TBP days 4&5

Day 3 and I think it's coming together - I'm committed now to the Theatre being the only painted building and maybe it will work and maybe it won't. I repair the figures as best I can - damn, but it's hard to paint people walking around. I'm standing in front of a pub courtyard and every morning the landlord is there clearing up. He seems to know everyone that walks past, but today he's not so happy, cos a seagull has just shat all over him. There, but for the grace of God, goes my painting ...

Day 4 - the end - it was pretty well finished yesterday, but I've arranged to meet Rodney, the big issue seller, to take some photos for a portrait. Lots of positive comments about the painting, but I don't know whether they realise that this is it:

Rodney turns up and I take a few snaps - it's going to be an interesting portrait.

Back in the studio:

Are you having fun?

Thursday 17/09/09

It's sunny and I can finish off the 1st yellow line painting. I put some dark lines on the edge because I haven't got my pencil with me, but I'm not sure I like them. I leave them on anyway.

Later, I set off into town determined to paint the Abbey - afternoon sun on the face of the building, lots of people milling about in front, should be great - but for some reason I never get there.

Painting the bizarre and unexpected is more nerve racking than a busy city street. There's the constant look of puzzlement on the face of passersby and the pressure to justify the subject. I stick to the tried and tested defence of not making eye contact. My angles are all over the place and I know I'm not going to finish the painting today. I leave before the hordes of school children come by - I'm not ready for that yet.

I'm walking back to the studio and a girl (12?) at the bus stop who passed me when I was painting. She says, "Excuse me [polite!], are you an artist?"

I don't think she's really wanting to get into a debate about what is art and who am I to call myself an artist, so, "Yes," I reply, "I am an artist." But it has a hollow ring to it and the words feel odd coming from my mouth.

Friday 18/09/09

I'm dreaming. I'm on a plane. It looks like 1st class because there's loads of space and the seats are all big and comfy. There are lots of people I know, but I can't sit down because they can't make up their minds where they are going to sit and keep changing seats. I feel something under my skin above my appendix scar, it grows and pushes through the surface. It's a seed, like a cardamon pod. It sticks up annoyingly and then others grow up along side it. I brush it away and the pod gently pops and reveals a cottony inside before falling away. It is soon replaced and before long my stomach is like a small field of these things. I keep picking and brushing them off, but they keep growing. There's no panic in my actions, but I wake up anyway and don't get much sleep for the rest of the night.

I walk to the studio with my easel and board. It's a fair old hike lugging the paraphenalia so I've got to make it worth the effort with a painting. I'm thinking of painting the walkway under the railway line, but when I get there it doesn't work for me. The view at right angles to it, though, is just what I need (including the yellow lines). I stand there for about 10 minutes undecided. As yesterday, I'm feeling a bit of pressure in setting up and painting a bizarre place and I need to pysche myself up. Just standing there gets me enough funny looks, so what the hell and I go for it anyway.

The mechanic comes out of the garage. "Are you having fun?" he asks sarcastically.

"Yes, yes I'm having fun," I lie.

The painting seems to go okay. I take a photo just in case I don't finish it because the cars won't be in the same place again, but I'm not sure I'm going to need it. I can hear the radio playing in the garage. I don't know what station it is, but they're playing 'Rio' by Duran Duran.

A lady comes up and peers around the easel. "Ah!" she says, "I know your work, but I don't know you."

Foolishly, I take this as a sign that she maybe want's to make conversation, so she can know me as well as my work and say, "Hi!' to her. But, no. She turns around and walks off without another word.

Hey lady! I like it!

I pack up, but not before Spandau Ballet singing 'Gold', starts floating from the open garage doors behind me. What is that radio station and why are they still on air?

And another Thailand painting for good measure:

Of lines, madness and the colour yellow

Thursday 10/09/09

It's perfect weather - finally. It is 5th time almost lucky. 'Almost', because the builders and their vans continue to come and go and park in my way.

I leave out the wires and the parking sign.

Is it finished? Maybe.

Later and it's still sunny, so I can try and finish the other commission. It too is pretty much there - no fuss, no drama, it just reaches the end.

Friday 11/09/09

The sun is still shining (!!) and what with the commissions almost done I can get into town and paint. I'm taking in a different size board (16" x 16") than usual to see if the rough edge thing works on a smaller scale. I have no idea what I am going to paint which is never a good thing. I walk up to the Royal Crescent, but I've painted it so many times before, I find myself totally uninspired.

Stopping for a bit I notice the yellow lines on Royal Avenue. [Cue light bulb]. Yellow lines! That's what I'll paint. [Distant screams from wife and bank manager]. There's the link with the pencil lines I'm scribbling on the pictures, there's a lot of William Wrayness about them, I really like the colour of them (that'll be yellow then) against the varying tones of the road and, best of all, they're everywhere!

I hurry back to the studio, remembering the yellow line there that I really liked. By the time I get there the shadows have moved from how I remember them, but it's still good so I get started.

I must not have cleaned my brushes properly last time, because they are all dry and scratchy. Annoyingly so. This gets me to a point where I can't finish the painting today. The jury maybe out on the whole yellow line lightening bolt of inspiration (too many metaphors?), but I'm not - it's a great idea. Ooh! I know where I'm going to paint next - it's a great yellow line - can't wait.

P.S. Here's some more of Thailand

In Training

Friday 21/08/09

Been on holiday, so I'm behind on both the blog and more importantly the painting. I'm getting kind of twitchy cos painting is like anything - if you don't practise then not only are you not going to get any better, but you're going to get worse - think of it as being likely an olympic athlete cos it's just like that - honest.

