Carpe Diem

2011 - oo yes it's gonna be big.

Enough of Jeffery Archer (for now). Here's something a bit more interesting:

And the work in progress is still progressing. It's getting to the exciting bit:

What colour will the background be? Oo I can't wait ...

Find out in next week's thrilling episode.

As someone said to me as I gloomily looked forward at 2011:

"Attack the day"

Raaarghh!

Ketchup

Okay, so the blog has died a death. Like I said, BORN LAZY. But that's no reason why I can't just post images of paintings as and when. So herewith a bit of a katchup:

Four paintings and a lemon

02/04/09 & 03/04/09

Brief blog this week.

As promised.

No rambling.

Abrupt.

Terse ...

almost.

This week I have mostly been dealing with finishings as I was getting overwhelmed with the number of works in progress. The following are all now finished (I think and rubbishy camera work aside) apart from the one of GPS:

A Step in the WW Direction

26/03/09

It's windy and rainy so I plan to do a bit more with the disaster I started a couple of weeks ago. I'm feeling pretty good as I've laid my paints out on the palette before I set off, got my rain cover for the easel and a plastic bag for the brushes. The smokers are still there when I arrive, but I know their break will end soon so I set up anyway. There's dog pooh, but I see it before it sees me. Yep - I'm feeling pretty smug - I even discover a new way of holding the brushes in my inside jacket pocket which helps to keep them dry. Yessiree, I've pretty well got the weather licked. Yup, yup, yup, yup, nothing can go wrong ....

Death Ray magazine (it's great) - I was reading an article in the latest issue about a famous comic artist and he said that when doing loose pictures it was better to do a precise underdrawing first and just paint loosely on top. His words come back to haunt me as I paint. My oh so loose and wayward underpainting is so off whack (technical term) that the whole session is spent trying to correct things - still I come away thinking that it looks better than when I started (praise be for that).

... ha, see, everything's dandy. Pack up, time for lunch. Hang on, what's this? The wind has blown my bag over. No problem there, surely ... it's only rolled down the pavement ... and managed to play football (because bags can) with the dog pooh on the way - eugh - there's pooh all over the shoulder straps. Sigh. I have been justly and righteously punished for my smugness by a higher plein air being, able to wield the power of pooh with devastating effect.

p.m. 

I'm feeling all WW - looking to make music out of something dirty and grubby.

...

...

I'm in my studio, so not much happens.

...

...

but I'm including this in the blog because I like it and it's a step in the WW direction.

p.m still, but later

I've got to pick up Ciara from her friends house at 6.00. I'm killing time, when all of a sudden I get excited by the sky and Twerton Mount. There's some places that strike a chord with you - can't explain it - maybe it's ley lines or something, but Twerton Mount is one of those places for me and as the opportunity presents itself I find myself racing to get a painting done.

huff puff ... climb the hill

huff puff ... set up the easel

I'm out of the wind near a copse full of burned out cushions and teenage debris - better be out of here before it gets dark! But of course I will, as I've only got twenty minutes to finish the painting. Obviously the WW thing to do would be to paint this, but I'm feeling all Constable Cloud Studyish. Not sure it goes to plan as the interesting shapes have blown past & I'm left with a big cloud suasage. Can't wait, can't stay.

huff puff ... take down the easel

huff puff ... down the hill.

P.S.

I've got to stop rambling - try and keep these things a bit shorter. In the words of someone what I was speaking to recently, "let the painting do the talking". 

Next week.

Mush as in Bush

Should be a short blog today - I make some notes after each painting session and I've gone and lost them. It's only a couple of days ago as I write this, but already everything's blurry - it's a brain thing - mine's all mush (mush rhyming with bush, rather than mush rhyming with lush). I'm worse with names - they just don't stick.

Still here we go ...

12/03/09

Drizzly. Nice, wet, slick streets - I fancy Queen Street with all its cobbles & I figure I'll have another go with canvas.

When I reach the street and the shelter of Trim Bridge it's crowded with smokers so I take my time setting up, hoping their break will finish before I have to start painting. It works, but I misjudge the drizzle totally - it's so light that being under the bridge doesn't make any difference and by the time I realise my mistake the canvas is soaking wet. The brush slides across the canvas - it's a total disaster. I've got nothing to dry the surface with so I wait until no one's looking and then sneak back to the studio.

P.m. and I try again. The day is still grey, but it's dried up. I forget to Twit - no great loss there as I set up on Upper Bristol Road.

I was in a gallery the other day and the manager was saying about landscapes (mine in particular) only selling if the buyer has a personal association with the specific location. This annoyed me as I obviously want people to buy my paintings purely on the basis of them being fantastic rather than the slightly more random fact that they used to live in the street or something. Maybe I'm too late - maybe I've gone too far down the road of picture postcard paintings to turn back. Can I make a stand now ... ?

