Back to obsessions again. From the archive here are a couple of still-life works, both containing the oval box from the still-life in the previous ‘Obsessions’ post. That box turns up in paintings over and over again. It was given to me by my friend Rex Harley and I’m afraid I can’t remember what it once contained. Originally covered in printed paper, shortly after receiving the gift I decorated it with a painting of waves and a clipper and ever since it’s been known as ‘Rex’s box’. (Only the first image has been posted so that you can click to see a high definition version.)
Nautilus
Acrylic on panel. 30 x 30 cms. 2006
Private Collection
And here it is again, this time coupled with a French jug given to me by my late friend Catriona Urquhart, and an anchovy dish acquired many years ago on my first trip to France. The shell is the same one recently painted in the Still-life Study for Tobias and the Angel.
French Jug and Anchovy Dish: Ceredigion Still-life
Acrylic on Panel. 30 x 30 cms. 2006
Private Collection
I bought Nautilus from Martin Tinney several years ago. It hangs next to my bed. I never tire of looking at it. It seems to change every day. It brings me peace and comfort. I love it. Thank you for painting it.
What a lovely surprise to receive this news. Thank you for leaving the message here.
Sometimes it feels as though paintings are fragile paper boats launched onto seas that they may or may not survive. It’s odd to feel that I’ll probably never set eyes on the majority of mine again. With the exception of works that have gone into the homes of collectors known to me, I have no idea where most of the works I’ve produced have ended up. I don’t know whether they languish forgotten in dark corners, rendered as commonplace as wallpaper by familiarity, or are looked at and enjoyed every day, as you’ve been kind enough to share here in respect of Nautilus.
It’s heartening to know that a painting is safe and regularly appreciated. Often a work has a particular resonance for me, perhaps because I paint objects that I love, or everything has come together particularly well in the composition, or because some effect or accident of paint makes it special. The fact that Nautilus is on this site is evidence I was particularly pleased with it, and I thought it successful in a way that makes me still look at it from time to time. And yes, for me too there’s something comforting in it. Perhaps the domesticity of milk in a jug waiting for the tea or the coffee, or the billowing curtain that speaks of the sea at Aberporth, which is where this was painted.
Thank you H Jones.
Thank you for your reply.
By the way, your paper boat came to rest in Radyr, Cardiff.
But it might sail again, someday!
And that’s part of the experience of owning it, I guess. Knowing that it’s with me now, but wondering where it will be fifty years from now.
Saved for the nation, I hope!
Might you consider loaning the painting to the National Library of Wales for my retrospective at the Gregynog Gallery next Summer? The insurance will be taken care of from the moment that the work is collected. Sorry to make this request so publicly, but I don’t have an e-mail address for you to do so privately. If you would prefer to reply privately, you can do so by using the ‘contact’ box at my website. And you can find my website by clicking my name on the blogroll at the top of this page.
I again point out that I love the play of “Rex’s Box” juxtaposed with the open window showing the sea outside. The combination feels like an understated consistency, especially in the second piece with the shell and the other box with a fish atop it.
There’s something to be said, I think, about comfortable expressions in our work. Call them obsessions or consistencies or repeat showings, but I feel the passion driving the creation tends to explore all possible expressions of a thing before it looks elsewhere for inspiration. For me that manifests in photographing nature: I have yet to feel any species has shown its entire personality, so even the ubiquitous titmouse remains a source of great intrigue for me–and rightfully so as I never cease finding some new gem of magic when I photograph them. Maybe I’m oversimplifying or am comparing apples to oranges; nevertheless, each time you’ve shown Rex’s Box in a painting, it plays a different role, the changes sometimes subtle and sometimes profound, yet each time a bit different.
All that said: I have yet to see it the same way twice in your work. That’s a fascinating truth to me.
Re ‘I feel the passion driving the creation tends to explore all possible expressions of a thing before it looks elsewhere for inspiration.’ I’m in total agreement with you on this Jason. You return over and over to the same creatures because you wisely know there’s always something new to be learned and to capture with your camera. I paint in series because I’ve learned that the more familiar I am with what I paint, the better I get at it. You’re not overplaying the comparison. We’re both exploring and getting better at what we do. If I couldn’t get better then I’d stop, and I suspect you would too.
I try to find different ways of depicting the box, and of course it changes according to the other objects I place it with. Such a little thing made of cardboard and glue and paint, yet it clearly catches your imagination as much as it does mine. Interesting.
Had you noticed that it’s also HERE?