the leaves blow in

Back and forth, back and forth I go across the thick Arches paper, spinning it on the polished wood of the table to bring whichever part of the composition I need to work on next closer to me. (The sheet measures 76 x 57 cm.) In this way it’s almost stopped having a top and a bottom, which given that the three protagonists are all airborne… four if you count the fish… is a reasonable way to be making the drawing. Yesterday the oak leaves blew in from somewhere. (Marly Youmans uses the lovely description ‘diapering’ for the informal scattering of leaves and flowers in the backgrounds of my compositions.) Sometimes I’m fast, scribbling away for all I’m worth, confident of where I’m going, and at other times so abstract do the patterns become as they swarm across the sheet that I have to slow down to make sense of the knot of flailing limbs, enfolding arms and flapping coat-tails all tangled up together. The fact that there’s no guide to this drawing other than photographs I took of the maquettes, makes the whole process feel pretty improvised. It’s reported the painter Cedric Morris started at the tops of  his canvases and worked his way south, bringing to completion each worked-on section before moving downwards, a process for which he coined the term ‘knitting’. I’m doing the same with this drawing, though working centrifugally as the composition spins on its axis. If Cedric could be said to have ‘knitted’ then maybe I’m the artist who ‘crochets’!

Today I think I must tackle the angel’s head, and perhaps Tobias’s too, as they’re in such proximity to each other.  I’ve been putting this moment off, anxious about ‘pinning down’ the representations of them. Jack too has yet to make an appearance, and this morning I plan to encourage him to stretch out on the rug of the upstairs sitting-room where I’m working so that I’ll have him at hand to model. He’ll doze happily in the Autumn sun once he’s had a good, energised twenty minutes of tearing around the garden retrieving his frisbee.

13 Responses to the leaves blow in

  1. “I’m doing the same with this drawing, though working centrifugally as the composition spins on its axis. If Cedric could be said to have ‘knitted’ then maybe I’m the artist who ‘crochets’!” Obviously you are being influenced by the fish you used as a maquette. That started as a line of stitches, and the shape built up by going round that line in a circular fashion. Doilies and granny squares start in the centre and work outwards, in a fashion very similar to your paintings. Definitely a crochet technique.

    • Well-spotted Roger. The construction of ‘Tiny Fish’ is clearly what’s set me off on this ‘doilie’ method of working. It will be but a matter of time before my pencils give way to crochet hooks. Where will it all end?

  2. Now I was perfectly happy gradually unwrapping this gift you give us, and then you mention bara brith and now, well, that’s just not fair. Spent the morning trying to get on the internet, my first view of your work today was on my blackberry so can you imagine the frustration of waiting for it to load? Aargh. However now on the laptop as there is apparently some problem with the PC. Still at least I was able to catch up with you. I like the oak leaves. Understand what you mean about performance too. I always seem to work better with a deadline, it gets the adrenalin going. kettles boiled…cheers

  3. it really is like opening a present, for us. interesting to think of it as a performance, and it makes perfect sense. i am the opposite way :D even in dance, i love the whole process, right up to the first show (especially the tense, extra-exhausting long hours of the last week), and then i wish i could disappear off the planet :D
    i love watching your paintings unfold, so i’m glad you feel differently…

  4. I love this description of how it feels to work on your drawing – the turning of the paper, and the oscillation between condifence and uncertainty. The process seems magical!

    • Bev, I suspect that the process becomes ordered and magical in the telling. The reality is chaotic and nerve-wracking, exacerbated by the extra pressure of my now regular custom of chronicling the whole thing with photographs and posts on the Artog. In fact I begin to wonder whether I’m using the Artlog diaries of paintings and drawings to force me through the stickier patches of creativity. I know for a fact the habit keeps me working at what otherwise might be hard-to-complete projects because I’m aware of progress being observed by visitors here. Left to my own devices I’d probably just throw in the towel and move on to something less fraught! Come to think of it, it’s almost like the pressure of having to go on stage for the evening performance, even though you may not be ready to do so. I guess that for me old habits die hard, and I’ve reinvented a studio version of ‘the performance’ to keep my creative process edgy.

      Thanks for dropping by. I like it when old friends pop in unexpectedly. I’m just sorry I can’t offer you coffee and bara brith! (-;

      • I can well understand your theory about using the Artlog as a means of pushing yourself along when the going gets tough. Although I am not as diligent about documenting progress here at the old house, I do find that posting photos and progress updates helps me to see that I’m actually getting somewhere!
        It’s nice to “drop by” to leave a comment. I read every blog post to Artlog as they come in on the email reader of the ipad. However, due to the crazy nature of my life at the moment, I don’t manage to comment as often as I would like. When you see me “here” you should know that a post has made such an impression that I have dropped whatever I was working on to make an appearance and leave a comment! (-:

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