Jacaranda Time Again...

I'm glad I got at least one little sketch of them in, as over the weekend, after a week of scorching heat, we had tumultuous storms of wind, rain and hail that stripped many of the blossoms off their stalks. Hopefully more will bud, I haven't had my fill yet of the purple glory time!

 ...and the end of Inktober. I didn't much like following the prompts, but sometimes they led to revelations and discoveries - below are some of the drawings I did enjoy: 

Thinking of/feeling the word to form the shape of the action, like Throw, top left - I think this was a stick I dipped in coffee and swirled around, then dropped ink into the wet marks and finished off with some descriptive lines. The next one, Coral, almost made itself - the natural movement of ink marks on a wet or damp surface formed coral-like textures - and a fun, quick Chef, after a carefully illustrated one was rejected.

The bottom three were more personal - Float - from a photo of my daughter, though it doesn't look like her - water and its distortions are always interesting, as are Shoes, especially well-used battered old takkies - and Hide - my little 3 year old granddaughter's idea of how to do it...(smiley face with hearts emoticon here)

I'm trying to figure out what it is I really love to do, as time runs away at an ever faster rate and I don't want to waste any doing stuff I don't love any more, so Inktober was good for that at least. Some days were diamonds, and some days were stones! 

Watercolour monotypes

A first attempt at printing monotypes from watercolour painted on yupo. Years ago Rhonda Carpenter, incredibly kindly, sent me a sample of yupo to try, when I couldn't find it here in Johannesburg - I eventually found and bought a pack and am finally experimenting! I like the slippery quality of watercolours on this surface, and the clear bright tones you can get, but wanted to try monotypes, so sacrificed the original paintings on the left of each set. 

My first painting, of random objects on my studio windowsill, was very fast, loose and drippy - impatient to get a print made. I didn't dampen the watercolour paper enough to get a good print from the original, but like what was left behind on the yupo .

The second painting was more detailed and careful - starting to enjoy making compositions from these little objets! Quite unpredictable results in the print... the line I drew around the seedpod came out much darker than I'd planned. I'd wet the paper for longer but still didn't pick up as much paint as I'd hoped (the 'doctored' cellphone pic is deceptive!) 

The third attempt was more successful - soaked the watercolour paper for longer - and the print was almost darker in parts than the original.

If you want to try - paint your image onto clean grease-free yupo with watercolour. Make sure it has plenty of pigment to water ratio. While it's drying, soak some smooth watercolour paper - I used hot press 300 gsm - in water for about 10 minutes. Blot with a clean towel or paper towel to remove excess water and place over the image. Rub well all over the paper with the back of a spoon, or other smooth object (I used a pot of handcream with rounded edges), remove and hopefully there will be a monotype... I haven't perfected the process and probably won't without a proper press, but quite excited at the results!

 

Round and Round the Garden

I got so behind posting paintings done on the 30x30DirectWatercolor challenge, I'm just dumping a whole bunch here, otherwise I'll never catch up! 

One or two intersected with other online challenges - Virginia Hein's Usktalk about applying explosive colour before painting just enough of the image to make it recognisable (the chairs) and international sketch-a-chicken week (irresistible!) and Suhita Shirodkar's 'Start with What If...' (What if I looked through a glass of water)

These aren't all of them, just some on the home and garden theme, which is of course the most available subject while under lockdown - I didn't manage 30, but was happy to have kept up quite a steady pace. I felt like I was getting a grip on how to get started, and use more expressive, less fussy brushstrokes as I went along. (The first ones are at the bottom, more-or-less more recent ones towards the top.) July is International Watercolour Month, apparently, so I think I must carry on while I'm on a roll - trying to curb my natural tendency to switch to something different just as I feel I'm making progress!

Studio Window

Oh no, they're changing Blogger - have to learn more new stuff!... it looks like I can't change the size of the images any more, unless there's something I've missed..? (I reverted to the old style to make these bigger this time.)

Anyway, with days blending into each other, I'd forgotten to do the weekly post I'd promised myself I would. This little series below started with a doodly sort of continuous line drawing of my studio windowsill . I then added monochromatic tones, which scattered the image into little pieces - so I printed out a copy of the original line drawing (luckily photographed it first - a good way to try out different approaches) and tried to mass the tones into bigger areas. Still a bit busy, but it's a very busy window! And then added white highlights with a Pentel paint pen. The light was changing constantly as I painted, so these do sort of reflect the passage of time in a day, but I'd love to get simpler, stronger designs in my work.

