Exhibiting- local and remote
It’s some years since I have shown my work in physical rather than virtual form. The invitation was to submit both print and other media, to exhibit with fellow artists in the Northern Print studios.
Two of my images were selected: a print and a painting. The exhibition: One and Another runs until June 24th. What follows is the selected images, together with the accompanying written submission…
What most connects these images, both small details within larger landscapes, is also what most divides them. The etching comes from a series titled South Pennine Paths, prepared for an exhibition that was planned for April 2020. The exhibition was a victim of timing, despite the work being ready to show, and became an online-only experience. The ideas and source images for these series of photo-etchings and monoprints came from extensive walks on the Yorkshire/ Lancashire county boundary.Seedheads (2019). Photo-etching 38x31 cm
The more recent painting is of a more local landscape, from an ongoing series of works about walks around a small section of my local country park. The photographs, sketches, notes and ideas I gather while on these regular local walks has now become the main subject of my work.Winter Colour (2022). Oil and mixed media on paper. 41x30 cm.
So what most connects and divides these landscape details is the pandemic- as the very local focus of the work has its origins in the same restrictions that disrupted my print exhibition.Repetition
Snow recently prompted me to take a different route through local woodland; what was familiar from my regular walks had become strange, with landmarks out of sequence or no longer evident. But even these relatively minor disruptions to a familiar pattern were disorienting.
Repetition does matter in artistic endeavours, most obviously in music. The Listening Service suggests repetition (and any disruption to it) is essential to music https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b078n8p2. Repetition matters too in landscape-based art too: some of the most familiar and literal repetitions are evident in the many representations of the Stour Valley in John Constable’s painting, as in Barges on the Stour at Flatford Lock (c. 1811) and Flatford Mill (1816-17). Similarly, Peter Lanyon’s walks in and flights over West Cornwall- are evident in the forms, colours and labelling, as in Porthleven (1951) and Haseltown (1961)- even if the figurative cues are less clear. More recently, John Virtue’s multiple paintings of isolated features observed and recorded on repeated walks have become the substrate for much larger pieces- such as Landscape No 75 (1987-89).
Repetition took on a new significance for many in the spring of 2020, with pandemic-related travel restrictions. No single body of work could hope to capture the pandemic and all its implications. However, for many, the most immediate and obvious consequence was severely curtailed opportunities for movement. In response, I soon narrowed down my regular journeys to the same few local routes, which I documented in photographs and sketchbooks.
From these walks, I built up a knowledge of these few local paths, the surrounding trees, the valleys they traverse and the stream that runs through them. Having this insight means that other changeable factors- the seasons, weather and time of day- become more obvious, and available to explore. Disruptions to these walks do not, of course, arise only from the external environment (nor are these necessarily the most important). Haste, distractions (from wandering dogs and other walkers) and preoccupations (on private or public matters from grief to food supply and the onset of war) all disrupted these repeated walks as much as changeable weather (even snow).
Understanding and observing both the repetition and the disruption means there is much more to explore from these short journeys than is immediately obvious- particularly if the disruptions are explicitly admitted. What then emerges depends on the repetition and what is revealed through it.
From the transient
Early morning walks make for unpredictable light in winter. Mostly, setting out before dawn means a gloomy start, or sometimes bright soft colourful skies.
One promising, brightly lit morning was abruptly curtailed as I walked downhill, as the gap between the horizon and the cloud bank narrowed and closed. But then for a few moments, the gloom took on a pinkish glow, as the pre-dawn light reflected from the clouds above, tinting the leaf litter and the bare trees that top the banks of the shallow cutting.
This brief transformation prompted some experiments in palette and form. These form the start of a new series There all the time- many of which can be seen in the Painting section of this site.
From series: There all the time. Oil on paper 41x30 cm
Light from darkness: Advent 2022
The start of a new series
Light from darkness- Advent i (2022) Oil on paper 41x30 cm
This time of year early morning walks start in darkness. The sky lights slowly from the east from behind the hill, the inky blue of night gradually replaced by pale watery greens, yellows and oranges
There's little foliage in the trees, silhouettes against the sky, with limited light allowing only cool, muted colours.
But as the days pass, and the year turns, these pale skies will inevitably soon brighten again.
Advent 2022
Simplify
My recent paintings all have a common origin in the local woodland and the paths through them. I have though varied the extent of formal structure, which in turn determines the degree of flexibility in the painting that follows.
Many recent paintings have had limited formal structure. As a result, many have dense, energetic surfaces, with multiple points of interest, giving a disturbed and unsettling effect.
This progression culminated in a group of paintings started without any specific structure, with the intention of responding to the emerging marks. These became increasingly hard to develop in any particular direction (see below).
From here, it was clear a course correction was needed. The opportunities to define and develop a subject were too limited. So I’ve pulled this back, starting with simple charcoal forms, and very limited colour palette and brushwork. This stripping back is a a clearer structure and simpler subject.
From series Colour of Bruising. Oil on paper 41x30 cm