Permanent Red....

'Permanent Red', oil on canvas, 45 x 60cms, 2023

In the last few weeks, I’ve been on and off busy in the studio working on some new paintings. 

Set at night, they all depict parked up Postal Vans parked at the kerbside outside the postal depot near to where I live. Their compositions are identical, with them all presenting a single darkened van, lit from above, placed in the centre, a verge in front, the orange road behind, and the indistinct shapes of the suburban houses and trees opposite acting as a backdrop against the sky. I am really attracted to the power in this repetition to serve the idea.

'Permanent Red II', oil on canvas, 45 x 60cms, 2023

As I describe them, they sound like they could be stage sets, but I think a great many of my paintings are like that, particularly the nocturnes. At 45 x 60cms they are all the same size, and although they are of single, individual vans, I saw them as part of a larger ‘collective’ group of vans and paintings. 

'Permanent Red III', oil on canvas, 45 x 60cms, 2023

I was motivated to start painting them as I passed them all lined up one evening outside the depot as I walked to town to meet my friend for a pint. They are always lined up like this, but this had been another day of postal strikes, so the view seemed to resonate more acutely as I walked by. I took some photographs on my phone and as I did, I reflected on the incredibly difficult struggle the postal workers are involved in for their jobs and conditions. And as we find ourselves into 2023, I’m thinking so much about the struggle all public sector and key workers are involved in, including myself as a teacher, against this dangerous, far-right, anti-democratic government for not only fair pay, but for the very services that underpin a fair society for all and our very democratic rights. 

'Permanent Red IV', oil on canvas, 45 x 60cms, 2023

Last week, like these Postal Workers, I withdrew my own labour from work and went on Strike. I stood on a cold Picket Line early in the morning with my other Union colleagues and then, as an NEU Rep, was a steward at a huge rally and march through the city, united and proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with other union members and make our voices heard. I see the postal vans, sitting with quiet dignity by the kerbside, as ciphers for the individual workers all over the country, standing collectively, laying down their tools, withdrawing their labour and finally saying ‘enough is enough’. 

'Permanent Red V', oil on canvas, 45 x 60cms, 2023

The title of this post and these paintings, ‘Permanent Red’, is lifted from the title of the book of the same name by art critic, John Berger, which in these ‘Essays in Seeing’ he explores ideas about art and society, democracy, mass demonstrations, cubism, Walt Disney vs Francis Bacon and more. I read it as an postgraduate student, and I still draw inspiration from it nearly 30 years later.

 

The Cut

Oil Study,  oil on panel 8" x 10", 2022

Last year, following my ‘Home Ground’ exhibition, I decided to take my camera to the canal over near West Bromwich, where I grew up, on a sunny Spring Saturday morning to see what I could find. I was hoping I may take some good photos that may serve to generate a few new compositional ideas. I was seeking to develop the formal ideas of 2 large paintings I had exhibited in ‘Home Ground’ which were based on the dynamic landscape beneath Spaghetti Junction. The intersecting lines and planes of the motorway, the canal and the bright winter light in this landscape had been a good vehicle to push some of my interest in creating landscape paintings that incorporated the language of abstract painting more aggressively. Think Richard Diebenkorn meets Ivon Hitchens meets Thomas Shiebitz. That’s what was in my mind at least! In visiting the canals in West Bromwich, I was hoping to find some more of those strong diagonal lines and geometric shapes that had excited me in the first 2 paintings.

'Winter Walk', oil on canvas, 120 x 150cms, 2021

However, the location proved much tamer and more rural this time around (how could I think it would not be compared to the crazy extremities of the landscape beneath Spaghetti Junction?), with the steep, grassy banks, towpaths and old arched bridges, and the fishermen along the bank waiting for the Saturday catch. And with the strong shadows and trees covered in bubbling hawthorn blossom it was all much more picturesque. Still, I enjoyed taking some photographs as I walked along the cut with my son and our dog, Buddy, and left with an open mind as to whether anything I had recorded might make its way into some new paintings.

'The Cut', oil on canvas, 50 x 60cms, 2022

'The Cut II', oil on canvas, 50 x 60cms, 2022

'The Cut III', oil on canvas, 60 x 80cms, 2022

I originally made 3 paintings quite quickly after my trip, not too large, of The Cut. I liked them, particularly the first one I made, where I felt I had captured an essence of the landscape in my paring down of any extraneous details. I was reminded a bit of Morandi’s Italian landscapes which I admire (and wish I could even come close to!), but at the same time I was a bit troubled about how traditional the other paintings looked compared to my original intentions, so I left things for a bit at that. 

