I'm feeling like a paper shredder

You know how oil paint on the surface of water marbles in a random kaleidoscope of swirling colour.  I think that’s how ideas and creativity forms in the mind.  Sooner or later there’s a combination, a merge of colour that seemingly randomly forms into a pattern and design that satisfies and excites.  However, if you add too much paint, force, manipulate and mix a lot, the mix becomes dull.  It needs room to circulate and flow freely.  I think the latter is how I’m feeling.  I’m feeling like my paper shredder when, in my impatience to save time, I try to shove a whole clump of paper in at once and it always results in everything grinding to a complete halt.

Two weeks of school Easter holidays was not conducive to any kind of creativity.  I need head space in which to allow these ideas to swirl and develop.  The seeds are there but they don’t grow.  My head feels disjointed, full of fragments that need free flow to flourish but instead become unresolved irritation that given space could develop, like the oyster shell’s grit irritations grow into beautiful pearls - given enough time.  All I want to do is indulge unrestricted and give expression to this world inside my head, but thoughts are never allowed to fully form, instead the flow is constantly punctuated and interrupted by banal thoughts of home life practicalities and chores and now it seems school chores too.  I feel a burdening weight of writing tasks, research and presentation.  The presentation has the added weight of nerves attached, awakening my most potent phobia.  The small sense of relief I had at almost completing preparation for it has now gone and instead, frustration at now receiving details of criteria that I have not met. Talking about art but never doing any.  I’m finding it near to impossible to relax into any creativity when I know these other things have to be done, (there’s too much paint being added and mixed, too much paper being shoved in).  I feel the pressure of time, something always in short supply, and when I think of tackling these other things, my head presents me with a very tall blank wall.  So like the shredder I feel I’ve ground to a halt.

Sunshine, Bath and Beryl Cook

Well it’s been quite frustrating not being able to get on with any artwork due to the school holidays but at least it’s possible to get out and see some with youngest sproggie in tow (plied with various oral gratifications).  The beautiful sunshine made it the perfect day to go to Bath where I’d earmarked a couple of exhibitions.  One was at Holburne Museum which said ‘Gwen John to Lucian Freud’ and the other at the Victoria Art Gallery featuring ‘Beryl Cook’.  Well to be honest I wasn’t too enthralled with the first one.  I had been excited about seeing some of Freud’s flesh in the flesh , but the exhibition contained just one etching.  There was a nice but small portrait by Gwen John along with a work by her brother Augustus John.  I also recognised the style of a painting by Edward Wadsworth and realised it was the same painter responsible for a painting I had seen at Bristol Museum recently on a visit with the rest of my fine art colleagues.  It had been notable to me as it was done with egg tempera, something that I intend to experiment with at some point.

Edward Wadsworth

Anyway the highlight of my day was the Beryl Cook exhibiton ‘Intimate relations’.  (Well worth a visit and on until 6^th May).  We are all familiar with her work and I feel perhaps she has not always been taken seriously in the art circles.   I spent the whole time looking at the exhibition with a big grin on my face.  These paintings make you smile and that’s got to be a good thing.

Meadow Suite 1984

Walking around the exhibition  her development was clearly evident.  Starting from early works in the 60s and 70s to more recent ones that incorporate her distinctive style.

The Lockyer Tavern early 1970s

 Self taught, her influences include Stanley Spencer, Tamara de lempicka and Edward Burra which I think is quite apparent especially in this painting, her homage to Tamara de Lempicka, ‘Tamara de Cook’.

Tamara De Cook

She has adopted the approach of an artificial method of constructing forms which has its roots in cubism.  For example in the works of Leger.

The Three Musicians.  Leger 1944

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tubism

  Beryl Cook’s round figures are amusing to look at, they are reminiscent of English humour and seaside postcards.  She said she made the figures large as she didn’t like painting backgrounds.  She loved the outrageous, the larger than life flamboyant dressers and her paintings were based on things she had seen in life including everyday things such as going to the hairdressers.

 

 She relied on memory and sketches, often going out to flamboyant pubs and clubs.  In 1997 this was in Bristol as she had moved to Clifton and lived here for five years.  I can understand why her work appeals to me so much with my interest in narratives and looking at life, and I’ve always done humorous illustrations but these have only ever been done in pen and ink.  I think though that most people relate to Beryl Cook, it’s down to earth, amusing, not pretentious or ‘arty farty’ and this is why her work remains to be so popular.

