Central Saint Martins MFA
I am really starting to consolidate my thinking for my research project. After next week, I will start writing posts specifically about that. The project will be my main focus going forward. I am really excited about it, and am finding it very engaging. In the meantime, here are the painting experiments I did this week, again just trying different things and beginning to think about the elements I want in my project paintings.
I have new neighbours, Kylie and Jason and their little baby, Harold. They live in the Point of Ayre foghorn. I realised Kylie and Jason had a chick a couple of evenings back when I heard him squawking inside a hollow in the foghorn. Then last night, my fella and I saw Harold for the first time, it was beyond exciting. I wasn’t able to get a photo of Harold, as we didn’t want to get too close, but here is some footage I managed to get of Kylie and Jason last week.
The painting breakthroughs kept coming this week. A distinct style for the green paintings is emerging, and I love it. I feel like I have been given a small glimpse of what the paintings can be, and although I take nothing for granted, and realise there is still a possibility I can’t pull them off, I have reason to be hopeful.
The main focus again has been painting bigger. With the drawing practice I have been doing, it has proved much easier than I thought it would be. It’s also far more interesting painting bigger, as it allows for more detail.
To help with the bigger drawings, I bought a ginormous sketchbook, and so far I have found drawing big just as easy as drawing small.
I have also started a daily reading discipline, without which I would never get through all the books/papers I have to read for my research paper this summer. Don’t feel too sorry for me though, as this is where my reading discipline takes place.
I had a painting breakthrough this week, which is always a double-edged sword. On the one hand there was a huge sense of excitement and relief, like I am finally getting somewhere and all my previous hard work on this particular project appears not to be in vain. On the other hand, it’s like the bear in the children’s song who reaches the top of the mountain, and what does it see? Another mountain! That’s exactly how it felt, I was momentarily thrilled at the progress I made and the paintings I produced, but I was soon brought back to earth when I realised how far I still have to go to achieve the paintings I want to.
The paintings I did this week are just little snippets of what I hope to be much larger paintings. Scaling up is no easy task, and when it comes to figurative painting, I am yet to manage it, but I will surely to keep trying. One thing is certain after the week I’ve had, the drawing discipline I started at the beginning of the year is definitely paying off.
I’ve also been busy this past week writing the overview of my research paper, so our tutor can see what we intend to write about and give us feedback and guidance. I decided to do mine on the Ars Moriendi, the medieval dying how-to-manual that I mentioned in my last post. It hurt the old brain cells to do, but it was definitely worthwhile, as I now have a clear direction for the paper, which will make it much easier to write over the summer. I actually think I’ll enjoy writing it, as it is a fascinating subject, and has already sparked some interesting conversations with friends and family.
You can read my overview here if you have the time and/or inclination.
In other news, my fella and I have decided to make a documentary about Ann’s story. To begin the process, we had a pre-interview meeting with Hampton Creer, the author of “Never to Return”. It was such a privilege to meet him and his lovely wife Joy.
I absolutely love his book, it is beautifully written, and is a page turner from start to finish. It was also very special, because it was from his book that I first learned about Ann and was inspired to do a painting about her. We had a wonderful time talking all about penal transportation and other aspects of Manx history, such as witches. Once the TT races are over in a couple of weeks, my fella and I will return and interview him on camera.
I had a very productive week in the studio, and am finding my feet with the figurative paintings. I am still very much at the experimental phase, but am slowly discovering the kind of paintings I want to make.
Here are two of the paintings I did this week. I like them both, however, the one on the right has an underpainting that I made with the sea, and I think it adds a greater sense of dynamism. I definitely think a dynamic underpainting is the way forward. I don’t like figurative paintings that look too finished or realistic, except for the eyes.
The main focus of the course at the moment is the research paper we each have to write. I haven’t got much further than a vague notion of a topic, death. So far I have been looking into memento mori (a medieval artistic convention designed to remind people they will die), memorial art (which is right up my alley artistically), or ars moriendi (a medieval instruction book on how to die). Not very cheery, true, but death is a topic I am very interested in, both as a painter and a mortal. I will to have to pick a lane soon, as we have 1,000 word overview due next week.
