost cracked, was when I found myself in front of the Sunflowers from the National Gallery and the Philadelphia Museum of Art: he painted his Sunflower series to decorate his guest room in anticipation of Gaugin’s visit to Arles, in an effort to impress Gaugin, who he greatly admired, almost to the point of obsession. Van Gogh’s sensitivity and vulnerability weren’t a good match for Gaugin who, by some accounts, was aggressive and egocentric, which served only to reinforce Van Gogh’s insecurities. It all made me blink a bit quicker. I have to declare my bias – I’m not a fan of Gaugin for various reasons, not least because he abandoned his wife and five children to go off and indulge his predilection for young girls.

The day was rounded off by a trip to the Colony Room Green, a replica, as near as dammit, of the bohemian Soho legend that was the Colony Room Club which closed down in 2008 after 60 years, and which was the creation of the queen of Soho, Muriel Belcher – apparently, you knew you were in if she called you the ‘C’ word. It was the favourite haunt of creatives such as Francis Bacon, Lucian Freud, John Craxton, Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin, Dylan Thomas, John Deakin, Frank Auerbach, Michael Andrews, Giacometti, and the list goes on. My husband was particularly keen to visit as he’s reading Darren Coffield’s ‘Tales from the Colony Room’.

‘ Francis Bacon was very fashion-conscious and always immaculately dressed. One afternoon Francis walked in, annoyed and pulling his collar. – “What’s wrong, Francis?” – “Harrods, I’m never going back there again.” He’d attended a special night for select clients and bought lots of clothes, but when he’d got back home he’d decided he didn’t like any of them. “I bought so many suits and shirts and threw the lot in the dustbin.” You’d never seen the club empty so quickly. The next day everyone was up the club parading around in their new suits and shirts from Francis’ dustbin.’

Colony Room I, Michael Andrews, 1962

It’s very small and down some stairs underneath Ziggy Green, 4 Heddon Street, a side street off Regent Street. It’s reminiscent of a dive bar/ speakeasy.

It was great meeting Liam, the house jazz pianist and chatting to Tim, the barman who explained that it’s not trying to be a re-creation of the original, but somewhere to come and meet an eclectic mix of people. Despite what he said, I couldn’t help but feel that I had stepped back in time, waiting for the door to open and for one of my artistic heroes or heroines to walk through it. They often have events which are free to attend, such as talks and book launches. Unfortunately, we couldn’t hang around for the Portrait of Muriel Belcher evening.

There’s something very inspiring about the idea of a group of creative people coming together regularly to discuss work, ideas and concepts. I’ll definitely pop back in next time I’m in town, in the hope that something might rub off.

Perception Of The Whole

I attended another of Chris Koning’s online drawing workshops this lunchtime. She referenced Kimon Nicolaides’ 1941 book, ‘The Natural Way to Draw’. He says that you need to draw what the object is doing, not what it looks like – gesture drawing.

We did a couple of very quick exercises – a quick 30 sec gestural drawing of a kettle starting from the middle rather than the edge, and a dancer using gesture, negative spaces and shading etc.

For some reason I didn’t do one drawing but got sidetracked on looking at shapes and shading. I’m quite pleased with the end result bearing in mind I only had an HB pencil to hand. It was quick and instinctive. I ran out of space as usual. I’m going to concentrate on doing some more drawing. I like the idea of moving continuously without taking the pencil off the paper, looking and editing as I go.

Light & Shadows

I attended another of Chris Koning’s online drawing workshops at lunchtime, to brush up.

She explained the concept of light logic:

  • Highlight – the brightest light
  • Cast Shadow – caused by the object blocking the light and so the darkest dark
  • Reflected Light – dim light bounced back up from light on the surface
  • Crest/Form Shadow – shadow which lies on the crest of a rounded form between highlight and reflected light

When drawing we are not interested in contrast, but in value ie what something looks like against something else.

‘The Artist’s Mother’, Georges Seurat, 1883

This drawing by Seurat is made up of lots of different areas of tone. The parting in the hair is not a definite line; it has been created by different areas of tonal value. There are no harsh lines anywhere and there is very little contrast in the image. It is Seurat’s flawless light logic which allows us to create the rest of the information ourselves.

We then did a quick 10 minute exercise. We lightly shaded in a rectangle. Then we were shown a blurred image and told to fill in the darkest areas and then use an eraser to show the lightest. We then had to fill in the rest of the tonal values in the knowledge that nothing else will be as dark or as light as the existing areas of tone.

Chris then inverted the image and made it clearer:

It was a helpful reminder not to ‘see’ what I’m drawing and thereby create an expectation, but just to see shapes of tone, and to start from the general, keeping in mind the relationships between areas in the whole of the composition, and then move towards the specific.