The last three days have seen us (the American artists on an art retreat on Skye and me) sketching on the Quiraing, Staffin beach, and Eilean Donan Castle. Shades of green from deep blue-green to improbably intense yellow-sap green (which I mentally think of as radioactive green). It’s not only been sunny enough to dig out the sunblock, but I even ended up looking for a shady spot yesterday at the castle.
My thanks to Michael Chesley Johnson for the pastel demo of rocks at Duntulm. It’s so intriguing, mesmerising, inspiring to see familiar landscape through the eyes of artists seeing it for the first time.
This little painting of a goldfish on a gold background was supposed to be for the fish-themed exhibition opening on Thursday* at Skyeworks Gallery. It’d been sitting on my studio table for a while waiting for me to paint an eye, which required me to get over my “I’m going to ruin it” hesitation. No sooner had I done it — and I somehow got it right first time — and had just said to myself “I think this is one for me”, than the in-house art critic came in. He took a look, then said: “Let’s put it on the wall next to Morag’s cat.” So it’s going to be “one that didn’t get away”.
*If you’re hereabouts, do join us for the exhibition opening at 6pm for Bubbles & Bait. Skyeworks will be open Easter Sunday too, and I’ll be on gallery duty Saturday and Sunday.
The joy of printed books, with paper pages to feel, hold, turn. The quality of the printing, the weight of the paper, the style of the binding. The typography, page layout. Joys before reading starts.
Fiction books filled with imagination. Non-fiction books filled with things to be learned and discovered. Art books opening with a creak to release that new-book-ink smell. Books to read from cover to cover, others to dip in randomly. Joys of deciding which book next.
For me, Christmas is synonymous with books, a pile of treasure. Some I’ve mentioned to the in-house-art-critic, others are a surprise. They’re bought across the year and saved in the Christmas box. This is what I’ll be reading into next year:
Top to bottom:
Artemis — science fiction set on the Moon, by the author of a book I’ve read multiple times, The Martian, which was made into a film I’ve watched several times. I stayed up reading it, and will read it again to enjoy the writing more slowly now I know the plot.
Barbara Hepworth: Writings and Conversations — a long-time favourite artist of the in-house art critic and an artist whose geometric abstracts have increasingly grown on me. We visited her studio in St Ives once. No doubt it’ll be a source of some Monday Motivators.
Perennial Seller : The Art of Making and Marketing Work that Lasts by Ryan Holiday — a book for the business side of life.
Paintings by Peder Balke — a relatively unknown Norwegian artist.
Australia’s Impressionists — catalogue from an exhibition at the National Gallery in London.
What Color is the Wind? — an inspiring illustrated children’s book; not only the answer to the question, but the tactile elements on the pages.
Turner’s Sketchbooks — guess the in-house-art critic has been listening when I’ve enthused about looking at Turner’s sketchbooks in Tate Britain. Becoming more Turner-esque in my painting of skies is on my current artistic wishlist.
The Artist’s Model — a book figurative painter Alan McGowan showed us during the life-painting workshop I went on in October.
Mondrian and his Studios: Colour in Space — explores how Mondrian developed his iconic geometric abstracts.
A River of Words — illustrated children’s book on William Carlos Williams, a poet I’ve loved since I first encountered the poem “This Is Just To Say“.
Donald Teskey — exhibition catalogue of a contemporary Irish landscape painter.
Paul Klee: Painting Music — “One day I must be able to improvise freely on the keyboard of colours: the row of watercolours in my paintbox”.
The Anatomy of Colour: The Story of Heritage Paints and Pigments — for heavy-duty colour enthusiasts, a look at the use of colour and paint in interior decoration history (or the answer to “would my painting have matched the walls” through the ages).
Drawing and Painting by Kate Wilson, who as an evening-class art tutor at City Lit in London taught me so much, not least about the art of constructive critique.
Monet The Collector — a book on the artwork that Monet collected rather than his own paintings.
Norman Ackroyd: A Shetland Notebook — watercolours from a journey to Shetland islands by an artist known primarily as a printmaker.
