Preparation, and then something odd

Do you ever have days when you want to spend the day making art, but just can't nail anything concrete down? This was that kind of day. So I dampened some paper in readiness for lino printing and, in the mean time, made some rubbings in oil pastel of the lino block I'd cut of Penshaw Monument. I messed around with different coloured pastels, and then tried rubbing the sky block, and then the monument block over that. With questionable success. Never mind; they'll make useful starting points for the collages I want to do.



Then, I started scribbling a skyscape on cartridge paper, which then took off and became this mad view of Penshaw Monument. There's not enough contrast for me to be totally happy with it, but I like the layering and inter-mingling of colours and lines. Again, maybe I'll rip it up and turn it into something else.

Penshaw in the Moleskine

Back in June 2008 I made this piece for the Moleskine Exchange I'm involved in. The subject of this book is Freedom, and I loved the sense of scale I was able to achieve. As I've explained before, Penshaw Monument is huge and I'm only quite small, and have been visiting it since I was even smaller. So when I'm drawing it, I want to get across the sense of scale, that it's too big for me to take in, that it's too big to fit on the page, or in a camera's viewfinder.
This image was made by lino-print on paper I'd pre-painted with acrylic paints. I made three prints of the monument, and I printed the sky directly into the Moleskine book. The printed images were then cut up and re-assembled, making the monument quite textural on the page.
Now I intend to make more of these images, using similar construction techniques, exploring different backgrounds and colour-ways, as this was done in summer, and we are now well into autumn here. So much so that the constant drizzle we're getting has prevented me photographing Penshaw. Digital camera + driving rain = insurance claim.

One down...

Yes, I think that looks better. I want to do a few more of these using the same 'scribbling' technique with brush pens. But I want to be braver with the colours.

Not quite there yet...

Looking at the photo shopped image I'm chuffed with how different this drawing has come out. I am conscious of the ochre stone under the coal soot, and of the reflected light on the surface. I'm also playing on the 'cool recedes, warm comes forward' theory.
I do think that the dark areas need to be even darker. What do you guys think?

Solid

The pale grey pen was running out as I scribbled in the right hand pillar, but this meant that as I slowed down the lines were darker, whereas speedy lines were quite faint.

The top left is looking messy and ambiguous, so next I want to work in some colour and emphasise what is foreground and what recedes.

Building up

Ignoring the right side, I worked over the columns on the left, adding some black over the grey. I can start to see roundness. But I want to add colour to deepen the effect; warm and cool tones. I have a set of 'landscape colour' pens, ochre, greens, burnt sienna. I'm not feeling precious about this work so I'm not scared to try out new techniques.

Penshaw in pen

Using the scribbling method I've started to develop to fill in areas of tone & colour, I've made a start on the dark columns of Penshaw. I'm referring to the photo I took, and the 'photo shopped' version, and I'm drawing on the ochre colours I know are under the coal dust to build up the depths I'm after.
This is in it's very early stages yet, but I'm happy with the way it's going. You can still make out the areas I've mapped out with a 2B pencil, with the in fill done in Faber Castell Manga brush pens so far.

Colossal shadows

This image is a photo I took, then changed in Adobe Photoshop using the 'fresco' tool.

I love the undulating across the columns. When drawing on site I often loose track of the shadows and get lost in the detail. Photos like these mean I can go home and take a step back from the wind and grass.

Penshaw

Penshaw Hill itself is nestled amongst other hills stretching across Weardale. This is the view east across Herrington Park. If I was stood a little higher up Penshaw hill I could have added the North Sea in the far distance.

The sky

The monument has no roof, and the sky can be seen in peculiar shapes between the apertures of the columns and the entablature (that means the top bit - more about that later).
I remember that when I was a child my dad would always exclaim, "It'll be nice when they get the windows in and the roof on!"

Immense

Penshaw Monument stands on a hill 136 metres above sea level, and is itself 20 metres high. I am just over 1.5 metres tall. So, whenever I visit, pulling up in the car at the bottom of the hill, walking up the hill and standing at the monuments feet, I am awed by it's size.

Penshaw Pillars

The pillars of Penshaw Monument are made of sandstone, which, it is rumoured, were taken from a nearby Roman dam. The whole monument is coated in coal dust which has accumulated over the years since it was erected in 1844.
I have taken on a challenge of working on it for 6 months, so we'll see where I end up around February 2009. As I post images I'll include some of it's history along the way.
I spent yesterday morning there making sketches and paintings and taking photos.

Wordless Wednesday

Penshaw Monument

Sketching in fresh air is great. I should do it more.

I didn't get to spend long on each study, only about 10mins each, if that, as I had the kids & my cousin with me. But I found it very productive.

The first sketch is a basic study of the monument from the bottom right of the field & path. Nothing exciting here.

Then I walked to the far left of the field, changing the angle slightly, and started to look at the construction of the monument. While drawing this, I was thinking about creating a piece using collage of rubbings taken from the monument itself in different tones maybe.

This last piece I love. The monument is made of sandstone, and Penshaw and the surrounding area was full of coal mines until late in 20th century (don't get me started on Maggie Thatcher!) Anyway, the stone has been blackened by generations of coal mining & burning, and is starting now to weather away, leaving the bare sandstone beneath. I am glad that the council has so far decided not to clean the structure, as it's facade tells a story.



Anyway, the third view was drawn crouching below the corner of the monument looking up. I have always enjoyed the way that the monument seems to grow in proportions as you approach it, and the whole thing is over sized. You can't just step onto the base, you need a leg up, and the columns are massive. There's no roof to it, and I don't think there ever was. But a family tradition on seeing it any time is that my Dad always said "It'll be nice when they get the windows in!".

I deliberately drew it going off the edges of the paper, giving the impression that it's too big for me to fit it all in. I intend to make more studies, take some photos and rubbings, look at the colour of the soot and of the stone beneath, and paint a canvas similar in format to this last sketch.