We’re in Aberystwyth, for a month of intensive Welsh grammar. There are verb patterns to remember. That’s quite straightforward, except there are some patterns that wander off in different directions. I’m reminded of School for Scoundrels, where it’s recommended to interrupt any knowledgeable but dull explanation with “Oh, but only in the south…”.
I don’t remember drawing this but it was probably for someone else. Everything in the sketchbook is from about ten or so years ago.
I enjoyed making the background wallpaper for this window display. It’s inspired by a house move when I was about three years old. The new house’s wallpaper was all atomic design; my bedroom had pink and yellow ovals on a grey background. The kitchen was red, yellow and black. That was the first room to be redecorated with pale blues etc, but I preferred the original patterns.
My studio is whichever space is available at the moment, not particularly welcoming for any visitors. Pondering how to put a window exhibition together made me a bit nostalgic for previous studios. The lingering scent of dead pigeons in the roof; tin baths catching the raindrops falling from above. Sharing printing presses with people who left fingerprints on everything(!) There was a lot of admin to help out with in a studio building, the office area was usually warmer so it would be a haven of bustling activity.
There’s also the notion of being a local artist. That’s quite a difficult term, often used as an insult. I’ve lived here for 25 years but I’m not really local. A Radio 4 programme about blood types informed me that I’m part of the same group as some historic invaders. This area is known as ‘The Little England Beyond Wales’, even though the incomers seemed to be Flemish. I’ve never heard any Belgian people chatting around here (so far).
Anyway, these prints gathered together made me realise how many feature hands. Someone asked me if I could draw hands, so I drew a few. Then they asked “but what are linocuts used for?”, so the wallpaper design was to make that clear. What next? I might attempt to put my novel into the right order. It’s about an artist moving to Wales, even though their friends say that’s the same as being dead…
There are many tasks to do today but I knitted instead. The project will become too big for three needles so I’ve added more. They’re slightly bent from being stuck under a heavy item for too long. They still function well.
Valentine’s Day, so here is a pencil drawing of two hearts of stone.
Typical tutorial, a chat about the artists I *should* admire. Any artists I *did* admire were allegedly not the correct choices.
I was often advised to look at works by Sidney Nolan. Why? Is it helpful to keep telling people to research the same stuff constantly?
This might be a sketch for a linocut. The lighthouse would be darker with more interesting light from the top. The waves would be darker, obviously.
The little figure about to step into the unknown is stolen from a tarot card. It’s usually a dog pulling on the clothing.
Made a start on a linocut, Jack Frost with the sun trapped in a block of ice. Or is it? Anyway, the repetitive action of cutting small lines isn’t good for the shoulder wound so I’m staying away from the lino today.
Tidying some space around the house. The last chimney improvements added a fine layer of dust to this dinner set that has been sitting around for years. Might inspire some still life drawings, or some pasta sauces that will be good in the wider bowls in the corner.
This was the sketch I was working on when the virus hit. My nose was running while I was bending over the paper. I tried to ignore the symptoms and finish the picture. The aches, pains and tiredness caught up in the end.
Recent drawings on greetings cards for various life events. Mixed media, Bic Cristal biro (black and green) with watercolour crayons. The cat sitting on a hill is near some wild garlic, which has been given darker green foliage since the photo was taken. I wondered why Ramsbottom is called that, or which other names were considered at that meeting. A bit of etymological reading suggested ransoms and the bottom of a hill. Wild garlic valley, obviously.
berry daines 