Pete Hindle

Pictures and stuff from a guy who likes coffee.

Tag: Art

Watercolour Overlay Chart

overlaid watercolour tones

I brought a new scanner, thinking it would make it a bit easier for me to get things up on my website, and then I found out that my website needs some work. Sadly, the people who I buy my hosting off have sort of dropped out of the personal hosting game, and are really only selling hosting to massive cloud-based enterprise businesses. I suspect whoever used to look after the cluster of servers for people like me has retired to a life of ostrich farming or something, as my server is just sooooooooo slow. Apologies for anybody who had a really long wait for this page to load in.

Above, you’ll see a chart showing what happens when you paint one colour over another. I like the translucency of watercolour paints, and I don’t understand how to use thick opaque paints like gouache or oils, so I thought I would try and make the most of it. This chart has already shown me several interesting greens that I wasn’t really aware of, around the cross-section of the blues and yellows.

 

 

The Bubble

In her book about creativity, Twyla Tharp mentions the idea of “the Bubble”. This is when a creative person strips away all the extraneous stuff of their life, and commits themselves to making their art, structuring their life so that they focus exclusively on creation. Tharp gives the example of the writer Phillip Roth, who lived alone in the countryside, producing some of his most acclaimed work in a monastic existence.

This is pretty tempting. You see, I’ve been reading and researching into creativity – what it is, how we use it, and where we get the sense of what we want to do when we are being creative. One of the most interesting books in this area is a book about improv, the drama school thing of “making stuff up”, which is talked about at length by Keith Johnstone in his book “Impro“.

As I grew up,” begins his book, “everything started getting grey and dull.” Johnstone asks why we change from playful children to locked-down adults, and unpacks that shift from creativity to sober adulthood. He lays a lot of blame at schools, and I have to agree with him; I have never had a good learning experience at a school, college, or university. In fact, what I am doing today (writing, drawing, and making jokes), is stuff I was either told I couldn’t do, or I was actively told not to do.

So I’m pretty mad about my schooling.

If you do any research into art history, it soon becomes apparent that the people who are the best in their field are the people who started young. What our education does is set people up to have an understanding of many fields, but a specialisation in none – great if you’re going to be a manager, but crap if you want to specialise as a tradesman.

Of course, I couldn’t leave school at 14 and train to be an artist. I had a friend who left school at that age and trained to do carpentry for building sites, and he’s doing pretty well for himself. But there was a slot for him to drop into; there was a route for people to become tradesmen, like he did, but not a route for people to stay creative.

I find myself wondering if the current glut of stand-up comics is made of people not suited for the median-style management education, who have both intelligence and creativity but are taught to reject more traditional forms of expression as childish. Without being able to use any other media than language, where else would those people turn but comedy? 

Malibu Cars

Look, I’ve put words and pictures together as a comic!

I went out on Sunday to do some more sketches from the area, but the park I was headed to was closed (thanks a bunch, local council) so I ended up sitting in the graveyard with my watercolours, totally paranoid that I was going to get locked in because it was getting late. Eventually, my bladder won out, and I returned home.

Just as I was crossing the last road before my house, I saw a bottle of malibu lying next to the path and bent down to pick it up… and then the above happened. I’m not sure how I feel about comics. I came to the conclusion recently that if I tried to write them I would go insane, so I’m quite surprised this popped out when I sat down to draw.

 

Leeds, Business Cards

This is one of the watercolour from this year that I really like. It’s not very big – about a third of a page of A5 – but I managed to get a good view down the street, and to put it on paper in a way that doesn’t annoy me now.

What I also remember from doing this is that it was freezing cold. It looked sunny and nice, but it was really windy, so I was regretting going out without a t-shirt. Leeds seemed full of interesting things to draw, but I only had a few hours spare and I was stuck in the (posh) suburbs, so I went without the t-shirt and did an espresso-powered painting at a cafe.

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.

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).

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.

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!).

 

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.

Home Views

As well as doing self-portraits, I often find myself idly sketching the corners of my house I can see from my favourite chairs. From left to right, the images above are my bedroom, the window ledge in my bedroom, and the home entertainment center beneath our TV. Click on the image above to see it larger.

I’ve arranged them left-to-right, earliest painted first. These are all painted on watercolour postcards that you can get pretty cheaply from art supply places. You can see my style of watercolour postcard change, as I figured out things looked better with a border, and then got better at using the Schmincke set I got on my recent holiday. You remember the Schmincke set, right?

When I finished the black and white picture of my bedroom I wanted to mail it to somebody, saying “wish you were here!”. I racked my brain for ages, but I couldn’t figure out who would appreciate the joke without thinking it was me cracking on to them. Or, alternatively, who would find a painting of my messy room really attractive. That’s right, ladies; I’m single and have a messy bedroom. Grrrr!