During my recent time off work, I returned to the photos and made a small oil study (top of post) based on one of a young guy zipping along the canal towpath on his electric scooter against a glorious background of lush, hawthorn blossomed trees against the blue sky. I was excited by this lovely small study- it had a joy to it I seldom arrive at and there was something defiant and fun about the guy on his scooter that I really liked, so I decided to make a much larger painting based on it. It incorporated more detail, and I tried to capture the spirit of the small study, but I don’t think I did, but I do like it still. It had to become its own thing and ended up with quite a different character, one with a slightly melancholic undertow which is more familiar.  But I still prefer the small one. 

'The Cut IV', oil on canvas, 110 x 150cms, 2022

With both these paintings, however, I am excited to see in a less self-conscious way than other recent attempts, the re-introduction of the figure into some of my work. The figure just appeared without me even thinking about it during the period I spent making lots of small, experimental studies (30 in all). 

'The Cut V', oil on canvas, 50 x 60cms, 2023

As it did in this other new painting (above) of this man fishing on the canal bank with the factories behind him as a backdrop. The juxtaposition of this, the man against the factories, perhaps they are where he once worked but is now replaced by one of the huge transit depots that populate the former industrial sites of Black Country creates a tension and a quiet political dimension I like. 

Bubbling away in the background of my thoughts as I have made these paintings are two books set in the Black Country and written by Black Country authors that I have enjoyed. One, ‘Mercia’s Take’, the debut novel by Daniel Wiles, which I read last summer. It is set in 1879 in a mining town near Walsall, and despite its historical setting it has a very contemporary feel. A key part of the book is a long journey the main character makes on ‘The Cut’ by barge into Dudley. It is so vividly described in an almost, dreamlike, and hallucinatory way that it stayed with me long after I had finished the book. 

Author Daniel Wiles, from Walsall in the Black Country

The other book is ‘The Cut’ by Anthony Cartwright, whose series of novels set in the post-industrial Black Country I have enjoyed. This one is set in the post-Brexit, overwhelmingly leave voting Black Country and is a bleak look at the divisions between communities, towns, and communities that Brexit exacerbated. I don’t think we will ever recover from it as a nation. I would highly recommend both books.

'Winter Morning', oil on canvas, 90 x 120cms, 2022 (a personal fave)

There are a few other canal-based landscapes I’ve made, a large nocturne I’m not entirely sure about, and a winter landscape that I made last year that I love (but no one else comments on!). Slowly, I’m getting a sense of a more serious body of work that could be developing around the theme of, what we call it in the Black Country, the Cut….

Stumbling into 2023

 

As yet untitled, oil on canvas, 60 x 50cms, 2023

I move into 2023 with some difficulty with my painting. I spent the Christmas break in and out the studio working on a painting that I eventually took a big turpsy brush to and wiped off (well, my daughter did this much to her delight as she was there in the studio when I made the decision to do this. Whenever she comes in now, she tells me what I am doing is not very good and can she wipe it off…?). I had also wiped 2 more paintings off prior to this, just not thinking they were good enough, or necessary either. It’s a bit frustrating but not that big a deal either. After all, I have just had a good run during the time off from work I’ve had and made what I think are 10 strong paintings, so it feels healthy to stumble and drop the ball. I get more suspicious when it’s going so well. 

a painting now wiped off by my lovely daughter, studio shot 

 I have also worked on the painting at the top of this post over several difficult sessions, based on a photograph taken in my local Lidl car park on a foggy night. I nearly abandoned this too but ended up wrestling it to the ground by forgetting the references to Lidl etc and exploring the painting through a more formal lens involving colour and the abstract shapes in the composition. This was enjoyable and was partially informed by looking at the collages of artist, Ken Kewley and reading his ‘Notes on Colour’. This freed up my thinking a bit and took things off in a different direction. It’s sits now as a slightly awkward, clumsy painting but also one that makes some sort of formal sense I’m pleased with. It possesses that feeling I think most painters are striving for when it stands on its own apart from you with its own strong presence and energy. With that in mind, I’m happy to leave it at that. 

A new year...

 

'The Lighted Window', oil on canvas, 80 x 100cms, 2022

Happy New Year. 