Garden Art

Back to watercolours - I always come back sooner or later, but the rustiness shows. The weather in late autumn here is so gorgeous, it's a pleasure to rip myself away from screens and nibbling stuff (must remember this) and spend time in the garden. Which is quite shockingly neglected as far as grooming and maintenance go, though pretty - I like all the leaves lying around and overgrowth. I painted the birdbath outside my studio and noticed that the wall is precariously leaning in towards our side, pushed over by a rampant banana/strelitzia tree next door. As soon as people are allowed back to work we'll have to sort that out...hope it will wait!

Every year around this time Joburg Land Art enthusiasts have an event and exhibition at Emmarentia Dam, which is closed off now for Covid-19. This year we were invited to make our own land art at home and post it online. I attempted an Andy Goldsworthy sort of hanging sculpture made of the seed pods which already adorn the Yellow Bells tree in our garden, extending them down to the ground by joining them together - with no man-made aids. I loved doing that and watching them swing in the breeze, until they began to drop off as fast as I tried to put them up again. So I turned to some fallen flowers and leaves - fig leaves fished out of the pool - and made a much quicker, easier, more cooperative piece.

P.S. I've just discovered a whole bunch of comments waiting to be moderated - I didn't even know that function was turned on - my apologies for seeming to ignore your visits and responses! They included a bunch of Chinese porn site ones though, so just as well some were monitored before publishing, yikes!

A Long View

I suppose drawing these mundane everyday scenes of home will be a record and witness to this time of coronavirus - I don't exactly find my messy sitting room inspiring (my crochet circles, to be made into something...a blanket? and evidence of our much missed granddaughter, who lives tantalisingly nearby but we can't visit) although once you get going, it's absorbing. Still feeling lucky to be able to fill so much time so happily and busily. In fact I'm taking on too many art challenges at the moment, our Joburg Sketchers group, my local studio group, and an online painting course - somehow I must pull them together into one more focused aim. It's feeling a bit too much like hard work right now!

Just a Box - and the Kitchen Sink

The scary time continues, may you continue to stay safe... I feel so fortunate to be an artist at this time. There is nothing that takes my mind off all the agonising news, thoughts and possibilities than just trying to draw or paint something. Even an empty cardboard wine box is so full of variations and fascinations it completely absorbed me for many hours. As you can see in the series of steps below, I started with a cobalt blue ground, and stuck to a limited palette of yellow ochre, a touch of burnt sienna and white and I think a touch of Paynes grey to reclaim some of the darks.

And carrying on with Urban Sketchers everywhere, another scene at home - my kitchen window sill and sink. Mess is now an excuse to sit down and draw it instead of a guilt trip to clear it up - although that does have to happen eventually, I suppose (rolls eyes).

Staying Home

What a very strange time this is for the whole world - my thoughts go round and around it, to the places and people who are badly affected and suffering from Covid-19, to the places, including this country and continent where the full effects are still to be felt and dealt with - we really are all in it together. Our government, thankfully has taken early (crossing fingers) and decisive action to restrict the spread of the virus, with more to come. So we, like you more than likely, are staying at home as much as possible and finding ways to cope and keep in touch. I read a nicer way to think of this new situation, as 'Physical distancing, Social interaction', which is my experience of the online art and sketching groups and support systems that have sprung up to encourage each other. The Urban Sketchers with their #uskathome #outthewindow #SketchwithHongKong and other hashtags - prompting my sketch from the sitting room - my under-used car and the pavement ash tree and its autumn leaves which overhangs our wall.

My local Whatsapp friends studio group is posting a challenge a week - last week was self portraits (it's hard to find a willing model when you're isolating!) I find doing them initially excruciating but of course you get caught up in the process and forget your appalled self-criticisms, and capturing the folds and wrinkles becomes an objective exercise. I think I've actually made myself look younger in this one, and more highly coloured, I'm pretty pale IRL!

