Not every painting needs a salmon

One of the most challenging aspects of being a painter, is staring at a blank canvas/sheet of paper and wondering what to paint. To overcome this anxiety-inducing challenge, many artists, myself included, use tried and tested methods, formulas and/or rituals when approaching the creation of new work.

This week we were given the following assignment:

  • do something with your art practice that might not work.
  • Take the risk
  • Post about it on your blog

Such a proposition would strike fear in the heart of any self-respecting perfectionist. To risk attempting something that “might not work” is the very thing the methods etc., mentioned above seek to avoid. Although I am one such perfectionist, I experimented with a couple of new methods of picture-making this week, and here are the results:

The first painting was the result of a set of coincidences I decided to follow in search of a subject to paint, which is not something I normally do.

  • I was watching a programme that had a section about lave net salmon fishing.
  • This got me thinking about the “Salmon of Knowledge” story of Irish mythology (of which I had made a little painting about earlier in the week)
  • Just as I was thinking about this, a lady called Hazel appeared in another section of the programme, which I thought was a lovely coincidence, as the Salmon in the myth gained all the knowledge in the world by eating hazelnuts.
  • I messaged my fella to tell him about this lovely coincidence, and he messaged back that he had a relative called Hazel who had been was a Hollywood movie star.
  • I decided to watch one of Hazel’s movies – The Raven (directed by Roger Corman in 1963) – a comedy gothic horror extravaganza.
  • My favourite bit was the flying chair near the end of the movie.
  • Hey presto, a painting of a flying chair (and a blimmin salmon that I couldn’t resist including, but now regret I did).
Hazel’s chair – acrylic on paper 2022

The second experiment I tried, had to do with the thing I am currently most interested in, both intellectually and aesthetically, and that is water. Water features a lot in my work, and I am open to exploring new ways to represent it. So, for this experiment, I decided to veer away from my usual mediums and techniques, and try something new. I also decided that I wanted the work to interact with a natural source of water in some way. So, I smeared gouache (opaque watercolour type paint with a matt finish) on a canvas board and put it out in the rain. Once it was retrieved and dried, I doodled on it a bit (ok, a lot), and here is the result (along with the various stages along the way).

Bodjal fliaghee (rain cloud) – gouache on canvas board

I really enjoyed the assignment this week. It is always good to explore different techniques, that can then be integrated into work down the line. Personally, I don’t find such exploration easy to do when left to my own devices. So, to have a little push is helpful, as roaming out of one’s comfort zone is almost always worth the risk.  

“Knowledge is the true organ of sight, not the eyes”

According to Irish mythology, the first thing to come into existence was the hazel tree – whose nuts contained all the knowledge in the world. The hazel tree stood on the edge of the well of wisdom, into which fell 9 hazelnuts. A speckled salmon who lived in the well ate the nuts, thereby gaining all the knowledge in the world. The story then goes on to describe how the hero Fionn mac Cumhaill, in turn, attained all the knowledge in the world. However, it is the imagery of the well, the salmon, and the hazel tree that I love the most, as well as the tantalising prospect of “all the knowledge in the world” being attainable.  

I have been thinking about this beautiful Irish myth a lot recently, as I begin the journey of my masters. I doubt I will attain all the knowledge in the world, but I am stood at the edge of a well of wisdom, and its crisp, clear waters are mine for the drinking.  

Title: Panchantantra saying

Image: An bradán feasa – acrylic on paper 2022

The distinct smell of roses

Three months ago I had a dream. I was standing near an open door next to the sea. As I stood there, a seal swam through the water towards me. At first I was apprehensive, as I wasn’t sure what was going to happen. But then, as the seal drew close, it reached out and touched my hand, in a way that can only be described as loving. It was a beautiful dream, and I woke up feeling happy.

Shortly after, my life was thrown into turmoil on multiple fronts and, as my inhumanly-patient fella will attest, I struggled to keep my sh*t together.

The storm has now passed, and where I find myself is nothing short of a miracle – living in my dream house, in my dream location, and with a seal for a friend. If that is not enough, I am also finally fulfilling a very long-held dream of doing my masters in fine art, part of which is keeping this progress journal. It is a privilege to share this journey with whoever happens to follow. I promise to keep the entries short and sweet and mostly about the art…and Fonzie too.

Image: Dream dream – acrylic on paper

My fella is worried he’ll call round one day and find Fonzie in the bathtub

I have a new friend called Fonzie. Fonzie is a grey seal (actually, he is probably 3 grey seals) who lives in the sea in front of my house. I love hanging out with Fonzie and visit with him every day. When I say visit, I mean I stand on the beach looking at him through my binoculars, while he bobs up and down in the water ignoring me.

The Manx word for seal is “raun”, which I was delighted to discover is also the word for “sea dog”. It came as no surprise seals were long-ago thought of as seadogs in these parts, because that is exactly how I regard Fonzie. Despite this long-held impression, seals are not actually related to canines, rather, they are related to bears, racoons, and skunks etc.

My name is Rebecca and I am a seal bore.

Header Image: Fonzie (one from the sketch book) – w/c pencil and acrylic on paper 2022

Today I walked down to the sea in my slippers

The Celts had a concept known as anam cara (lit. soul friend). They believed that your soul radiates around you, so that when you come in contact with your anam cara, your respective souls flow into each other. Further, they believed all of nature possesses a soul, so it stands to reason that when you draw near the aspect of nature that you identify as your anam cara, your souls mingle together. With this interpretation in mind, my anam cara is most certainly the sea.

I recently moved into a house called Anam Cara, on a rugged piece of Manx coastline. To say I am happy to be living so close to my soul-mingling friend is an understatement. I am full. My favourite thing to do is to stand and look at the sea, to contemplate its majesty and the fact it birthed all living things.

Some days, standing on the bank, looking at the sea isn’t enough. Some days, I have to be closer to my friend, so our souls can mingle all the more. Today was one of those days.

Header Image: Hello Friend – acrylic on paper 2022