At Christmas we were sent a box of shortbread. Although the shortbread was delicious, the box was even better – much too good to throw away. So it sat on my shelf, waiting. Finally, I knew what I wanted to do with it. A quick scavenge in the garden, a little blue ink, a touch of gold paint and gold leaf and hey presto!
So, from left to right we have a sprig from a plant of which I don’t know the name, a sycamore leaf, a dove’s feather, a portion of monkey puzzle tree and a skeleton holly leaf. All imperfect beauties salvaged for posterity. I just wish my handwriting was a bit more… perfect.
It’s been a looong while since I visited my WordPress site, but I’m going to try to remedy that. Lockdown life has been busier than one might expect, but thankfully there has been some time for reflection and art amidst the travails of working from home.
I was given this orchid about two years ago. It’s been a superstar, blooming almost continuously. I have danced around painting it for a long time, but didn’t have a clear idea of how to approach it. The abundance and complexity of the blooms deterred me.
Yesterday I finally went for it. I’ve been trying to think less literally about drawing; the intention was to put down a selective light colour ink wash and then draw over loosely, holding the pen at its very end to reduce control. As sometimes happens, things took a slightly different turn, and the inking became a bit more than just a wash (although not quite a painting) to the extent that I was reluctant to draw on top of it. However, I had a stern conversation with myself and stuck to the plan. I’m glad I did, because I think the pen lines really add some interest, and have salvaged the pot which was not at its best.
I’m actually really happy with how this turned out – playing was key. I need to remember that – it feels like an evolution.
14″x10″, Dr PH Martin’s inks, black UniPin, Pitt white marker, Staetler triplus coloured fineliners on Langton 425gsm watercolour paper
A very quick, unrefined sketch of my husband in characteristic pose in ‘his’ chair. I was playing on the iPad in Sketches again, this time using the pencil tool and my finger to draw. I wasn’t worried about getting any details in, just a general impression, still trying to get to grips with the app’s features.
I added the block colour on a whim, and I quite like the print effect it gives – I can really see how this kind of app can be helpful when planning a lino print, and for reduction printing in particular. That’s something to remember.
Brace yourself, there’s going to be an influx of iPad sketches, because I’ve finally got round to finding out how to export them to WordPress (and it’s very easy).
For a couple of years I’ve been fooling about in idle moments with various free packages on the iPad. Mostly this happens when I’m too tired or have too little time to get ‘real’ media, and I just want to have a little play while sitting on the sofa.
This sketch was made using the free Sketches app, using the basic watercolour and pen tools. It’s a composite of half-remembered scenes from our travels, a Tuscan-Yorkshire hybrid, and the purpose was to experiment a little with the app’s watercolour tools.
What I enjoyed was the transparency of the colour stripes, and the ability to eye-dropper ‘watercolour’ to give the roundish blotches suggestive of trees and shrubbery. And it’s so quick and easily altered, I confess it’s rather beguiling.
I’m pretty certain that the iPad won’t replace traditional media for me, but it does mean that I can be creative even when time and energy are short. And in my world, making something is better than making nothing, however you achieve that goal.
Yep, ‘Brimham Rocks‘, both literally and metaphorically for me. This is a significant sketch from 2013, when I’d recently started using watercolours. It records a really lovely day spent with friends in Yorkshire. The morning was spent at a climbing wall in Harrogate, which was great fun, followed by a walk and some ‘real’ climbing for our son (then aged 12) on the Rocks, let by the lovely Rhiannon.
I got out the sketchbook and sat myself down to wrestle with the scene. My sketch buddy Andy tells me that this was the moment when he (also present and, at the time, a lapsed artist) asked himself why on earth he wasn’t doing likewise. Soon after, he picked his pen and brushes back up in earnest, and continues to employ them with gusto to this day.
So, this sketch is a very welcome memory of a really great day out, and the pinpointing of a significant turning point in someone’s sketch history. I’m still delighted about that. For me it’s a reminder that actions have consequences, sometimes demonstrably positive, whether or not we know it, or intend it so, at the time.
