A winter visit to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition 2020

 

Colour notes | paper relief prints| Christopher Le Brun PPRA

Be grateful for small things.
That is my new motto. As more and more is taken away from us due to Covid-19, it is the little things that matter.

My other half (OH) and I have been holed up together for a very long time, and a chance to make a trip to London to see the Summer exhibition at the Royal Academy was a rare treat.

Our tickets had been previously cancelled due to lockdown, so this trip was all the more anticipated by our culture starved selves.

So on a rainy December Monday we crept up to London on the quiet mid day train, walked the empty streets of Picadilly, and made our way around the exhibition in our masks.


The first work that caught my eye was a collage.

Untitled | collage with paper pins | Frida Orupabo

Frida Orupabo is a Nigerian-Norwegian; one of several invited black artists on show.
I had to do some research to fully understand what Frida was trying to convey. According to her website;
'Frida Orupabo is a sociologist and artist living and working in Oslo, Norway. Her work consists of digital and physical collages in various forms, which explore questions related to race, family relations, gender, sexuality, violence and identity.'

Heavy stuff for starters. Race and politics. I had been attracted to it as I was thinking about collage, and how so much can be said with a few pieces of paper reaaranged on a page.

OH had already disappeared off to view the galleries at his own pace. Conscious that 'lunchtime' was the most important item on his agenda I resolved to move at a reasonable pace, and stop only at those works that really caught my eye.

Socially distanced viewing at the Royal Academy Summer exhibition 2020

It was a treat to have so much room to view.  The galleries never felt crowded, and I felt completely safe.

The fact that the following day we were thrown into Tier 4 made me realise how lucky we were to have made the trip.

Legs | photographs | Hans Peter Feldmann

Legs caught my eye next. No frame; just some photos stuck to the wall.

As a conceptual artist Hans-Peter sells similar works for $20,000, so he is doing something right. Further research about him led me to another work of his that confirmed a dry sense of humour; something I cannot resist...

Hans -Peter Feldmann | Pictures of car radios taken while good music was playing | 2004

 

In 2010 he won  the Guggenheim Hugo Boss art prize. He celebrated by pinning the £100,000 prize onto the gallery walls as 100,000 $1 notes, raising questions about the value of art.

It was good to see paintings by Fred Cuming from the Rye area and Camber Sands.
His work is immediately identifiable to me after getting to know it in local Rye galleries. He  visited my studio on an open studio visit a few years ago, and is a truly charming gentleman who has a way with clouds.....

Paintings by Fred Cuming RA

I particularly enjoyed his painting of a February peasmarsh landscape, with its low wintry light.

February landscape, Peasmarsh | Fred Cuming RA

I also fell in love with a series of works by Cornelia Parker RA. These were a series of polymer gravure etchings based on the shadows of simple objects such as flowers and household objects, captured on light senstive paper.

Jug full of shadows | Cornelia parker RA | 2020

OH had 'done' the show in the blink of any eye.

His favourite was a work ' where you can see what it is.....'

I have no problem with that. It seems a lot of other visitors felt the same way,

Fuen Seow Cheen | LOST WONDERS OF THE SEA | Etching

There were a lot of dogs and portraits.

My favourite portraits were pencil drawings of cardboard faces by Russell Herron.

I had to get really close to see that thses were drawings and not cardboard collages. Sadly all sold.

Cardboard portrait 12 | Russell Herron

Cardboard portrait 11 | Russell Herron

I was also taken with a dog portrait by Ilona Arndt. He had so much more character than the standard labrador poses.

Hund NR 2 | Ilona Arndt

But lunch was beckoning.... there was too much to take in, as always.

Too much to take in at the RA Summer Exhibition

Different galleries had very different characters.

I enjoyed this quiet monochrome corner.

But if I had been allowed to take one work home it would have been a newspaper boat made of stone.

A playful sculpture.

A reminder of childhood days spent by the sea. Dreams of adventure.

I forgot to record who made it, so apologies for that.

---

Looking at the Curator's selection I realise that there is so much work that I didn't even look at.

It is an overwhelming exhibition always.

But for one who had not looked at any new art for several months it was a welcome diversion, and a reminder that everyone has different taste.

Lunch was good!

Lockdown 2 - Make, write, walk, repeat......

 

 

Forgive me if I sound a little flat. For flat is how it feels.

It is lockdown number 2, and I have run out of jobs that need doing that I clearly don't intend to do.

I realise now that the main goal for these few weeks is to get through them in a reasonable state of mental health.

 And to that aim I have three priorities

1. Make stuff
2. write stuff
3. walk

 

 Make stuff

 

I joined an on line art class; 'Where Drawing Meets Words' with The Royal Drawing School

 I wasn't sure what to expect, but the title felt manageable. 

 

Words and pictures, stories and illustration. 

 

I have long hoped to illustrate a childrens' story that I have written about a mountain, and this class seemed like a good step in the right direction.

The book 'Uncommon Genius' was recommended by our tutor as a guide to creativity; I ordered a second hand copy in 'GOOD' condition.