With all these artistic angst questions flitting through my head I decide to once again sacrifice all hope of selling by setting up in UBR and the beautiful building at the junction of Charlotte St. and Monmouth Place. I start these things thinking it's going to be great, but then I get side tracked by detail and representationalism (it is a word, honest). By the time I get to the end I'm left thinking, "Was that it? Is that what inspired me?" Maybe I'm just playing safe as to start messing about with colour and texture and all is a bit scary.

Still, I do quite like the painting.

13/03/09

Twit, twit, twit - why oh why?

I finish off the Marlborough Buildings painting. Still not sure what to write so I sort of scribble some words on it that neither you or I will be able to read and I (in a few days time) won't remember (told you - mushy - as in bushy - brain). A couple come up to me and we chat a bit and then she announces that we've met before at the gallery in town and I do remember her face and her husbands (still okay with faces, so maybe it's just jelly like and only half way mushy), but she makes a crack about putting her house in the painting for her to want to buy it and I'm back to yesterday's issue. I sold a painting once to a couple  - a big one of Ronda in Spain - and they'd never been there, but they bought it anyway and then they took a trip to see the place. That's the way it ought to be (whine, whine, whine)

On to River Street (Twit). I set up outside the place I used to live. It's cold, cold and getting colder, despite the weather forecast. (bad) Luckily I've forgotten my gloves and the problems with the composition and the angles all mean that I fail to finish. It's a bizarre feeling as I know I've painted this view before, but I can't for the life of me picture the actual painting. It's another sure sign that I'm on the road to Mushville. I never forget a painting. Never. Until now. Or maybe, it too, went so tragically wrong that I have blotted it out of my mind - locked all recollection away in a deep dark mushy cellar, never to be let out. Never. Until now. Short flashbacks will inevitably plague me from now on, my dreams will be full of puzzle like fragments set in Eastern Europe and the next time someone taps me on the shoulder I will snap them in two like a twig! These hands - these killing machines - these ...

Short blog ... hmmm.

Twit

05/03/09

Sombre mood today as I'm going to the funeral of a friend later; someone who died far too young. The whole week has been pretty sobering, although only in a metaphorical way, as I have been drinking far more than usual. Maybe a bit of painting is what I need.

The painting proves difficult - the different lighting and the canvas surface all conspire to make it hard work. It does however seem to be coming together and I really like the clean edges that the canvas gives so I'm hopeful that it will be worth it.

Time marches on and so must I. The painting isn't finished yet and I'm struggling to think of anything to write on it. Today of all days it seems to be totally inappropriate to put some glib humorous comment on and maybe that's a reflection on whether I should write on the paintings at all. Maybe I should dedicate the painting to Melissa. Maybe I shouldn't. I don't know.

Talking of pointless writing: Twitter - what a pile of pants that is - don't know why I started doing it. I set out with the idea of uploading photos of the paintings as they progress straight to Twitter, but it turns out you can't see the image without going through a convoluted link and log in thing - see, total rubbish. Still I Twit anyway.

Melissa was always very enthusiastic about my paintings and she did suggest the writing on the painting thing way back when I did a talk on my work. So maybe it would be fitting. Yeah, okay, decided.

This one's for Melissa.

Inside and Out

08/02/2009

I'm standing, painting, in the window of an art gallery which is holding an exhibition of my work - It's like I am art! ... or perhaps a performing monkey.

Still it could be worse - I've got my back to the window so I can't see or hear anyone outside. That said, they can see what I'm painting, so the pressure's on to make it half way decent. I have occasional cause to regret my decision to paint the interior of the gallery itself (oo er - painter becomes art & gallery becomes painting - derderdoodooderderdoodoo - twilight zone or what?)

3 things better that being outdoors:

1. It's warmer;
2. There's a continuous supply coffee, lunch et al from the friendly gallery staff; and
3. I can't hear any shouts of abuse from passing builders.

11/02/2009

I start by finishing the Lansdown painting - it doesn't take long and not much happens. lol makes me promise to show her the finished painting - I agree, but don't warn her that I'm going to be writing all over it.

Afternoon and there's a bit of sun, so I storm into town determined to finish the painting of Quiet Street (or is it John Street?). The shadows aren't quite as they were when I started the thing back in November, but I make a few adjustments and it's all good.

I should have a big tourist information sign on my head because I get a long stream of interruptions:

• Where's the Chapel Row Gallery?
• Do you know how to get to the Theatre Royal?
• Where's the Post Office?
• Where's the you know, er, that crescent place? (This accompanied by hand gestures trying to describe the world renowned georgian architectural masterpiece with a few finger twiddles.)
• And finally some guy in a car (yes, I am beckoned over as if I'm not actually busy doing something) who's looking for a hotel in Newbridge. He's so far off the mark, all I can do is wave him vaguely in the right direction and wonder why he didn't think to bring a map.

