Last weekend I took part in the Society of East Anglian Watercolourists popup exhibition just outside Cambridge. It’s always a very social event. Despite pretty intense heat on Saturday, this weekend was no different. We had delightful visitors.

One of my favourite exhibition stories was reported by my friend and fellow artist, Stephie Butler:

She was approached by a little boy who said, “Do you work here?”, followed by “Can I buy something?”  It turned out that he wanted to buy a card. Stephie asked who the card was for.
“My mum”, came the reply.
“What does your mum like?” Stephie asked.
“She likes Lands.” said the little chap. And so, he duly purchased a card with ‘Lands’ for his mum. I am deeply honoured that he chose one of my Lands to gift his mum.

Social media connections

I was so pleased to have a visit from someone who found my social media feed through a mutual friend and who came to purchase one of my paintings. (Thank you Emma.) One of my favourite types of exhibition visits is meeting someone who enjoys your Instagram or Facebook feed.  Anyone who uses social media to share their story knows that far from being easy, it is relentless hard work creating copy to fill the feed – although enjoyable at the same time. Being able to have a real-world conversation with a social media friend always makes my day. If you get the chance to go and say hello to someone whose feed you follow – I would say yes! Do it.

A couple who had bought one of my paintings at Foxton Art last year came past and stopped for a chat. They recognised my style and came over to say hello. They love rainforests as much as I do and the painting they bought makes them think of their own rainforest visits whenever they see it. How those sort of exhibition stories warm my heart.

And somethings there are pre exhibition stories

These little chaps came waddling over while we were setting up. They may have been everybody’s favourite visitors of all.

On our way back home from Australia I discovered  paintings of Singapore by Lim Cheng Hoe (1912 – 1979) at the National Gallery.  His watercolours are captivating. They have a sense of confidence and spontaneity that is the sign of a true watercolourist.

I love finding the work of an artist I wasn’t aware of before, and in this case, there is so much to inspire me. I did a bit of research on this fascinating artist who is well-known in the art world of Singapore.  Although he discovered his love of art while at school, Lim Cheng Hoe could not afford to become a full time artist.  He spent his working years employed as a clerk and painted in his spare times. On Sundays he could be found painting with a group of fellow artists at the Singapore river and other popular plein air locations around Singapore. From all accounts he was always welcoming and greatly encouraging towards newcomers to the group. He had a reputation for sharing his knowledge generously, and is possibly best known as one of the founders of the Singapore Watercolour Society.

His paintings on exhibition

The National Gallery is a set in the old Supreme Court building and is well worth a visit. Staff are incredibly helpful and keen to offer information about the exhibitions. Photographs are permitted, as long as they are taken without flash. I was therefore able to take photographs of the paintings I felt gave a good feel for Lim Cheng Hoe’s style which I have used in this post. The only issue is the fact that in some paintings, there is a visible reflection of the gallery lights, for which I apologise.  All paintings in this post are watercolours by Lim Cheng Hoe.

His love of plein air painting was legendary and his painting kit quite simple. By today’s standards, he achieved a huge amount with very little.

Lim Cheng Hoe – perfecting watercolour

Always dissatisfied with his work, he invested a huge amount in perfecting his art. He would often going back to the same place a number of times to paint the same scene in different ways.  One method he employed to challenge himself was to paint one version in landscape orientation and another in portrait.

His dramatic skies were masterful and he was not afraid to let the watercolour merge and blend on the paper, sometimes even leaving the marks of rain or blooms to become part of the final work.

His use of colour could be bold and dramatic at times.

Many of his paintings showed his ability to use soft wet-in-wet technique to evoke the atmosphere

True to the maxim that more of the watercolour is created before a brush touches paper, he placed a lot of emphasis on composition, and long after his fellow artists had started painting, he would still be walking around to find the perfect spot from which to paint the scene.

Written word

Diaries were as important as the paintings themselves. He was a meticulous taker of notes and documented every day in the closely written pages of his diaries.

This, written when he was just 18 years old, records events of his daily life.  Apparently, he made meticulous records of events and of his painting sessions at the river.

The discovery of Lim Cheng Hoe has been a highlight of my trip and I will be looking out for more of his work from here on.

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I am drawn to the sight of red earth. It’s a throwback to a childhood in Southern Africa. The familiar rich red colour of the earth always makes me feel at home.  On the way from the airport when we arrived here, we passed an extensive road construction project and there, heaped up on the side of the road, was a pile or rich dark red soil. It was almost as if this part of the world was inviting me to add a new dimension to my work.

