I'm always pondering what to do next (and why I should do it). My aim is constantly focussed on making the best fine art I can.
An artist is never satisfied
I'm never satisfied with my art. I'm forever searching for that 'something', never knowing quite what it is I'm searching for.
It sounds like a route to madness. Indeed, this is how the stereotypical artist is portrayed: as a tormented, tragic soul forever plagued by their muse lurking just out of reach.
Unlike this romantic idea of an artist however, I'm not a person who suffers from depression (fortunately) and I don't think I'm anywhere near a nervous breakdown. How do I know I'm sane? I only have to compare myself to the madness that's gripped this country (The UK) in recent times to know.
My quest to improve on my last painting/print, in fact, is a source of great joy and delight. I cannot think of anything that could occupy my time, which I'd find more rewarding. So…
I'm always satisfied by my fine art!
To put it precisely, I'm always satisfied by the activity of making my fine art. It's the figuring‑out part of creating each individual print, or painting, that fills me with contentment. I become completely absorbed by the challenges – the problem solving – involved in my art's production. I live for it. My waking hours are filled with its intricacies. The tantilising possibility I might make something better than the last thing I made is just too exciting to ignore.
Each painting, or print, assists the next
Once my art is completed, the next artwork becomes my world.
My current painting or print is always my most preoccupying interest. Previously completed art is simply a reference for what I've done before and might use again to solve a current artistic challenge.
I'm always reviewing, figuring‑out and pondering how to best my last efforts. Finished paintings or prints are my assistants in each new artistic endeavour.
On a regular basis though, I also step back and look at a lot of my art together, to decide how I'm doing and what I should do next.
I publish the reviews to my home page and other pages on this website. Instead of over‑writing them, I've decided it would be a good idea to collect them here in an archive. As much for my own records, though it would be great if you found them interesting too…
Making landscape art in 2020
Updated: 16 Dec 2019
The end of 2019 fast approaches. While the UK reflects (hopefully) on the madness and nasty words spewed – I've been reflecting upon my art and its future in 2020.
My motivation isn't concerned with making pretty decoration art in endless colour variations. As enjoyable as I'm sure that is, my impulse is making the best art I can make.
The reason I get up in the morning is always my current painting or print. This is because it might end up a better painting or print than anything I've painted or printed before. The excitement at that possibility is my addiction.
Magical landscapes, magical art quest
I should point out something. When I say my aim is not to make art to match the sofa, I don't mean I try to make ugly art. The shifting fashions for shock or gritty art have never appealed to me. It's OK to like art that matches your sofa by the way. It's just differences in personal tastes.
It's the magical beauty of our landscape here in the UK I strive to capture. Representing the something photographs miss is my quest.
Accurately identifying and describing what it is that is magical about our landscapes is a struggle. It means failing, reworking and perseverance. That sounds anything but fun. To me, it's essential to making good art. It's just what my quest demands.
Reviewing is the path to better art
To steadily improve, you have to critique your achievements continually. I'd begun a thorough assessment of my landscape art the last time I updated this section. Since then, I've pondered, examined and honestly assessed. My conclusions so far are set out here:
In 2020 I will…
- Concentrate on making my art setting aside exhibitions and promotions. This may mean I'll appear inactive. I'll be locking myself away in my garret painting or making prints. When not in my studio, I'll be out in the landscape painting and sketching. I'll have to overcome some challenges to enjoy the luxury of so much time on my art. T'was ever thus though.
- Work in a more coordinated way. I'm planning a series featuring the East Yorkshire Wolds scenery. I've already begun to explore and study the unusual magical habitat that is the Wolds. Setting out to create a series, a themed art collection as a project is a new thing for me.
- Double-down on studio oil paintings and linocuts. I've developed a view of the wide variety of art I've been making. It has diluted my efforts to make the best art I can make. A powerful way to improve on something is to develop a narrow focus on it, and this is my plan for 2020.
None of the above will be easy. But then, if my art was easy to make, it would hold no fascination for me.
So what does this mean?
It means: have no fear. I am an active artist. I'm working away on my art, being productive despite appearances here and elsewhere.
Google – a worshipper of the Fresh Content god – might make it harder for you to find me again. So consider bookmarking my website.
It should mean my art will develop in intriguing ways. Ideas I've held on to for a while will be explored. Ultimately, my art will become better than it is today. So watch this space, as they say.
Finally, Merry Christmas to you all!
I sincerely wish everyone, regardless of politics or madness, a very Merry Christmas. May 2020 be brighter for all.
My landscapes in September 2019
Updated: 12 Sept 2019
So it seems, Summer is drawing to a close all too soon. It even feels a little premature and a teeny bit depressing, because Autumn doesn't know yet!
It's been a big year, with three exhibitions: Burton Agnes Hall & Gardens near Bridlington, Pyramid Gallery, an impromptu one at Castlegate House (both in York), and…
A (working) holiday at Bamburgh Castle in Northumberland - yes, I'm still trying to find time to update that page on this website, with the paintings I made while there (I know, I know, not good enough).
All of these events have been a fascinating learning experience. Seeing people react to my pictures first hand at the exhibitions was a privilege and it was a delight to chat with them about art, where best to paint, how I make my prints and explaining that all my work on show is by one artist (me). It was a common question that took me by surprise the first time it was asked. It's been good to see what instantly appeals to people and hear them tell their stories about where this or that painting reminds them of. The love people have for linocuts was also a big learning – I had no idea.
This year has been a depressing one with the awful political carry on and never ending uncertainty affecting a lot of business. I fear there will be a round of independent gallery closures soon and the prospect has been a mood dampener. I prefer selling through galleries you see, because it means I get to spend more time in the studio painting and printmaking. If they disappear I'll have less and less avenues to sell my art through and that will make it all the harder.
Though I hadn't intended it, this year has turned out to be a soul searching year.
It's the artist thing. An artist is always questioning what they're doing in their constant quest to be a better artist. I've been questioning my art at a deeper level than before though and thinking about how I develop going forward. Am I giving up my art? Well I thought about it given the depressing situation I've described above. But no, I'm not done. Once I get my accounts submitted, I'll be fulltime on this website adding ordering and paying features, so is it all doom and gloom? Nope.
We've got the glory of Autumn in full swing heading our way, which always makes my heart sing.
Especially on a sunny day with blue skies shining through the oranges and yellows, and that wonderful fluttering that starts to fill the air as the colours fall to earth – always beautiful; often stops me in my tracks.
I finally managed to get up to Whitby, sketching round St Mary's high above the harbour, last week. Dashing off on the spur despite the so-so weather forecast, it was a glorious blue skied day, with swallows zipping along the cliff edge. I sat mesmerised by how lovely it was. Stop painting? Not on your life. I'm hoping there will be an 'Indian Summer' up there (as is predicted) so I can go and paint all day before the year's out. I've a mission to complete a painting that's been nagging at me for… possibly years now.
Update: here's the painting I've made since writing the above.