Life studies

Working in charcoal on A2 paper, these backlit figures suggested shades of gray, rather than line drawings, so in I plunged.

.... Oaks......

These were done using a variety of charcoal sticks.

Oak

Out in the corner of my big-sister's garden is a lovely old oak tree. It attracts nuthatches, bluetits, jays, woodpigeons, squirrels, local cats, and last winter a toad hibernated under it.

Mel asked me what is it with me and sketching trees. I love the silhouettes they make. Maybe I need new glasses but when I first see a tree, more often than not I see it as a paper cut out against the sky. Not until I walk around a tree do I get a feeling for the way it fills a three-dimensional space. And when I draw a tree I start at the bottom of the trunk and follow it as it grows up and out. If loose the line, I'll start back down at the bottom again.

This is the first charcoal drawing I did last night, and it's pretty tight compared to the ones I've been drawing this morning. I'm really falling in love with charcoal, and I think it's funky to draw a tree using something made out of a tree.

Death Valley, Northumberland

There's a place we go for walks, driving west from Sunderland towards Carlisle. It's a secret place of ours, a gorge with a thundering river, deciduous and evergreen trees, damp ferns, blackberries and raspberries and hazelnut trees, squirrels, pheasants, foxes, voles, ducks, and hundreds of birds. We call it Death Valley, because it's so little visited by creatures who walk upright on two legs that we often see nature at work, and there are no park keepers to clear away evidence of the cycle of life. We love it there, and so do our children, and so did our dog, May, who we miss terribly whenever we visit there. May's four-paw-drive was essential for her scrambling up steep moss-clad slopes, over rocks, and in and out of the river there.
Over the weekend we found ourselves there, in the mizzle and wind. The kids didn't mind the poor weather, wrapped in scarfs and hats and gloves. While they skimmed stones and built lost-causeways in the river I paused to do these studies.
I never knew charcoal changed character so much on a page covered in rain.

Hard Pruned

As I drive around Sunderland I see lots of trees in front gardens which have been cut back within an inch of their lives.

Doxford Beech Trees

After work I got the chance to do some sketching near my work. I am very happy with these.

William Hunt

I love my dad. I really do. I can't express how much I love him.
Some years ago, dad and I drove in his camper van up to Northumberland. Just the two of us for a long weekend. We had little idea of where we'd end up, apart from a list of Caravan Club parking sites he'd looked up.
We pootled along at about 45mph, both of us peering at whatever took our fancy. We stopped here and there, followed road signs which looked inviting, or tracks which looked intriguing. I'll never forget that weekend. I took a photo one evening while dad was writing in his diary, which he'd give to mum to read when he got back. The photo is on my bookcase at home. Yesterday afternoon I had the urge to draw, so I looked round to see what struck me, grabbed my charcoal, and took my time on this.
I love my dad. I really do.

Tree Lines #9 to #12

And here are the last four.

Next, I want to paint the white shapes onto a black background. Thick white paste-like paint, leaving black grooves.

When I drove home from work yesterday I noticed a number of trees in peoples front gardens which had been pruned back hard, resulting in the most uncomfortable shapes. Especially as it's not quite spring here yet so they are still bare of leaves.

Today the wind is up again, and I walked into the kitchen this morning to find two collared doves taking shelter on my bird table. There are a lot of plants on my windowsill so I was able to get most of the way through making coffee without disturbing them. Until I reached up for the sugar, when then took fright and left.

Tree Lines #5 to #8

Here are the next four in the series. Some I smudged with my finger, some using a rolled paper tortillon, some I just drew over and over with the charcoal.

Tree Lines #1 to #4

After drawing the tree in my garden I sat at work all day distracted by the way the tree cut across the plain canvas of the painted wall behind. So, this evening, in the dark, I took a series of flash photos of the tree from different angles, and made charcoal studies from these on 6" squares of watercolour paper. Here are the first four. I don't know what they'll end up being used for but I had great fun doing them.

