GLASGOW – STRAWBERRY MOON, JUNE 2021
During summer months in the afternoon I sometimes drew at the necropolis. I loved the expansive view looking over as far as the windmill farm where I sometimes go on bike rides, and looking along the horizon to the right I could see as far as the highlands…
The ground felt dense and overgrown during the summer... I witnessed the whole of the city cast with bronze and gold with cool ultramarine shadows when the sun went down... I saw a light grey cascade of mountains in the distance. The graves that overlapped this view were old with a tactile, rusty sense. They were varying heights, and sizes. The rocks looked as it they had worn away like memories - the rugged warm greys and browns. Many beautiful wildflowers coexhisted with the intricate intrusive weeds, which created splashes of luscious colours amongst the greens and browns.
As breaks from my studio during the summer and these Autumn months, I sometimes walk along the river path, adjacent to the Clyde. This river is the heart of the city, bustling with life and fluidity. The shape of the river remains yet its character transforms every single day, hour according to the weather, lighting, people as well as our personal moods. The hard straight edges of hard concrete architecture contrast with the soft and transient, yet powerful natural elements. Like the varying clouds that move accross the sky, figures and animals transiently move up and down the pavement, river and roads casting shadows and reflections. The river is lively- the occasional seal, cormorants, seagulls cry, the sound of the train rumbling like thunder over the bridge to and from Glasgow central, making me feel vibrations right through to the core.
I felt fascinated observing the peoples varying appearances as well as characters... what life they have had to lead them here and how they act now. The stickers and graffiti left by people on walls, poles and the fence make me think up stories according to their pictures, symbols, and words. I wonder who put them here and how other people see these images according to the own stories they live… These images look worn, torn over time like an artists collage. I like to play around with this in my own imagination, although I am not sure others would understand how I perceive it unless I put it into my own collage.
One day after a bit of stress, I was tired and walked along… the reflections were so clear, I admired the depth. Time and space felt layered, distilled in these reflections. It was as if there was an upside-down parallel reality, a porthole to another world I wanted to dive into. Birds flew over the surface showing an inverted version underneath that danced along with them over the shifting surface. The river can make people look or act more peaceful. This particular light occasionally comes down and creates beautiful pathways over the water's surface. Birds sometimes sit on this surface of choppy waves, and animals like seals, cormorants emerge before mysteriously diving back in again casting a ripple that expands outwards over the water. Occasionally a stray plastic bag or a flower glides down the water being transported to another place in the city.
I walk among the city streets and catch my own reflection on mirrors, windows. I often enjoy listening to Burial in my headphones and paying attention to the transparent depth of the music feeling as though it is pulling me into an echoed world. With windows, it is interesting seeing myself in the city reflected back at me as a transparent layer over what is happening behind the surface. I like the grittiness of Glasgow, and how this could be captured in a tactile, expressive paint surface. I store in mind ideas for future paintings full of glazes.
I walk among the city streets and catch my own reflection on mirrors, windows. I often enjoy listening to Burial in my headphones and paying attention to the transparent depth of the music feeling as though it is pulling me into an echoed world. With windows, it is interesting seeing myself in the city reflected back at me as a transparent layer over what is happening behind the surface. I like the grittiness of Glasgow, and how this could be captured in a tactile, expressive paint surface. I store in mind ideas for future paintings full of glazes.
BUCK MOON 2021 – JOURNEY TO NORTHUMBERLAND
After teaching at Glasgow School of Art, and my vaccine, I was tired and spent some time just walking in my local countryside, admiring the wild meadow flowers. This was soon before I travelled down to Hexham for my brother’s wedding. Here I had to construct many place names with watercolour which was a bit frantic as well as exciting experience.
