He who hesitates is lost?

It’s just over two weeks since I last blogged. I did set myself the target of blogging about once a week, so the reasons for not doing it have been difficult for me to get to grips with. I think part of the reason is physical. I have an old shoulder injury that has always bothered me when working at an easel. After finally being referred for an MRI scan I had high hopes that the NHS would find a cure to free me from pain.

It is possible to think into a dark place, light hidden in clouds, a battle to move forward

It is possible to think into a dark place, light hidden in clouds, a battle to move forward

However the consultant who saw me had not been sent the scan by my doctor and so after a lot of toing and froing I have now to wait until late September before having another consultancy. I think this has caused some depression and made it difficult to focus on working, especially when the painting has reached a difficult transition point. Short-hand I suppose for maybe it’s not working!

A glimmer of light can be just enough to follow to find a way back

A glimmer of light can be just enough to follow to find a way back

I also finally set up my second ‘print’ studio with a large printer, and then realised all sorts of problems within my photography. Because I have been taking images for the web, they are not manipulable nor as sharp as a professional’s photographs would be. Also I have never really thought of my photographs as art in their own right, any more than I think a page from my sketchbook is. I have seen the camera as a tool and only now am I beginning to think of them as possible art forms – but even then in my mind divorcing the imagery from the tool itself. Now I realise that is not how I really see photography for me, so I don’t want to go down that path.

Light breaks over the horizon

Light breaks over the horizon

So the clouds have gathered in my work, much as the clouds have gathered over Seaford as the end of hurricane Bertha has tromped its way along the coast. With 18 foot waves, and thunderstorms it has taken over a week for Bertha to clear off, and it is taking some time for me to sort out what I am doing both in the painting and the printing.  I have realised that whilst I have taken a large number of nice images, as art they need approaching in a different way, and I am now going to step down that path, into the unknown.

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Over the horizon lies the goal. But doesn’t it always?

So now I have taken steps to resolve issues and get back to work. I have taken on the challenge of calibrating the screen and the printer together, in itself and intellectual and technical challenge  (Don’t you hate it when instructions start off with defining colour as electronic colour not light? Hence the nonsense that green is a primary …) I have booked some lessons on how to use my software properly to achieve what I currently create mechanically.

I have also decided the painting will work.

Hesitation is not prevarication. I think therefore I am. The clouds are lifting.

Castles in the Air, Dreams Earthbound

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Yorkshire

The last week has been a major disappointment. It started with a trek to Eastbourne to see a consultant about the worsening of a nagging pain in my shoulder, a relatively minor ailment for years morphing into something more serious as ageing sets in. Our wonderful NHS managed to X-ray the wrong area whilst also losing my MRI scan so the consultant was forced to deduction and injection. The result was a ban on working in the studio for a week, nor was I to do anything that might put strain on the shoulder.

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These pines gradually making way for new broadleaf woodland

Fortunately I had an invitation to Yorkshire – a weekend with my brother followed by a stay in an hotel. Alright so the hotel was work, but at least the trip would take me out of myself and into a different landscape.

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Painted Lady butterfly making a picture

Indeed the whole trip was a reminder of what a cobblers our government has made of our road system whilst reminding me of just how beautiful England is. I must say England now  as the break up of the UK seems inevitable as the Scots make their desire for independence evident (whilst denying the 800,000 Scots working in England the right to have a say).

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Sunrise looking towards the Yorkshire Moors

Yorkshire looked lovely, still showing signs of having been used for some cycle race or other. The villages in their local stone showed local produce, better cheese than anything from France. You haven’t lived until you have tried a Yorkshire tea. Not cream and scones, that’s a Devon tea, but rich fruit cake and Wensleydale cheese together, reet gradely.

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The fairy castle that is the Swinton Park hotel – fantastic food, local produce, local beers

The views we had at dawn were wonderful, but seeing weasels hunting a field of cut hay was fascinating and the proliferation of butterflies and birds to was wondrous to behold as were the albino deer in the Swinton Park, a revisualised Victorian country house that was our magical enchanted castle to stay in.

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Bit like our aristocracy, the deer herd needs fresh blood,its albino quality being due to inbreeding apparently

Am I refreshed and ready to go in the studio, shoulder cured? Nope, of course not. Tired after driving 650 miles, but yes, back in the studio later, shoulder no different. Isn’t our NHS wonderful? Seemingly condemned to increasing pain as I get older, not a great prospect, and so much still to achieve…

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The selfie shows I can at least still hold a camera

To Paint is to Love Again

Henry Miller wrote ‘To Paint is to Love Again’ (Cambria Book s published by William Webb in California in 1960). It is a book title that has engraved itself on my mind, and today looking at the progress in the studio I felt the first return of the joy I remember of creating paintings when I was a full time artist in my younger years. It has taken a while to get into this groove again, but looking around the growing amount of work I have on easels and walls in the studio I began to feel the familiar tingle of excitement of ideas, colour and textures mixing and developing.

