Starting new, looking at the old!

As part of the new year, like many of us, I've been having a tidy up and a clear out. Mainly looking for work for my new year sale. Under my bed (yes, as cliche as that sounds!) I found a very old portfolio of sketches and drawings. It's always fun to look back at what you did before and this portfolio is specifically a selection of works for me to keep - a sort of archive of different time periods and styles.

And in it I found two sample books of pastel paper with sketches in, one was figure drawings but the other was sketches I did in a local park. I used to go out (it was a block behind the studio) and do sketches of the flowers, shrubs, or the pond. So these were a few studies of the water surface and reflections and ripples. (These are about 6-7" square each.)





What I love is how well pastel can be used to do studies like these. They let you imitate the short patches of light and colour, rather like the impressionists did with paint. But at the same time you can be quick and sketchy and try to capture directions and line of the way the water is moving, or where the light is coming from.

For 2010 I've joined a Flickr group for sketching (75 Ways to Draw More), these found sketches remind me to go out with the pastels as much as I use a pencil or marker too! And with the studio next to the river I could really have fun with more water drawings like this. Continually going back to basics should be a firm studio practice. In 2010 I just need to follow my own advice!

My other resolution is to get back to posting on Watermarks more often!

Step back in time: The Cutty Sark

When I first started painting and printmaking I did quite a lot of pieces of old ships. I would walk down to Greenwich and sketch the Gypsy Moth and Cutty Sark. As a member of the Canvas Club of the National Maritime Museum (they are still around, but hard to find info about - ask at the Friend's desk at the NMM) we had special access for sketching days in the stores. You would be amazed at the ship's models that are in storage! Hundreds at least.

It was the start of my sea fascination in my artwork, and tied in well with my non-abstract style of the day. (If you'd like to see my large Cutty Sark linocut it's on my own blog today! It's about 1 meter high.)

Sadly, as most of you probably know, the Cutty Sark was devastated by a fire in 2007. What is left of it has been under wraps for a couple of years while they reconstruct it.

Yesterday, rooting through boxes of photos in search of some coast images from Kent, I stumbled upon photographs I took of the Cutty Sark I can't remember when! They were filming the remake of "The Four Feathers" in Greenwich and had the village trussed up like Victorian England and the Cutty Sark even had sails on. What a sight!


(I've made these images Creative Commons, so feel free to use them for your own artwork if you like.)

Rain, rain, go away...

Wish you could capture those ripples of raindrops on water?
Well, Yorkshire was there to assist you today.



I've been in Hebden Bridge, Yorkshire, for the opening of my solo show at the Calder Gallery (which runs until 24th May if anyone is in the area). A little bit of sketching but also some rain and drizzle as I walked along the canal today.

So the Wavemechanics project is officially expanded into water surface photos of bodies of water other than the Thames. While it does rain in London of course it's rare that two things will happen at the same time: 1. I'll go out in the rain and 2. The tide is high enough for me to get near enough the water to photograph drop ripples.

As always, these photos are free to use for your own artwork under the Creative Commons license. You can find all the photos at the Wavemechnics Flickr page.

Water on "Earth Day" - Coast erosion

My ongoing English Coast project gives me first-person up-close experience of changes along our vast coastline (so vast I've not even cycled 10%!). While I appreciate the effects and implications of erosion often I see it from a strange mixture of an artistic and a pragmatic point of view. Here I'll share images from my photo-journey that I use as painting references.


Left to right: Blackgang cliffs looking down; looking across the clifftop at the walking path, altered several times; the clifftop literally breaking off along part of the walk.


Left to right: Alum Bay where tourist sand novelties are made with shipped-in sand, it's forbidden now to take away the unique geology; two more views east and west along the cliffs at Blackgang Chine.

What's shocking is that this entire area used to be a thriving tourist industry! Less than 60 years ago. Areas populated and accessible in the 70s are now underwater. See this site for historic postcards and photos.

I wrote in my sketchbook on the Isle of Wight, May 2008:

"This is the first real coast trip where I felt and saw a real environmental change in progress on the English coast. But I don't see this as negative because it simply is a natural consequence over time - be it a consequence of weather, temperature, erosion, human activity or other factors (human beings being, of course, part of nature). The destruction at Blackgang for example is profound and astounding, but perhaps my role is to capture the sight, the feeling. We can't stop the sea."

Even more striking to me, if that's possible, were the coastal changes in Yorkshire, from Bridlington down to Spurn Head, where I cycled in late 2008. The reason the differences were perhaps starker was simply because the human aspect of the landscape had been affected and the remnants were still very obvious. To be told a whole village is gone is one thing - to see existing roads ending as rubble in the sea is another. This has happened in the last 10 years, the areas were on my OS map.


