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I can hardly credit when looking back at some of the paintings of the past, what an un-reconstructed neo-romantic I once was. This image makes me want to get out the red-oxide paint and eliminate all the excessive brush-work. It feels as though it’s the work of an artist I barely know. However, because there are always things to be learned by observing the route travelled between any two points, I show it here as an example of what I once was. We still have that Staffordshire dog, and now he sits in the Blue Bedroom window here at Ty Isaf, gazing timelessly at a landscape that even in excessively bad weather… of which there has been plenty recently… is a lot less alarming than the one his painted likeness has to put up with.
If you were an unreconstructed neo-romantic Clive, I can understand it, the work those artists produced is pretty seductive, I’ve been under their spell for a long time! I do love this period of your work, mainly for the sheer virtuosity of the painting in the foreground figures, real tour de force painting in my view, and here, those delicate whites and greys of the Staffordshire dog are delicious. I take your point, though, that one has to move on from being in thrall to past masters to develop one’s own voice, which you’ve done in spectacular style. I like that story, not sure if it’s true, of when the Queen, I think (was it?), commissioned John Piper to draw Windsor Castle, which he did with his customary black skies – when the Queen and Prince Philip inspected the works, Philip said ‘you haven’t been lucky with with the weather have you mister Piper?’ or some such. Anyway, thanks for sharing this, the expression you’ve captured on that Staffordshire dog’s face is sublime and it’s a lovely reminder of a stage in your development as an artist.
Now you’ve made me blush. Thank you Phil. Much appreciate the comment.
I loved Piper when I was discovering the world of art as a boy. He was rather a hero of mine. So it’s the greatest pleasure that his daughter Clarissa and her husband David are our close friends, and live not far from us. Another circle begun long ago, closed.
He’s lovely Clive. His expression reminds me of little Gem. He’s an anchor to the turbulence behind him. Thank goodness you cannot get your hands on it Clive, he is fine as he is. I like your comment, too, Zoe, about the still lives never being still !
Oh, I loved little Gem. She was the sweetest dog.
You’re right about the dog in the painting being the anchor. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but it’s true. He’s the still point that calms it all.
All the same, it is unmistakably you… and all the more interesting in that you would never paint such a picture today. Artists of all sorts have a tendency to strip down and purify over time, I think. And one of the grand things about looking at a body of painting is to see change over time, so please don’t go running about the world, fixing up those older paintings!
No chance of fixing it up, even had I wanted to. It’s long gone, in a private collection in the Vale of Glamorgan. I have occasionally reconstructed an old painting I thought needed a helping hand. (See HERE) But overall, I leave well alone!
An un-reconstructed neo-romantic you may have been but I recognised it as Staffordshire! The painting still has a lot to recommend it.
I find it too busy, but I’m glad you like it.
oh he has great character! lovely– and i love the way your still lives were never still; he is very clearly a figurine and yet seems very very alive
i adore him
Ha ha! You’re not wrong. In fact, far from still. Positively turbulent!
peg me as a neo-romantic, I enjoy the painting, thanks for bringing it out and sharing…
I’m sharing it by airing it!
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