Well, I haven’t done any portraits or still lives since the last post, but I have been busy making some new larger paintings, either based directly on some of the small studies I spent a few weeks working on in the six weeks following my operation or inspired by some of the ideas that came out of the process of making them. This has particularly been the case when it came to developing a braver and more creative use of colour. It’s been great to be independent again as my foot has healed, and I’ve now returned to work.

'The Cut IV', oil on canvas, 120 x 180cms, 2022

The paintings, 10 so far, are quite varied, and I think making the smaller works has really helped me have a clearer idea on what I want to do and work with renewed focus. It has also helped massively to be able to just have the time to paint, without trying to fit it all in around work. I’ve felt much more relaxed than I have in years, and I think the paintings reflect this and look much more confident. I became conscious as we headed into December that this period was nearing an end as I would be returning to work in January, and I felt sad about this. I’m never going to be able to make a living from my painting practice, but I do wish I could free up more time for it, but also for myself and teach less. This time off has been good for my mental well-being as much as it has allowed the time needed to recover my physical health. But still, this time off has made me reflect on these issues and I’m thinking more seriously how I can make this happen, or at least hold on to some of the things I’ve enjoyed over the last 3 months and how I prioritise and spend my time.  

'On The Corner', oil on canvas, 60 x 60cms, 2022

As I head into 2023, I’m pleased to say I’ve got another couple of large exhibitions coming up next year as well as a piece, ‘The Turn Of The Tide’, in the Worcester Open 23 (Climate Change Edition) at The Art House, Worcester. I also have another one at the exhibition space at Malvern Library café, which I really enjoyed showing last year, and another with my artist friend, Andrew Smith at The Hive, the large exhibition space at the University of Worcester library. Both of these exhibitions will focus on my ongoing series of ‘Night Walk’ paintings.  

'Home Ground'

 

Installation shots of 'Home Ground', Malvern Library Cafe Gallery, May 2022

In May earlier this year I had a solo exhibition, ‘Home Ground’, at Malvern Library where they have a generous exhibition space in the café downstairs. With it just being a space in the café, rather than a traditional gallery, I thought it might be wiser to use the opportunity to hang a lot of my smaller paintings that I don’t have the opportunity to exhibit very often and show a wider range of work, but also with the hope that I may sell a few as these smaller pieces as they are obviously cheaper and therefore might appeal to the casual viewer using the café. 

On the advice of an artist friend, however, who lives in Malvern and had exhibited there herself some years before (which is how I knew of the venue), she thought that with the walls being big and the light good from the skylights above I should exhibit some of my larger paintings instead. I eventually decided to go for broke and hang a range of big and small pieces in a ‘salon’ type hang and ended up showing a lot of work. I was also able to present a wider range of my work and interests in different types of landscape, which was very rewarding. I thought it was the best exhibition of my work I had done to date, despite it not being in a proper gallery setting as such, not that I thank that is all that important these days. 

I’m always on the lookout for different venues that I think might suit my work and exhibitions in galleries can be very hard to come by, unless they are artist-run ones. Commercial galleries can also be very limited in what they show too. The space at Malvern seemed a good opportunity for a few reasons: my friend’s exhibition had looked good there and she had sold lots of work; the space offered me a rare chance to show a large collection of work, and as I make so much which never has the opportunity to be shown, this appealed, and finally, being based in Malvern, a beautiful town with a lot of culture, history and people interested in the arts, I thought the exhibition might attract more of an audience than other exhibitions.  It was also up for 6 weeks, which was great too. 

And all these feelings played out and I ended up selling quite a few paintings, particularly some of the large ones which was a nice surprise. But Malvern has some big houses with big walls where some of these ones would have looked great. And I discovered they did when I delivered them to the house of one of the buyers, who bought two, including my favourite painting in the exhibition, ‘The Scent Of Rain’, a landscape beneath Spaghetti Junction, and she kindly sent me some photographs of them hanging in her home later. Another large one. ‘The Island’, was also sold when I wasn’t there, but I never met this buyer. 

'The Island', oil on canvas, 70 x 90cms, 2022

'The Scent Of Rain', oil on canvas, 120 x 150cms, 2021

At the end of the exhibition when I went to take it down, I spent an hour or so looking at the work. I felt a bit unsettled by the paintings, especially as there were so many. As I looked over them, with their painterly gestures and mark-making which are directly applied and all on the surface I became so overwhelmingly aware of my own physical presence, my body, my hands and arms and movement, across all the work. They all seemed as much a portrait of me as of anything else. I guess it may seem an obvious point to some, but nonetheless I found the experience somewhat painful and upsetting, as if the paintings were a mask for my internal self. 