Left to right: Warning along the road; Then it's remnants falling down; This path used to be a road that curved around following the coast and then up to the next village, and there was even a farm depicted on the latest Ordnance Survey maps - now it's a worn path along the field edge; A disused rail track on Spurn Head penninsula, which used to be much wider.


But beauty comes from even this. This sights resulted in some of my favourite paintings to date.


Left to right: Spurn Head (100x120cm), Filey Brigg (diptych, 50x100cm), Blackgang Below (120x150cm)
You can see my entire English Coast series on my website.

Look the to skies

Here's another tip for painting water - look up.

This sort of falls under the "paint was you really see rather than what you think you see" school of lessons. Many beginner painters look at lakes, ponds, puddles and want to paint the water. That flat (or not) area that surely is blue, right? Nope!

Water is reflective. How much will vary on:

• the angle you're viewing from
• the water activity (still or churning)
• any materials in the water such as mud

So if you're a bit stuck on the colours you see in the water surface, then look at the sky. The water will always reflect the colours and tones of the sky to some extent.

Here's some easy ones to start:
First image, a clear blue sky with fluffy white clouds reflected in fairly still water. Then the same kind of weather reflected in water with bits of wave. So these need blue and white in the painting.



Here's a night example:
In the first image we see the dark blue tinge of just normal night light, with touches of yellow light from building windows (most normal lightbulbs emit a yellow wavelength of light). In the second, however, it is the reflected reddish lights from nearby buildings and Greenwich Pier reflecting on the surface.



How about a more subtle example? This is the same view in slightly different light and weather. First is a clearer day, second is an overcast day. Can you see the subtle difference? A stronger blue in the first one? (both were late in the day so there's a pinkish tinge from dusk approaching too)



Finally, about that angle of view. The first photo here shows a bit what I mean by the angle you view from and also what's in the water. While it was a bright day I was looking straight down, so didn't get a reflection from the light from the sky. The water is almost opaque because it's very near the shore and mud is being churned constantly by the waves - so this gives the water it's colour instead of the sky above. The second photo is from an angle looking outwards over the water, so there's much more reflection of the daylight on the water surface. In sea views this can be why the near water is a different colour than the distance - you're near enough the area where sand is being moved around creating an opaque area in the water while the further water is deeper without materials being churned around and your angle of viewing means you see the reflection of sunlight on the water. So sea paintings can have several colours changing as you move from shore to horizon.



So if you're ever in doubt, forget what you're looking at. Look up, see what the light is like in the sky, then look back at the water. Try and see where the light is reflecting strongly or not. Then start mixing those paints.

Hope you have bright sunny days!



All of these images can be found on my Wavemechanics photo project page, and all have Creative Commons copyright so you can use them to create your own paintings. While I haven't posted any new photos in a while I promise there are many on my harddrive just waiting for editing and adding later. :)

Stormy Waters - book reviews

Looking for solutions to your painting problems? Particularly working with colour, light and composition? Why not turn to the masters?

From my first days painting I have copied 'masters', be they old or contemporary, to learn how to handle my paint. And now when I'm having problems, need inspiration, or just need exercises to get started on a day, I will still do quick tonal studies of master paintings. It's a great habit to have. I've even spent hours in the National Gallery doing sketches of just the background landscapes of Dutch paintings - who cares about the foreground boats, buildings and animals, the things they have going on in the background are amazing!

For my problem "Storm" painting (see my previous post) I pulled out two of my favourite seascape books to analyse what other painters have done to capture the mood of rough seas.

Winslow Homer: Poet of the Sea
From the exhibition at Dulwich Picture Gallery in 2006.
The catalogue of the exhibition includes images of drawings, studies, watercolours and large-scale oil paintings. Some of Homer's work didn't quite connect with me, mostly the more nostalgic type images, but others were incredibly strong with the sea itself bordering on abstract paintwork. So I flip through it often to see how he captured those moments of movement and drama. (I haven't yet found a book with reproductions of Turner that I'm happy with, so for now I rely on postcards and visits to the National Gallery or Tate Britain to see those.)


