Life, painting and discource in London

I have recently started painting outside and why did I not before? Painting Plein Air (in the open air in French) has been and is still a revelation. It has made me think more aboiut what I am doing, made me more confident and opened my eyes to color.

The two paintings I am most proud of were recently painted in my local park. Both were entirely executed outside (OK, maybe a 30min ‘tidy up’ was needed on the lower of the two!) and took very limited time and resources. That is the beauty of it, painting in the open, it seems to install a time limit on you that makes you paint freer. Painting small is the key, certainly at the start. The paintings above are small 7x5in canvas boards and are so small compared to my normal 1.25 x .75 meter canvas I paint. I try to allocate about 1-1 1/2 hours on the painting and try not to fiddle when I get home.

I also recently went on a loan painting trip to Wales and painted 2 paintings on site. Each took about 2 hours to paint on location, mainly because of the age old Welsh problem of ‘rain stopped play!’ There was some work needed back home – but I had the colors down so it was just the case of finishing off where bad weather had finally got the best of me. This was the first painting holiday I had been on, ever! I loved every moment of it. It was not an organised trip, just me, with only myself to blame if I got lost, which I did, several times!

I encountered rejection yesterday.

I find rejection hard to take, but find it even harder convincing myself why I find it hard!

Some artists (on rejection) bemoan the lack of support for their vision. The problem must be with the gallery or exhibition, ‘the panel just don’t understand’. Some, more pragmatically, mention how tough it is to get your work noticed and there is so much good work rejected by accident. ‘Its all about getting your work out there’ they say. Others, more cinically, (and I like this theory) mention that rejection rates go up the nearer the pannel get to lunch or dinner, their empty tummies and bored eyes making hasty judgements.

Apon entering, and being rejected at, the Chelsea Art Society Annual painting and sculpture exhibition, I believe that none of the above apply to me. My theory is that I have been rejected for a reason. The work was not good enough I tell myself. My lack of confidence in my own work is justified. I have been vindicated by my piers, judged and tossed aside as I should be.

Yes, this is a self indulgent reply and is simply not the way to think about rejection, but it is the way I deal with it. I will sulk for a few days but will soon get out of it and will pick myself up and take my poor excuse for art to the Mall galleries and go through the whole prosess again.

By the way, there is a happy ending to this tale of woe and self pity. My wife has been acepted! That is great news for such a hard working person and well deserved…..BITCH!

Once again I have had a refreshing and liberating day out at the Saatchi. Twice now the Saatchi has questioned my own pesimistic view of contempary art with ‘The Revolution Continues’ and now with ‘Abstract America’ Both have benifited from a great gallery space and the galleries thoughtfull positioning of exhibits. I wondered through rooms that shouted color, texture, form and movement. American media is brash, masculain and self assured and so is this show.

Early on in the exhibition Kristen Bakers acrylics on PVC jump out at you and assult the senses as soon as you enter the room. Her passionate and violent use of color and texture covvay movement and the act of capturing a moment. Most of the works put a mirror up to the male dominated world of car racing and do so with vast planes of color, that dart across the picture. OK, I’m not entirely sure what was the resoning behind ‘The Raft of Perseus’ and its obvious references to Greek Mythonogy and Gericault’s ‘Raft of the Medusa’ but do I care? It is, for me, a well constructed, textural and exciting work. It gives instant references to the past, but pulls you into the future and the American love of speed, excitment and the now, like a kid watching its first motor boat race.

I personally think sculpture, especially contempary abstract sculpture, needs the viewer to interact as mush as possible. Be it either with your mind or body, you need that 1 to 1 experience with solid form in front of you. Aaron Young’s work does this and more. Once again I am a kid, exploring, but this time I am questioning as well. Once again the programme notes let me down (as they shockingly did with the missed references to Gericault’s raft in Bakers work) and I feel myself questioning what Young is trying to convay. I suppose I should not need this guidence and I actually do end up coming away better for it. I INVOLVE my self in the work on a personal level, engaging with the tricks that Young encourages. I would tell you more, but it would spoil it! Youngs sculpures are just that, static pieces, but its the movement around them and the interactivity that is exciting. They pull the viewer in and show them another world.

Thses two rooms jumped out for me and I could talk more about other artists and pieces including the mad, clothes mountains and scary bandaged figures of judgement, but that would ruin the shock and awe. America maybe kown for its exesses, but this time it is a pleasure to look and try to undrstand a nation of millions that simply won’t be held back. This exhibition often reminded me of a Vegas night time in all its neon, trashy, horrible, brillience. The only difference is I WANTED to be here, it wasn’t business it was pleasure. I enjoyed the ride and felt lifted by its confidence. Please go and see and don’t forget..have a nice day!

I have not posted for a while. In the time I have been quite on here I have been very active out there! The last few months have flown by. The main reason being I have been trying to work as much as possible on my art practice. This has heaped huge rewards, if not financially then certainly spirtually. I needed months of just doing, being, experimenting; all the things that are part of the artist thing. My second bedroom is covered in paint, the carpet ruined, the curtains multicolored and the walls plastered with new work. Francis Bacons famous studio has nothing on this! (ok, maybe his squalor was slightly more advanced than mine).

But what has come of these months of action? well, lots. LAst night I had 5 paintings in an exhibition at the RAC Club in London, I have 3 currently on display in another gallery and 3 more elsewhere. All I am happy with and they all show a new maturity and assured hand. I think it is amazing what a process of self reflection ad experimentation does to you. I now believe that this has to be done as mucg as possible, so we can break out of the chrysalis we wrap yourselfs in and become the butterflies we all crave to be once in a while.