His wedding was in a coffee-coloured tipi as well as a beautiful ancient Northumberland church for the ceremony, with musicians in the family playing at the service (which was a treat because my brother is principle oboe in the London philharmonic!) . I heard some of my favorite pieces which of course brought up the emotions - String Serenade by Elgar, and Cinderella by Prokofiev. I remember I used to play the Elgar piece myself, which made up for the fact we all had to wear masks. When I talked to the family, I loved looking at the arches of the abbey through the beige tent. As it got darker, the stars came out. It felt very atmospheric standing next to the solid, historic building, being part of the changing nights events.
Following the wedding, I was tired and it was hot. I spent a lot of time lying around, as well as exploring the Northumberland landscape on strolls. I sat on camp chairs and grass drawing the intricate patterns of the valleys and fields holding architecture, menagerie, and wild plants. There were many fresh smells such as the soil in the woods by the river. The fields looked and sounded like a beautiful tapestry of texture, colour, and line. I could hear and see different layers and pitches. The grass moved in the wind, the sheeps cry from far away as well as cows, the occasional oystercatcher bird calling out, the traffic and planes hum, and people talking.
Some time was spent exploring the Roman Wall, which I felt very drawn to. It felt like a fortress. The concepts of Andrew Goldsworthy's land art came to mind looking at the wall as he explores these structures within his work to create a convey a personal sense of narrative within the landscape around him. I loved how the wall which was built as a defense was covered, softened with a dense layer of wildflowers of all beautiful colours and sizes.
Some time was spent exploring the Roman Wall, which I felt very drawn to. It felt like a fortress. The concepts of Andrew Goldsworthy's land art came to mind looking at the wall as he explores these structures within his work to create a convey a personal sense of narrative within the landscape around him. I loved how the wall which was built as a defense was covered, softened with a dense layer of wildflowers of all beautiful colours and sizes.
It was awkward to find a place to sit in any shade away from the blazing sun as the landscape was so open. So I uncertainly climbed the wall and sat on the other side, or sat on top of the wall if the plantation was dense enough. I spent time drawing and sluggishly watched things come and go -people, birds, clouds, days. I listened to the people's conversations as they passed by (sometimes arguments as a result of lockdown). Sometimes the plants felt uncomfortable to sit on. I noticed thoughts about the people who were there who built the wall thousands of years ago, in relation to the people who had come and gone ever since. The transitions of greens were fresh and reviving like vitamins for the eyes, and I loved watching light and shadow dance about over the landscape similar to a painting distilled into time.
I could hear lambs calling out for their mothers, it was comforting watching the sun sink down… Soon there was less heat and the landscape was quieter for mum and me to simply draw. As the sun lowered, the landscape at first was cast with a majestic golden light that gradually faded into cool darkness. We felt increasingly connected to the past which was allowing my imagination to run wild and could feel more the sensation of our feet as it moved over the uneven, soft soil.
On the last day I was here, we visited a massive fortress nearby. It had all been dug up by archeologists. It felt like roots within the land - lines of previous roads could be seen and we began to understand the network of this old village. Looking at these foundations, I felt fascinated by the ancient occupiers stories. We went to a museum and looked at their possessions which had been weathered over thousands of years. One of my favorite parts was reading their letters they sent, wondering what they looked like and felt as they wrote them.
I could hear lambs calling out for their mothers, it was comforting watching the sun sink down… Soon there was less heat and the landscape was quieter for mum and me to simply draw. As the sun lowered, the landscape at first was cast with a majestic golden light that gradually faded into cool darkness. We felt increasingly connected to the past which was allowing my imagination to run wild and could feel more the sensation of our feet as it moved over the uneven, soft soil.
On the last day I was here, we visited a massive fortress nearby. It had all been dug up by archeologists. It felt like roots within the land - lines of previous roads could be seen and we began to understand the network of this old village. Looking at these foundations, I felt fascinated by the ancient occupiers stories. We went to a museum and looked at their possessions which had been weathered over thousands of years. One of my favorite parts was reading their letters they sent, wondering what they looked like and felt as they wrote them.
