VII

Snip snip snip and a smear of glue on the back of some painted scraps, and yet more foliate heads appear. Marly’s forthcoming book cover has precipitated an unexpected avalanche of drawings, paintings and collages at my work table.

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

Quite soon I must move onto the commission that has come my way for the Henry Vaughan commemorative window, the full-scale pattern for which has arrived by post scrolled into a giant cardboard tube. Rod Bender is the presiding master on this project, and it is he who has produced the pattern and hereafter shall be interpreting and transforming my design into glass. The pattern is presently still scrolled on the kitchen table  waiting for me to quarry compositional solutions to its immensely long, though narrow proportions. I think that the foliate heads have been a good preparation for this work, as their pictorial simplicity and clarity of colour are germane to the consideration of imagery within the medium of stained-glass. Vaughan is one of the metaphysical poets… alongside Donne, Herbert and Marvell… and I came to love his poetry when I worked as a custodian at Tretower Court and Castle in the years between the theatre and painting. He’s lies in the graveyard of a country church a few miles from Tretower, and indeed his family once owned and resided at the Court, though the poet himself never lived there.

It seems that a circle is to close as I embark on the Henry Vaughan project. His poetry was a great comfort to me at a time in my life when I felt frozen and unable to move forward. Returning to him in preparation to designing his commemorative window is akin to visiting a well-loved friend to repay a long-outstanding debt of gratitude.

…

I saw Eternity the other night
Like a great ring of pure and endless light.
All calm, as it was bright;
And round beneath it, Time in hours, days, years,
Driv’n by the spheres
Like a vast shadow moved; in which the world
And all her train were hurled.

…

From The World by Henry Vaughan (1622 -1695)

…

…

…

…

Another foliate head for Marly to choose from. Peter says he thinks I’m channelling the spirit of Ben Shahn with these, and I can see what he means!

A fearsomely gaping maw with a pollarded tree issuing forth. I rather like this.

A lyrical, sideways-glancing green man with a flowing beard and leaves growing from  the corners of his lips.

Sketch for a tattooed foliate head. I think I’ll have to take this to the next stage before being sure whether or not the idea has legs.

…

Foliate Head: acrylic paint and collage.

Marly’s forthcoming poetry book from PS Publishing, The Foliate Head, is the current project on my work desk. Three white on black foliate head drawings have already been selected from my archive as page decorations, but I’m producing a new image for the cover. Here are a selection of drawings made in the last couple of days as I work my way through the many ideas floating around my head. To fit in with other books in the PS poetry series my image will be contained within a panel on the cover, and so it has to pack enough visual punch to work at a smallish scale. I’ll be aiming for a graphic, slightly jazzy tone. While these early images are rendered in grisaille, colour will come later, and there may be elements of collage, which I think is a great technique for getting crisp outlines. But right now it’s all trial and error and the time to be playful. Marly persuaded Andrew Wakelin, who did such a wonderful job on my monograph last year, to be graphic designer on the project, so it’s in safe hands. Watch this space.

Foliate head: acrylic paint. Below: Conté sketch for the same,

…

Foliate Head: Conté pencil and acrylic paint. Below: pencil sketch for the same.

The thumb-nail sketches below were preparatory to the image at the top of the page.

…

…

I like the detail of the jaunty bird gazing at such a fearsome vegetation-spewing maw, though it didn’t make it into the collage version. I’ll probably make another one that includes the bird, just for comparison.

…

Below: taking a more lyrical approach.

…

As per usual, I won’t show the final work here until the book has been published.

I love the open air market at Bergerac where small producers lay out their offerings of vegetables, meats, artisan cheeses, breads and pastries and every variety of cep, mushroom and truffle. It’s always my first port-of-call when shopping for the table whenever we stay with Liz and Graham. However in the week leading up to Christmas Graham took us to see the new supermarket on the block, Grand Frais. Now the French really know how to stock a supermarket, though Grand Frais sets the bar even higher, filling its relatively small hall with island-displays artfully laden with fresh fruit and vegetables of impressive variety. (All the other produce is limited to shelves and cabinets running the lengths of the walls.) Graham explained that this is the supermarket of choice for the local Vietnamese community, and you can see why when you look at the fare on show. What’s more, while I’m a man who will always patronise the boulangerie above the supermarket, it has to be admitted that the fig bread warm from the bakery ovens at Grand Frais was incredibly good. So while my heart still belongs to the market traders and small shops of Bergerac, I’d always be up for a trip to this splendid place.

A wonderful counter of candied fruits. This is all a far cry from Morrisons in Aberystwyth!

…

…

The dry-ice streaming onto the leaf-produce creates a rather magical atmosphere.

Not a scrap of vac-form or cling-film to be seen. Ooops, I’ve just spotted plastic packaging protecting the leaves to the left. Nevertheless, ten out of ten for being largely rid of the unnecessary packing that so blights our own supermarkets.

An infinity of olives.

Everything the chef could desire… not to mention the painter of still-life!

… in a room full of painted birds…

…

…

… I painted a single…

fragile

nest!

…

Trial runs on my work table.