Sunlit Uplands

A painting conceived with energy and passion, and a sense of urgency.  Sunlit Uplands was created in southern France during my week-long residency at Studio Faire, Nérac, where I immersed myself in a garage studio, connecting ideas around environment, climate, freedom of movement, borders, and, increasingly, political concerns.

Sunlit Uplands, acrylic on canvas, approx 90x300cm (unstretched)

Sunlit Uplands, is a long painting, almost panoramic in its format, stretching some 3m across.  Sunlit Uplands is a warm and friendly phrase (often used by politicians to sell the idea of Brexit), conjuring up the best possible image of a utopian society, better times ahead and golden promises.  The painting was painted with a combination of transparent liquid paints initially, then painted into with dry brush strokes and pale, opaque colours, layering text and contrasting values together. 

At the time of painting (August 2022), the south of France was suffering the effects of its fourth heatwave of the summer, and water was scarce.  The harsh, hot summer this year had left its mark on the landscape, which looked scorched, barren and dusty, the colours bleached, pale and brittle.  I was struck by the collision of unusually hot air, tinder dry foliage, potential for fire, the snapping of parched stalks underfoot, and the shrinking of reservoirs, disappearing rivers and streams.  The scorched, pale landscape was peppered with field upon field of crispy, dead sunflowers, still facing the sun, creaking and drying out until harvest, and punctuated with bright turquoise/green algae filled irrigation ponds.

Woven into the layers of paint are partly legible fragments of text, in English and French.  Referring to Germany’s Hunger Stones, carved stones at the bed of a river, revealed for the first time this summer since 1616, during a past time of harsh drought.  The words, ‘If you can see this, weep’ are partly legible, and excerpts from the writings of a fellow resident at Studio Faire, Parisian writer Charlotte Pallieux, her powerful and highly personal words from her current book draft.

There is a lot of activity in the centre left of the painting, and walking from left to right, there is a sense of rhythm that starts fairly quietly, rises to an active and busy area, before petering out at that right of the painting.  The last ‘punctuation’ mark is a block of strong cerulean turquoise in the far-right bottom corner, bringing the painting to a full stop.

The garden at Studio Faire provided additional opportunities to interact with the landscape; there were black walnut trees, quince, vines and herbs. Interestingly there were old taps and an ancient well outside, both long dry and now ornamental. Unusually for me, Sunlit Uplands was an unstretched piece of canvas, portable and malleable to be rolled for the journey home (its working title was actually Journey), and allowed me to move the painting around the studio, working over different surfaces and in changing light. At one point, in the studio, I was working over a join between stone and old floorboard, picking up traces of texture in my brush marks form the surface below. The fabric and history of Studio Faire is in this piece.

Exploring the painting outside was an interesting exercise in ‘seeing’ it in a different context, in the natural light, and amongst grasses , trees and external structures. The colours were enhanced by the summer light in southern France, and it has occurred to me to repeat the exercise here in Yorkshire, perhaps in the woods, to explore the idea of context further.

Next blog - new pieces generated by my experiences at Studio Faire

Looking Out - The role of observing, collecting, exploring and recording…12 hours of looking.

Setting off on my art residency, by train, from Halifax in Yorkshire to Nérac in the Lot-et-Garonne area in France, I acknowledged that my decision to travel overland by train, meaning that the research phase of the experience started from the moment I stood on the platform that morning.  Perhaps fifty percent of the creative process for me is about observing, gathering, collecting, and collating, but just simply looking at one ‘view’ of the landscape never seems enough.  An overland journey of this length gave me a rare opportunity to spend quality time observing, absorbing and thinking, whilst moving through the different landscapes and ‘socialscapes’ of Northern England to Southern France. 

Foremost in my thoughts at that time, was my recent trip to west Cornwall and the colours, light and texture from the farthest southwest of England, coupled with the political quagmire, and looming economic/social disaster that we are facing right now in the UK.  The journey, from the platform of the 7.10am to Kings Cross, to the doorstep at Studio Faire, offered so many interactions with different aspects of the landscape, of rural north and south, open fields, rolling hills, vast flatness, suburban decay/prosperity, inner city seediness, and, importantly, human and cultural interactions of every kind. 