Batten down the hatches

There's a big storm hitting the UK today. The worst areas affected will be the south-west, and as I'm in the north-east I'm getting off lightly. But there's a driving rain, and the noise of the wind as it batters our house which overlooks the river Wear and the North Sea is frightening at times. I was first woken by it in the wee small hours. And hubby is driving in a high-sided van down to London today. I just hope it's still upright. Goodness knows how those in the south-west are faring?

Anyway, I made a start on a garden drawing yesterday, using charcoal. There's a thorny tree in the garden which has been pruned hard over the years so that all the leaves are above head height. The split trunk is contorted and makes a great set of lines against the cream-painted brick wall. I pressed and twisted the charcoal stick as I drew. I know it's a subject I'm going to draw time and time again. I have an idea for a canvas with a matt, chalky background with the tree cutting across, and maybe just a hint of the green diffused light on the wall cast by the canopy.

A very productive evening

I've managed to change my hours at work which means more time for my family AND more time for my art.

This afternoon, whilst the kids ate their tea, I stood in the kitchen with a big mirror, and my table-top easel, working on more self portraits. Yes, more self portraits. I'm cheap, you see, and available to pose whenever I want to draw. Self portraits are also something I've done since an early age. My first ever oil painting was of myself. I have done some from photos but I prefer to work from a mirror.

I started off today working left-handed again, and though the resulting drawing isn't great in itself, I found myself working hard, both with my eyes and my hand.

During the second drawing I was looking mostly in the mirror and not paying much attention to what was coming out on the paper.

The third drawing I left incomplete as I really liked the modelling of the eye and cheek. When I looked at what I'd done I lost my nerve and stopped.

After those three, I decided to work more on the drawings themselves, looking at what I'd done, and re-working areas over and over until I was happy. I'll publish those later for you to see.

.... and another.

This one was great fun to do. I started on the nose, and worked across to my right eye (which you can see on the right, because it was drawn using a mirror, as was yesterday's). Then my right arm got tired, so I switched the charcoal to my left hand and WOW. Instead of my right hand making ''practised' marks, and working on automatic, I had to constantly look at what my left hand was drawing, and re-work the lines. All of sudden I was working harder, looking harder, and it was working well. So, my next task is to draw more with my left hand, and see what emerges. I had no idea that my right hand had it's own memory, and was being lazy all this time. What a revelation.

An alley-cats playground

I'm enjoying capturing these interlocking roofs. Looking at these just on plain paper, I can imagine the painted sky behind. Chalky grey-white, with darker blue and red under-painting showing through. The roofs picked out in payne's grey, and the telephone wires just sliced through the paint with a sharp point.

I've also had the idea of glueing torn paper in strips across the canvas, then painting over that to add subtle texture to the sky.

Roker skyline

Here are some more rooftops I drew yesterday. They're all from the alleyways behind my house. I love the way the buildings have been added onto, with extensions, skylights and conservatories. The back walls are different heights as people have fitted garage doors, or blocked in coal chutes.

The telephone wires cut across, and it's easy to miss them. I've drawn them too thick here. But I know they're going to be an important part in the final composition. I'm thinking about how to paint these full size. I may opt for acrylic rather than oil. I can worry about that later though.

The idea

.... was to create large canvases depicting multi-layered Northern England skies, with a sliver of rooftops across the bottom, possibly in silhouette,possibly in greys and pale yellows, as I'd seen back lit walls turn in cold, early morning sunlight.

I've been struck by LS Lowry's skies. They look blank in reproductions in books, but in real life (and we're lucky to have some originals in Sunderland Winter Gardens) there's a lot more to them.

I've also been stunned by Schiele's flat white skies, with depths of colour behind. They make me want to grab a palette knife and start smearing.

So, for the last week or so I've been peering intently at the sky any time of day I can, and amazed at how we seem to never get simple weather. There's always so many layers - high thin clouds in horizontal wisps, banks of thick dense cloud, lit wonderfully around 16.30 as I leave work, and often, when there's a strong, wet wind, these fantastic streaks of rain-laden cloud screaming across in front of all that. And yet, they clear sky peering through is the translucent blue of a newborn babies eyes.