This is it. You can be the judge with regards the condition.

 

 

It tells me that creative people, amongst other things

• know where their talent lies and play to it
  
• make it shine
• stay loose
  
• are not afraid to fail
• need to know how to facilitate getting into their 'flow' state, where ideas are formed
  
• often travel
  
• have lots of projects on the go

All of these things less easy to achieve when locked down. 

 

 

We worked on the story of Little Red Riding Hood, making a storyboard as if for a book.

I had forgotten what a gruesome tale it is.

 

dead wolf in cardboard

 

 'Make a cardboard mock-up of one of the scenes, and then draw or paint from that' was the point at 

which I realised that I was not working within my 'talent zone'. 

I made a dead wolf, with stones in his belly. 

He is consigned to the bin.

I never did draw him. 

I did, however see how others in the class were able to make very realistic drawings and to visualise the lighting and shadows for their drawings. 

I am just not there yet....

I decided to make scenes from my mountain story instead. I was being kind to myself, and avoiding total failure..... putting sanity above risk....

I was happier playing with ink.  I made some very nice stones.....

Ink 'stone'

 

 

 My ink rain was a disaster. I blew ink across the paper with a hairdryer. It was a mess.

So I chopped it up, at which point it became something completely new.

 

My blown ink became snow scenes. 

I agree with the 'Uncommon Genius' book that every mistake has potential.

I am also reminded that working in an abstract way is my 'thing'.

 

So for now my story remains without pictures, but I have a direction of travel.

 

Write stuff

 

The writing element of the class was liberating.

Writing about a picture. 

Cutting out phrases from the writing. 

Turning these phrases into poems.

 

I chose to write about this painting by Victor Pasmore. We were asked to describe the scene and also repsond to questions posed by the tutor. Taking those written words and cutting them into phrases I formed a poem.

A Winter morning ( after Victor Pasmore “A winter morning” 1944)

Dawn. 

A paved garden.

Sun low on the horizon

warming the early morning sky

Tangled trees overhang a purple shadowed, dull green lawn.

Fallen leaves spill sideways onto the cold stone path.

Wind whistles in the whip-like branches

A hum of engines from the river beyond.

Indistinct grey-white objects hanging at the distant lawn’s edge appear misplaced. 

Sheets masquerading as headstones in the morning mist.

An upturned terracotta pot lying untidily in the corner wonders  

“why am I abandoned; 

almost invisible in this dark shadowed place?”

Birds on the clothes line and leafless woody stems perch patiently.

Waiting for worm time.

A balustrade enters, stage left

wondering who will pass this way today.

Later, when the warm sky has faded to steely grey

a man in a long tweed coat descends softly into the garden in brown laced boots,

causing the birds to fly away.

He passes silently through

the quiet

the ordinariness

the muted simplicity

of just another winters’ day.

   

****************

A lesson in observation, and ways to find words.

 

 

Walk

 

Which brings me to walking; one of the best ways that I know to find my state of flow, where ideas formulate and I can begin to create.

 

 

I walked in the winter morning light. 

 

seedheads

Stems on a winter morning

 

 I walked the streets picking up litter.

 

 

I walked on the beach picking up litter.

 

 

beach litter

stranded beach plant

 

I have walked more miles in the last month than in any other month this year.

 

The highlight of my walks was a murmuration of starlings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And where is my other half I hear you ask?

 

Well he is in trouble..... for leaving me alone in our bubble.....

 

 

Alone in a bubble

I am alone in a bubble

Other half’s in trouble

he’s left me on the shelf

all by myself

locked down

in Bromley town

while he’s on a plane

for ‘work’ (again)

it’s been so long

he’ll no doubt explain

Dubai, no less.

I must confess

I lack the will

to lie very still

on a posh sun lounger

in stifling heat

looking over my shoulder

for covid 

or corona

virus;

is it worse

here or there?

Do I even care?

Either way

I’m much better off

at home

alone

in this half empty bubble

Waiting for a needle

to release us

from this overrated story;

this year of purgatory.

Roll on 2021.

 

 

 

 

But I have got so much done while he has been away for just a few days.... 

 

I have nothing to do but make stuff, write stuff and walk......

 

 The art classes are over, but I am filled with new ideas. Christmas is coming and the gold paint is out.

 

 

 

 

 

I leave you with a poem/drawings based on a work 'Tremolo' by Agnes Martin, 

 

Agnes also liked a bit of gold paint, along with her pencils.

 

 

Agnes Martin| Tremolo| 1962

 

 

Tremolo booklet  (after Tremolo by Agnes Martin)

 

 

Tremolo   

(after ‘Tremolo’ by Agnes Martin 1962)

idea

ruler

pencil

mathematical calculation

 and a blank white sheet.

evenly spaced graphite journeys

with irregular endings

minor imperfections

unintended gradations

pencil lifting

border shifting

stop thinking.

a vision

of living

above the line

in happiness and love

___________________

________________________

I wonder how often she sharpened her pencil?

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder how often she sharpened her pencil?

 

Not long until we are unlocked.

Until then I'll keep walking.....