Visually, it was a rich experience and there was much of note.  From an artist’s point of view, the changing colours, textures, light, weather conditions, flora and fauna, were more obvious, but also there were clues in the landscape that revealed the different social fabrics and unevenness of wealth distribution across the north/south.  For example, the remains of derelict brick structures outside the stations at the beginning of my journey in the UK, which, under grey moody skies and drizzle, spoke of former industrial grandeur and enterprise, long gone and not repaired. Beyond these structures, left, right and centre, are newer buildings, juxtaposed over the decades since, disjointed, detached and somehow bolted onto the old.

Some observations looking outside from the train passing through the UK…

Galloping horses in a field, speeding away from the passing train

Lone man in the middle of a field, black trousers, white shirt, no dog

A second lone man in a field, no dog

A boarded-up station window, a sign ‘Grand Central’

Overgrown/abandoned sewage works

Neat stacks of pale gold hay bales

Stubbly, shorn, white yellow stalks, harvested fields

Dusty, cracked fields

Deer in a field x 4

Still pond, reflections

Heron

Egrets x 2

Trees

Pale yellow ochre, burnt sienna, pale cerulean blue-sky deepening to ultramarine up high, Payne’s Grey skies, fading sap green

Buzzard soaring on thermals

In Paris, emerging from the Metro at Montparnasse (from the Gare du Nord), there was a large fire, with tall lashing flames, blazing and growing alarmingly fiercer, outside the station.  Looking through the glass wall in silence were a few spectators, travellers stopped in mid-transition.  There were no sirens, no pompiers, hoses, and it was eerie and quite frightening – the recent summer wildfires were still smouldering in the south, the smoke even present in Paris at their height.  This sight had a profound impact on me as I turned and headed off in the direction of the trains once more, worrying about the fire spreading as my train quietly rolled out of Paris.

Fire, Montmartre, Paris

Reflections, movement, light, ghosts

The next leg was a swift, efficient high-speed swoop to Bordeaux, a stop off overnight at the Hotel Particulier near the Gare St Jean.  Over a salad and a glass of red (when in Bordeaux…), I reviewed my 8 pages of notes, drawings and scribbles.  The landscape in the southwest was different, dry and rural, but interspersed with striped fields of vines, and, really interestingly, lines and lines of perfectly ordered trees (possibly firewood farms?).  I’m certain the harsh, hot summer this year has affected French produce, and the landscape looked scorched, barren and dusty, the colours bleached, pale and brittle.  I was struck by the collision of unusually hot air, tinder dry foliage, potential for fire, the snapping of parched stalks underfoot, and the shrinking of reservoirs, disappearing rivers and streams. 

More observations…

Tall, thin trees, planted in neat lines

Vines also planted in neat lines

8 white birds flying over the vines

The Loire, Gironde and Garonne rivers, all wide and brown

Big, wide, pebbly, dry riverbed, revealed

Parched, scorched fields

Rows, lines, grids, order…

Language, communication, words…

Hotel Particulier, Bordeaux…

I haven’t mentioned the political aspect of my movement from England to France, but the fallout from Brexit was at the forefront of my thoughts as I travelled.  It was hard not to compare the differences in our infrastructures, public transport, roads, prices, quality of fresh produce, and of course the freedom in France to move throughout the Schengen Area in Europe without restriction.  Making/breaking connections with our European neighbours generated thoughts of: connections/bridges/links/tunnels/tracks/roads/borders/fences/doors/barriers/beaurocracy/politics/checks/cutting/racism/humanity/friendship/nationalism/fear (and fascism?).  These issues are all tied up with economics, society, culture, and the current political agenda, both nationally and globally. 

I had been deliberately quite open about my project at Studio Faire, and much has changed in my practice since I applied in 2019.  Arriving in Nérac, my notebook full of observations, I creaked open the studio shutters and hit the ground running.

Next blog – the really exciting bit; exploring, experimentation, new colour palette, discoveries, live broadcast…

A little of what came next…

Disclaimer - taking photos from a moving train is not the best way to get good quality photographs…

Art Residency - France, Summer 2022

The Planning

Originally a painting retreat (or treat!), planned and booked in 2019 (for the summer of 2020), the residency at Studio Faire in southern France was meant to be an opportunity to immerse myself in my work for an intense, short period of time, and perhaps work out a cautious route forward with my emerging art.  I had only recently left my permanent teaching employment after 15 years, embarking on a solo/freelance journey as a full-time artist, something I had yearned for, for years. 