So, the drawing on the earlier post was an early attempt, with only a pencil to hand, to capture these skies.

The second part is the rooftops I love. So, this afternoon I ventured out to draw some, literally round the back of my house. As I said, my first idea was to have these as almost back silhouettes at the bottom of the picture, but when I've looked back through the drawings i made, I love the lines they describe. So I'm thinking of leaving them as outlines, laid over the skies, still at the bottom as an anchor almost, but looser, more linear and drawn livelier than flat shapes.

Now I'm off out to draw more rooftops in charcoal. This feels very exciting.

More about me

Here's another two self portraits done this week. I'm not that happy with either of them for various reasons but I saw and learnt new things doing each one. Yesterday I dabbed on the background colour for a self portrait I want to do in oils. Hubby's away now til next Friday, so hopefully I'll have some
productive evenings in his absence.
I've also been thinking about some stuff Eudaemonia said recently about abstract nouns, which has led me to thinking about titles for my pictures. She often gets me thinking, and it's amazing how her comments about art, which she relates to her writing, often apply equally to my painting.

an exciting night

I spent an evening on two self-portraits, and I was as high as a kite when I finished them. The charcoal one was done first, just because the charcoal was to hand after sizing up the still life canvas. I enjoyed being able to remove the lines from the watercolour paper I used just with a sweep of my finger. I even managed to resurrect an 18 year old putty rubber which I'd moved house countless times with.

When I'd finished it, and sprayed it with fixative, I was still fired up, so I grabbed three soft chalk pastels and started on the second portrait.

I look pretty wide eyed in it, which may be a result of my excitement, as it's not my usual expression, but I'm pleased with the way I found myself working on the whole face at once, which kept it in proportion.

still life

I've been reading The Yellow House, about Van Gogh & Gauguin. Although, as a novel it's poorly written, it's inspiring none the less.

I've also been looking into oil painting techniques, and I'm all buzzed with excitement and want to get my teeth into painting more and more.

As a result, today I've made a start on a still life of my kitchen table. I replaced my usual garish table cloth with a plainer one laid upside down so the pattern is only hinted at, and I photographed the scene to check the layout. Then I did a simple sketch to see how it sat on the paper. At this stage I've omitted detail, including the objects on the table.

Looking at the preliminary sketch, I love the arrangement of chairs round the table.

The background of my children's artwork is very busy, and I'll be simplifying this in the painting itself. I'm also fascinated by the table and chair legs and lino under the table, and although these aren't the focus of the painting, they'll add depth to it I hope. The books, cup and pen on the table are what I've been using this morning, so it's fallen together quite nicely.

Now this is drawing from life

My son was sat making a birthday card from his Grandma, so I had a chance to grab some charcoal and sketch him. I knew it was working while I was drawing it (I love that feeling) and I've really captured him. Again, this as a sheet of A2 lining paper.

Can everyone please sit still so that I can draw you. That's why I used to draw my parents a lot, while dad was reading the paper or mum was napping after teatime.

I have also been spending some time in my garage studio, tidying up, collecting oddments of paper and card together. I'm also collecting 'business' envelopes I get through the post, because the insides are printed with amazing geometric designs in blue. I want to use them to cover some handmade notebooks I have in the pipeline.

Another thing I've been doing is looking at other artists Blogs. I've picked up some fascinating techniques, and last night I covered some cheap sugar paper with layers of acrylic, ready for drawing & painting over the top of. It felt like a very 'art student' thing to do.

While I was Sunderland Uni (it was a Polytechnic when I was in my first year, just before Polys were converted to Uni's in the UK) and it was a split site, with the 'academic' site round Wearmouth Hall, and the 'arts' subjects were at Backhouse Park. I was proud that us art students were referred to as 'Fraggles' because of our colourful & raggedy appearance.