Having been determined to do some outdoor painting while here, the weather always seems to be against this. However a couple of days ago I braved the freezing conditions and went out with a rucksack full of oil paints, boards and palette knives, and sitting in the snow, made a few small paintings before retreating from failing light to the warmth of the studio. Working crouched on the ground with my palette in the snow, snow became mixed in with the oil paint, which altered the consistency of the paint so that it became granular - it was a bit like painting with ice-cream. But it was good to have worked with paint and with colour – white snow against black/brown rocks under a darkening pink-streaked sky reflected in the dark voe.
Whilst the research I am doing - the artifacts relating to Haaf Fishing, the written, narrated, and embellished accounts of storms, disasters, rescues, the contemporary stories of recent huge waves that people I meet recount with relish - all play a key role in the development of imagery, yet observation is, and always has been, critical to making work.
Working in the studio with the research alongside drawings and paintings made on site, the connection with the actual places - some with traces of the past embedded into the landscape - the historical significance of events is more evident, or perhaps more keenly felt. However, when translated into an artwork, the images may mutate into more fictitious form; it is inevitable that I will project my own experiences and memories and imagination onto them.
Well that is the role of the artist isn't it, to do that? In the same way a musician brings significance to a piece of music.
ReplyDeleteIn effect you are storying the landscapes, adding, as we all do with narrative, a sense of yourself by the refining and reworking.
'Strong' places have a way of imprinting themsleves somehow .... often I find they pop up unexpectedly - so for example a piece of music becomes visually associated with a place whenever it's played, not always for any apparent reason. (a bit like synaesthesia,maybe?)
So a question is, what draws us to certain places, what makes us want to look and walk and research .... we're never going to see with the same eyes as the folk who make their living there after all.
Hm. Whatever floats your boat!
It's like those wayside shrines the Romans made - just stop and rest for a bit, look around.
It's the stopping that's difficult I think?
hi janette from jean x
ReplyDeleteAt long last my journey of the blog has reached fruition with the expert tutelage of Steve, enabling this comment to connect through cyberspace. Connection on many levels, to me is what you are talking about, when we put aside the intellect and go deep within ourselves, a connection with whatever we do, whoever we see, whatever we hear happens, and then the truth of what we do exists, and is seen - (the role of the artist), heard - (the role of the musician). If we are connected to our truth then we will be drawn to certain places that 'feed' us.
ReplyDeleteI so agree with Jane that it is the stopping that is difficult. Allowing space for things to grow. I feel this is what you have been doing in Shetland.
No need to question too much.
Safe journey back and looking forward to seeing you.
It is good to "see" you in that pic. I like very much the sketches you are posting at the right side of this blog.
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