ISLE OF MULL – BUCK MOON 2021
24th of July: I set off on the train up to Oban feeling the excitement as I watched the landscape around me transform from hard-edged buildings to green soft moss and plants. I enjoyed observing the way figures looked beautiful and dark against the window of the train and looking through this I saw the forests… as they passed they looked like a flick book capturing glimpses of the majestic hills and lochs behind. The train moved from light to dark. The water at times looked like diamonds, and the houses amongst the landscape looked like small punctuation marks. Everything looked in flux.
I had to wait in Oban for a while between train and ferry. I had fish and chips, after this I sketched the peer looking over fishing boars and houses. It is a busy town and I could smell the sea water and fish. I loved looking at the colour of the brown rust against the blue boats, sea and sky… Lowry came to mind sketching the small people at the other side of the peer… Boats came and went… I sometimes overlapped them into my drawings like ghosts.
The ferry journey from Oban to Mull was glorious with lighthouses and small boats everywhere within the open landscape. I loved witnessing these architectural structures amongst the organic feel of the land. They felt like pinpoints and were good for my drawing as they create harder-edged lines. Figures moved around on the boat and I recorded their transience journal. The land was a lovely orangey brown against the deep blue of the sea. Again, sparkling diamonds of light on the water. I tried to draw on the ferry but it was so hard as the landscape kept changing.
I had to wait in Oban for a while between train and ferry. I had fish and chips, after this I sketched the peer looking over fishing boars and houses. It is a busy town and I could smell the sea water and fish. I loved looking at the colour of the brown rust against the blue boats, sea and sky… Lowry came to mind sketching the small people at the other side of the peer… Boats came and went… I sometimes overlapped them into my drawings like ghosts.
The ferry journey from Oban to Mull was glorious with lighthouses and small boats everywhere within the open landscape. I loved witnessing these architectural structures amongst the organic feel of the land. They felt like pinpoints and were good for my drawing as they create harder-edged lines. Figures moved around on the boat and I recorded their transience journal. The land was a lovely orangey brown against the deep blue of the sea. Again, sparkling diamonds of light on the water. I tried to draw on the ferry but it was so hard as the landscape kept changing.
Because I sketch on these trips I always have an unusual amount of baggage. I tried to keep my sketch kit to a minimum though… I took a compact Winsor and Newton watercolour box, spiral-bound sea white sketchbook, Midas touch paintbrushes, fine liners, Derwent hard and soft graphite's, Quink, and nibs...
I waited for the bus... I luckily could sit on the wall and find some scenic yachts. I sometimes sketched the boats as they came and went.
The bus broke down on the way over from Craignure to Bunessan. I had a lined book in hand and sat down at a valley and sketched the trees on it with dancing lines, with the mountains behind. I tried to not let the midges bother me. We had to wait a few hours and I kept falling asleep. When the bus got going, It was an extremely bumpy road and I didn’t have any peppermint sweets to keep me occupied. I opened my eyes and to my delight saw this view below as we started to travel along with the Sound of Mull. A sense of nostalgia washed over me as I watched the sun sinking over the Sound of Mull, reminding me of other family holidays and my winter residency on the isle of Iona in 2017. I drew this work from memory in my studio the other day. I remember the beauty and dynamic contrasts of light and dark over the landscape felt more powerful because I felt so tired. I was listening to the choral music ‘Set Me as a Seal Upon Thine Heart’ by William Walton in my headphones. Looking at landscape and hearing music feels similar… I was teleported into the memory of seeing soft against hard textures, bright against subtle, light against dark, transparent against opaque.
I waited for the bus... I luckily could sit on the wall and find some scenic yachts. I sometimes sketched the boats as they came and went.
