Every Painting Has A Story

Every painting has a story: Its source; its process; its contribution to my style or learning; its history; its life after it is completed. A few of my clients like me to write down the story for them to keep with the painting through interest or for provenance. When I am manning my tradestand or at a gallery showing my work it is often the stories of the paintings that connect the viewer from simply admiring a painting to remembering it or even wanting to give it a home. Most artists find the ‘selling’ bit of their work very difficult, myself included. Maybe one day I will share that story; of why, and how I forced myself to be able to stand up and speak to people about my work, whether in a selling/marketing/PR form, or as talks and demonstrations. Suffice to say it has been a long, arduous, certainly uncomfortable, sometimes painful process and even, on occasion, physically debilitating, but it is a process that has been ultimately rewarding in some planned and some surprising ways. The easiest way for me to talk to people is for me to tell them my working process or to tell them the story of the painting.

Almost all my paintings start off as sketches and photographs. If I don’t immediately paint them, the photos will sit on my ideas boards around my studios and the sketches will sit both in my sketch-book and in my visual memory (one of the reasons that it is important for me to sketch) until the right time, if, or when that comes. I am a bit of a butterfly with sketchbooks, having several on the go at once, often 6 or 7 of different sizes, plus a small journal for both writing and little ideas drawings. When I sketch I have learned to leave blank pages around sketch pages for later development, but sometimes fill these with further sketches if I start to reach the end of the book without having worked up previous sketches. In this case development work is done in other sketchbooks, on receipts and cigarette packs, in my journal or in layout pads. Development work consists of re-drawing to correct anatomy, thumbnails of composition alternatives, colour notes, overall tonal notes and associated ideas that sit within the work to help convey narrative or atmosphere. Therefore my sketchbooks are not chronological – my journal is a better indicator of timeline.

I am lucky that my painting is character led so the stories are implicit. The stories of why I painted them or what they meant to me are usually less straightforward, but I have seen a progression in my ability to express my thoughts over the years. I have always thought deeply about my work and what I want to convey, and while once I was once content to simply make studies to consolidate my ability to render anatomy, texture, to practise skills within a certain medium, explore a medium and later to handle light-play or to experiment with technique, I am now wanting to push my boundries to expand the narrative and atmosphere of a piece. With hindsight I can see how certain pieces, even from when I first started to work with a painter’s mind-set, fitted into this progression.  With the benefit of my learning from the studies I am now revisiting sketches, ideas and even paintings that have been set aside for years as I now have more capacity to develop them to their potential. This makes the stories even more interesting to me, and hopefully to my audience, who get to see how much work and thought goes into a piece and how that piece lives after it leaves my easel.


Both the paintings I have chosen to illustrate the stories behind my work are side saddle paintings. When I first started as an artist I was heavily influenced by Charles Johnson Payne (Snaffles,1884–1967) and we have two of his prints, one of which is a lady jumping aside on a grey horse. Before I officially started my career as a fine artist I made some side saddle studies (right) and once started, I received a couple of commissions from sidesaddlers,
so using these to illustrate seems fitting.

Case study one: ‘Chuckle’, watercolour (2013). In 2012 and 13 I was looking at a lot of equestrian art that sat centre within a black, white, single or duo-colour background, which I found unsatisfying as the background was just ‘there’ and just a backdrop for, rather than playing a role in, the image. I was playing with the idea of compositional structures and for this I needed a strong subject image so I thought of the sketches and photo reference from a side saddle demonstration that I had seen at Blenheim Horse Trials a few years before. I wanted to work with an off-centre subject and make sense of this by an abstract background of colour washes. For the background to play a part in the painting it needed a structure, so the composition is set up using the Golden Section (also referred to as the Golden Rule, Golden Mean, Golden Ratio) and Nautilus Curve constructed from it.

The palette for the background washes are the colours that I use the most, then all the colours within the painting of the horse and rider are mixed from those four wash colours: Rose madder, Ultramarine, Sap Green and Madder Brown. The Abstract colours echo colour and tonal movements through either the horse or rider and the texture / dapple patterns on the horse’s neck were made using a repel effect with salt.

 ‘Chuckle’ was the first painting that I made using an abstract background, completed in Summer 2013 and first shown in The Art Show at the Great Yorkshire Show in July of that year. It was submitted to the Society of Equestrian Artists’ Horse In Art Exhibition in 2013 but, while being accepted through digital pre-selection process, was unsuccessful in panel selection. It was then successfully shortlisted in the Artists & Illustrators Artist of the Year Award the following year and shown at the Mall Galleries in London in January 2015 as one of 50 shortlisted paintings from over 8,000 submitted.

