I have wanted to do some sketching for weeks, but my time has been taken up with producing my new book. I am so pleased to report that all the components of the short story collection are with the printers now, and most of the hard slog is over – until the promotion begins. Yesterday I knew I must have a break, and drawing has always been a great antidote for me, whatever is causing the stress. And so, I began a portrait of a dear friend, to whom I had promised the drawing several weeks ago.
If it hadn’t been for Kerry sending me the photo above through to my phone today, it probably wouldn’t occurred to me to write about Van Gogh. The photograph was taken in April this year at the touring Van Gogh Alive exhibition in Auckland. The clever little scene, where I am perched on a chair, is a 3D recreation of Van Gogh’s bedroom in Arles, France. He lived in Arles for little more than a year, yet his output of work from February 1888 until May 1889, was prodigious. Yet this post isn’t just about the famous Dutch artist; quite likely the most well-known artist of our times, but what his paintings conjure; in my memory, and imagination.
The heading refers to a new documentary on the famous artist Amedeo Modigliani, best known for his lean-faced unpretentious portraits; portraits I have admired, even copied as a student, over the years. I viewed the film a week or so back, and was pleased to be re-acquainted with the man. I knew a lot of his life story, as he has been much written about, and I am lucky to have read many books about him.
The documentary, directed by Valeria Parisi, was released on the 100th anniversary of Modigliani’s death (Jan, 1920).
It’s not like me to miss a week posting something on art or travel, but I have been ‘out of sorts’ for want of a better word to describe my sporadic exhaustion and brain fog. However, this morning I returned from my walk with a blog idea! I hope you’ll join me as I sift through the travel notes I jotted down when visiting Granada, in May last year.
Thursday 9th May. The bus trip from Cordova was great, the landscape fairly repetitive in the main – rows of olive trees mostly, the soil clay-coloured and arid looking – but what a surprise as we neared our destination, to see the high snow-capped mountains of Sierra Nevada, a majestic backdrop to this Andalusian city and the fabulous green belt of trees.
The week started well. I kept to the deadlines I’d set myself regarding my story: meeting with the editor, sending her the ‘almost ‘finished’ manuscript and continuing to write, write, write. I set my deadline for finishing the entire MS too, just eight weeks away from the day of meeting. After a week of writing I decided to work on my painting; just for a day. I opened the ‘how to’ art book at the page which suggested ways to achieve tonal values. The best option for beginners was to use one colour, mixed with white. I chose Sap Green, mixed it with white and thinned the paints with linseed oil. The addition of Phtalo Blue was a personal inspiration. Continue reading
A few months back I did a pencil portrait of myself, and was pretty pleased with the results. I wrote a blog about that process at the time. More recently, while in London, I visited the Portrait Gallery, as they run the BP annual portrait competition and exhibit the short-listed paintings, and winners. I liked many of the paintings, but there was something special about Frances Borden’s work that appealed to me: the (seeming) simplicity of the composition, and the bold choice of colour. “I think I’d like to try a self-portrait in oils,” I told my husband, buying a postcard of the work from the gallery gift shop on the way out. Continue reading