After that intense effort I made a series of blind contour drawings, with water-soluble wax crayons - not looking at the paper until finished (well, a peep or two to find my place) and added a bit more colour and a watery brush afterwards. They're all a bit frightening, but it's fascinating to notice resemblances to family members here and there, and for some reason I find them more interesting than my conventional attempt. Bottom right reminds me of the work of Del Kathryn Barton..?

This week's challenge is 'Elevating a humble object' if you feel like joining in, let me know in the comments or tag your work with #artinthetimeofcoronavirus on Instagram.

Please take care of yourselves and others - stay at home and stay safe. 

The Rand Club

Well, hello - it's been a long long time and I had almost decided that blogging was all in the past for me, when someone (thank you Ginny Stiles!) emailed to say she missed my posts, and someone else needed a link for my sketches besides Instagram - so here I am again. Not knowing where to begin as there's so much I haven't posted and so much has happened... so just starting at The Rand Club, where I sketched on Saturday, and have sketched a few times over the last couple of years... A music and story-telling event (at the bottom), a book fair in 2018 (these three colour sketches) and ending with the recent event for 1000Drawings where we donated A5 doodles or drawings for charity - both with our Joburg Sketchers group.

The Rand Club was founded by Cecil John Rhodes and Johannesburg's mining founding fathers with a very restricted admittance and membership policy - basically only wealthy white men were allowed in. When I was a very young art-director's assistant, newly arrived in Joburg back in the late 70's, I went with my workmates for drinks there at the longest bar in Africa - as it still is - and didn't realise at the time that the reason we circled the building to find a side door and not just walk into the main entrance, was because I, a Woman! was present - by then we were allowed into certain rooms, but had to go in the secret door! Since the 80's all may enter, but there's quite a struggle to attract enough paying members into the middle of the city to finance the upkeep and preservation of the quite beautiful building and its features. Now that the admission policy is more ethical, I hope they do.

Apologies for the poor quality of these images - they were snapped with my phone in dingy light before popping into the donation box. One of the reasons blogging became too much, was the time taken to scan and clean up images, and write and research blog posts (the upside being that I learnt a lot more about the city I'm living in) so I'm trying to find ways to do it faster. This post has nevertheless taken me forever, but it's good to be back!

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps

Holding thumbs this works out - a video of some sketches from 2018 in my Seawhite-of-Brighton big black sketchbook. Thanks to my techier husband Bruce for adding the soundtrack... Perhaps I could have sketched more... perhaps the next one will be better... perhaps I'll take my sketchbook out today... I'm always glad when I did, and regretful I didn't do so more often. 

Here we're fastening seat belts for a rough ride in 2019, with elections coming up, all parties and factions at each other's throats, and much damage to be repaired - I'm really hoping it won't be as tumultuous as I fear. To you, all my sketching, painting, drawing, blogging, following friends, wishing you a very happy, peaceful and productive New Year.

Paying Attention

I have been listening to a lot of artist's podcasts - too many, there are a million of them out there! But a couple of phrases have stuck in my head from other nuggets of wisdom I've heard recently. (I will credit them here if I can find my bitty notes, but both have recurred in a few interviews.) 

One, regarding subject matter, is "Pay Attention To What You Pay Attention to" (sounds obvious doesn't it?) and the other is "Work in Series". I think both of these will help with frustration at myself for continuing to have such a diverse range of styles, medium and subjects. I dread the question, "So, what do you paint?" and should really have a ready reply by now!

Something that keeps stopping me in my tracks with a longing to capture them, are the groups or pairs of (usually) women in local streets, chatting, sitting or walking around - wearing bright colours, with umbrellas, children on backs or otherwise attached; mostly in summer when shadows are strong or people are out and about later in the day. Such a warm, convivial feature of Johannesburg, I've painted and sketched these scenes often but haven't found THE way to do them that isn't a rather slavish copy of a photo, but more finished than an urban sketch. I did two versions of this group - dressed all in white in this case, walking home from church through the leafy green streets of Emmarentia - trying to keep to strong, simple shapes, the results not what I'm after yet... are they ever though? 

Can you do the Canna, can!

Is anyone still out there? It's been another long time since I've been here on the blog, and no excuses, but back with an intention to post more regularly, even if just for my own documentation.

I've been trying to find the pure pleasure of drawing and painting again - after far too long of producing work to order, that seems to have gone by the wayside a bit. I think less writing, which takes me longer and longer, and more artwork is the key to keeping up.

