'Until six years ago I painted exclusively in watercolour until, on a quest for individuality, I began to use Artisan oil paint, oil pastels and a paper and tissue paper support, with the addition of scorching and burning to add texture and drama,' says Rob Parker.
'This mix of materials began to influence the outcome of my painting and moved me out of my comfort zone with a vengeance.'
Making changes
Luckily my new approach was complemented by the rough-hewn landscapes I focused on in the south of France.
The rocky inlets between Marseille and Cassis were a source of inspiration, as was my home at La Ciotat and the landscape of Les Apilles.
I really hadn’t intended to move out of my comfort zone a second time – I was happy with my imagery – but when asked why I didn’t paint the English landscape, I did analyse my reasons.
Reluctance seemed to stem from the changeability of the light – I felt more at ease with the constancy of the south, where only time of day affected a chosen site.
Inspiration in Kent
Round Oast Houses, Kent, watercolour sketch, 4x6in (16x20.5cm)
However, a visit to Chilham, Kent, and the frosty days and clear skies of the winter of 2008–09, which gave the landscape consistency, lured me in.
Morning was the best time: bright patches of gorgeous yellow contrasted with deep shadows, with the moon still high as the sun gathered strength.
I applied my usual set of rules: I didn’t jump in at the first image that confronted me; instead I did sketches, took photos and did some watercolours.
As I gathered reference, I noted that the oast houses that give the area its character were highly individual, as seen in my watercolour studies.
I also wanted to avoid the trap many artists fall into – that of giving superficial renderings of subject matter that makes everything look similar. Getting in character was crucial as I intended to use the same media as I used in the south of France.
When I was satisfied I’d found the images I wanted, I began work.
I often revisit a site if I think I can find something extra in it. This time, the excuse was that I really liked the rickety barn.
As swiftly as it had arrived, the crisp bright weather reverted to the changeable maritime climate.
Everything seemed flattened, duller and less interesting; if I’d continued I would have been painting for the sake of it, which I feel shows in the work.
Inspiration in Northumberland
Holy Island, artisan oils, oil pastel and burning effects, 22x15in (56x38cm)
What happened next was unexpected and was about rediscovering a place I thought I knew well.
I’m native to the northeast, and I found myself taking a fresh look at the rocky outcrops of the Northumberland coast.
Northumberland is dotted with volcanic outcrops at Dunstanburgh, The Farne Islands, Bamburgh. The Cheviot Hills are England’s Auvergne.
Wanting to find my own path, I resisted the temptation to paint Bamburgh Castle and instead went to Holy Island, or Lindisfarne. There I targeted its most prominent feature, the castle perched on the cone of an extinct volcano.
Naturally enough I did drawings, took pictures and made watercolour studies in order to get a balanced composition.
What intrigued me was that the building appears to be part of the rocky outcrop it sits on.
The harshness of the conditions and the sense of history began to stir me. If I could penetrate and express the prevailing mood, it could be as potent as the glamour of southern light.
The underlying rhythms of the landscape – the way the rocks had writhed and cracked as they had been forced up from subterranean depths – had its own fascination.
The lack of bright light suggested there were enduring mysteries in the pockets of gloom that haunted this landscape. If I stayed long enough it might be a mystery I could penetrate.
I wasn’t in the least tempted to introduce Mediterranean colour – resorting to a Fauvist approach, no matter what the subject, always suggests to me that an artist hasn’t found anything that really involves him and so needs to dress it up.
It took concentration to gain appreciation of the colour lurking in fathomless shadows: intense greens like mossy velvet, volcanic rock a shade of oxidized copper, low-tide pools unexpected facets of brightness and the sea a grey/Prussian blue that sparkled under a silvery sky punctuated with breaks in the cloud that created searchlight effects.
This moodiness had its own consistency and my colour palette would have to be adjusted accordingly.
In Kent I had responded to something that complemented my work in France, but Northumberland presented a new and self contained challenge.
Holy Island from the West, watercolour sketch, 4x6in (16x20.5cm)
Illusion and reality
I was also relieved to find my approach to mixed media was more transferable than I had imagined and that the smokey effects I use were even more appropriate, given the fiery origins of the landscape.
The rules of drawing, composition and getting to know your subject were equally applicable here and the finished picture, gave me more satisfaction than all the Kent studies put together.
If Kent was an illusion and an echo of elsewhere, Northumberland was hard reality, unique and enthralling in its own right.
I realized I’d actually discovered a fresh and alternative comfort zone that had moved me towards considering mood and expression to be as important as response to steady light.
Moving out of your comfort zone
Nevertheless, there is stress in getting to grips with new subject matter.
Moving out of any sort of comfort zone presents difficulties over selectivity and confidence.
Think carefully why you want to do it, as it will require some re-examination of long cherished aspects of your approach, though hopefully not the basics.
I had begun my journey to discover whether I could paint an English landscape.
The work I did in Kent turned out to be a false dawn because I was focused on a single aspect. What I discovered in Northumberland was more satisfying because there were few reminders of elsewhere.
I also confirmed what I already knew: that drawing and preparation are essential, no matter where you are or what you are doing.
Since I have been back in the south I’ve tried painting from out at sea as well as inland, and have become fascinated by the balancing effect of early moonlight and sunset – the turquoise hour.
My paintings of rocks seem to have acquired more tension – maybe the trees look tougher as they draw up strength from the earth.
Something of the Northumbrian soul has spilled over. I certainly intend to work in Northumberland again.
Conclusion
I have learned that if you are in command of your technique it will carry you through, wherever you are. It’s your instrument and your duty to test it and make it flexible, so you can approach fresh imagery with confidence and interpret it well.
Facing new imagery and struggling with an indecisive approach to technique makes everything doubly difficult.
I also found that in taking a risk it was possible to find a fresh and parallel comfort zone where I’d least expected it.
The risk and the journey had been worthwhile.
Demonstration: Barn and Oast Houses
Stage one
Stage two
Stage three
Finished painting
Finally I balanced the colour by reinforcing the effects of light and shade, and the shadows were deepened with smoke.
This feature is taken from the April 2010 issue of The Artist. Enjoy endless inspiration with access to past and present issues of both magazines, plus exclusive video demos, tutorials and more, with our Studio Membership! Discover how you can join today.
Sometimes we may include links to online retailers, from which we might receive a commission if you make a purchase. Affiliate links do not influence editorial coverage and will only be used when covering relevant products
Comments
Login or register to add a comment
No comments