Even though I love the sight of rich red earth colours, these are not colours I generally put into my landscapes. Usually, it’s blues, greens, yellows and just sometimes, some pink/lavender tones. colours that are all very refined and safe.  They are very northern-hemisphere, cool-light colours. So does this imply that your surroundings influence the colours you use in your paintings? It certainly could be part of the reason, I suspect.

At art college, my sister was advised to wear neutral colours.  The theory was that the colours you wear have a tendency to creep into your palette. That may be true. I wear a lot of blue and lo and behold, there it is in my paintings.  An old friend commented on one of my Facebook posts that Australia is doing interesting things to my work, and then the conversation continued to the point of speculating about whether the English light would change that when I get back into my studio. That remains to be seen but I hope it doesn’t.

Earth colours in my paintings

There is a different quality to the light here, and to the landscape. It’s bigger, and it’s redder. To my eye, the earth colours seem to come to the fore more here.  That could be because I am more attuned to them because of my childhood. But whatever the reason, they are there and I am relishing the bold brashness of them.  I have painted a couple of dozen small paintings for Running With Brushes while I have been here. They have the advantage of being small and portable. I can work out my thinking for larger paintings by creating a smaller version. I’ll pick the ones I like best and work them up to bigger paintings when I am back in my studio.

At first, the earth colours were appearing in a more figurative form in the paintings. But gradually, as I have spent more time here, the reds have just had to be put down on paper.

The paint colours

Fortunately, my palette has a glorious Pyrrol Scarlet pan, and I squeezed a juicy blob of Transparent Pyrrol Orange into one of the extra pans. (The orange is one of my all time favourites. Depending on how intensely you use it, it can range from being almost red to a delicate orange. I recommend it.) Of course, there have been washes of beautiful quinacridone gold, sepia and burnt sienna. But the reds and oranges are the ones that pop. Perhaps my choice of palette was starting to change before I got here and being away from my studio has only made me realise it. But it definitely feels as if there’s a shift away from playing safe.

In my last week here, I’ve sketched a red pandanus tree. What next? I’m not sure, but I am looking forward to splashing some earth colours around on bigger pieces when I get back into my studio.  If you want to see more of my little plein air Australia paintings, they’re on my Instagram feed. Let me know what you think. Do you like the funky reds?

If you enjoyed this blog post and you’d like to support it, please do share it with someone you think might like it. Thank you for reading. Your support means a lot. If you’d like to read more of my arty ramblings, you could subscribe to my blog by email, or on an RSS feed. Or sign up for my (approximately) monthly newsletter. You can always unsubscribe if you decide it doesn’t enhance your inbox.

I had this conversation last week after having a second day of working with Glenda Charles. I’m really enjoying creating more abstract art. I  am allowing the creative process to make its own direction and pace as I continue to explore images from my environment.

When I showed my, normally very supportive, husband what I had been working on, he responded with the ‘I don’t understand it.’ version above.  I spent a day or two thinking about how to talk to him about abstract art in a way that would help him relate to it.

Wikipedia’s explanation is that uses a visual language of shape, form, colour and line to create a composition which may exist with a degree of independence from visual references in the world. I didn’t think that would entirely help him. While it is clearly correct, its also obvious and doesn’t really speak about the emotional aspects.

Explaining abstract art

He has always loved music. That was the connection I needed. I explained that I see figurative art as being like music with lyrics. The lyrics make it clear what the song is about. You can tell what the composer was thinking when they created the piece. However, quite often, with instrumental work, the same is not the case. Instrumental music, either classical or contemporary is like abstract art to my mind. If it’s well written, you can tell what the composer was feeling and what they want the audience to feel. But the exact story behind the music is only fully known by the composer.

Is it good instrumental music? There are experts who can pronounce judgement on that. But for the average listener, it’s more subjective. You either like the music or you don’t. The rhythms and harmonies appeal to you, or they don’t. If find yourself listening to a piece of instrumental music more than once, that’s rather like seeing a piece of abstract art that draws you back for another look.

He got it. Now we can have some conversations in which we are talking about abstract art.

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Planning is one of Pinterest’s applications, but it isn’t the only one, or in fact the most valuable. Pinterest is a huge visual search engine.  And unlike Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, your pins don’t just disappear into the ether. Pinterest boards have much greater lifespan.  As with all digital tools, the trick is to work out how to make it work for you.

Here are a few ideas for artists using Pinterest

• Spread your reach

  This is probably the most obvious. Sharing your work makes you more visible. Discoverability is key. If people don’t know about your work, they won’t be buying your art.  I have had commissions and sales from people finding my pins.

