Pre-Christmas in Cape Town

My husband and I spent the ten days before Christmas on a busy holiday in the Cape. Originally from Cape Town, we always have lots of people to see and things to do and I had to grab the few moments I could to sketch here and there. In a shopping centre while waiting at a café I felt sorry for Father Christmas across from me in his red suit and fur on a hot, hot day - he stayed cheerful though as he chatted for ages to an old friend. A proud dad with his blonde, barefoot daughters waited for the photographer to arrive - and as I sketched a tiny boy chatting to Santa, their hands shot up in a high five which I had to catch in spite of a funny-looking arm!

Another chance to sketch when my husband needed to find a TV to watch the Sevens Rugby Final - at Forries pub, an old student haunt of ours still going strong in Newlands. It was rather quiet until a group of five couples arrived. The women ordered wine, getting more and more raucous as the level of the bottle dropped, while their men sat doggedly ignoring them with eyes fixed on the screen above. 

And a peaceful moment at beautiful Kirstenbosch Gardens where we followed the shade on another sweltering day and I drew the tame guinea fowl who ignored us as we sat on the bench next to them. More to come from this Cape break in another post or two...

The War Museum and a Park

Skipping around from one thing to another, I returned to some urban sketching after rather a dry year... I just didn't get out much. I met up with friend and ex-Joburg Sketcher Barbara Moore at the Museum of Military History on Sunday and we sketched and nattered in the shadiest courtyard we could find on a scorching heat-wavy day - we've had too many of those! We quite logically thought the red and blue zigzags on the flag were W's and M's for War Museum, but my husband, who was a Gunner in his long ago National Service, recognised it later as the Gunner's or Artillery flag!

On Tuesday the Joburg Sketchers were supposed to meet with art counsellors from Lefika and children from Hillbrow to draw and paint together on World Aids Day in the beautifully treed Pieter Roos Park near the city. Only two of us made it there - Leonora and I looked around and listened for kid's voices but no sign of them, so we sat up at the top and started sketching the Hillbrow Tower overlooking the park, feeling out of place among rather a lot of unemployed men sitting about (actually the men with guitar in the middle sketch were from another sketch day in Newtown, but I had such a big empty page around them, I drew the park scene as if it were background, they could just as well have been there... and seeing it's confession time, I didn't fit the top of the tower onto my page so drew it alongside and photoshopped it to the top afterwards, as you can probably tell!)
As we packed up to leave in time to avoid heavy afternoon traffic, we spotted the Lefika group down at the bottom of the hill, just stopping for lunch - a pity our paths crossed too late in the day, I hope we can get together some other time.

Connecting

I said I'd post about a lovely painting (long) weekend that I took some time out from my big job for. It was a three day workshop by favourite teacher/artist Hermine Spies Coleman whose lessons and workshops I've attended on and off for 25 years or more (my husband asks if I haven't yet qualified every time I sign up for another one!) 

They are always sure to engender fresh thinking, new methods or as in this case, renewal or revival of the ancient process of connecting. With all the ways we have of communicating nowadays, you'd think we'd have it taped, but the connections seem ever more fleeting, tenuous and shallow the more channels we have to do it in. So it was with a feeling of increasing release from the tension of frantic drawing and internet FOMO that I entered into the gentle rhythm of the exercises briefly described here. 

On day one we started by 'conversing' in drawings, doodles or paintings with another anonymous workshop participant. The interactions were quite amazing, some harmonic and sensitive, others fairly combative  - most of the latter turned out in the discussions afterwards to be misunderstandings of what one or other artist meant, and were usually not criticisms at all as was sometimes perceived. How touchy we can be without reason, all in our own heads! In the top one, I did the first and third small paintings, Judy responded with the second and fourth, in the other one I replied to Paula's beginning and so on.

That afternoon we were each to view a chosen image, or the room in front of us as I did, through a glass of water and paint or draw it, keeping in mind an artist that we'd looked up and researched beforehand. Mine was Diebenkorn, not that you'd know that by looking at my painting, but it certainly helped me to simplify shapes, choose colours and add slivers of hues between shapes. 

The second day was my favourite. We took whichever drawing or painting tools we wanted out into the garden or through the back gate of our hostess Bev's home where there was a river and a fairly wild area - in the middle of built up Hyde Park! We were simply to sit there, feel, look, listen and absorb nature, and if we felt like it, allow our pencils or brushes to make marks or move across the paper in response. Once I'd found my spot, it felt supremely calming to feel no pressure to perform, or render the scenes around me accurately, or at all. I started noticing the twigs, leaves, feathers and other ephemera around my feet and they seemed almost to be messages or strange writings that might be deciphered. I started drawing them in pencil but found outlining them too cumbersome, so switched to a big brush and followed their shapes in watercolour. Presently the shadows falling on my paper seemed to nudge for my attention and I picked up some blue wash and followed those around for a while - looked up and saw some tiny lanterns draped around my head (gooseberry cases? delicately dried in random trails). I eventually became aware that I was about the only one still out there and reluctantly packed up to join the others.

