Back to Basics

Thursday 27/08/09

I've really got to re read my blogs - what was I thinking? I'm a ninja - I'm an olympic athlete - I'm a boxer!? What? Let's get real - I'm 42 years old, I walk into town, I paint and I tell a funny story (ha ha). That's it.

Back to basics.

There's a bit of sun and I've got the commission painting to finish so I walk into town (see told you) to set up by the abbey. I pass the Griffin Inn - it was a pretty grubby pub, nothing to write home about, but part of me can't help being sorry that it's had the pub makeover. You know the one - it's all polished wood, attractive staff and a high priced food menu now. (That wasn't the funny story - maybe it's coming next.)

I pass the Castle Galleries (boo hiss). I don't think much of it, but I look in the window at these paintings of beautiful people, semi naked and pouting and I think about the artist and I realise, 'he's just selling sex'. I move on to the paintings next to his and think, 'he's selling a story' and the one further on, 'he's just selling a joke'. They've all got a 'thing' that their art is geared around. What am I selling? A memory? An idea? If the answer is just 'a view' then something's wrong.

(okay so that wasn't funny either, but here it comes I can feel it ...)

I set up in the same position, but things have changed - the sun isn't getting up as high in the sky anymore and much of the foreground is in shadow (I'll have to work round that) and someone's gone and put flowers in hanging baskets everywhere. Pah. (I say 'someone' when obviously it's the council - grrrr - damn them and their mad council tax spending ways)

I get quite a few people looking at the painting. A chinese lady complements the painting and then says, 'Are you going to put the flowers in? They are so beautiful.' I control my response and don't say, 'No lady, I am NOT going to put the flowers in. Can't you see that my painting doesn't NEED any flowers in it?'

(damn - not funny either. Still, plenty of time left, maybe this is it ...)

More people look and I'm not even going to mention the PB question. The painting comes together and I'm feeling pretty pleased with it. I can't think of anything to write on it apart from the title, 'Waiting'.

On the way back I'm near the Griffin Inn again and despite their efforts to enhance the area there's a guy with blonde dreadlocks puking in the street. He's bent over, his left hand on his knee propping him up, while he uses the other to keep his long dreads away from the stream of vomit. Nice. (Yes, it is only 2 in the afternoon.) He's got a mate with him who is comforting him with the occasional pat on the back. He obviously needs no interference from me so I walk on by. I can't help but marvel at the particular shade of green.

(Was that the funny bit? Is that all? No wait there's more ...)

(Oh, no there isn't. So much for a funny bit.)

What am I selling?

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.)

I am ninja

Thursday 30/07/09

a.m.

It's raining, it's sunny, it's raining, it's sunny.

I need to be a one man tactical painting assault team. Get in, do the job and get out, never leaving a man behind.

I've got the wet weather gear. I'm set up. There's a big white van right in the middle of the view I want to paint, but WHA! WHA! I am ninja and I strike like the lightning and paint round bends, WHA! WHA!

The rain starts, but look at me, I am ninja and I dodge the rain drops, WHA! WHA! The rain keeps coming and WHA! WHA! I keep dodging, but the rain keeps getting heavier and wha wha whaddayaknow, it's p*****g down and I'm soaked and everything's soaked and the wet weather gear can't cope cos it's too torrential and you know the workers sitting in the van are having a good old laugh and I give up even though I've only just started the painting.

Helluva summer.

p.m.

Someone somewhere figures that they've had enough weather fun for the day and the afternoon/evening proves to be a good (relatively speaking) one, so I can start the commission down the road from our house.

It's a difficult composition and I'm standing a bit awkwardly, but for a first session it seems to be going okay and I get to know a few of the neighbours.