These drawings I made when I had a problem with my left eye recently, which was frightening to say the least. After months of fussing about what to draw, what to paint, when, how and why... when faced with an actual threat to my ability to do so, I just sat down and drew what was in front of me, a desiccated canna flower on my studio windowsill. I resisted doing Inktober again, as a pressure I wasn't feeling up to, but got out my Indian ink, watercolours, and the dregs of my morning coffee to make these. My eye is OK again, thankfully, after a small op, but a lesson was quickly learnt - less pondering, more action. Seems obvious doesn't it!?

Thatchers at Work

As I have mentioned, we are in a long slow process of moving to the Western Cape, where we'll be so lucky as to be living and working on an exquisite farm in Franschhoek. Old farm dwellings have been beautifully remodelled, as well as some new ones built, as guest cottages.
The original French Hugenot farmhouse and outbuildings are now in the process of being restored according to heritage requirements into a hotel, dining areas and more accommodation. I spent a blissful autumn morning on a visit there last month, surrounded by mountains and vineyards, watching and sketching a team of thatchers giving the old water mill a new hat.

The skills of these men are quite awe-inspiring as they deftly turn bundles of long grass into a neat weatherproof carapace for this little whitewashed building. Unfortunately much of the mill has been neglected and vandalised over previous decades, so it's doubtful if it'll ever function as a mill again, but still a lovely feature.
I spoke to the foreman, who told me that this team comes mainly from the small town of Macassar, which has its own fascinating history. The craft of thatching has been passed down from father to son, as his father and grandfather did to him - he doesn't know how long his family has done this work, but I wouldn't be surprised if it goes back to the late 1600's, as do Macassar and the Hugenots in the Cape.





Here they were busy with 'toumaak' ...rolling and looping twine by hand, after which the bundles of grass were rhythmically tossed to the roof, where they were lined up and stitched into place with long needles. By this time I was - shamefully having watched the much harder work going on before me - exhausted from sitting in the shade and sketching and had to go in for some tea and a rest... but I checked at intervals as the roof was quickly and expertly layered, combed and knocked into shape and, with a long weekend of well deserved rest in between, finished off with a cap of cement to hold everything in place.

I sat outside again as they completed the finishing touches, and did a final sketch before they packed up and moved on to the next finely crafted job - let's hope the sons of these fathers carry on the good work for years to come.

A Trip to Soweto

Soweto has been a place on Joburg Sketchers bucket list for years, but somehow we hadn't got it together to find out exactly how to get there, where to park or walk or sketch - it's a vast sprawling area of many suburbs, full of houses and streets that look very similar to the passing eye as you whizz by on the highway.

But when visiting Swedish sketcher Holger and his wife Susanne, and my friend Jane from Cape Town, said they'd like to go, we decided the time had come to venture forth. As it turned out, it was pretty easy - five of us in my car on a Friday morning, past Johannesburg city centre, onto the N1 Western Bypass, turn right and there in front of us were the iconic Orlando Towers, originally cooling towers for a coal power station, now an adventure destination where you can bungee jump, abseil, zip-line and swing from those heights (um, no thanks very much!)

Wiggling through a maze of very sketchable streets full of children playing, neighbours chatting and general community activity, we found our way to the famous Vilakazi Street, and had immediate, copious offers to help us park, watch/wash our car, sing/dance/guide for us, as well as countless shops, vendors, and restaurants vying for business  - we had to explain that we were just there to sit and draw which caused some puzzlement and then fascination -  I wished we'd brought a stack of blank exercise books so that everyone who stopped to watch could have joined in, and I wish I'd had more time and energy to sketch more of the colourful busyness of the street.

We decided not to partake of the rather touristy-priced lunches on offer and headed back, stopping to sketch the towers on the way out - in blazing midday sun we squeezed into the only little strip of shade we could find with a view, outside Bara Mall. Fast sketching as even the South Africans were expiring from the heat, let alone our Swedish visitors!

Cactus Shadows

It's very late in January, but here's wishing everyone a happy, creative and peaceandlove-filled 2018. Wishing lots of water to those who are fast running out - Cape Town and its surrounding areas have something like 90 days supply left, with the rainy season only starting after that.