We carried on painting inside, rounding up or finishing off, with a suggestion that we add something of ourselves into our work. I only did this a few days later after I'd thought and wondered what trace of myself I may have left behind on that landscape, deciding that it was probably strands of my very fine wispy hair - usually a cause of some distress! I dropped a few collected from my comb into a puddle of watercolour and let it dry... I don't know if this is a 'result', or a painting even worth showing, but it was a deeply grounding experience with the world, nature and dare I say, myself...

That afternoon we watched an engrossing, enchanting video of an artist who totally immerses himself in the landscape and his responses to it. If you haven't come across Land artist Andy Goldsworthy, do take six minutes or three hours to meet him and his beautiful work.

On the third and last day, we started where we were supposed to begin but didn't - by introducing ourselves and a short summing up of our art/history. I think because of the previous two days of deep work, much more came bubbling forth than would otherwise have done, and it turned out to be quite a moving exchange. Our final paintings were addressed to a particular person from our past or present - I rather disappointingly reverted to being quite literal (my family will know who I'm talking to here) - it isn't finished but I think I'll attempt this again. As Hermine quotes from Marc Chagall: "If I create from the heart, nearly everything works; if from the head, almost nothing." 

Finished and Klaar!

A watercolour doodle I did some time ago (have I posted it before?) which kind of describes how I'm feeling - ie the woozy man, not the jaunty girl - after a marathon two months or more of drawingdrawingdrawing and for the last two weeks, colouringcolouringcolouring on the computer. Below is a collage of just a few of the line drawings for the health manual I've been working on, which were preceded by copious pencil sketches which were submitted for comments and many changes. They had to be very clear and explicit, with each tiny face bearing a tiny expression and every little figure representing an ethnic group, with a hairstyle, a set of clothes and usually an ailment or health issue. So many decisions to make, so many reference pics to look up... but, I'm done! Holding thumbs and crossing toes as it goes into meetings and gets discussed ad infinitum, that it won't come back with more changes. Ah well, there are worse ways to make a living.
One great thing I've discovered during this long stretch are Podcasts. They made hours and hours of sitting, eyestrain and shoulder-burn (I did get up to stretch and fetch too many snacks) positively uplifting. Some of my favourite listening sites: On Being , Savvy Painter,  Melvyn Bragg on BBC... there are so many more, I could sit here for ever and never get through them, but very happy to have found them when I did.

Not sure what to do with myself now - I will I hope, get back soon to painting and sketching, of the loose & spontaneous variety, but for the the moment I'm just pottering.

A Deep Purple Breather

I'm still up to my ears in my big illustration job and will be for at least the next three weeks - hundreds of little scenarios showing public health problems and how to deal with them, involving many confusing briefs, sketches, instructions and changes to all of the above... I'm through the pencil rough stage and busy with line drawings, next is colouring them all up in Photopaint....ooh my burning neck!

But I have got out now and then for a breath of air and some happy sloshing around with paint. It's jacaranda season (almost over already) so I just had to join sketcher friends in one of the purple shrouded avenues that grid the city and try once again to capture their glow. This one was actually sold after its appearance on our Joburg Sketchers page (thank you Peggy, if you read this!) I'll tell you soon about another lovely painting weekend, but it'll need a bit of work to show and tell... in the meantime, back to the drawing board.

The Old Post Office

Sketches from a few weeks ago when I went to an art exhibition in an old building that used to house Johannesburg's Post Office processing site. Enormous sorting sheds where trains and buses would offload piles of mail, buildings that used to be stables for the P.O. horses, strange machines whose purpose is a mystery (to me anyway). This all hidden behind walls that I've driven past so many times and vaguely wondered if there was anything interesting behind them. We went back to draw before it's all changed - the City Library still uses some of the premises for storage but loft apartments are in the planning stage for others.

In the meantime, Summer has arrived! Gardens are buzzing, jacarandas are in their full purple magnificence, birds and frogs are calling and swimming pools are sparkling in an early heat wave. Why is it that enormous mountains of work - absent and leaving me twiddling my thumbs all through the winter months, when sitting in a sunspot and ploughing through it would be an appealing alternative to sitting on icy windswept pavements - suddenly arrives in truckloads, just when all my urges are telling me to go outside and paint, sketch, experience. Moan, moan, moan and I shouldn't when work is often hard to come by, but really...

Heritage Day

 It was Heritage Day on the 24th September, when South Africans celebrate their very many different histories, traditions and cultural backgrounds. With my English, Scottish and Swedish ancestry long jumbled up in the past, I would have quite liked to potter around in the garden at home with a good old South African braai to finish off the holiday - but a sketchcrawl had been called, so off I went to the Constitution Hill venue, expecting to draw some of the buildings as I did nearly three years ago.

Well, it was a very busy place, with a 'Light the Way' event planned to coincide with the UN Sustainable Development Summit in New York just getting into gear. I had started sketching one of the stair towers housing the 'Flame of Democracy', of the old awaiting-trial blocks which have been preserved as a reminder of the Concourt's grim past - but when some very loud thudding music and dancers started getting into action in the square, I turned my attention to them. (perhaps that distraction was why I put the leaning fellow's hand on the tree in the foreground :-o)
After some frantic drawing, eventually there were too many people blocking my view, with quite a crowd gathered around watching every move of my pen I decided it was time to escape the heat and noise and return to my corner of suburbia, and a relaxed braai with my family.