Friday 31/07/09

Pulled something in my back yesterday putting out the rubbish (oo, I am so ninja) so I'm walking a bit strangely today. I haven't done many out and about drawings recently so I stop by this house on the way to the studio. It's recently been done up and I think it looks great - like a georgian norman bates motel. Shame the surroundings detract slightly, but I just ignore that. I think it would make a good painting, but I have to stand in the drive way so I'll settle for drawing it. I take my time too, to do it justice. There's no sign of life - I guess it's residential as there are no adverts and it's so big that it's probably more than one, but no one stirs. The net curtains don't twitch and no one bothers me as I stand leaning against a gate pillar - maybe I could have painted it.

Later, still walking to the studio, through the busy crowds of shoppers I cross Milsom Street. I trip over something, catch myself before I fall and walk on pretending that nothing happened (you know, you've been there - heh heh, yeah did it on purpose, but really, I am cool, no really).

Oh yes, definitely ninja.

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.

Wet and Wobbly

Thursday 16/07/09

Yeah, see, I thought if I did these line drawings enough I'd sort of start getting better. Some hope.

Friday 17/07/09

Had a first go on Wii Fit the other day (if you haven't you should cos it's good - subject to the following reservations on its ability to add up). It's the art of wobbling (or not) about on a board and with a confidence borne of knowing my bmi as independently verified and certificated by the BIOBANK I confidently took to the board and wobbled (or not) in front of a crowd of partisan family members. Oh the shame, oh the travesty, oh the ridicule by said formerly supportive crowd as the software churns out a 'Wii fit age' of 52!! Pah! What's the good in wobbling (or not) on a board anyway?! Surely it's much better to play 5-aside football in the pouring rain in a butch and hearty kind of way?

Maybe the board knows more than I think as after the 15 min wobble work out I was already feeling some sort of burn (maybe it was just wind) and after football yesterday I'm once again walking into town to paint with legs all stiff and achy (at least we won).

It's grey and miserable (the weather, the painting and the artist all combining in a symphony of grey and miserableness). I've got the wet weather gear incorporating my dad's old raincoat that he generously donated to the cause. It's green and combined with the brown trousers and the white tilley hat I think I'm looking explorer like, but probably not the good guy as I don't look cool enough - in an Indiana Jones type movie, you'd be thinking I'm going to bite the bullet before the end - maybe when the rope bridge gets cut, or the truck explodes, or ... anyway ... where was I ...

Back to this painful painting and the weather. It's been so long since I started the thing that the shop is no longer empty and is busy trying to flog overpriced rustic design against the tide of recession - we'll see, but I'm not holding my breath. I try painting from a different spot to avoid blocking the window, but it's no good, so I move back and try to nestle between the gift shop and the curry house next door which sort of works.

It starts to rain, good and proper, but with the wet weather gear I can keep going for a while - I get soaked, but the painting moves forward. I can't believe I got all my angles so wrong and I end up repainting most of it - it's still not right, but it's getting better.

The zip doesn't work properly on the coat - aha! that's why he palmed it off on me - and it smells of my dad, which isn't a bad thing - it's not stinky or anything - it's just one of those smells of home that take you back to your childhood, probably emphasised by the wetness of it all. It's all slightly surreal - standing painting in the pouring rain, smelling of my dad.

Slow Blog Day

Thursday 09/07/09

Nothing to show for my work today - it's all prep for future paintings and other boring studio stuff - but for the sake of something to post and because I blogged about them way back, I can put up the images of the paintings I did for the commission of Prior Park college. The gift has been given and there's no more secrecy:

Oh yeah, guess what else? Last night I had a dream in which I had a hair growing on (not in) my ear that was over two metres long and dangled behind me trailing on the floor. I was not very happy with any of my family for not telling me and it proved very difficult to cut off. When I finally got the bugger and it lay on the floor it turned out to be not one hair, but a whole damn bunch of them - all of which had been sprouting off my ear.

Slow blog day or what?!

