equus: what you didn’t see!

The process of illustration involves creating plenty of images that will never make it through into the final book. On Equus this was truer than on any other Old Stile Press project I’ve worked on. As we approach the first anniversary of the publication of the book, I’ve been sorting through the box-files of drawings set aside at the time I completed the project and was clearing the decks ready for the next one. Here are a few of the drawings for illustrations that were abandoned, or else evolved into something quite different.

There’s a conversation in the play between Alan’s mother Dora, and Dysart the psychiatrist:

Dora And then I remember I used to tell him a funny thing about falling off horses. Did you know that when Christian cavalry first appeared in the New World, the pagans thought horse and rider were one person?

Dysart Really?

Dora Actually they thought it must be a god. It was only when the rider fell off, they realised the truth.

My first thought was to illustrate the episode, and I started with the notion that the image might show the bones of both the horse and rider, as though the ‘pagans’, on realising that here was a mortal enemy and not a god, had killed both where they had fallen. I started with some drawings of a horse skeleton.

Then I added in the fallen conquistador. Suddenly the drawing was  looking as though it might need to be full page.

At this point I began to realise that although I liked the image a lot, it might be getting too specific for what I felt should be the general feel of the book. So I decided to jettison it, though not before making this detailed study of the fallen man.

In another scene Alan’s father Frank reveals how he spied on his son through an opening in the boy’s bedroom door late one night. He tells of watching as Alan fitted a makeshift horse-bit made from string into his mouth, and then proceeded to beat himself viciously with a coat hanger. The drawings I made were initially explicit in a way that the play in performance could not be. This was at a stage that I was toying with the idea of never showing Alan’s face in the book.

This approach was abandoned, and the illustration eventually appeared in a sexually frank, though less explicit drawing, for which the image below was one of the studies.

And here a drawing in which I attempted to get into Alan’s nightmares after the horse-stabbing incident. I never pursued this idea as it seemed immediately clear to me that there was too much information in the image.

There were literally hundreds of Equus drawings made during my year on the project, of which these are just a handful. Some may evolve into paintings one day, but most are just remnants of a process of work. It’s interesting looking back at the ideas that were abandoned. There were any number of ways that the book could have been done, and I explored various possibilities for as long as I could, given the need to have Equus in readiness for its launch at the 2009 London Art Book Fair.

With a painting there can always be more than one version and I frequently return to the same subject to try it again in another way. For example, I’ve painted three quite different versions of the Annunciation. But this was my only crack at an illustrated edition of  Shaffer’s play about the boy who blinded horses. There’s no returning to it to have another go, something I’m regularly haunted by in the matter of making books. What Nicolas and Frances produced at the Old Stile Press is it. I still enjoy looking at their creation in its ingenious folding slipcase, though it will be forever my nature to ponder ‘What if?’

10 thoughts on “equus: what you didn’t see!

  1. OK, yes I see how explicit the work is meant to be. I must confess a lack of familiarity with Equus beyond the superficial, namely reviews that I have read in my past. I have never seen a performance. Your work captures the anxiety that I understand to be at the crux of the narrative. Some of the work which has been edited out, is clearly explicit but not at all raunchy, quite the contrary. The boy with the hanger and his vulnerable genitalia is painful to witness, quite beautiful and haunting.

    • I thought I was onto something, but Nicolas demurred and that was that. I didn’t fight for it, because Nicolas and Frances know their business and their market. But the drawings weren’t intended to be arousing. I was trying to be truthful.

    • What indeed! I feel there’s no painting to be done of him. Some things just have to exist in their own vacuum. I’ve never offered that little sequence of drawings to Martin Tinney for showing at the gallery, partially because I don’t think they’d make any sense to anyone not familiar with the play, or with the notion that Conquistadors on horseback were perceived as centaur-like entities. By the timer I made that grisaille painting of the fallen man, I already knew that I wasn’t going to pursue the subject as an illustration for the book, but I made it anyway, just because. (Truth to tell I wanted to paint one of those lovely Spanish helmets, and the deep curve of his breastplate and the layered segments of the armour beneath it. Sometimes painting just gets to be fun, especially when making images of unfamiliar… in the sense that I don’t paint them every day… objects.)

    • Oh my gosh! You see… you’re incapable of writing even a comment on my blog without it being beautifully poetic! I am glad I posted these drawings… I nearly didn’t… if only to elicit that response from you. Thank you Kathe. I think the energy for the project was occasionally desperate as I struggled to bring the images into the world. Got there eventually, but there were moments that felt like I was drowning!

  2. A fascinating glimpse into the process, Clive. When you were working on the Mari Lwyd series, your process yielded drawings as intentional, monumental, and finished works of art… the likes of which I haven’t seen coming from your studio lately… I’m curious to know [and not just for reasons of idle chit-chat ;)] how you “intuit” when a drawing is only preparatory, and when it should become the final thing that is framed and exhibited as a “drawing.” I know, you often exhibit the preparatory sketches alongside finished paintings… and rightly so, but when is it you decide that the drawing is the “thing,” and not simply preparatory? Is it the “intention” that makes it so… or is it the monumentality, or the complexity, or the finish? Or, just what?

    AM

    • OK, I’ll give this a shot.

      The first large Mari Lwyd drawing showed me that the notion I had of creating a ‘monumental’ image in Conté could be made to work. It was conceived as a drawing with no intention that I’d later render it in paint. I wanted the tones of a drawing, with no distraction of colour or brushwork. With that one in the bag, the series was up and running.

      The series had me in its grasp for a long time, and I was physically exhausted by the time all the drawings had been completed, not to mention the emotional weariness of having dredged up much that was painful. After that I wanted to get back to the simplicity of line drawing. The density of tone and the heavily worked surfaces that left no paper showing through, had been played out to my satisfaction, and all I wanted was to make spidery lines on a sea of white! Interestingly I’m thinking of returning to the large scale of those Mari Lwyds for my next series of drawn works. Huge and made in Conté on heavy paper. We’ll see!

      Drawing can be like cooking. You can plan the elaborate eight course banquet that will take the breath away, or you can have something as simple and as perfect as a beautifully poached egg on a sliver of buttery toast. Both satisfy in different ways. That’s pretty much how I approach drawing. It can be whatever you want it to be. The big and dense isn’t necessarily better that the small and deft. It’s just different, and there’s a time and place for both.

  3. wow! i’ve always thought it interesting, the centaur-god view of a horse and rider to those who’d never before been exposed– it makes sense, really. and i love the way you expressed those ideas, the skeletons, and the study of the man are so fantastic, you should definitely extend them!!

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