• Subject Research

  This is where Pinterest’s hidden boards are really useful. When I was working on a commission of a painting of a snowboarder, it was really important to make sure the body position was accurate. Making a collection of copyright-free photographs on a temporary board I was able to ensure my energetic subject was speeding downhill in the right pose. The board was only visible to me and a one click delete when I knew I was done with it meant it isn’t still there when it’s no longer relevant. A word of warning – when using reference pictures in this way, make sure you don’t copy. Use your pins to check details, but always produce your own artistic interpretation.  I use multiple images and take information from all of them.

• Market research

  Do you want to find out what your ideal customer is interested in? Following some Pinterest users who are interested in your subject matter gives you a good idea of the other things they like. Does this provide ideas for more subject matter, or perhaps for places you could reach your target market?

• Using Pinterest to hone your style

  Louise Fletcher recently sent out an email newsletter in which one of her suggestions really resonated for me. She suggested looking on Pinterest for work you like, and then working out just what it is that you like about it. This is something I’ve found hugely helpful for a while now. Becoming more aware about what you like will help you critique and curate your own work. Now that Pinterest has added the facilities to put sections on your boards you can build collections of collections. Putting artwork on a board gives me the ability to see different examples of work by artists I find inspiring. I can work out which aspects of their work I like and ask myself what that means to my own work.  It could be a colour I really enjoy, the artist’s use of media or the elements of mark-making. I’ve used this board to start thinking about which direction my work is moving in and to be braver about working outside of my comfort zone.  (Important note: When pinning someone else’s work, don’t forget to check that the pin gives them credit and links back to a site that gives them credit.)

• Make connections through collaboration

  Take part in group boards or invite other people to pin on your group boards. Collaborating with other artists builds great connections and increases your visibility. Set up a board for your art society, or for fellow artists taking part in a challenge. I was hugely excited when I got my first invitation to pin on a collaborative board. It was a great boost to my Pinterest kudos to have someone consider my work to be of a high enough quality to be included on their board. It may take a while before you get an invitation, but keep on pinning and invite others to pin on group boards you set up. Choose your fellow pinners carefully.

Do you use Pinterest in any other ways? Do let me know in a comment below.

(Footnote: Louise Fletcher and Alice Sheridan produce a weekly podcast called Art Juice that is well worth following. They have become my regular studio companions.)

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The last light warms the west-facing side of mount Beerwah, the mother of mountains. As the sun goes down, it creates a glow on her flank. There’s an Aboriginal legend about the Glasshouse Mountains.

The Legend of the Glasshouse Mountains – inspiration for the watercolour of the mother of mountains

“Now Tibrogargan was the father of all the tribes and Beerwah was his wife, and they had many children.

Coonowrin, the eldest; the twins, Tunbubudla; Miketeebumulgrai; Elimbah whose shoulders were bent because she carried many cares; the little one called Round because she was so fat and small; and the one called Wild Horse since he always strayed away from the others to paddle out to sea. (Ngungun, Beerburrum and Coochin do not seem to be mentioned in the legend).

One day when Tibrogargan was gazing out to sea, he perceived a great rising of the waters. He knew then that there was to be a very great flood and he became worried for Beerwah, who had borne him many children and was again pregnant and would not be able to reach the safety of the mountains in the west without assistance.

So he called to his eldest son, Coonowrin, and told him of the flood which was coming and said, “Take your mother, Beerwah, to the safety of the mountains while I gather your brothers and sisters who are at play and I will bring them along.”

When Tibrogargan looked back to see how Coonowrin was tending to his mother he was dismayed to see him running off alone. Now this was a spiritless thing for Coonowrin to do, and as he had shown himself to be a coward he was to be despised.

Tibrogargan became very angry and he picked up his nulla nulla and chased Coonowrin and cracked him over the head with a mighty blow with such force that it dislocated Coonowrin’s neck, and he has never been able to straighten it since.

By and by, the floods subsided and, when the plains dried out the family was able to return to the place where they lived before. Then, when the other children saw Coonowrin they teased him and called “How did you get your wry neck – How did you get your wry neck?” and this made Coonowrin feel ashamed.

So Coonowrin went to Tibrogargan and asked for forgiveness, but the law of the tribe would not permit this. And he wept, for his son had disgraced him. Now the shame of this was very great and Tibrogargan’s tears were many and, as they trickled down they formed a stream which wended its way to the sea.

So Coonowrin went then to his mother, Beerwah, but she also cried, and her tears became a stream and flowed away to the sea. One by one, he went to his brothers and sisters, but they all cried at their brother’s shame.