The blank canvas is intimidating, no mater how much preparatory drawing has been done

The blank canvas is intimidating, no matter how much preparatory drawing has been done

 

I enjoyed 25 years running a design practice, but design, certainly the design of hotels which I was involved with (and for which we won awards) is a collaborative process. As a painter all the decisions are mine. Starting the canvas this week has reminded me just how many decisions an artist makes as a part of the process of creation.

Drawings look at bits of the colour and textures to be used. I've done about 20, some a metre square, to get this far

Drawings look at bits of the colour and textures to be used. I’ve done about 20, some a metre square, to get this far. This is grass – and relates only through colour and the mark

Everything from the size and scale of the canvas to the size and scale of the marks made, thousands of decisions an hour being made, some consciously, some unconsciously by instinct and experience, makes the process a complicated yet simple one. The process is complicated because of the wealth of considerations before starting, simple because one decision leads inexorably to another.

California poppies are part of the image (see a previous post on this blog)

California poppies are part of the image (see a previous post on this blog)

The process is full of feedback loops and as I painted I realised all the drawings had left some questions unanswered so alongside the painting another large drawing is beginning to take shape on which hopefully some of the questions relating to the painting can be explored and feedback into the creation on the canvas. Drawing is the mythmaking process, painting the formal realisation of the personal legends the artist creates. Myths and legends are a part of the human state – from the shared myths of gods from Thor, Zeus and Anubis to modern mysticism and religions, all have modified behaviours.

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California Poppy (drawing)

Artists drawing process is an exploration of their own soul and creation of their own myths, painting being a way of ritualised realisation of these myths. Makes Hurst’s derivative (sub Larry Poons) dots or bejewelled skull (sub Tretchikoff), or Tracy Emin’s unmade bed interesting as reflections of their souls, doesn’t it? For me the drawing is providing a route back into the joy of creation as well as a way of exploring colour and the texture of the mark, its relationship to the movement of the body through gesture, and the relationship to all this of the different media I am using.

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Finally underway – acrylic on canvas

There are no prizes for being right or wrong, but the process has no end. I am older but the spirit moves me in the same way, thanks goodness. The process of enquiry, of a dialogue with the self, conscious to unconscious, has not changed.

To paint is an affirmation of life. It is indeed, as Henry Miller wrote, to love again.

Canvas, Convolvulus and Carpets

We’ve been in Seaford for nearly a year now. We’ve achieved a great deal in that time, but we are still a long way off finishing. Best part so far is the building of the studio at the bottom of the garden which has set me up for painting again after about ten years. The last major piece I did was based on an image of fuchsias but the recent drawings seem to be taking me away from this – although it may change when I start working on the canvas that is now on the easel ready. Nothing more terrifying than a large blank white canvas when you’ve not had a brush in your hand seriously for ten years…

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My last major work. Acrylic on canvas, 900 x 1500mm. Private collection

So many things come between me and the painting. Prevarication? Distraction activities? Maybe so, in part anyway, but I still run a business too and deciding on working hours is one thing but then I am also fighting a war against convolvulus (bindweed) so even walking down the garden to the studio sometime takes nearly an hour…

Convolvulus wraps itself tightly around other plants, smothering and strangling them

Convolvulus wraps itself tightly around other plants, smothering and strangling them

I’ve worked through some colour things in another metre square drawing, but finding the oil pastels I’m using not right. It seems the make I used in the past are no longer available and all the others I am trying are very soft and greasy – a failing exaggerated by the hot weather recently. It did cross my mind to try making them but then that becomes another distraction activity.

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Detail of the latest drawing ‘Summer Garden’.

In some of the drawing I have been playing with working with both acrylics and oil, and getting slightly disappointed that the acrylic doesn’t separate when used over the top of the oils, but maybe that is something I will play with on the next canvas. Where oil does score is on being able to scrape through to allow underpainting to show through, and it responds much better to gestural marks than the acrylics. Everything feels like new exploration at the moment, stuttering, a bit confused as to direction, but I’ll just keep pushing to see where things go.

