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Bedside

I’m officially admitting defeat with gouache. I just can’t get it to do anything right when I put it on a paintbrush, which is kinda heartbreaking because I have a bunch of gouache in tubes.

I have to be truthful though; one of the reasons I thought I might like it was that it would wash out of my clothes. Back when I was doing my foundation year in college, I got so much acrylic paint on my clothes that it wasn’t even funny. Everything I wore had a smudgy goop of dried acrylic on it somewhere. I think that was the thing that made me quit making images more than anything else.

September 27, 2011

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.

September 1, 2011

Bed View

I don’t have a headboard; instead, I have a giant cushion from Ikea. This is a trick I picked up when I was living in Newcastle and staying in low-rate rented accommodation. I must have finished off a lot of books leaning against this pillow in the early hours of the morning!

For this postcard, I was trying to get the patterns of the bedclothes. I’ve been so concerned with trying to do the “form” of things that the patterns on top often get ignored; some of the trickiest stuff to do is the patterns on clothes. I filled in the colour with light washes of gouache over the inks, which I think worked really well.

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August 30, 2011

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!

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June 8, 2011

Breadmaker

Living with my parents sometimes drives me insane. Case in point? The fucking breadmaker.

My grandfather gave my Dad this breadmaker sometime at the end of the 90s or the early oos. It sat in my parent’s kitchen, unused but taking up valuable bench space, until I staged an intervention and hid it in my room. For about five years it lived under my desk (it made an ok footrest) until I decided to store a scanner in it’s place. I gave it back to my Dad, who promptly stored it at the back entrance to the house. It’s been there for about two weeks, just taking up space in the doorway. Sometimes, I get so annoyed with the junk my parents keep, I throw things into the back garden in a rage. The breadmaker is so ancient I’d probably pull a muscle if I tried to chuck it though, so it stays next to the back door. A handy object for stubbing toes on.

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July 29, 2009

Disposable, Heaton

I’ve been having an annoying day of dealing with letting agencies, and was feeling pretty grumpy on my way home. As I idled up my street, my eye fell on an odd piece of garbage on the street:

(I’m just too prudish to have it on my front page, but you can click through for NSFW object)

After a brief discussion between me and Alan (“Is that a…?” “Yeah.” “Look, it’s got crusty poo on it!” “That’s not poo, that’s blood.”) we took the above photo to mark the day we found a sex toy loose on the mean streets of Heaton. I’m not sure if that was the correct thing – the object did have blood on it, so perhaps I should have disposed of it safely. In a biohazard site, or something. I have nightmare images of a dog chewing it.

However, that wasn’t even the strangest thing I found. One street over, I found a 110 volt hammer drill sticking out of a skip. Considering these things retail at around £200, it seemed odd to just chuck it in the skip when you’ve finished renovating a house. They did take the plug off it before disposing of it – as if plugs were the expensive part of power tools.

I really wonder what’s going on that I could find these two disparate objects discarded in my neighbourhood. I am, however, the proud owner of a (probably broken) 110v hammer drill. Yay!

Some people suggested that I combine the two found objects. However, I have a personal rule not to take home blood-encrusted sex toys that I find in the street. I didn’t know that I had this as a personal rule until today, but you have to admit it makes a lot of sense.

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December 27, 2007

Camping

I’ve returned from my Christmas break, back to ‘my’ house. Those apostrophes are there because really, it’s not my house. It’s the house of Terry Kirkham, the landlord. The house I had before that belonged to Mr Agawhal. The one before that? Same deal, different name.

This isn’t the Englishman’s grouse against renting. I believe renting housing can be a good thing, but I’ve not had that experience. And what throws my experiences up into sharp relief is going to the one place I call home. Not my house, but my home – where I feel I live, even though I’ve been in Newcastle for nearly seven years now.

Those other places? The ones I mentioned above? Just places to camp for the night. Makeshift. Uncomfortable, but you put up with it because you are just passing through.

Pete Hindle

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October 17, 2011