I am soon off to Europe for a trip and should be full of vim and vigour. At least producing more sketches for my next project, but I’ve done little except moan about toothache, or a pain that could be sinus, or it might be…? Maybe tomorrow the periodontist will come up with a name, but meanwhile a winter sketch has lifted my spirits – a little.
When I learned the Gow Langsford Art Gallery in Auckland was holding an exhibition of New Zealander Frances Hodgkins’ paintings and Mary Kisler, an authority on Hodgkins, was to be speaking with gallery owner John Gow about the artist, I booked in immediately. I arrived early, as many were expected to attend, and I strolled around the gallery taking photos until the rooms swelled with viewers. I, like so many New Zealanders, have been attracted to Frances Hodgkins’ art for a very long time. Being an artist, I admired her determination not to be pigeonholed by any one style. She was adventurous, and prolific, working in many styles and mediums throughout her life. And although Hodgkins moved to Great Britain as young woman and spent most of her adult life there, she is still very much admired and loved by us here.
You may have thought I’d never get going on this idea of a memoir of me as a youngster. True, I didn’t get far, but there were other things I had to do. But now I have looked through my initial rough sketches, and have decided to show them to you, I feel it is a small start. My plan, from here on in, is to complete a couple of images in colour on good paper, using watercolour and pencil, as a trial for the finished product. Today however, it’s just more pencil roughs. Except for the photo of me, left, taken on a Brownie camera in the 1950’s. Yes, I’m that old.
This week I started in on some pencil roughs intended for the future graphic novel. Everything is guesswork on my part, completely experiential, as it’s the first time I’ve embarked upon this genre. Over the months I have picked up and examined many graphic novels, by women, mostly. This has been such an interesting exercise, as they are so different from each other and all brilliant.
I’ve spoken often about how I love to go walking in my neighbourhood, and I didn’t let the previous night’s storm put me off. It was still blowing furiously yesterday when I took off, cap on under my red jacket hood. Sunglasses too, to keep the wind and salt air out. The debris on the footpath had me stop at the end of the block, and there I stooped to uplift a fine collection of fallen goods. I picked up a large leaf, (from a magnolia I guessed), two small pōhutukawa leaves sporting radiant autumn colours, a seed of some sort and a small feijoa. Feijoas are loved and disliked in equal number here. I love them. To eat, one should slice them in half and scoop out the middle with a teaspoon, But this fallen delicacy was way too small to eat.
For all my excitement about my new novel, and tripping about to speak at book stores etc., I admit the busyness over the past few weeks has seen me flop on my bed for ‘Nana Naps’ most afternoons, my thoughts of sketching lost in dreams.
However, I woke feeling fresh this morning (ye ha!) and made a start on sketching three small figs on a saucer, before taking off to walk by the sea. So lovely with the hint of autumn in the air and tui going crazy in the trees.
My batteries were re-charged.
It’s been a very busy time with family staying (there were many spread over the weeks), and me working on promotional material for my novel throughout to meet the publicist’s deadlines. But there were nice moments, like drinking Prosecco on the patio with family. It was a brother-in-law who spotted the clay forms clumped on the outside table, and said “what are these?” “You may well ask? I replied. “I made them years ago, as part of my teaching degree.” I was a late starter regarding my education, and began this, my first degree, at fifty. And although I had been tutoring art to adult students for years before this, I decided to give academia a go.
The final class was cut short, as we were to be given a talk about the painting by Charles Goldie, which is where the classes began. To recap, we were handed a copy of the painting and were asked to copy it. But what I never realised until this talk was, that Goldie had copied his La Femme au Bain, from an original, for on the bottom of the painting it reads ‘after’ René-Xavier Prinet. Both artists studied at the Académie Julian in Paris around the same time. So, I had made a copy of a copy. I didn’t know what to think. I guess seeing both men could certainly paint, I must have learned something through close observation.
Last week I started to work on an invented background for my painting, as the room lacked ambience. Once home I spent some time trying to improve on the colours and build more interest to the painting as a whole.
First thing was to correct the position of the right leg. I was still struggling to get the thickness of my paint as I wanted, and it always seemed to come out too thin even with medium. Never mind I told myself, I can always let it dry and add more layers.
And so, that’s what I did. At least by the time I’d put the canvas aside I could say that I almost liked it. But there was a way to go.
Continuing on from last week, when I showed you the charcoal sketch (see above) which I would be transposing onto an A2canvas. As I am going to take you through that process I thought it would help to include it here as this is the pose I shall continue to work from.
ARTISTRY 