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Using the same format to hold the mark in place, Summer Garden (a metre square) follows on from the Verdun triptych

I have also ideas to explore through using photography more and have access to a wide carriage printer, but now need some real expertise in printing and Photoshop to be able to draw straight into the images. I’m sure there is plenty of stuff available but just being out of the art game for ten years leaves a knowledge gap (anyone?). Right now the next steps in getting the house how we want it are looming – clearing rooms for carpet fitting, making measured survey drawings for the new en-suite bathroom, waxing new oak…

C’est la vie

 

 

I now have a Pinterest board for my art at http://www.pinterest.com/patrickagoff/patrick-goff-art/

Drawing and Goff’s Garden

The garden is endlessly fascinating. Even as a student I painted images of a lawn. Now I am working on images of my own garden again. The studio is at the bottom of the garden so the walk down takes while as I stop to battle the convolvulus (bindweed) that seems to be everywhere, or pause to take pics of the flowers or the grass. From previous posts you’ll know that I also enjoy other people’s gardens as well, and the images I have collected are the basis for the work I am trying to progress in the studio, the winter images of waves behind me for the moment.

The studio table this morning (July 5th)

The studio table this morning (July 5th)

I made a little drawing of grass, which to my surprise seemed to work well, and I have been exploring the imagery further through a series of drawings. I have been enjoying the sun and working directly in the garden, but have also carried a camera everywhere on my walks collecting images to work from, using the camera as a sketch book.

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Garden lawn Pencil drawing

I recently bought a decent printer and so am able to print some of my photographs to a larger scale and start playing with them too. Work appears to be going in several directions at once but ultimately they will all feed into a series of paintings, and the first two are forming themselves in my mind, I just need to get the drawing defined more and that will help to determine the scale to work on.

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California Poppy Collage

Some of the drawings I have been doing are a metre square, don’t fit in my plan chest and I’m beginning to worry about how I’m going to store them safely. OH says why do them so big? They are not all large but the image and scale need to relate to hand and arm movement, so the size is dictated by the energy and size of the mark. It’s whether I am working my whole arm and body or just my fingers and wrist, together with the relationship of physical to mental, man to art work,  that dictates the size. So I have four drawings over a metre square each which I need to figure out how to store safely.

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Grass and Sky Pencil

Latest drawings include some collage again and smaller works that have a more precious quality – which I am not sure I like, but hey-ho, that’s how they are coming out right now. I’m enjoying the studio, which I keep white with a grey floor painted floor, just like the studios at Corsham when I was a student.

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Drawing in Progress. Oil on paper. Size: a metre square

I have a small room that is set up for the cameras and printer. Here I work with the printer and computer imagery, so finally seem to be getting everything set up right. The printer is capable of producing giclees prints, as I accept that a silkscreen studio is beyond my resources. Finally seem to be getting a good art working situation. So, watch this space….

 

Sardinia Seaside Success

Well known luxury airline Ryanair flew me back into Luton from the northern Sardinian airport of Alghero.  It is something of a typical British welcome when arriving back the first thing you hear on the station is ‘we are sorry for the delay due to technical difficulties…’ Do we need a British Mussolini before our trains will run to time? For the rail operating companies to blame their breakdowns and disorganisation on too many people using the train (as they do) is positively ribald.

With no tide to speak of boats moor alongside the seafront, shore and sea unified. In England towns stand back or huddle behind sea defences

With no tide to speak of boats moor alongside the seafront, shore and sea unified. In England towns stand back or huddle behind sea defences

The trip to Sardinia was well organised (thanks to Max ,Tamara and Delphina Hotels) but as it covered the Costa Smeralda region rather than just the hotels it put quite a strain on my ability to gather enough photographs of the interiors to do justice to the charming properties. However, I am home with over 500 photos to process, catalogue and sort. The journalistic company was generally youthfully pleasant although a few barbed remarks were made about the fashion sense of old men…

Clear warm seas, large yachts and super yachts, power boats and RIBS

Clear warm seas, large yachts and super yachts, power boats and RIBS

Whilst touring Delphina hotels was the main purpose, we had some downtime on the beach and a few visits to towns, including a cruise around the islands northern tip where France meets Italy, Corsica meeting Sardinia. I certainly recommend taking your glasses off before diving over the side of your boat into 3 metres of clear blue sea. I was lucky both that mine didn’t break and that a quick dive located and returned them to me.

Absolution from teh Priest on sunday then down to the local bars to start another week building enough to confess the next Sunday. Vernacular architecture enmbraces, warms and comforts the sinner

Absolution from the Priest on Sunday then down to the local bars to start another week building enough to confess the next Sunday. Vernacular architecture enmbraces, warms and comforts the sinner

The loveliness of the small Italian towns on the shoreline with their vernacular architecture and cafes along the waterfront made an interesting comparison with our own separation from the beach. There is no tide to speak of in the Mediterranean and that makes a considerable difference to how the shoreline can be exploited – with a 6 to 7 metre tidal variation there is a considerable difference in how the sea is approached from the English towns especially when factoring in the ferocious waves of the Atlantic or the North Sea. But nothing can remove the weather from the equation. Warm seas need plenty of sun, and Sardinia has that along with beautiful sandy beaches and clear blue seas. The softer sunnier shores of the Mediterranean allow exploitation to proceed differently, but this environmental difference does not explain the differences on its own.