I'll finish this post with these nice photographs from the private view of my wonderful friends and artists, who I've collaborated with a great deal over the years, and have always offered me a great deal of support (top), Hugh, Andy (bottom), Philip and Chris...

The Hours....

oil on panel study, 8 " x 10", current work

I hobble down the long garden to the studio on my crutches each morning, the dog faithfully following me, hoping I will throw the ball, jump precariously up the step into the space, set up my speaker and Bluetooth to either some music (this week: ‘Here It Is- A Tribute to Leonard Cohen (I can’t recommend this enough), and ‘Communication’ by Karl Bartos, former Kraftwerk member, whose 600 page autobiography I’ve just completed (brilliant read) or a Podcast ( lately lots of ‘The Rest Is Politics’ with Alistair Campbell and Rory Stewart, and my favourite a new run of The Adam Buxton Podcast), and climb up on my high stool to the desk easel, palette and paints set up on the high table, take another reference photo as a starting point, and a fresh, primed small painting panel, and then set to work for a few hours. Once I’m actually safely in the studio it feels like the only thing I can do that easily at the moment, but as it’s painting, that’s not so bad is it? 

oil on panel study, 10" x 12", current 

oil on panel study, 10" x 12", current 

In fact, I’ve been painting 2-3 paintings a day these last two weeks and I’m really enjoying it. As I can only work sitting down, I’m forced to work small, but these limits are liberating. As most my paintings start from primary reference photographs but against the limits of time, I’m enjoying the opportunity to dig a lot deeper into these photographs and try and unearth some new ideas, particularly in the ongoing development of my painting language, experimenting, always experimenting. 

oil on panel study, 8" x 10", current

oil on panel study, 8"x10", current

oil on panel study, 10" x 12", current

At the moment, I’m hooking into something much 

looser, more abstract, but not abstract, and continually thinking about my use of colour and the light in the paintings. These elements have become much more central in the last 2 years to how I concieve the paintings. I’ve made some new motorway studies, which are dynamic and offer some nice ideas for compositions, but also some new studies of the local woodlands and the common which have a very different feel, and present more difficulties in a way, in trying to do something more original with scenes like these, but I remain committed to both subjects. I’m just playing around, making stuff and trying not to over think it at the moment. 

oil on panel study, 10" x 12", current

I’m thinking about doing some portraits and still lives next week….

Audience Feedback....Birmingham Open Studios 2022

Studio view

I welcomed visitors to my studio last weekend as a participating artist in the Birmingham Open Studios event across the city (although most of the artists participating seem to be based in South Birmingham, my neck of the woods). I enjoyed it. Friends and strangers came, and I enjoyed discussing my work and sharing my studio space. It had been a bit difficult to tidy too much with me being on crutches, but at the same time I didn’t really want to: if I was a visitor I would have enjoyed looking ‘behind the scenes’ of the artist and the work. So comments were made about my large, unruly palette, what paints I used, the canvasses in preparation and the many, many brushes. 

I also talked a lot about the subject matter too: my conviction in looking in ‘your own backyard’ for inspiration. I had chosen to display paintings based in Kings Heath where I live to emphasise this and thinking they may have local interest-and also about the importance of just trying to make the work you felt you needed to make without thinking too much about an audience, as this is where problems can often lie. These are conversations I started at art school, and never really go away. Of course, you are just making the art you need to make. And yet…it would be a bit disingenuous to say mental notes are not taken of comments that are made, observing what paintings seem to ‘land’, which postcards sold, and which do not. But at the end of the day, from my experience, these things are entirely unpredictable. Every viewer brings something of themselves as to why they may be attracted to a certain piece. These things are certainly not universal, so it's best to carry on regardless.

'Grounded II', oil on canvas, 40 x 30cms, 2021

Many of the visitors to the studio had found their way there attracted by my painting of the car in snow that had been in the brochure (above) That was a surprise to me, although I have always been pleased with this piece and another that accompanied it (below). I sold both and could have sold that first one three times over. 

'Grounded III', oil on canvas, 60 x 50cms, 2021

Postcards for sale ( a new thing...)

I also sold a small studio still life and a small ‘lorry park’ landscape. I also sold an etching (these are now becoming consistently popular at exhibitions), and nearly all of the postcards I had made, What a good idea these were…