Missing from photo: The Modern Mind: An Intellectual History of the 20th Century — a tome for bedtime reading. First random opening I was at a piece about the impact of artists fleeing war-torn Nazi Europe and arriving in New York.
There’s something about this statue that always makes me stop, look, and walk all the way around. Granted, it’s by the gate on the path between the two halves of the Scottish Modern Art Museum in Edinburgh, but there are other sculptures you pass too, yet none of them captivate me so.
By Eduardo Paolozzi, it’s called “Master of the Universe” and is based on a drawing by William Blake of Isaac Newton. I enjoy the realism-meets-Frakenstein’s-steampunk-monster, the divided and rejoined, geometric vs natural shapes.
I also love the lettering on the gate … a quirky divide that always makes me smile., and a reminder that functional (it’s just the name of the place) need not be dull.
I do wonder if anyone’s ever fallen over the Gormley statue. Not only is it “sunk” into the pavement but its colour means it merges visually.
I was at the museum for the Joan Eardley exhibition. If you get a chance, you should go see it!
I’ve been asked by the children of the local primary school what my favourite location on Skye is, for a project they’re working on. Needless to say, there’s an abundance of inspirational landscape on Skye, without even considering how different the same locations look as the seasons change (and the weather). But if I were to pick one, there’s a spot in the Uig woodland, next to a river through a wooden gate, where I love to sit. It might come as a surprise that my favourite location isn’t a sea view, but that’s my everyday joy; the river I have to go to specifically.
In mid-summer it’s a cool leafy respite from the sun. In mid-winter it’s frosty and bright as the low sun penetrates past the trees. In autumn there are yellows and browns; in spring fresh greens. The sounds: birds singing, leaves rustling, water gushing or trickling depending on how full the river is. Yes, there are days when it’s wet and less poetic, but I don’t go here on such days. And, yes, the main road is nearby but, for me, the traffic noise doesn’t penetrate. I find it an ever-enticing dance of colour and shadow that never fails to charge my creative batteries, even if I don’t stop for long. Park at the Uig community hall, stroll along the beach, through the gap in the stone wall, follow the path amongst the young tree trunks then past the oaks, around the corner and on a bit, and I’m there.
The reflected colours, light and shadows in the water are mesmerizing, constantly flickering as the water flows past.
This January light became a 100x100cm painting called “Summer Glow”. (I didn’t call it “Winter Glow” because the painting doesn’t feel wintry to me.)
One autumn, after strong wind, all leaves had blown off the taller trees, but the leaves on a short tree had been sheltered, creating a splash of bright colour.
The page from my sketcbook, with my colour and observation notes.
It became a 100x100cm painting with the official title “Flowing Past”, though I think of it as “The Little Tree That Could” painting.
This is what I generally have with me when I’m sketching on location (plus a sketchbook).
Studio cat Ghost has been helping me with the ‘admin’ side of getting ready for my exhibition at Skyeworks, all the things that need to be done besides the ‘fun’ bit (creating the paintings vs painting edges, varnishing, adding d-rings and wire, photos, price list etc). His favourite role is photography assistant, providing the white for checking contrast.
There are many reasons I love living on Skye. The long daylight hours for much of the year is definitely one. Sunrise today was at 05:12 and sunset will be at 21:29 (and it’s more than a month to solstice so the days get even longer). All those hours for painting in the natural light in my studio, plus a leisurely picnic lunch in the sunshine without the pressure of feeling I’m “wasting the day away”. For warmer-clime friends shivering at the 20°C, it’s tshirt weather here; Friday will be jumper weather again and back to what you probably regard as “normal” Skye weather.
One of the paintings I’ll be working on today is this new 100x100cm tree painting. This photo is from yesterday, when I was adding iridescent pearl onto what will be silver-birch trees.
Happiness is … paint and colour, and a somehat tidier studio! I sorted out up my studio a bit when unpacking the crate of supplies I took to last week’s workshop, and finally got my High Flow acrylics off the floor and onto a shelf within arm’s reach of my palette.