Colourful alleyways, abundant flowers and a sense of fun

Colourful alleyways, abundant flowers and a sense of fun

History has also played a large part in influencing layouts. Whilst Sardinia has its defensive towers dating back to Aragon and wars against the Moors, England faced invasion right through until the middle of the 20th Century. So the ancient and colourful buildings of say Cala Gavetta have no comparable equivalents to the centre of Seaford for example, which was demolished in 1940 by bombs from an errant Dornier.

An Aragoniste Tower for defence against the Moors provide picturesque views against the blue sea

An Aragoniste Tower for defence against the Moors provide picturesque views against the blue sea

What warfare did not destroy bad road/town planning and appalling architecture have joined forces to destroy at the English seaside. Many coastal resorts are ruined by poor infrastructure – improvements to road access to the Sussex coast for example have been proposed since 1971 but pusillanimous politicians and Department of Transport uncivil servants have resulted in total lethargy and nothing being achieved – only now is the M23 being completed after 30 years of dithering, whilst the M27 was stillborn in Sussex.

Maretello Tower in Seaford provides a reminder of our military past as do the pill boxes on the golf course. Of course the Museum was closed when this picture was taken

Maretello Tower in Seaford provides a reminder of our military past as do the pill boxes on the golf course. Of course the Museum was closed when this picture was taken

Seaside towns like Hastings have suffered a decline because of the lack of will to remedy the infrastructure problems – something repeated through the decaying towns of the North as the smug Westminster village travels on its £50billion worth of London infrastructure improvements. Sardinia may have problems but nothing of decay is evident. Perhaps it benefits from being an island, having a strong identity and self-awareness.  Much of the English coast suffers from the myopic focus on London. It’s not all to do with the weather.

The English vernacular and the English cottage garden. So much of our culture is private not public

The English vernacular and the English cottage garden. So much of our culture is private not public

Perhaps England needs another Wat Tyler rather than a Mussolini?

Sardinia, bougainvillea and rescue

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The bougainvillea, on the stairs to my room, at dusk

At first it was just the intensity at dusk. It made the colours fluoresce, red-violet against green with an intensity that quite took my breath away. The next day I saw that although not the dominant plant in the hotels gardens it was the most dramatic in the way it shone out against the competing oleanders.

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Architecture light and shade, colour and bougainvillea

The colours of the Mediterranean glow in the mid-summer sunlight – yes I was reminded today that we are past the longest day and the nights are drawing in again. It didn’t feel like that as I walked to the beach or leaped off the launch into the ocean, and the bougainvillea was full of bees and butterflies enjoying the height of summer celebration in this gorgeous plants’ vibrant petals.

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Sunlight and shadow, the drama of bougainvillea

The colours used in the building architecture cleverly also sang against the brilliance of sunlight and the Mediterranean blue skies. My enjoyment of all this was nearly cut short when in an absent minded moment I dived off the launch wearing my spectacles.  In three meters of English waters they would have been gone forever especially as the boat had powered away from the immediate vicinity in the little bay of Cala Napoletana. In the clear Mediterranean waters visibility was excellent so Antonello the boat man proved up to the challenge. Under the admiring looks of the female reporters he stripped and dived in, returning to the surface triumphantly holding my glasses aloft, instantly becoming a hero to us all – well to me any rate, to others, it seemed, maybe an object of desire….???

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Pink against orange. hmmm

The fascination with the bougainvillea continued through the three days, as its colour varied with the light and maybe different varieties. I wonder if it is worth trying to plant some in the garden here in Seaford – we seem to be enjoying Mediterranean temperatures at the moment, although I would imagine swimming in the English Channel is a little different to the Med. It is years since I swam off Brighton, and lovely though the weather is I don’t think Splash Point is the same as the Costa Smeralda, nor are my gardening skills as good as the gardeners of the Delphina hotel group..

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Love the contrast of colour, texture, straight lines and curves

They are saying May was the warmest May ‘in history’ ! They used to content themselves with ‘since records began’ but obviously the need to dramatise global warming is bringing out the stentorian in the weather people. Warm as it is I have to say swimming eating and drinking in Sardinia made Seaford seem a little, well, lacking in superyachts…

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Below is Antonello surfaced with my glasses receiving a round of applause from the hackettes.  If you come across this Italian American, shake his hand, he is one of the good guys.

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The hero of the hour, my glasses in hand acknowledges, with a grin, the cheers as he rejoins the boat