Still on holiday for this sketch (I’m eking them out). The chair had been calling to me for a couple of days. I liked the shape of it, the simplicity, moulded from a single piece (probably plastic) and upholstered in grey tweedy fabric. I knew I didn’t want to paint it. Somehow a line drawing seemed right, and fortunately it came without too much bother. I had fun with the slightly broken lines, and especially with the fringe on the cushion. I like the sparsity of the chair compared to the complexity of the plant and stool. Fineliners rule! (well, sometimes).
While we were in the Haute-Savoie we did a lot of mountain-walking – that was a big part of why we’d chosen to visit the Alps. However, I have my limits, and was really feeling in need of a day of downtime, while my husband was itching to do a very ambitious scramble. Happily, we negotiated to go our separate ways one day, so we both had some of what we were hankering after.
Having waved him off to defeat death on the Dents de Lanfan, (credit due here to a fellow WordPresser for lots of photos – thanks!) my day was spent reading and sketching. Not very high risk activities really. As luck would have it, this little tractor was parked at rest just within view of the rental house; I’d been eying it up for a couple of days, and so I sat in the midday sun and sketched. In fact, I got a little bit burnt, despite the sunscreen, as I just wasn’t quick enough.
For once, I took care over the composition of the picture – something I’m rarely disciplined enough to do. And this circumspection did in fact pay off. I was really pleased with the outcome, and I like the way this little tractor in its shed looks like a book illustration. It’s a salutary lesson to me that I should just take some time before starting a picture to imagine where the boundaries are and how it’s going to sit on the page.
Interestingly, I also took a different approach with the watercolour, starting with an ink drawing and adding colour, whereas all to often I start with a watercolour and then try to correct or enhance it with fineliner. The whole suddenly seemed much more intentional and effective. Food for thought there. I’ve also learned that my travel palette consists of very cool English colours, certainly not always the best for showing southern European heat. Maybe I should invest in a hotter selection of half-pans for taking away to warmer climes. Christmas is coming…
Another view from the lovely house in Alex, France. It was sunset, and the sky looked amazing through the huge picture window. I hadn’t sketched all day, and was suddenly seized by a mad urge to have a go – a bit of use it or lose it mentality. Anyway, I was struck by the sunset colour, and the way the line of washing led right to the cleft between the two mountains.
I had to paint standing up, holding my sketchbook, as I couldn’t get the right view from a seated position. I therefore tried to make it quick, for the double sake of my arms and the disappearing sunset. I ended up adding the washing line in with a white gel pen at the end, as it got lost during the enthusiastic painting of foliage. I call that a bit of cheating, but sometimes it’s necessary. All in all, I think it’s a funny little sketch, one small moment captured for posterity.
One of my favourite places is the Haute-Savoie in France. A formative year there as a teaching assistant, as part of my French degree, meant I fell in love with the place. A trip back there is always special, and sharing it with family and friends even more so.
We stayed at an Air BnB in Alex, a hamlet in the foothills of the Alps. It was a fabulous home, with a beautiful view of the mountains, and a perfectly-situated hammock for taking it all in. The hammock got plenty good use over the days we were there, as is right and proper. It just had to be drawn.
I had with me a new sketchbook which I’d been given by my lovely colleagues at school – a square spiral-bound book from the Tate (luxury!). The paper inside was really nice for drawing in pen – just toothy enough, just smooth enough, and a good, heavy weight. So, I spent a happy time looking out over the neighbours, checking out the fabulous view and watching their chickens roam as I sketched. They made it in, if you look carefully; tails up, heads down, hunting insects. Happy days.
Using up watercolour testers can have surprising results. I’d previously rejected this background (where I’d been testing salt and bleeds) as I didn’t like the colours, or the way that I’d set them out on the page.
However, when I came back to it I could see…things. They were shouting to be let out with a fineliner. The tall, smirky lady with the bob was first to emerge, in on the joke, watching me work. Then the two deranged dancing girls on the right, oblivious and in their own worlds, followed by the sly, slightly disturbing bird-man with the bird’s head doll in his pocket. I think there might be another girl in the middle waiting, but she will have to stay un-drawn for now.
I don’t really know what to make of this, but it was a different path for me. Maybe I can put it down to the approach of Halloween? Or maybe it was just caffeine.