Then Tibrogargan called to Coonowrin and asked why he had deserted his mother and Coonowrin replied, “She is the biggest of us all and should be able to take care of herself.” But Coonowrin did not know that his mother was again with child, which was the reason for her grossness. Then Tibrogargan put his son behind him and vowed he would never look at him again.

Even to this day Tibrogargan gazes far, far out to sea and never looks at Coonowrin. Coonowrin hangs his head in shame and cries, and his tears run off to the sea, and his mother, Beerwah, is still pregnant, for, you see, it takes many years to give birth to a mountain.”

Credit to Coolrunning.com for this version of the legend.

“I find out everything about myself in that moment of making”.
The musician, Nils Frahm said this about the process of making music and so it can be said about all art practice.

The title and description intrigued me. I had no idea what to expect. So I really needed to suspend any expectations before I went along. The ability to deal with uncertainty is enormously valuable to any artist. We need to embrace the unknown; to start each artistic project with the knowledge that it will probably change along the way. It will change, and in fact, probably surprise you at the same time.  For me, that’s part of the thrill of painting. Perhaps that’s because it’s part of the process of finding out more about ourselves.

I have always known that the creative process is in large part, about self-discovery.  And it’s not something that can be rushed.  It isn’t a flash of insight with every painting. Rather it’s a slow process, a bit like peeling an onion. Each layer gets you closer to the core. Removing a layer can be uncomfortable. And every time you you it, you feel more vulnerable for a while. It takes a degree of courage to open up and trust the process.

Spirituality and the art process – the workshop

Glenda is warm, joyful and down to earth. She makes this sort of leap of faith feel safe.  The process involved meditation, mark making and then a process of using some of those emotion-led marks we had generated as the starting point for an abstract painting.

Partly because of the constraint of travel-friendly paper sizes, I worked on two smaller pieces which were painted together side by side.  In itself, this was an interesting exercise I’ve not tried before.

As you can see, the results were images that are way off my normal style of work. I’ve been reflecting on them for a week now and I see some exciting possibilities that make me want to explore greater freedom in my mark making, and a more abstract collection of work.

I have also changed my view of the palette I used. I think it may be too strident in its intense saturation and I rather like these versions where I used a warm filter to change the colours to a slightly more sophisticated version.  What do you think?

These aren’t exactly where I would want them to be yet. They invite further work, but the process has been enlightening and I will continue to work on these two. I think this is an evolution – of the paintings and of my art development.

My take aways

The value of Spirituality and the art process was something I experienced during the workshop, but only processed consciously a few days later. Meditation at the beginning of the day was really useful as a way of quietening the analytical part of my brain. I often complain that I can spend almost a full day pottering in the studio before I even pick up a brush. It takes me that long to change my thinking style from analytical to creative.

The analytical part of my brain is usually dominant and it speaks very loudly. Although I still didn’t find it easy to tune into the intuitive process of painting, it was there and I can see what with practice, it could begin to calm the analytical thinking faster than it does these days.

We all know that, in theory we only need a dozen colours. We know it, but those darned colours are so seductive. I don’t know a single artist who can resist the lure of an art materials shop. And there are a number I’ve been gifted by people who have decided not to paint any more, or didn’t like a particular colour. It all adds up to a lot of tubes.

A couple of months ago, at a workshop, I realised I was running low on a couple of my favourite colours. Sadly, I didn’t make a note of just which ones. When I next had a chance to go to the art shop, I dashed into the studio to check.  I rummaged through my plastic tub of paints to find the tubes that had been squeezed down to a stub. Only once I got back did I realise that in my haste, I had missed one of those I use the most.  I’ve tried various methods of storing watercolour paints. Most recently I’ve used three plastic trays: one each for transparent, semi-transparent and opaque tubes.  I lean towards the transparent colours so it helps to have them sorted.

My new solution to storing watercolour paints

I’ve seen various versions of branded pre-made boards with clips or the home-made nails in walls or boards.  My problem was that I didn’t really want to be putting nails in my studio wall.  I wanted something affordable and flexible. I was starting to think it would need to be screws in an MDF board.

While I was debating this, I saw a great post on the Making a Mark page about an artist who was using an Ikea board with clip-in trays to store his materials and I realised this could solve my paint problem too. I just needed a few amendments. So, board acquired, I looked for some appropriate hooks. The Ikea ones that go with the board come at £2 for 5 which doesn’t sound like much until you realise that to hang as many as I needed would cost almost £50. Added to the £18 for the largest of the three Ikea boards, that seemed a bit steep in terms of overall cost for this application.  They’re also quite long so they use up more board space than I wanted.

