OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONE

I've spent most of this week (and last) attempting to finish my Shap Abbey drawing and also making the little sketches I've been uploading to my Flickr pages. Drawing in public is not easy for me, and I don't think I'll ever make a good drawing (certainly not a polished one) in public, unless I'm in total private and entirely relaxed, but facing this particular fear can only be good for me, both as a person and as an artist and creative individual.

Although I have drawn in public before (many years ago, when I was a 6th former, and later, as a student) it's never been something that I've been comfortable with. I envy and respect anyone who has the courage and the single mindedness to stand in a busy town centre and draw what's around them, as the artists in the Urban Sketchers Blog and Flickr group do. There's some really great work being done by the artists in this group, and there is a great deal of fine work on Flickr as a whole.

I don't think I'd have made the 'outside my comfort zone' drawings if it hadn't been for Flickr, a photo' sharing site ideal for artists, both budding and experienced. Nothing motivates better than an audience, and Flickr is a great way both to see other artists' work (usually sketches, quite often 'Moleskins') and also to put your art forward for criticism, though mostly this appears to be less analytical criticism and more uncritical praise. Still, if you're an artist who usually prefers to keep your artwork to yourself and who perhaps lacks the confidence to dive straight in and exhibit your work in a library, gallery or other public place, this might be a good way of sticking your toe in the waters of publically displaying your artwork. It's free to register and costs nothing to upload your artwork using the extremely easy upload pages. You can add a profile and group your pictures into folders, ideal if you want to upload themed work or a sketchbook. You can then submit your work to relevant groups, so people who are interested in that subject matter, style, gentre watever, can find your work and maybe, find their way back to your photostream (your gallery, in other words).

My experience with Flikr has so far been a positive one, not only is it helping me to motivate myself into facing one of my fears, it has also got me drawing from life, something which I am apt to neglect in favour of the comfort of working from my own photographs. It's also leading me down avenues along which I'm quite happy to be lead, for instance, today I found myself adding words to my drawing, something which I've not really done to a great extent before, even though finding some way of meshing my written and my artwork is something I've fretted over for a few years. I don't know why it never occurs to me that fretting is the least productive way of working out problems, especially problems of an aesthetic or creative nature. In art it's best to work your way through dilemas through doing. Maybe the Flickr environment (or the motivation it provides) can act as a catalyst for things that I might just have mulled over for weeks before? We'll see.

THE ARTIST

I was so chuffed this lunchtime to see the article about the Patchings Exhibition in The Artist magazine. There's a little photo' of my Scottish Beach picture and my words about it.

Really I feel extremely lucky to have won this prize, I'm in fine company on this spread, I can't help feeling that mine is a lucky picture rather than a very good one.

Here's one of the drawings I've been making in one of the lovely little sketchbooks I won as part of the Derwent Prize. I decided to use it to make drawings 'outside my comfort zone' that is, make drawings out there in public, rather than safe in the confines of my little room. They've been rather hit and miss so far, but I've enjoyed posting them to Flikr, which is a great motivator.

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING...

I'm keen to find a personal style, perhaps a more distinctive style, for my artwork. Because the only medium I've really worked at with any steadiness over the years is pen and ink, my colour work is lacking in direction and impact.

I'm also aware that I'm lacking any real philosophy in my artwork, and that I don't really have an intellectual approach. I have ideas but they're not really heartfelt enough for me to get obsessive over them, or to really believe in them enough to carry them through.

One idea I'm toying with came about through my photographing work in progress, especially the mixed media pieces I've been doing. At the moment I'm working on 2 very different approaches to a landscape based on a photograph I took of a seaweed strewn beach. Posted here is the mixed media approach, two stages of it plus various detail shots. Today I've been working on another image based on the same photograph but worked in coloured pencil. I've posted work in progress on my Flickr Page.

Whilst I worked today and yesterday I've been listening to Radio 4 Sports Xtra's coverage of the Ashes. I got into cricket in 2005, when the BBC still had TV coverage rights. I watched it with my Dad, who explained the basics to me of this complex game. This year is the first time I've been able to listen to it since Dad died in 2006, I'm enjoying it, but the enjoyment is bitter sweet as it brings back so many memories. I guess this will always be the case.

SLOW PROGRESS

See that grey splodge at the top left corner? I had an accident...ink water spillage!

Taking advantage of the nice weather last week I took my drawing outside and crouched over (and sat upon) it on the grass in our back garden. I ended up pretty stiff and achy but at least I managed a little progress. At the same time I've been working on a smaller drawing (I'll post progress on this later), combining 2 drawing interests of mine, trees and running water. Dark running water to be exact. One of the pictures I am exhibting at the RBSA at the moment is called 'Dark water, Cumbria'. Something about dark water is intoxicating to me. Maybe I have a Narcissus complex? Maybe it just reminds me of the way my imagination works.

I have fresh dreams at the moment too, returning to my old obsession (nothing has come of it yet) of combining my visual and literary work. I have an idea of drawing a tree and hanging Haiku from its branches. I may even get round to doing it some day. But despite the pain my big drawing of a Scottish graffiti tree is causing me, I still haven't let go of my desire to make a REALLY BIG drawing. The other day as I was walking back into the house, the white painted wall (it's actually the external wall of our house, but internal to our verandah) cried out to me to have a long, lithe sheet of paper hung on it, tall as myself, taller even. A tree perhaps? Or maybe a waterfall? Dark water again, with trees dipping their moss covered toes into it? Whatever (if ever) I decide to draw, I'll have to get my hands on some new drawing tools, maybe I could make my own? I used to really admire Van Gogh's ink drawings, Van Gogh used a reed pen, and then there are a whole list of things you could improvise with, so I've read. Van Gogh's drawings, which I saw many years ago in the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, were not small either!


I've been exploring Flickr lately, there is just so much wonderful art on there, though like much that is on-line, just surfing is time consuming. I particularly like the work of Paul Heaston, his street scenes are just crammed with detail, wonderful pen and ink work. Paul's work also appears on Urban Sketchers a fantastic site, where artists submit their drawings of urban scenes. I wish I had the courage to stand out in the street and draw (though I must admit, I don't find my actual surroundnigs very inspiring), I did it years ago, when I was a student, and always found it nerve wracking. Now my nerves are even less robust, I don't know if I could actually get out there and do it. I prefer the sanctity and safety of my own 4 walls. Maybe I could try drawing from a window? But I don't know if my heart would be in it. My heart is deep in the woods, with the light bleeding down through the leaves, the earth smells pungent and damp, cool in the shade despite the sun's heat, and even the lightest, least significant movement of a bird or a squirrel makes a resounding crack or rustle as the little thing scampers through the undergrowth.

It's may not be my immediate reality, but it's still out there, and it's in here too. Stored, cherished, a part of me.