Looking at which plants on the riverbank to draw, I am reminded of one of my favourite paintings – The Great Piece of Turf by Albrecht Dürer, 1503.
In it, each blade of grass and every leaf has been meticulously painted. It has a natural composition and I imagine the whole turf was dug up and taken back to his studio to draw. I like that the dandelions have finished flowering and that there are no beautiful flowers and even some of the plant roots are revealed. It seems a very truthful drawing. The clod of earth gives a sense of the rootedness and ordinariness of the plants. The Great Piece of Turf seems very contemporary in that it privileges the natural habitat and ecology of the plants over cultural concerns of the day.
The River Crane has many ‘great pieces of turf’, where plants have rooted into deep mud deposited along the margins. Some of these are easy to lift up and take back to the studio.
I have taken one piece back to draw. It contains common ragwort, ladies thumb and other unidentified plants. The plants look as though they are only just surviving – and yet they are probably thriving! I have drawn them on a piece of recycled plywood, in charcoal and acrylic paint.
Common ragwort, ladies thumb and other plants, charcoal and acrylic on plywood, 122 x 88cm
On my visits so far, I have met a few of the local residents who’s gardens back onto the Crane. We have conversations about herons, ducks, kingfishers, high tides. One woman told me about the writer A G Linney who took a skiff up the River Crane at high tide 91 years ago. He paints an idyllic picture:
…During one summer I made a voyage up the River Crane of an evening about high water in a skiff. It was wearing to the close of a sweltering day, and the cool, green tunnel which the mouth of the little stream presented was captivating. Tall grass hung down over the rough camp-shedding on one side, and trees swept their branches on the other, right down to the water.
About a hundred yards from the river the road to Richmond passes over the Crane, and immediately beyond it one was astonished to come upon a flourishing boat-building yard, of which no hint appears until you are close up to it. Squeezing our way past the boats, we went forward up the next section of the stream, here, perhaps twelve or fifteen feet wide. The (Port of London) Authority’s jurisdiction ends, I believe, at the bridge where Talbot Road passes over the Crane River; and I suppose that the Middlesex County Council here takes over.
From here we were moving slowly along between ends of back gardens belonging to modest middle-class houses. The gardens, as we saw them in the golden light of a hot summer evening, were fully appreciated by their owners for whole families were sitting in arbours or on the turf enjoying the end-of-a-day rest… People came running down, calling, “Look, here’s a boat!” Family bathing was in full swing from every back garden; youngsters were splashing around, full of glee; City typist daughters had hustled back from the office to don their chic bathing suits and gay rubber caps, and were either swimming seriously, or posing for admiration on the banks; even respectable papas had got out their bathing suits and come in for a dip, so that grey heads or bald craniums showed above the little waves of the little stream.
Just before we had drifted down to Talbot Road Bridge a native was fishing. I asked him if he had ever caught anything; rather plaintively he replied, “Not yet.” He looked about twenty-one years of age.
Emerging into the Thames through the tunnel of green I vowed that I must never even cast an eye at the River Crane save near high water, or should see that Rivulet of Happy Families as a mere trickle in the middle of slimy mud.
– “Lure and Lore of London’s River” by A.G. Linney (pub 1932.)
I’m sure I’ll be looking out for grey heads and bald craniums next time I go – even if at low tide the river is “a mere trickle in the middle of slimy mud”!
There is a slipway that I can access the river by, saving me the walk along the Thames. Once again I am grateful to my friend for her waders as, stepping off the side of the ramp (the submerged ramp looked too slippery) into deep water, I lost my footing and ended up sitting, waist-high, but completely dry, in the river!
The plants that grip onto the steep river banks, surviving a twice daily submersion at high tide, have really caught my attention. Like Buddleia, that clings to gutters, walls or concrete, in derelict spaces, it is remarkable that these plants have been able to germinate and grow against all odds. They seem to represent the plant world at this time, struggling with their environment and everything it throws at them and I am drawn to their vulnerability and yet their tenacity and ability to survive.
Charcoal seems to me the most suitable medium for the plant drawings. I like its crumbly fragility, making each mark vulnerable and susceptible. You can smudge it, move it around, make it incredibly black and dense or barely a trace. It enables me to make emotive botanical drawings as opposed to the observational, scientific drawings of this genre. And as charcoal is derived from plants, this connection gives the drawings a sort of circularity and history.
The dampness of the river, and where my work might be shown (in a hub, yet to be renovated, next to the nature reserve), has made me think more about the type of surface I want to draw on.
I like the simplicity of paper. The drawing is then all about the image. I have been showing my drawings mainly unframed but this raises practical concerns about how to store and preserve them, especially as charcoal comes off so easily. But paper can cockle in damp environments and needs to be framed.
Red Campion, charcoal on paper, 180 x 120, 2023 | Cowslip, charcoal on paper, 120 x 90, 2022
This plant was collected on my first visit to the River Crane. It is drawn in charcoal on linen. Linen appeals to me as it is natural and plant-based and can be put on a stretcher without any framing. Its surface is not as smooth as paper, even the extra fine linen. But the charcoal can be fixed and varnished so it will not come off.
But I am also thinking about making my own paper from used cartridge paper (I knew I kept all my life drawings for something!) and water and plant matter from the river. And about using recycled materials – packing cases and cardboard, or driftwood from the Thames might also be more appropriate
Until now, I have been making large-scale drawings of wild flowers in charcoal on paper. I have had several exhibitions and so I put off this project until I had more time and space to work on it. But I was planning on continuing in the same way – making large charcoal drawings on paper, highlighting small and large plants along the Crane and at the nature reserve.
But on my second walk along the river, I am beginning to think perhaps a change of materials, approach, scale, or all of the above might be needed. The pristine paper does not seem appropriate for this muddy, chaotic, watery plant life.
I have a small plant in my studio that I collected last visit so this time I came back empty handed – except for tons of photos and the experience of the walk.