So, I scoured the web and eventually found packs of stainless steel hooks on a shop fitting website. The size is perfect and they cost me a mere £10 for the number I needed. Bulldog clips applied and paints sorted –  I can now see exactly which colours I have duplicated, which I use the most, and which are like those holiday outfits hanging in the wardrobe: seemed like a good idea at the time, but didn’t quite live up to expectations.

Storing watercolour paints by transparency factor.

The geek in me still wanted a way of easily sorting the tubes by transparency factor. I came up with an easy visual code: yellow dot for transparent, green dot for semi-transparent and blue dot for opaque. With the tubes sorted in a colour range, I can now easily pick the colour I want and know the transparency without having to check. Now I just need a solution for granulating and staining factors.

Studio Stories

I’m painting in Australia at the moment and I’ll be putting together a newsletter with some stories from my travels. Here’s my last newsletter if you fancy a read. Please share the love by sharing the link if you know someone who might like to follow my studio stories

In 2017 we took a long trip. We did a house swap with a couple from Mission Beach, in Queensland, Australia. I was thrilled about the opportunity to spend time in two of my favourite environments: beaches and rainforests. I love walking along a deserted beach, and I have always been at home in amongst trees.  Mission Beach is a special place in that it has both in one place.

The trip seemed like a good opportunity to paint a new series. Specifically, I decided to paint individual pieces that would end up as a digital sketchbook of the trip once they had all gone to new owners. So I took a supply of paper and paints along with me and the project got started.

Following the Flow: Mission Beach Community Arts

Then I discovered the Mission Beach Community Arts centre. We noticed the gallery as we were driving past and I went in to explore. I didn’t realise that they also run workshops until I looked on their Facebook page.  There was a post that made me sit up: a two day workshop by Australian artist, Glenda Charles. The subject: Abstracting the Landscape. Some workshops are just meant to be done. So, following the flow, I  signed up, went shopping for even more art supplies, and got painting!

I don’t find abstract painting  to be the easy option some people seem to think it is. It required much more thought and planning than painting what is in front of you in a figurative style.  The appeal of this workshop was the chance to dive into something I’ve always found very difficult.

Working with Glenda was fantastic. Everything about the workshops pushed my boundaries, and prepared me for being more adventurous with my work. I am still not what I would call an abstract artist, but my work often gets into the semi-abstract space.

We’re back in Australia this year. This time we’re on the Sunshine Coast, just north of Brisbane. A few weeks before we left home I realised that this is Glenda’s home ground. Eventually I got around to contacting her to say I was going to be in the area and would love to see any exhibitions she has going over the next couple of months.

She replied almost immediately with an invitation to her studio. She also mentioned that she is running a workshop on Spirituality in Art next Saturday. Some workshops are just meant to be done. So, once again, I am following the flow.

(I’ll post about the workshop next week).

I am always interested in the processes that go into creating works of art. Every artist has their own particular way of working so the possibilities are infinite. In this exhibition, the paintings on the walls are interspersed with photographs of the artist in their studio and snippets of information about the way they work in the studio. A series of videos showing RWS members working in their studios to give visitors more of the ‘behind the scenes’ view of the show.

Including the information about the artist in their studio is a format that gives the viewer more insight into the artist as a person.

I took a few picture of works that appealed to me (having first gained permission to take photographs).

In the Studio – some of my favourites

Its always difficult to get a good photograph  without reflections when paintings are behind glass. I apologise for the quality of some of these.

There’s no surprise in my loving this one at first sight: playful, colourful and…. shoes!

I had already seen this on social media. When I was standing in front of it, I was struck by the detail and delicacy of the marks on the paper. There’s a wonderful elegance about each little abstract section. No wonder it was a gallery staff pick.

This is one of three large works by Sophie Knight. Her work is always atmospheric and dynamic.

Three aerial views by Liz Butler appealed to the traveller in me. They are views that you might see when flying over a dramatic landscape.

Links to other works I didn’t get good enough photographs of, and some that are pictured above:

Liz Butler RWS – Somewhere over Siberia (pictured above)

Liz Butler RWS – Cloncurry District, Australia

Sue Howells RWS – Glow of Day Fading Away

Richard Pikesley RWS – Axe, Summer Evening

Neil Pittaway RWS – Dusk Evening Light on the Glacier du Bonibassey, France

Gertie Young RWS – Kitten Heels with Fairy Lights

This exhibition felt different to some of the others I’ve seen at Bankside. It was lighter and made the artists seem more approachable. I’m going to be visiting Bankside Gallery more often.