The painting was posted on social media in July 2013 and seen by Emma Brown, who recognised her horse Pipsqueak (Vintage Port). I had been told that the horse was called Chuck, and as the rider was looking down and laughing, had titled the piece ‘Chuckle’.  Through this contact Emma invited me to the opening meet of the Quorn hunt where 44 riders hunted sideways! From the public’s reception to the painting a Limited Edition of 150 prints were made. The prints are titled ‘Pip’s Party’ (Emma named them) as Pipsqueak is known to attend parties that she holds at her converted barn home. She commented that I had captured not only Pip’s character but also “the whole expression of happiness, measured as being sat on this horse”.

The original of the painting is now in a private collection, but prints from the limited edition are available.

Of course when I talk to people about the paintings it is not as comprehensive as that description, which was a written provenance for the new owner of the painting. I am driven by my work and my purpose, and to write such histories and regurgitate them would not allow people access to that passion.

Case study 2: Buckle Up, Watercolour (2015).

One of my sketchbook pages from the Quorn opening meet

This painting leads on from the first case study in that it came out of sketches and reference photos from the Quorn Opening meet that Emma Brown invited me to attend.

I have always been fascinated by the background story, the preparation, the communication and reflections between a horse and rider. Ostensibly this is a hunting picture, but actually it is not about that at all, which is why there are no hounds and there are only two horses and riders. In fact the painting is an expression of the feelings and nerves that I had before competing, whether that was eventing, dressage or any other discipline. Though I have never ridden side saddle, that rider is representing my emotions. Outwardly pretty calm, her inner feelings are illustrated by the ominous sky swirled with a sickly yellow. She wears blue to link her to the sky. Her horse too reflects her inner apprehension and anticipation, being tense, above the bit and with swirling marks to denote his restless tail (my horse was particularly sensitive to my feelings and often showed this frame before, but hopefully not during, a dressage test). The swirling marks are then also echoed in the not too realistic rendering of the grass beneath the pair. The composition is left to right depth diagonal, using the ground perspective and the cloud-line to focus the view onto the second rider: the professional, to the right of the first pair as per the convention of western reading from left to right. My hope for my future state of mind, he wears green to link him to the ground (grounded) where the marks are more controlled and uniform. The sky is calmer and clearer behind him, though the cloud line transverses his head so he is not entirely unaffected. His horse is relaxed and focused, echoing his inner calm. Whilst the foreground horse is painted in a range of (symbolic to me) colours, the chestnut horse is uses a more limited palette, emphasising reds for strength and boldness. Both riders buckle up their girths in readiness and anticipation for the day ahead. You can view this painting at face value: two riders preparing for a days hunting, or read deeper. Once my work has left my easel its life and story become its own and that of its conversation with the viewer, but I noticed at its first showing that many people returned to this painting to look again. Like a film that has layers, it stands reviewing even if the ‘true’ meaning is obscure, the fact that there is underlying meaning does seem to resonate with the viewer.
‘Buckle Up’ was again first exhibited in The Art Show at the Great Yorkshire Show but two years later than ‘Chuckle’ in 2015. It was accepted through the International Watercolour Society for the 2016 Fabriano In Acquarello International Watercolour Exhibition in Fabriano, Italy. The painting was also used in an adapted form for my 2015 Christmas card. The printer digitally cropped the image to the foreground rider only and then added snow!

'Buckle Up' and the Christmas card made from it

 The original painting is still in Italy as I write. The altered (Winter) image is planned to be part of a print set of four side saddle paintings set in the four seasons due to be published before the end of 2016.

The idea of the sky reflecting the rider’s feelings came to me many years ago. It is only recently that I have felt my control of the watercolour medium is approaching sufficient to be able to attempt to express that. My month of painting only skies in 2014 was part of that process. Writing my thoughts about a painting in my journal before working on it each day was suggested to me at a workshop with artist Lesley Humprey and is one that I have found very useful for clarifying those thoughts, inspiration and motivation. Dressage trainer Shana Ritter quotes the phrase “the horse is the reflection of the rider” meaning in schooling and dressage that the horse will echo tension or kinetic poise from the rider’s body, and my experience with my horse in particular re-enforced that that applies to state of mind as well as state of body. They are themes that I have only just started to explore and many stories and paintings are yet to come. I would be pleased to share them with you.

On Attending Artist Workshops . . .

I am not an art workshop expert. So far I have hosted four, attended five and observed at two more.  In preparing to write this blog I looked at other blogs and articles on the subject and was amazed at how many advocated researching the tutor, which is hard and sometimes impossible, to do - and as I cover in my next point, possibly pointless too. Conversely I do have a lot of experience of the horse riding equivalent: clinics. Over the years I have attended many of these both in pure dressage and in eventing. I know from this experience that the tutor-pupil relationship is a complicated and individual one, and the only way to find out if that relationship works is to experience it. In my riding, I experienced many trainers’ attempts to connect with my horse and me, and some who made no effort at all in that respect. More than once I went against my instincts and went to see well respected and well recommended instructors, but gained little from the process and sometimes even losing what little I had by becoming frustrated, confused or disheartened by the trainer’s style.