Only other conversation of note:

Young woman: "What's your name?"

Me: "Ben, Ben Hughes."

YW: "I did a project on you."

Me: "...."

I'm embarrassed, she's embarrassed, I smile, she laughs and I think we're okay, but before I can actually say anything she's gone.

 

Snow!

05/02/09

A wise man once told me that the secret of a good snow painting is to paint the sky darker than the snowy ground. The reality varies as the clouds change, but I heed the words of the guru.

The same wise man also said, "look and look again." I pay this less attention as I get lost in the windows  - so many windows.

I've never seen the park so busy with snowmen and sledgers everywhere. I'm an easy target, but only two snowballs come my way and they are a bit feeble - must be my hard stare.

The snow is already melting and every passing car hastens its demise. The yellow lines start to appear, but I regret my decision to paint them in as it just looks like a load of pee stains in the snow. I try and correct the mistake, but not sure I totally get it right. I put the railings in at the end, but it's tricky to do it without making the snow all dirty and they end up all over the place.

The cold finally defeats me and as I pack up I find someone's car keys revealed by the melting snow. Picking them up I resolve to do the right thing and hand them in at the police station.

06/02/09

More snow! I schlep into town lugging easel and board only to find that the snow here has already melted. I schlep all the way back to the car, determined to make the most of the weather - I need some altitude. I try my luck with Lansdown Crescent again - it's a bit of a nemesis - but it's still got plenty of white stuff.

4 things that make me smile (or not):

• A little old lady risks the treacherous snow and ice to come over and say hello. She's 87 (she told me) and she's supposed to be doing some shopping for a neighbour - what a star.
• Bloke: "Are you the guy I've seen painting around town before?" Me: "Er .... I could be ..." A slightly awkward pause follows and I find myself trying to fill the void, "but you could be confusing me with Peter Brown, I often get confused with Peter Brown, he's much more famous (? What!?) babble babble Peter Brown babble babble ..." STOP! Who is this crazy person talking - I manage to mention Pete's name at least half a dozen times without once telling the guy who I am. He walks on, slightly bemused.
• The cold again gets the better of me and I pack up. It's 3.30. I know this because lol is feeding the pigeons (who have been waiting impatiently for the last hour) and she always does this at 3.30 (she told me).
• I drop the keys off at the police station. A policewoman comes over to the counter and announces 'You're the artist Ben Hughes!" Not a question, just a statement of fact. Yes - recognition at last (assuming of course that I haven't got my mug shot on some wanted poster). I look surprised and then she points out the paint on my clothes - damn, she's good.

Of Legs and Builders

29/01/09

Great Pulteney Street and brrrr it's cold. I've painted GPS before, but not this particular view and besides, my doctor's surgery is No.35 - I've got an appointment in a couple of hours so it's a good spot to kill time. I'm not ill or anything, just a precautionary thing. I was on holiday last year and striding out excitedly in my little swimming shorts on the first day only to be greeted by "Aaaagh!" from my daughter, "What's that?" She was pointing in horror at a particularly large lump under my skin on the upper part of my left leg. I looked in surprise, never really having paid it any mind before and, yes, I supposed it was quite large. Anywho, ever since then, I've been constantly badgered by family, one and all, to get the varicose veins checked out, AND, while I'm at it, get him to have a look at those moles. Moles - another one of those things that creep up on you. One minute you're walking along minding your own business and suddenly, there's another big hairy one. Talking of hairy .... no, let's not go there.

A song called 'I Was A Teenage Steve McQueen' is buzzing through my head as I set up the easel. No relevance really - just thought I'd mention it.

The pavement is not wide, so I've got to set the easel at a different angle from usual. The consequence of this is to give every passing motorist (& builder) a good view of the painting and I know I'm asking for abuse.

Sure enough it's not long before the first 'Rubbish!' is bellowed by someone leaning out of a passing van. Still, at least it was printable.

Next, and a bit later on it's, 'Great painting!'. What?! Where did that come from? - ah yes, a kid on a bus. Not for the first time I wonder what happens to us? When do we turn from enthusiastic youngsters to abusive, belligerent oldies? And why? Oooo ... I'm sure there's some deep socio-political answers, but my head is hurting already. I think I've written about this before - so many blogs - how can you remember everything you ever rambled on about? May the God of Blogs (for he doth prefer that to the 'Bloggod') smite me down if ever I mention how cold I ... KRACKABOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!

30/01/09

Three fatal errors:

1. Assuming that the van parked in my way on double yellow lines with flashing hazard lights would move;
2. Gambling on the cloud breaking up at the last moment, leading to a dramatic sky full of colour and light and
3. Thinking that the Upper Bristol Road would make a great painting - it keeps luring me in and then whammy! I'm suckered again.