Friday 10/07/09

A bit of brightness in the morning and I can work on the down town Southgate painting. It's still a struggle with so much going on and a long list of issues:

1. They've moved the orange barriers along slightly;
2. I haven't got a green paint that can capture the flourescent jackets the builders are wearing;
3. The dumper truck is no longer in position, replaced by a big green digger;
4. I need something on the left of the picture - I had toyed with a big bus, but in the end chicken out and put a car in;
5. Someone kicks the easel, but that probably goes without saying (that along with the PB question which I haven't listed, but have ended up mentioning again anyway - duh!). If I've learnt one thing painting on the streets, it's that no matter where you place the easel or how wide the pavement, someone will kick it. It's an unwritten law of plein aire painting or something.

That old self doubt thing

Wednesday 01/07/09

Chucked out of the Threadneedle Prize and with paintings not selling on the gallery wall and whaddayano - whammo - Doubt creeps up on me and slaps me in the mush. Good old Doubt - you know you can count on him. Why did I even write that on the painting? What's with that rubbishy edge thing? That old Doubt - he know's all the right questions to stick the knife in.

So, on Sunday, it was the big reveal for THE BATH PRIZE (where the organisers tell you which bit of Bath you've got to paint for the competition). Now, bearing in mind the blurb ("designed to stimulate new work celebrating the glory of a World Heritage City") I'm expecting Pulteney Bridge maybe, or the Royal Crescent, or maybe just somewhere where a tourist would choose to go. HA! No, my designated painting assignment is ... wait for it ... Southgate Shopping Centre!?!?

What? But I thought ... but, ...

Still, I have to laugh - I don't mind the subject - it's an opportunity to get all WW, but all the same, it's a bit of a curve ball.

So, Southgate Shopping Centre and Doubt - a pretty heady cocktail. I spend the afternoon prepping the board, (so there's no painting to post) with the big D gnawing away at me.

In the evening it's the fabled Brain of Bath quiz and I'm on one of the teams. Get that. I don't answer many questions, but I do learn some stuff. Not least of all is the fact that the memory doesn't function better on beer and the last few rounds I'm a definite liability. I still can't believe I got Thin Lizzy and Led Zepplin muddled up. Damn - once that bugger Doubt starts messing with you.

Thursday 02/07/09

I wake up in a blinding light of revelation. I've sweated out the big D in a fever of humidity and tangled sheets and it all becomes so obvious. The Southgate Shopping Centre. The big unfinished building site at the bottom of town - it's perfect for the unfinished painting look. Finished on one side and getting lost in nothingness (or maybe a few pencil lines) on the left. Can you see it? Can you see what I did there?

Also - good things about the place I am painting:

1. Shadey (again);
2. Only one person asks me if I'm Peter Brown;
3. A little girl peers around the pillar I'm standing next to and asks me lots of painting questions: do you paint the buildings? do you paint everything? they can be tricksey can't they? I have to stop painting and lean down to talk to her, but she's sweet and I make the effort. Her mum comes out of the bus station and the girl says, 'look mummy a painter', but mummy's got other things on her mind and drags her away.
4. A guy comes up and says he is the project manager for the development and that they might be interested in the painting. He even gives me a card. The developers are called 'Multi'. I've painted a lot of pictures in Bath, but it takes a painting of Southgate Shopping Centre to get my best lead on a sale - go figure. Let's hope the Man from Multi, he say yeah.

Bad things:

1. Can't stand exactly where I want without constantly opening the automatic door to the bus station behind me;
2. It's a long way from the Studio so it's quite a hike to get here;
3. A group of builders start talking to me, just as I get some sweat in my eyes. With both my hands full I can't do anything about it. They're asking me questions and I'm trying to answer, but I can't really think about anything other than the fact that I look like I'm crying.

Friday 03/07/09

It's windy today, which makes me Mr Grumpy from Grumpleton. I don't seem to move the painting on very much which makes me even more sour. I don't make eye contact with anyone. I didn't get where I am today by making eye contact with anyone.