Do Ho Suh in the Easter holidays

Well I’ve learned to accept that artwork for me in the school holidays goes out the window (as I don't think helping make a pom pom easter chick counts as art).  Attempting to do any is futile and acceptance of this fact is easier than dealing with my subsequent frustrations.  Anyway, youngest sproggie was keen to go to the museum which was great I thought, it’s free for one thing, and also it meant I could at least do something art related, go and look at the Do Ho Suh exhibit.  I came across his work a while back when I had also discovered Rachel Whiteread and was thinking a lot about space.  It was also relevant when I was thinking of sculpture and playing with mesh like fabrics and stitching to portray the figure. 

  

 At the museum we weren’t in time for the talk but then, one of us may have been a bit too fidgety for that anyway.

  Do Ho Suh’s exhibit at Bristol Museum was New York City Apartment Corridor/ Ground Floor Plus Staircase.  This was based on his home in New york, a mesh fabric replication of the space and internal architecture.  Included were details such as light switches and door knobs all intricately shaped and sewn into the fabric.  Like a gazebo or tent the installation folds neatly up and can then be packed into suitcases.  It is very much a ghostly echo of a more physical space. 

 

From what I have read Do Ho Suh’s work revolves around ideas of relationships to space, as an individual and a collective.  Space in terms of our home that we occupy, even our clothes.  He also deals with memory, displacement and identity.  A very interesting artist that I had only associated with these mesh architectural type of works but having looked, came across some other amazing things he has done.  

  

I really love these:

 http://www.nola.com/arts/index.ssf/2012/03/amazing_new_besthoff_sculpture.html

http://uk.phaidon.com/agenda/art/events/2012/january/11/do-ho-suhs-floored-genius/ 

Thoughts about painting

The Easter holidays means a two week break from working on my painting of my mum.  Sometimes it’s good to come back to something with fresh eyes although I would prefer to plough on with it.  I have two other paintings on the go here at home and have other work to catch up with and I have sproggies around so it’s certainly not a case of twiddling thumbs.  Anyway, yesterday whilst stuck in a queue at Lidl during the weekly trolly dash to stock up on body fuel (I’m not a foodie person), although the bonus was I did also stock up on some cheap flat paint brushes they had on offer, (brush destroyer that I am), I was giving some thought to the painting, and the last bit I’d worked on.  I remembered how I had battled with the last egg cup in the background which I seemed to spend more time focusing on and even seemed to give it a different treatment in terms of the way I painted it.  It then occurred to me that this egg cup is one of my favourites and that must be why it was slightly more pronounced even if it was a subconscious thing on my part.  This I realised is maybe what art is all about, it’s about the artist’s reality.

 

The artist is not painting a visually accurate representation but painting a part of themselves.  The painting being coloured by their associations, feelings, experiences and everything else that colours their reality.  For me this is a huge part of what art is about.  The process of painting is an attempt to express their reality, their feel in that medium.  To quote Picasso: “He paints not what he sees, but what he feels, what he tells himself about what he has seen”.  I think a lot of the time this sort of thing is quite subconscious although I have been thinking about how artists also purposely manipulate the eye around a painting.  Often for example in a portrait the focal point is in sharper focus than the surroundings which mimics the way the human eye works. 

  We really only have sharp visual focus in the central part of the eye called the fovea which is used for scrutinising detailed objects and this area has a high concentration of tightly packed cones (the colour perceiving bits) and no rods (the rods being the ones that help you see in the dark, and I don’t think I have any!).  

 

 

Surprisingly we have many millions more rods than we do cones and the area around the fovea is more designed for peripheral vision which is for seeing the broader picture and larger objects.  (I do wonder if the grainy texture that you see in the dark ,….well I do, is a result of the cones being more spaced out in amongst the rods in this area).

This play with focus in painting is referred to as lost and found edges like in these paintings for example:

Vuillard

 

Ambrose Mcevoy

Ambrose Mcevoy

 There are some interesting articles on the net of how Rembrandt used techniques for manipulating the way the eye moved over his paintings, although we don't know if this was instinctive or calculated.

http://www.livescience.com/9920-magic-rembrandt-painting-technique-revealed.html

Arty Farty Genes

Although not particularly interested in history,  I do find more recent history of family and places really appeals.  I love looking at old photographs of familiar places, I suppose things I can relate to.  I'm sure this theme will make an appearance in my artwork at some point as I love the idea of layers of time and the transient nature of life and the perception of time.  When I get the time (ha!) one of the many interesting books I am reading is 'Unlocking the mysteries of time perception" by claudia Hammond.  Anyway during a coversation with my dad recently he mentioned that his grandfather used to paint.  My dad had been a draughtsman which I had also done in my early days of work but I'd always thought the arty farty genes had come from his mum's side where there were numerous hairdressers and signwriters.  Incidentally both of which I've dabbled with, although my big stumbling block with hairdressing was my aversion to touching strangers so the only advantage now is that the kids get free hair cuts.
Anyway, as coincidence would have it, during an online perusal of old pictures of Bristol I was really chuffed to find this photo.  This was a gallery framing business in the Arcade in Bristol belonging to my dad's great grandfather, who also used to do sculpture apparently.