I actually had a dream last night about doing my research paper on the Ars Moriendi. The book is from the mid-15th century, and instructed a person in how to have a “good death”, which basically consisted of letting a group of angels and demons battle it out for your soul on your deathbed, in the hope that your soul (which was depicted as a mini-you that popped out your mouth when you died) got to go with the good guys. The likelihood of that happening depended on answering a series of questions. Didn’t get the questions answered in time? Sorry, that’s eternal damnation for you! The book was wildly popular throughout Europe, and peasant and king alike were subject to its teaching.
My sister was on the Island for a few days, which was lovely. We had a family bbq at Anam Cara on the Sunday, and I showed them the Ann painting. It made my tender-hearted sister cry, which was either a sign that the painting is beautiful, or the Eurovision hoolie at my brother’s the night before was too much for her. My fella did me proud and didn’t burn the sausages, and made the most glorious Victoria sponge, which almost made me cry. Below is the only photo we have of the whole event, but to be honest, I reckon its the thing we’ll all remember the most. It was a damn good cake!
Thankfully, we did manage to get some photos of us all when the gang popped out later in the week. We had a lovely time just sitting there chatting, and marvelled at the fact that we were still sitting there chatting after all these years.
My fella is in Rotterdam for work this week and I miss him terribly, not just for his cake baking abilities. Though, it would be reason enough, as I had a go at a Victoria sponge and I don’t know what kind of WI witchery he used in his, but mine came out flat as a pancake. Still, the jam and icing has made it edible.
It was another good week in the studio. For most of it I carried on with the seawater paintings, which was very enjoyable. However, I took a break from them on the weekend and returned to the figurative paintings.
I still feel like I am a long way from figuring out what kind of paintings I want them to be, so I think the best thing I can do in the meantime is to keep experimenting. It’s like the big little-man said:
Inspiration does exist, but it must find you working.
Pablo Picasso
To that end, I’ve been noodling around with some small paintings to see what might pop out. It turns out, an owl and a pussy cat!
The most important thing I can do to achieve my goal for these figurative paintings, is draw, which I am still doing every day. This week I drew birds, and I have say, they are my favourite thing to draw so far.
Drawing in general still has the sense of an arduous task about it, but drawing birds brings it close to pure enjoyment. They are such delightful creatures, and have so much character.
By way of demonstration, when I was drawing birds outside on Thursday, one left a little gift on my page, which I took to be a very good sign indeed!
While on the subject of birds, I thought I’d share The Wisdom Daily video I made this week, until I remembered I made it about a fish not a bird. But it’s such an amazing fish, I may as well share it anyway.
All and all it has been a good week in the studio. I continued with the sea paintings, and ranged far and wide with my experiments, with various degrees of success. One element that kept cropping up was bubbles. That’s because I have been learning about them and watching them.
Sea foam is made up of bubbles, and they are what helps the sea breathe. The sound a wave makes when it crashes is the sound of the individual bubbles being formed, and the tone of each bubble tells you what size it is. I think this fascinating, mysterious, and beautiful, and I love watching them come in and out of existence.
I have been thinking a lot about the power of the sea, something that is inescapable when you live so close to it. I came across a beautiful photo that demonstrates just how powerful it is. It was taken by renowned Manx photographer, Chris Killip, in the early 1970’s, and shows a house being taken by the sea at Cranstal, Bride (the same stretch of coast I live on). I think it is a sobering and romantic image.
For me, it is a memento mori (Latin: remember you shall die), which was a type of medieval painting that depicted various objects that reminded people they will one day die – such as skulls, hourglasses, rotting fruit, wilting flowers and, of course, bubbles. I think Killip’s photograph is an especially poignant memento mori in this day and age, with global warming and the predicted rise in sea levels etc., making coastal erosion and its attendant destruction a present and coming reality. As with sea related disasters, such as tidal waves, death can come upon a person suddenly with little or no warning, but for most, as with coastal erosion, death creeps upon us slowly, diminishing our life force a little at a time, until there is nothing left. It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I think it’s worth bearing that in mind.
In other news, I continued drawing chairs this week. My favourite to draw are white-plastic lawn chairs. They are tricky to get the knack of, but I really love them for some reason. I have certainly sat in my fair share of them.
I thought it might be a good idea to create a weekly post (that I add to daily) of my painting experiments for the confluence project, a kind of visual-log of my progress.
NB: unless otherwise stated, all paintings are acrylic on paper
bexODESSA 