In case you're wondering, to paraphrase the doctor:

"Hot damn, that truly is one ugly leg! Now, quit wasting my time and get out of my office."

lol

Damn - not a good start to the day. Stupid me - not thinking and I opt to take my daughter to school instead of my son and as a result I'm driving in the opposite direction to where I want to paint AND it's raining (forecasters are wrong again if only by a few hours) and all my rain gear is in the studio which is on the other side of Bath again AND it's rush hour and by the time I finally get everything sorted and find a place to park I'm nearly an hour behind plan and pretty steamed.

I'm painting near Pulteney Bridge and I'm amazed at the number of bendy buses that go back and forth across the famous historic landmark. I realise that the prohibition of cars generally has got nothing to do with preservation, but merely one of the many tactics employed by the town planners to make it as hard as possible (for artists) to get from one side of Bath to the other.

The extra effort to get the wet weather gear was, however, worth it as the rain continues to mock the forecasters. I haven't got the right palette for rain, but it's not coming down so hard that I can't get away with it and I realise I'm starting to enjoy myself despite the odd mumbled curse as I make the wrong brush stroke. I'm round the corner from my Mon - Wed office in Laura Place and thinking of them beavering away in an accountancy like fashion helps to cheer me up. It's Friday, I'm out painting and there aren't many places I'd rather be.

A little old lady stops to say hello and we have a brief chat and then she announces in a tourist drive kinda way although I can't see her wearing the t-shirt, 'I love Bath', before moving on.

Well, YES, little old lady, so do I.

Guitar Dreaming

I've been trying to teach myself to play the guitar for the past year now. I've got to be honest, I'm not making great strides forward, but this week I had my first ever GUITAR DREAM. In it I was being mentored by two rock guitar gods and I was (obviously) fantastic. We were jamming and hanging out and I was asking lots of deep penetrating guitary questions. Next thing the dream shifts a bit and I'm walking around strumming an acoustic when I start singing and playing a totally new original song. I got too excited at this point, woke myself up and spent the two hours before the alarm went off trying to think of the next lines. It was only then that realisation dawned - the music was remarkably similar to 'Sandy' from Grease and the lyrics were a load of pants - still it was damned exciting and I took it as a sign from some higher power. Destiny awaits ....

(you can tell how rubbish the song was as I can't bring myself to relay it to you here)

Enough of that, back to the art.

Friday 9th January.

Blog, blog bloggety blog, what's the point of the blog? Well bugger me and shiver me Mr Jesus H effin Christ alive timbers it's cold and you can bet whatever's dear to you that I would not be out here painting if I didn't need something to write about for the blog. It was -8 again last night and I don't think the temperature has gotten above freezing as I stand here trying to paint on the corner of Queen Square. Brrrr

I've not got long before my fingers and toes will start hurting so I work as quick as I can. I started this painting a couple of months ago and the shadows are slightly different - the wall on the right is in shadow so I'm going to have to come back again in a few weeks when the sun is higher in the sky to finish it.

I like it when the school kids go by - not the teenagers - they're too cool for school (get me with my hip happening down with the yoof lingo) - but the younger kids as the whoop excitedly along the lines of ...
"Look there's an artist!"
"Where?"
"There."
"Wow, an artist ... what's he doing?"
"Let's have a look."
"Wow, that's bitchin'!" (where did he get that? he can't be older than 7 or 8)

The class walk on by and I'm left smiling to myself - not sure they know what they're talking about, but the compliments don't hurt.

I'm right - I don't last long, but in my defense the painting has moved forward and the end is almost in sight.

Back on the Blog

It's been a little under a year and I find myself inexorably drawn back to the blog. It isn't big and it isn't clever, but I find myself needing the discipline of the weekly confessional to help drive the paintings forward. Like some furtive flasher I've had a taste of it and now I can't resist the urge to burden the world with my ramblings - just one more, it can't hurt, surely, and if I'm quick and I do it in the dark, I won't get caught - no one will ever know ... 

I have no pretensions that this is anything other than for me, so I apologise if you were looking for something more. It's just too easy to let the days and weeks slip by without making that trek into town and standing in front of the easel in front of the public in the freezing cold. That said I've not been out painting this week and therefore there's no new picture to post - I could burden you with everything I've done since the last blog, but I'll settle for the portrait of Jim and Charlie. For anyone who may vaguely recollect previous blogs when I accosted a regular passerby while I was painting on the street and asked if I could do his portrait, voila the results.

No new paintings then, but I post this anyway because I am New Year Resolved and, well, we'll see how long it lasts.

P.S. For all previous blogs check out blog.myspace.com/bens_blog