The bus broke down on the way over from Craignure to Bunessan. I had a lined book in hand and sat down at a valley and sketched the trees on it with dancing lines, with the mountains behind. I tried to not let the midges bother me. We had to wait a few hours and I kept falling asleep. When the bus got going, It was an extremely bumpy road and I didn’t have any peppermint sweets to keep me occupied. I opened my eyes and to my delight saw this view below as we started to travel along with the Sound of Mull. A sense of nostalgia washed over me as I watched the sun sinking over the Sound of Mull, reminding me of other family holidays and my winter residency on the isle of Iona in 2017. I drew this work from memory in my studio the other day. I remember the beauty and dynamic contrasts of light and dark over the landscape felt more powerful because I felt so tired. I was listening to the choral music ‘Set Me as a Seal Upon Thine Heart’ by William Walton in my headphones. Looking at landscape and hearing music feels similar… I was teleported into the memory of seeing soft against hard textures, bright against subtle, light against dark, transparent against opaque.
25th of July: It was my birthday. Along the rickety path... down the hill full of mud, the donkey Everet, the pet cow and calf, gnarly trees, and wildflowers... I would walk down to Loch Scridain, looking over to Ben More... I created watercolors lying in the plants and over the uneven rocks. I could hear the usual sounds of the oystercatchers, the bees, the gentle tide whispering, cows grazing close by, the roads, the rains. The light changed subtly from shadows to gentle light. Later we had a bonfire with chili con carne, marshmallows as well as singing and guitar.
29th of July: I produced these drawings below.
I sat after having breakfast with Tessa and Gus (auntie and uncle). I can hear the geese. Some different birds echo their cries through the rocks. Over there to the right there is a curtain of rain over the Mull mountains obscuring it like sea glass. To the left, I again saw the Dutchman's Cap. The place's subtle colours and textures looked a bit like Tessa’s weavings, no wonder she sent me out here. I drank lemon and ginger tea from her flask watching a heron fly over the rocks… The roaring sea, cold from the Atlantic. Sheep appeared to be curious about the progression of my work. I stick wild plants into my watercolour to give them some further texture to allow the foreground to come forward.
30th July: On the last day, I stayed at my cousin Naomi’s cottage at Kintra with her huge family. Lots of young children… You can see me in the photo below as a tiny blue dot. It was only after I climbed the rocks near the cottage I realised where I was. Upon that rock, I could see Iona to the left, and to the right, the Dutchman's cap, Egg, the mainland... I could see Skye, over 100 miles away. Because of its distance, it looked like some sort of faded memory.
It was so windy I wore many jumpers and I had to hold all my stuff down to stop it from falling down the hill which affected the energy of my mark-making. I loved watching the light change and annotated thoughts, it was a very clear day and the sunset turned the land pink to dark. We later had a fire by the cottage and I could see some of the stars through the clouds. I remember by the fire I had thoughts about developing some of the scenes and dynamic light changes into further, larger paintings in the studio.
BIRMINGHAM, AUGUST - STURGEON MOON 2021
New Moon:
Shortly after the trip to Mull, my brother visited and we went for a walk by the Ayrshire coast. The sun went down very fast and I recorded notes of the light. I could see to Arran and it was comforting to hear the sound of the Western sea like up in Onich.
During the new moon, I spent time reflecting and documenting the vast amount of work I have made over 2020. I spent time dividing my work into narratives and sent work off for the My Normality Project.
Shortly after the trip to Mull, my brother visited and we went for a walk by the Ayrshire coast. The sun went down very fast and I recorded notes of the light. I could see to Arran and it was comforting to hear the sound of the Western sea like up in Onich.
During the new moon, I spent time reflecting and documenting the vast amount of work I have made over 2020. I spent time dividing my work into narratives and sent work off for the My Normality Project.
A few days later, I found myself down in Birmingham helping set up my cousin Anna's wedding with the other bridesmaids. We arranged bouquets and displayed 1000 origami cranes which symbolises an abundance of love and good luck in Japan. It was a beautiful week catching up with my large family, producing some watercolours and enjoying the event. We sung 'Set Me as a Seal Upon Thine Heart'. This wedding has influenced the work I made back in the studio since