So now I'm in London for a follow up holiday weekend at the in laws, but I can't leave it any longer and I've brought all my paint gear with me. I want to paint some more Thailand paintings because time is marching on and the whole series is taking forever. I've got to paint outside so that I don't get paint anywhere in the house.

There you have it. I'm in a back garden in Wembley painting a Thailand sunset.

The garden backs onto an Underground line (part of the overground Underground thing) so there are intermittent train rumblings.

There's a small child in the garden next door who insists on screaming. She's not in pain or anything - she obviously just likes screaming. Aaaaaarghh. Aaaaaaarghh. (Very high pitched.)

That's it then. In a back garden in Wembley with trains rumbling past, a little girl screaming, painting the perfect sunset.

Beyond the railway line is a big park and there's a fun fair set up so I get the sounds of the people and the rides drifting over. And the food ... mmmm burgers.

And the bugs - where do they come from? - they seem to like the colour of the painting.

That's the scene. In a back garden in deepest darkest Brent, with trains rumbling past, a little girl screaming (Aaaaaarghh. Aaaaaaarghh. Very high pitched.), all the fun of the fair, dive bombing bugs, painting a sunset in Thailand. Something just feels odd.

Saturday 22/08/09

Got Thailand out of the way for now, time to get back to the plein air thing. Definitely out of shape - think Chris Hoy not riding a bike for a month or two - so while the family visit Hampton Court I set up the other side of the Thames to paint.

I can't get a good angle - the square format works against me and I end up trying to fit the entire ornate palace into a couple square inches. Combine this with the lack of sun and I'm on to a loser. Luckily no one comes by - the fishermen and the campers (not sure where they go to the toilet) on the river bank don't bother me and I blank anyone on a boat.

Damn, damn it just keeps getting worse. I try a few feeble pencil marks, but it doesn't help.

I pack up in disgust.

Sunday 23/08/09

Forget about Chris Hoy, I'm a boxer - you're only as good as your last fight - and I got pasted in the first round yesterday. I've got to get back in the ring - I can't let the last painting just sit there as the pinnacle of my artistic career, it'll eat me up like a canker unless I can expunge it with a masterpiece.

All panicky I look round my father-in-law's garden (still in London). [Aside - what's happening to me? It's a beautiful sunny day - I could drive into the centre and paint any number of magnificent architectural monuments. Surely that's what I should do.]

Bizarrely I settle on an old jar with long since dried orange paint and a couple of encrusted paint brushes. (Bob and weave, bob and weave.)

You know the set up: In a back garden in Wembley, trains rumbling past, little girl screaming (Not so often, but still going. Aaaaaaarghh. Aaaaaaarghh. Very high pitched.), all the fun of the fair and dive bombing bugs. Add to this the searing heat, a perfect blue sky and me painting an old jar - something still feels odd. (Bob and weave, bob and weave.)

A jar, yeah, great idea - lets try a series of perfect circles (Whump! a punch to the head), all neatly aligned (Grunch! a blow to the ribs), overlapping (Whap! a jab to the face) and see through (Whammo - that's it. Cut to slow mo shot of head swivelling, lips swollen and askew as gum shield, spit and blood arc over the ropes. I hit the deck like an easel with two legs and the crowd sits there in stunned silence - could this be the end?)

Maybe it's not that bad. If I squint my eyes I almost quite like it and that's okay isn't it.

Isn't it?

(The flies - don't forget all the dead flies in the bottom of the jar. Maybe I made it to round 2.)

Good News, Bad News

Thursday 23/07/09

Bath Art Fair - despite being for charity, it's got a bad rep - there's no selection policy and the hanging is rubbish so it looks like a jumble sale (I've never seen it - just what I've been told). Anyway, this year thought I'd give it a go and put one painting in - just to see. That was last week and today I wander down to Queen Square to have a look at the show.

I get there only to find the square empty - the marquee that was the art fair has gone and it's as if it had never been. Hang on ... What? Oh no - think I might have screwed up.

I get home to find the bumff - how could I not have noticed that the fair was only on for three days? And, what's this, storage of uncollected paintings is charged at £10/day - that's £40 I've got to pay for the privilege of having my picture badly hung in a tent. Damn! Damn! Double damn! And get this - I phone up to arrange collection and they can't now find my painting and can they get back to me tomorrow!! £50 - you've got to be kidding me.

I spend the night cursing and stewing, stewing and cursing. The end of July and the biannual tax bill is fast approaching and I've just thrown away £40. AAAARGHH £10/day - it's outrageous. Oooo I'm livid.

I don't tell Yolanda.

Friday 24/07/09

They don't phone me back and I build up a head of steam over the storage charge - I didn't get where I am today by paying £10/day storage. Grrrr.

I phone, she's been busy, can she call me back. Grrrr.

Yes? What? You've sold it?! Wahey!

It's too late now, I've been building up for too long and despite no longer being faced with the storage charge I feel the need to vent. It's then that the lady explains that they are a charity with only a small office and before they had the charge, hundreds of paintings would get left uncollected. Oh well, yes, of course I understand and anyway thanks for selling it ... er ... goodbye.

Back to normal Friday prattling - the weather isn't working for me so I cheat and paint a bit of the Southgate painting in the studio - going for the luminous green of the builders' vests. I do some pencil marks on it. Shall I write on it? What should I say? I um and ah for a bit before writing the title in the bottom left corner - Under Construction. I um and ah a bit more before adding quotation marks. For some reason, it makes a difference and then I don't like them, but it's too late, they'll have to stay.

Is it finished?

Not sure.

Is it going to win?

Who knows?

And, just so you don't think I'm not doing much of anything, here are the 1st three Thailand paintings.