Art for the Nation: The Oil Paintings Collection of the National Maritime Museum
Even though I live next door to it I had to have the catalogue of the NMM's collection in my grubby little hands for any given moment! This book covers themes from the whole collection it isn't just traditional seascape - the museum also holds important materials relevent to periods in maritime history such as shipping, slavery, colonization, and war. But having a book with such a wealth of sea-related artwork is necessary for me as a marine painter. Like with the Dutch paintings (and some of these are Dutch too of course) I can flip through and sketch the backgrounds, the use of contrast in the sky or the lines that break up the canvas. I'd highly recommend this for anyone interested in painting seas or ships.

So what are you favourite books for water or sea references? Or do have another important resource for working out your painting problems?

I'm still stuck in that storm, but will get back to you in March...

Stormy Waters - trouble with composition

Some progress from the abstract camp!

Back in this January post I began my adventure in trying to paint a rougher sea for the first time - trying to capture more threatening moods in the sky, more crashing waves, but with my usual soft minimal look. My preliminary sketches were more freeform, and the canvas itself has been more exploratory. Unlike most of my paintings I decided to just dive into this one and see what happened, allow myself experimentation.

It all started well. Some dark layers, bringing tones and composition upwards, over the eye-line of the viewer. At an early point I liked the underpainting so much and felt I wanted to capture some of it in the early stage for "light" lines to indicate, perhaps, foam on the waves. So I put down masking tape that I could glaze over and remove later to bring back those elements.

Painting, painting, darkening, lightening the crashing waves, and got stuck. But of course there's that very misleading tape that actually isn't an indication of what's underneath - distracting me from what the whole looks like. So I removed it to reveal... well, something interesting. Interesting isn't necessarily a good thing!

So now I'm really frustrated. I have to keep reminded myself that this canvas is meant to be an experiment, but it's all to easy to get caught on in the drive to "finish" something after so many hours of investment.

The problems?

1. Composition. I've said it to myself, on my blog and probably on Watermarks too - composition is the number one thing that cannot be overlooked. If I don't sketch, don't think about a composition it's inevitable that the painting 90% of the time doesn't work and has to be recovered with a new stage of composition. Yet foolishly thought that I could ignore it in the name of creativity.
   
   
2. Working on pieces and not the whole. Yes, we all fall in love with parts of our pictures - little passages of wonderful colour or brushwork. But it is at the peril of neglecting the whole, the balance, how the picture works as a single effect. I was taught to always work on the whole - not do an object then fill in the background for example - progress on one part, then go work on another part to the same degree. Step back and look. The masking tape in this painting misled me and I should have planned more (error 1) and kept better awareness of the tones and colours underneath.

Trapped in the storm for now...

Familiarity

I remember my very first painting of water. It was a view of the Thames out of the studio window (my mentor's studio) looking towards the under-construction Millenium Dome. It was AWFUL. Because I'd never tried to paint water and I was painting what I thought I saw - a big stretch of blue-green.

So it took me a while to move away from things on the water (boats, piers, bridges, etc) to painting the water. The method was twofold: learning to paint what I actually saw (rather than what I thought I saw) and actually sketching the water from life a lot.

Even now, I have to paint abstractly from coast trips I've actually taken. I paint where I've been, it's hard to paint from imagination though possible from memory to an extent. Painting from memory comes from familiarity - the more you've painted or sketched something the more mental reference material you have to draw on. But you still have to refresh the material every so often, the more often the better.

Though the sea is my love for now, I still enjoy the Thames River, and still always find something new from watching it. Ripples and waves are still a bit of an enigma, there's always room for improvement. And as you know the crashing sea waves boggled my creative mind over on Portland Island!

Something I started back in December is a 365 project, the popular "daily photo" activity on Flickr where people challenge themselves to take a photo everyday! (some choose self portraits, some random photos, some the same object every day) Mine was the surface of the Thames: Wavemechanics 365. Now I will admit straight off that I started the project before considering that I can't take my river with me if I leave town for a few days! haha! On that note, my 365 is probably going to end up a bit more like a 300.

But here's the fun part! I'm noticing completely new things. Seeing the river every day makes the tides so much more obvious. Colours changing with the sky and wind. Stuff floating by or not. Effects of boats. So I feel like I'm still learning.

And it's for you too. I decided when I started the project to make all the images Creative Commons copyright. You can use them, draw from them, jog your memory, or use them for elements in a larger work. So hopefully by the end of the year it will be a great reference library of water shots.

You can keep up with the images

• on my Flickr Wavemechanics set
• or through the Wavemechanics Blogger blog (which is automated from Flickr)

So how does everyone else practice their water? I know a few of us draw local spots, like Lindsay and Vivien but what about straight studio work? Or perhaps you're too distant to get a real view every day? What's your technique to stay familiar with your subject?