 So, although not art related this brings me back to my ponderings about genetics and instinct.  How much of the things that we are drawn to or like or do are pre programmed into us.  A lot I suspect, but I will keep thinking about it.

Kathe Kollwitz

Having stated in my project 3 proposal that I was striving to capture an 'essence' or 'feel' I have been looking at the work of Kathe Kollwitz.  Her images are deeply moving and emotional.  She was a German printmaker and sculptor born 1867.

In her work she depicts the social conditions in Germany at the time.  She draws images of sickness,  poverty and of great suffering and death.  A suffering she personally endured which included her son being killed in World War 1 and loosing a grandson in World War 2.

Self portrait

 Kollwitz’s intensive artistic engagement with the war and the death of her son make clear that all of her work was shaped greatly by her personal life, by events and emotions that she had experienced directly. Thus, after her first two series, which dealt with revolutionary themes, she portrayed increasingly passive states, such as those of suffering, waiting and enduring. A more active tendency returned to her work in the 1930s, triggered by the advent of World War II. Kollwitz was persistently concerned with the themes of mother and child, war, death and misery, and the self-portrait, for example Self-portrait with Karl Kollwitz . The themes were explored not only in her prints and drawings but also in her sculpture throughout her life. Hands and faces served her as vehicles of feelings, with bodies for the most part concealed beneath shapeless articles of clothing.

(http://www.moma.org/collection/artist.php?artist_id=3201)

An interesting insight into her methods:

First, instead of making her drawing directly on the prepared copper plate, she used soft ground to transfer a drawing made on laid paper. The procedure most often consisted of laying a sheet of paper over the copper plate, which had been covered with soft ground, and then drawing lines over it with a hard pencil. This action would remove the corresponding ground, allowing the plate to be bitten in those areas. When printed, the lines produced would be softer and grainier than the usual etched ones. Kollwitz extended the potential of this procedure even farther by creating entire backgrounds of texture, often transferring by means of the sensitive soft ground grain of the laid paper on which she made the original drawing. This is visible in all the Peasants' War prints and in Woman with Dead Child as well.
The second technique Kollwitz used during this period to create large expanses of texture and tone was the addition of a so-called "mechanical grain," described as exhibiting "unmistakable rows of tiny, parallel dots. This grain, "only added in later states," has been observed on every sheet in Pesants' War except for Outhreak. Its striking regularity and fineness and similarity to reproductive print, has activated a debate that turns on whether or not Kollwitz, used sorne kind of photomechanical process to transfer, the tone created in this way. Careful study colloborates the suggestion that she did. Most likely, Kollwitz laid a half-tone screen over a copper plate grounded with a light-sensitive emulsion, transferred the dot pattern from the screen by means of exposure to light, possibly the sun itself, and then etched, the pattern into the plate. The rest of the image was obtained from soft-ground procedures, stopping out, and direct etching.

(http://www.mystudios.com/women/klmno/kollwitz.html)

Woman with dead child 1903

The prisoners 1908

Artists that painted their mothers

Now in the process of painting my mum I thought it would be interesting to look at other artist's paintings of their mothers. I've tended to go for artists that I know, to see how they have gone about this portrayal whilst being a bit familiar with their other paintings and painting style.

The Painter’s Mother IV

 

Lucian freud apparently spent over 4,000 hours painting his mother and I've been looking at him more lately as I am striving for more of a loose painterly feel when painting people.

The Painter’s Mother IV is one of a series of eighteen portraits of the artist’s mother, Lucie Freud, that he made in his studio in Thorngate Road in Maida Vale, London, between 1972 and 1984. The series includes ten paintings, five drawings and three etchings, and Lucie sat more than one thousand times for the portraits over the course of a decade, with the sittings lasting between four and eight hours and each portrait taking several months to complete. To make The Painter’s Mother IV, Freud first applied two layers of white primer to the canvas to ensure that the surface was almost entirely smooth before colour was added. Freud then applied the paint using a hogshair brush, and in several places achieved the depth of texture in the painting by applying raw pigment directly to the canvas – for instance, red lake and viridian green were used to underpin the flesh tones and the browns of the sitter’s clothes. Detail was also achieved by using the brush to take paint off the surface as well as to apply it: the fine fibres of the woman’s jumper were created by adding several layers of

successively darker paint to the canvas and using a small stiff hogshair brush to expose the lighter coloured parts beneath.