 Where to begin?  Well, since the pandemic postponed my trip until summer 2022, life and my art have inevitably moved on, and the journey will take on a different shape now.  Three really important years for me as an artist, where I’ve adapted my studio teaching practice through the pandemic, I’ve made much, much progress with my own practice, and am now emerging gradually, quietly onto the international art scene.   

 Identifying my own interests as an artist, after years of guiding others, was about getting clarity, being allowed to play in the studio, focussing on how and what I want to communicate.  The ‘blank canvas’ has never really been an issue, and I’m never worried about what I’m going to paint.   Starting a new painting; choosing colours, format, materials, building layers of paint, marks and textures through exploration is a process-led method of creating my work, and is not dependent on knowing what the outcome might look like at the end.  I call it process-led, not outcome-led, the creative process driving me through many different stages of development.  Just to be clear, this process is not completely random or free-flowing, but is a very considered and controlled way of working, building carefully one decision upon another.

 At the heart of this process is the fundamental principle of never thinking commercially, not being led by what I think might sell, be popular, be in vogue, or ‘liked’ even.  Of course, I want people to look, like, and be engaged in the work; be interested, and to essentially respect what I paint.  However, the idea of my paintings being pretty clickbait doesn’t appeal at all.  This may sound strange, but once I start painting for different reasons, other than my instincts, I inhibit the scope, breadth, intensity and innovation in the work.  The paintings can suffer, become rather pedestrian, over-planned, pastiches of others’ work, and no longer an honest pursuit of something new and exciting (for me as well as you!). 

 So, the residency… I’m only there for one week, but I can achieve a lot in a small time!  There’s a lot to consider, from the pre-residency planning, research, collecting of information (annotation, drawing, photographing, recording) whilst there, and then returning to my studio in Yorkshire to reflect, explore and create.  The residency will essentially enrich my practice, my teaching and my research, acting as a springboard for a whole raft of new ideas and paintings for 2022/23. 

 In terms of pre-trip research, I’ve been looking into the history of the town I am visiting, thinking about the journey there (by train, overland), watching the landscape change, the ‘terroir’ of each region as I travel southwards.  There’s an underlying politic beneath the surface in all of my paintings, often, but not restricted to, environmental concerns, and I find that recent political friction (both nationally and globally) is moving to the forefront of my mind when I start thinking about this trip and any subsequent works. 

 When the UK government decided to leave the EU on behalf of a small number of people who voted ‘yes’, that decision restricted trade, personal freedom of movement and, essentially, has the potential to threaten our fundamental human rights, as EU laws to protect us, are torn up and rejected.  Without going into to UK party politics (I could), I aim to consider the close, but increasingly tenuous links and ties between the UK and France (and Europe), explore ideas of borders, divisions, limits, freedoms, restrictions, the ‘terroir’, the idea of land mass/island, and movement.   

 The following painting, Harbour, is my most recent piece of 2022, the last before the residency, and one that may set the scene for works to follow.

Harbour. Acrylic on canvas 100x100cm 2022

This piece began as an ethereal exploration, with fluidity, movement and a sense of lucidity. For a while, throughout its early development, it felt a little adrift, too dreamy and unanchored, like it didn’t have a ‘place’ to be.  This was my intention, fully part of the plan, but my instincts about place, gravity, depth, distance and scale came intuitively back into my thoughts and I began to add more structure.  The ‘structure’; deeper, more contrasting values, crisper edges of colour, dynamic shape and fragile line, all knit together in a kind of compositional web, and bring the painting to a conclusion, that for me, is “Harbour’.

 The title, ‘Harbour’ is ambiguous, yet specific.  It suggests a physical place to enter, leave, stay and depart from, a space to pass through, and be invited into, a reference perhaps to freedom of movement, migration and refuge.  Another interpretation might suggest harbouring of a grudge, bad feeling or hostility of some kind, not easily shrugged off or forgotten. 

 The landscape, it’s textures, colours, topography, conditions, traces, ruins, form, its strength and vulnerability, is always at the heart of the narrative in my paintings.  The landscape bears the ugly scars of our human interventions, juxtaposed with its own natural beauty and beastliness.  I’ll be starting there…

Look out for my next blog post later this month, following my journey to France, and the experiences I have developing new ideas and artwork.