Here is a postcard I painted for the annual @Twitrartexhibit happening in Canberra, Australia this year, and supporting Pegasus Riding for the Disabled. It's a hot, dry scene from a photo I took at Babylonstoren, a lovely garden farm near Franschhoek. I loved the shadows and may do a bigger watercolour from the same reference - it was hard to control on such a small scale! 

If you'd like to support this, you need to have a Twitter account (I have one that I don't use very much) and get your 16x12 cm postcard to Australia by 6 March. Details can be found here. 

That's it for now - I'm sketching a lot with visiting friends who are very keen to do that, so will post some of those soon!

And a Grey Lourie in a Plum Tree

A day late for this Johannesburg version of a Christmas tree, but hoping all who visit here had a very happy day, if you celebrated - and peace and goodwill to all!

Not a pear tree with a partridge, but the greengage tree outside my studio, which was vibrating a couple of weeks ago with all kinds of birds gorging and feasting on the not-quite-ripe-yet fruit. We still have pots of jam from last year's crop so I let them get on with it and spent a happy couple of hours watching and sketching them... The thrush thinking he's lord of the manor and trying to chase everyone else off, the barbets bright and fierce looking but quite wary of the other birds and of eyes peeping at them through the window; the little grey mousebirds with raggedy tails and punk hairdos come in cheeky flocks; my favourite bulbuls (they make such sweet, clear calls to each other, "what's for tea Gregory?") and the grey louries  - or Go-away bird - one semi-tame who comes and squawks at me outside the kitchen if there's nothing to eat and to bring out some paw-paw please.

I never used to be much into birds, it was what my mom, aunts and gran did. At last I'm mature enough to appreciate the small, precious things, some positives to these years passing ever faster by!

Radium Beer Hall & Grill

Strange to be sitting in a pub at 10 am on a Monday morning, but that's where I found myself this week, sketching in preparation for another painting in the classes I'm taking (same ones as in the Kalahari bookshop, which is still in progress, and which I should be working on right now.)

This is the Radium Beer Hall, the oldest surviving bar and grill in Johannesburg. It started as a tearoom in 1929 and doubled as a shebeen which, illegally at the time, sold "white man's" liquor to black customers. The very old bar counter was rescued from the demolition of the Ferreirastown Hotel, on which feisty trade union activist "Pick Handle Mary" Fitzgerald apparently stood to spur on striking miners. A fascinating history and great pubby atmosphere - sadly the area around it has become run down and dodgy, but I hope to go back to sketch more of the customers and musicians at one of their regular live music sessions.

 I did a couple of quick watercolour sketches of a couple at the next table - I think the guy is a manager, or works there - he was on the phone a lot and told me he was very, very busy when he came to have a look at my sketch. The girl looked deeply unhappy and the conversation became more and more heated between them, all in French so - probably just as well - I didn't understand a word. As customers started arriving for lunch the argument quietened down. I'm considering putting them in my painting, how times have changed since Pick Handle Mary was around!

Going to the zoo, how about you?

Our first Spring sketchday was to the zoo again, where I've sketched here, here and here... You'd think I'd get tired of it, but once there I get thoroughly engrossed in trying to capture the animals, even while my heart is aching for their imprisonment. It is really the only place you can get close enough for long enough to study and draw them. I've tried in the wild and believe me, they move and disappear in seconds, even the biggest ones.

The elephants were wandering around their large enclosure and I captured them as I could - and couldn't resist including a briefly paused onlooker with remarkably similar trousers on!

Next door to the ellies was a bored and lonely looking rhino, though he seemed popular with the birds - a peacock, a rooster, plus a dozen little chirpers hung around him as he lolled around in the shade.

I wasn't sure what the pale, elegant looking antelope were in the distance - later identified by my husband as gemsbok - I haven't seen such light coloured ones before.

Lastly, after meeting the rest of our group for lunch and sketchbook chat, Leonora and I found some pelicans - one optimistically fishing in a rather filthy khaki pool - and became entranced by trying to reproduce their sculptural feathers, their nursery pastel-coloured faces and their elastic movements, and once again I thought the time at the zoo was too short, I'll have to come back another day, just for the birds.

“A wonderful bird is the Pelican.
His beak can hold more than his belly can.
He can hold in his beak
Enough food for a week!
But I'll be darned if I know how the hellican?” 

Dixon Lanier Merritt