Freud began to produce the portraits of his mother shortly after the death of his father, Ernst Freud (1892–1970). After Ernst’s death Lucie suffered from depression, from which she never recovered, and which at one point led her to attempt suicide. The curator Andrew Wilson has suggested that Freud used the series as a way of ‘combatting her depression’ (Wilson 2008, p.116), and her grief is reflected in portraits such as The Painter’s Mother IV in the muted grey and brown palette and Lucie’s melancholic expression. The paintings in the series bear the same textured surfaces and psychological detail seen in Freud’s later full-length portraits, such as Leigh Bowery (Seated) 1990 (private collection) and Benefits Supervisor Sleeping 1995 (private collection), though in the case of The Painter’s Mother portraits, the scale is far more intimate.

 (http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/freud-the-painters-mother-iv-t12619)

Vincent Van Gogh, Portrait of the Artist’s Mother (1888) Van Gogh’s introduction to art was through his mother, Anna Carbentus Van Gogh, who was herself an amateur artist. 

 According to van Gogh’s letters to his brother, Theo, this portrait of their mother was based upon a black-and-white photograph. Of the portrait, the artist wrote, “I am doing a portrait of Mother for myself. I cannot stand the colorless photograph, and I am trying to do one in a harmony of color, as I see her in my memory.” Despite his intent to liven up her visage with his palette, van Gogh created a nearly monochromatic version—in a pallid, unnatural green. Nevertheless, this preeminent figure in the artist’s life sits attentive and proud—a model of middle-class respectability.

(http://www.nortonsimon.org/collections/browse_title.php?id=M.1968.32.P)

Rembrandt, The Artist’s Mother (1629)

 ‘The Artist’s Mother’ by Rembrandt is a study in old age by a young, aspiring painter who rapidly gained a reputation for this kind of work before moving to Amsterdam to develop his career as a portraitist and history painter. Executed towards the end of his time in Leiden (c.1629), this painting already reveals Rembrandt’s mastery of precise detail in the treatment of the folds of skin, the sunken eyes, the taut mouth and the prominent nose. The figure wears an exotic deep purple hood with a fur mantle over a dark dress culminating in an embroidered white chemise. The tone of the painting is sombre, but it is offset by the parchment pallor of the skin, the colour of the chemise and the yellow embroidery of the hood. The treatment of the light falling from the right of the composition directly onto the face is masterly in the way it focuses the viewer’s attention on the features.

( http://www.royalcollection.org.uk/collection/405000/an-old-woman-called-the-artists-mother)

Andy Warhol, July Warhola (1974)  One of Pop Art’s founding members, Warhol captured his mother in the medium for which he has become best known – silkscreen.

 

David Hockney, Mum, 1985:

Hockney chose the day of his father's funeral to portray his mum, creating an image of unveiled human suffering and emotion.

Salvador Dali, portrait of the artist’s mother, 1920

Pablo Picasso, Portrait of the Artist’s Mother (1896)

This tender portrait of his mother was one of the best of Picasso’s formative years, and reflected their close bond.  I'm not sure if it's accurate, but I saw something on the net that said he painted this when he was just 15 years old!

  Edward Hopper, Elizabeth Griffiths Smith Hopper, the artist’s mother, 1916
 (You can see where Hopper got his looks,....looks just like him)

And for some female artists: 

 

Mary Cassat, the Artist's Mother reading Le Figaro, 1878:

 

 
Alice neel  My Mother 1952: 

Alice Neel was a great admirer of Cezanne, and attributes to him her realization of the importance of the sitter’s psychology. We can see this influence in the gloomy portrait of her mother, below, with its solid modeling and the sombre red and blue tones, reminiscent of Cezanne’s late work and well expessing the suffering of old age.

 (http://www.escapeintolife.com/essays/alice-neel-2/)

 

The artist, 63-year-old Daphne Todd, had painted her mother several times during her lifetime, and they had agreed that she could paint her after her death.
"I talked things through with the undertaker, and they kindly gave me the time and space to paint the portrait. She was on a trolley, raised up on pillows, as I remember last seeing her in hospital."

( http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/apr/29/artist-daphne-todd-portrait-mother-death-bp-prize-shortlist)

 

I've only recently become aware of Daphne Todd due to the BBC 'The big painting challenge' where she is one of the judges that is quite direct with her comments.  I've included this as it is certainly a different portrayal of her mother.  I think it's macabre though and can't relate to wanting to paint anyone this way, especially your mother.  Painting portraits for me is about trying to capture something of that person but this is just the empty shell.