Art workshops are much the same, but even more so in that I seem to have an expectation of tuition that is standard in riding, but not necessarily present in art. Some take the format of the tutor working on or demonstrating a piece with the delegates following with their own versions step by step. Some use ‘set exercises’ followed by an open working session. Some are just free working with an occasional walk round by the tutor, who may or may not give encouragement, compliments, critique and/or tips. Some don’t comment at all. Add to the mix that drawing and painting are very personal, mostly solitary pastimes and that following these pursuits in the presence of others opens, not just your work, but your working processes to the scrutiny of others and it can make for a very scary, personal and soul baring proposition. For us solitary lot it is also often difficult to get into the ‘brain-switch-off-creativity-forward’ zone that producing our most satisfying work demands. I can very well see why many artists (myself included for many years) are reluctant to subject themselves to that.

Three years ago, however, I decided to change my mind-set on that. I rationalised that, while I constantly read books about technique, expression, philosophy and history, both on the art of visual language and the language and conversation of horse-riding, I only went for tuition in the latter. I felt I should at least try to apply the same commitment and openness to my professional that I saw as an integral element of my hobby.

I am still very much finding my way, especially in painting from life (though I have a lot of experience of drawing from life). As a studio painter I am finding that the discipline is very different and I can’t fall back on my tried and tested methods and colour mixes. So far most of my tutors have been oil painters and, apart from the odd gem of a tip, have had little practical help for me as a watercolourist.  I hope that will change at the next workshop that I am attending, being as it is painting architecture en plein air and taught by the American watercolourist and architect Thomas Schaller. I’ll let you know how that one goes in due course!

Those who have read my earlier posts on learning [One For the Earning, One for the Learning, Ever the Learner, Confidence is Key] know my profound belief in the importance of continued study. I am also well aware (my riding tuition taught me this much) that to improve necessitates putting away our egos, stripping away what we ‘know’, stepping out of our comfort zones and relearning basics. So, as dually uncomfortable and enjoyable as the process can be, I will persevere. I will, however leave you with two gems of advice and my personal list of things that I take to a workshop (as a sketcher and watercolourist).

Gem one: This is given to me nearly 30 years ago by my business wiz brother when I was hauling my portfolio around the London tube, in hopes of getting commissioned illustration work by visiting art directors.

He told me to prepare for each meeting by making a list of 3 aims – each lower than the last in terms of positive outcomes, but each having a positive result. You need to be more specific in the aims, these are just the descriptors of what you need to describe.

1)   The ‘power’ outcome, where you achieve everything you want and more.

2)   The ‘practical’ outcome where you get what you went for.

3)   The ‘pragmatic’ outcome where you don’t achieve your main aim, but achieve something else, whether that is experience, a managing of your own reactions, a promise for the future or something else.

This is such a simple thing, but has helped me in many instances and softens the blows of frustration or disappointment.

Gem two:

The old five ‘P’s mantra: Patience, Persistence, Practise, Persistence and Patience.

My Checklist.

A4 and A3 Sketchbooks

Journal

Drawing implements (various)

Watercolour paints (I take 3 palettes but am working out colours to take for a single workshop palette)

Brushes (again I am refining a workshop brush set. So far most used are my 22 mop, a chinese calligraphy brush and a 7mm flat.)

Kitchen roll

Water pot (I have a small collapsible pot that hangs off my easel but also take a 9cm diameter plastic pot with lid that was an old sea salt container).

Litre Bottle of painting water

Camera (with charged battery)

Easel

Board for easel

Watercolour boards cut to size (quarter sheet)

8” x 16” watercolour pad (great for small studies on single page)

Board clips

Plastic sheet for painting in the rain (mine is a slit open plastic bag from a full sheet watercolour board so is about 60 x 40”) but I may invest in a clip on umbrella at some stage.

Rucksack stool – can be used as a stool or small table as well as holding my sketching materials.

Small plastic bag for rubbish

Water (drinking)

Flask of coffee

Packed lunch (if needed)

Cigarettes and lighter

Mints

Straw sun hat

Sunglasses

Sunscreen

Lip balm

Stock hat for wet weather

Rainproof jacket

Yak jumper (yes it’s made from Yak hair, fleece-lined , warm and windproof)

Gilet/other waistcoat with pockets and/or cargo pants one of which has at least one zip pocket for keys etc.

Thin leather gloves that I can still paint in while wearing. I don’t get on with latex gloves though they are supposed to be better, warmer and waterproof.

Sturdy boots

Change of shoes and socks

Money

Phone (charged of course)

Collapsible rolling crate and/or hours at the gym training to haul all this lot around.

Open attitude