Filed under Art

Failed Landscapes

We are taught to think that failure doesn’t mean anything. Actually, failure is a useful part of the creative toolkit. When something fails, when something doesn’t work, you can find it easier to understand why the things you are proud of do work.

The picture above – ink on watercolour postcard, using a wet-on-wet technique – sort of works. The next picture I’m going to show you didn’t work, but when I brought it home and laid it on the table, my Dad made a little noise, and said “that’s interesting”. Now, I hate it, but I can’t only show off the things that work. Sometime you have to show the things that you hate.

Yech.

What’s wrong with this is that it’s too simplistic, too – for want of a better word – too “A-Level Art”.

But what making this awful thing showed me was that I needed to learn more. I needed to look at things and find out how I could display them at their best. Part of that struggle is going to be about technique, how I handle materials, but the main part of that struggle is about learning how I want images to appear on paper. It’s not enough to go somewhere pretty and make my impression of it on paper, it’s about learning how to look at a place, or a thing, and work out what qualities I want to transfer onto paper.

There might be some more failures between here and there, but if I sat down and made work that I was super-proud of first time round, I’d learn nothing. It’s the failures that make things interesting.

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Piles

Another view of my parent’s undefeatable hoarding instinct.

When I explain how crazily my parents keep hold of things, people often say “oh, that sounds just like my grandparent before they went really crazy”. For instance, I recently opened a suitcase to find a collection of polythene document wallets, like you would put in a folder. These things are worthless, the sort of plastic product you can buy in hundreds for a pound. And this was a suitcase full of them. Mainly, the ones that had been screwed up and creased during use.

It’s not like they only keep broken, worthless things, mind. It’s just that they keep deciding to add new things to the collection without throwing the old things out. There’s no process of evaluation that has to happen, a process I learnt when I moved house three times in one year without a car (because, seriously, if you have to carry a thing to a new place, you soon learn how much you care about the thing).

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Bigger Pictures

I’ve been trying to make bigger pictures recently. I’ve reached a sort-of plateau, where my drawing skills have come on to an extent that shows me two things; firstly, it’s totally possible for me to get “good” enough at drawing by applying myself. And secondly, that there are other skills beyond the mere application of drawing to a scene.

For instance, above is a pretty boring view of my parents living room. It’s not the most successful rendition I’ve done of that view, but – so far – it is the largest. There’s something difficult for me in working large, something that I haven’t quite cracked yet. But, from my prior work this year, I can see that the secret to cracking that is to keep going. Or maybe the secret is to keep going until the problem isn’t even relevant any more?

One of those, anyway.

 

 

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Huntingdon’s Boats

For some reason, I had never been to Huntingdon, so when a recent chance to go there came up I jumped on the train and took a wander around. I ended up boring one of my friends rigid while I did some sketches of the boats moored on the river.

I also noted that Huntingdon has a museum devoted to it’s most famous republican, Oliver Cromwell. Sadly, it was closed by the time I found it, so maybe I’ll arrange another visit soon. Well, not too soon, as it’s one of those weird places which have different hours in winter, but before November. Probably.

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Kings Cross, Rush Hour

I had gone into London while getting over a cold to meet Brian Degger, bio-artist and man of science, who also happens to be one of my closest friends from Newcastle. Having only recently gotten over a major illness, it seems one of the things that isn’t quite ready to go yet is my immune system, which basically gives up at the slightest hint of disease.

In fact, I had been in bed for two days before seeing Brian, and I was unprepared for how ill I would be feeling. I didn’t get much of a chance to make any drawings, as I was struggling to keep up with Brian as he made arrangements. Dagnammit, immune system. I made my excuses and left early, but I had a chance to draw the crowd at Kings Cross on the way home (whilst being given a suspicious eye by entire family sitting next to me – erk!).

 

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Postcards of the Regional Shopping Centre

I really take offence at Westfield Shopping Centre. I’m not one of those guys who never goes into a shopping mall, but I can’t see how a giant bad-ass block of shops is going to help the less-privileged areas of London better than, say, some kind of well-thought out residential area. Still, sign of the times I guess.

The above picture is a Corot, I think. Back when people first got into the idea of looking at the landscape, as opposed to just thinking of it as an inconvenient location between point A and point B, he was one of the first artists to get out into the fresh air and paint the landscape as he saw it. I doubt that he’d want to hang out in shopping malls and paint them instead. Maybe if the shop assistants were the hot Italian women he liked to look at? No – thinking about it, he’d probably end up with a restraining order. I guess this is the view from as close as Corot would be able to get to the mall.

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Scrap Sheet

This half of a scrap sheet that I was doing some doodling on, experimenting with some inks. I always want to use inks, but I haven’t worked out the best way yet. I was recently very impressed with Dan Berry’s post about using brush pens and ink, but I haven’t tried doing anything major with that medium yet. Most of the time, ink seems like the perfect medium to mess around in, although the deep black lines it makes are great for reproducing. Which is probably why comic-book artists, like Dan, use it.

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I just have a lot of free time on my hands and making pictures stops me from going insane.

So, I took a break from updating the blog for a while. I figured, eh, how many things can I really say about my attempts at drawing and painting? With WordPress – the thing that runs my site – you can stack up posts to publish ahead of time, so I had been doing that.

Weirdly, running out of posts stacked up in the queue coincided with me feeling ill and a bit confused about this art stuff. I mean, I don’t want to bore you with whatever it is I’m doing, because I’m not really sure what I’m doing. When I look at other artists websites, they tell you all about what they do. I’m not even sure that I’m an artist, I just have a lot of free time on my hands and making pictures stops me from going insane.

But after a few days I got a phone call from a friend of mine back in Newcastle, who had got worried that I’d died or something. This wasn’t helped by the fact that she’d got a wrong number, and left a really long message on somebody else’s answerphone saying se hoped I hadn’t kicked the bucket. Like Granny Weatherwax, I Atent Dead, so I hope this post clears that up.

Today’s image is of the sunset, tonight, from behind the Biggleswade FC’s “Carlsberg Stadium”. I had gone out into the fields over there after a disappointing afternoon session, and the sunset was amazing. I mixed Payne’s Grey, to Delft Blue, to a Ruby Red, down to a Sienna Brown that I had.

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Payne’s Grey in Cheesetown

Payne’s Grey is one of those colours that artists really love; a smooth, rich dark grey-blue. And yes, there was actually a Mr. Payne.

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Along the Muddy Banks of the River Ivel

Sometimes I get the urge to illustrate a phrase, or a word, and this postcard is one of those times. It’s as much a learning experience with brushes as it is anything else.

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