My Artist friend, VP Vasuhan

'Amma,' pencil, acrylic and charcoal on canvas

I first met Vasuhan in Cyprus in 1997. Our mutual friend, the brilliant abstract artist Glyn Hughes, had arranged a painting project at the Melina Mercouri Hall in Nicosia. It was to be part of the French Cultural Week then taking part in the city, and Glyn picked 6 Nicosia artists to make copies of famous paintings by artists such as Cezanne, Bonnard, Kandinsky, and Leger, to name a few. We were each given 2 huge canvases, roughly 8 foot high by 12 foot long, and we had only a week to paint copies of our chosen paintings onto these. I painted one of my favourite paintings, Cezanne's large 'Bathers,' and one of Bonnard's 'Wife in the  Bath,' series. I remember spending a lot of time at night in the large hall, working on my canvases, with Glyn nearby supervising our efforts and handing out enormous tubes of acrylic paint and big brushes (some of which I kept). We only had a week to complete all 12 enormous canvases, which meant quite a few hours' work day and night. I have many lovely memories of working on my canvases and watching my artist friends working on theirs, and the energies that filled the hall were incredible. It is something I will never forget, and I would love the chance to work that large again.

It was here one evening I met Vasuhan, who had begun work on a large abstract Kandinsky. Glyn suggested we work on it together as time was running out, and it was a great pleasure to paint with Vasuhan and to see how he interpreted Kandinsky's abstracted brushstrokes and colours. We both enjoyed the process of working on a large canvas together, and seeing the different ways we each approached Kandinsky's complicated painting .

Vasuhan also painted 2 large canvases on his own. They were:
Georges Braque, 'Bathing Woman,' (1907-08)
Yves Klein, 'Anthropometry of the Blue Period,' 1960.

I have lovely memories of painting in the hall with all the artists, all of us working in a frenzy with increasing worries that we would not finish on time! There was a well attended opening night for our exhibition, which was opened by the President's wife, and our show looked fantastic. (There is even a photo of Glyn, me, Vasu and Mrs Vassiliou up on the stage at the opening, with my large Cezanne 'Bathers' behind us, in Glyn Hughes' book 'GLYN HUGHES.') It formed the backdrop for a series of lectures.

'Who are You?' mixed media on canvas

Vasuhan was working as an assistant to Glyn Hughes and I would see him often when I went to Glyn's house. Vasu was also painting and I liked his paintings a lot. 

Vasuhan moved to Paris not long after and Glyn often spoke to me about how well he was doing as an artist in Paris. I think that Paris must be one of the best cities in the world to be an artist and we both admired him for moving there to follow his career.

Glyn at one of Vasuhan's exhibitions in Paris - (Glyn on the left, Vasu next to him on the right)

Though I have not met up with Vasu since he left Cyprus, I have kept in touch with him and his career through Glyn Hughes, who sadly died last year. We also connected on Facebook and I have been following his work with much interest. 

'Dances with Rat.'

Vasuhan was born in Sri Lanka and spent part of his childhood in Columbo. He moved to Cyprus years later and finished his studies at the Center of Higher Studies in Nicosia. His website is:
http://www.vasuhan.com/paintings

Do check it out! I like the variety of his themes and different styles. His wonderful compositions, whether abstract or figure-based, are very personal and evocative.

'Sonat,' acrylic on canvas

I'm hoping that next year we may both exhibit together in Paris. I think our works would look good together. We have both been influenced by our long association with Glyn Hughes so in a way it would be a tribute to him too. He was such a master painter and we were very lucky to see him work and undoubtedly absorbed many things from him! 

We have since tried to find out what happened to those 12 large canvases, after the exhibition was taken down. They seemed to have disappeared! We both hope that they are somewhere being looked after.

Circles, excitement and anxieties.

'Thinking About Cyprus,' oil and acrylic on board, 30 x 40cm

As the torrential rain continues to fall outside, and with flood warnings and red weather alerts across the south of the UK continuously on the television near me, I'm attaching a painting that is now in sunny Cyprus. When I was there in January, I swopped paintings with Valerie Brennan, my Facebook friend. This is the one I gave her and it is now in her home. It gives me much pleasure to think of it being in Cyprus, enjoyed by her. I have not left any artwork in Cyprus since I left in 1998, though we hope to make a show in Nicosia in the summer.

I sat for some hours in Valerie's studio and saw her wonderful paintings, and we talked about our artwork. Facebook has created a wide circle of artists and I know many personally or through someone else. Valerie has met several of the artist friends whose work has inspired me on Facebook. From painting in much isolation four or five years ago, I now have the advantage of being able to check in on my friends' recent paintings, and can contact them in seconds by a few clicks.

My painting is from a memory of sunrise - when the Kyrenia mountains appear quite dark, and the sun turns the sky yellow. Grasses and rocks and the wide plain catch the early glow and my painting is a composite of experiences. Circles also seemed to embody my experiences.

My novel, 'The Jagged Green Line,' is now finished. I have been struggling to create something called an active table of contents and this is what has been delaying me. I hope to be able to submit my book to Kindle by Friday (Valentine's Day!). It is a time of great excitement and also great nerves! I have asked myself many times, How do you know when a book is finished? I have tweaked it for a long time and it is richer for this, I believe. But somehow the strings of attachment and anxiety have loosened, and it has fallen free from me. It seems to have its own life. So this is the point at which I feel it is finished.

I was given a Kindle Fire HD for Christmas. The first book I will buy will be my own. I can't wait to see how it looks on my Kindle!

Sunshine and Fantasy

Twenty-five days in Cyprus passed in a flash! In between visits to the beach, and long wals, I painted a few watercolours. Sunshine, sparkle and images from my walks overlapped and mutated into fantasy compositions as I worked on the balcony each day. I'm including a few of these compositions.



'Paphos Walk,' (5) watercolour, 10 x 12ins

 



'Paphos Walk,' (2)  10 x 14ins

 




'Paphos Walk,' (3) 10 x 12ins

 

Twenty-five days in Cyprus passed in a flash! In between visits to the beach, and long walks, I painted a few watercolours. Sunshine, sparkle, and images from my walks overlapped and mutated into fantasy compositions as I worked on the balcony each day. I'm including a few of these compositions.

The Wind Threw the Bags into the Trees.

'The Wind Threw the Bags into the Trees.'  oil and acrylic, 61 x 45cm

It's been a week of mixed activities. I worked on 5 new paintings, 2 of which are finished (the above is one of those). I made more drawings, exploring different ideas for compositions combining abstract and figurative elements from my environment and imagination. These drawings really excite me as they are a new direction, and glimmer with possibilities.

I applied to a gallery in the US last week. This particular gallery is one I admire, as I love the work they show, and I thought mine might fit (an important consideration). Several of my Facebook friends show with this gallery, though I did not use their names when I applied. I emailed 9 images of my work, with my updated CV and Statement. The next day a reply came, which I am taking in a positive way, being a very positive person! He said the work was 'good and strong.' and that he was fully booked, and would keep me in mind if any openings came up. My initial disappointment was eased by the thought that generally galleries don't make nice comments unless they mean them - I've had enough abrupt, outright rejections to know this! I know that the examples of my work that I emailed were ones I felt GOOD about, and while I may or may not hear from him again, this was a positive position to have applied from.

'Storm over Nicosia,' black paint on paper, 8 x 11ins, 2013

I'm applying to the Painting Center's open exhibition (New York), as the theme is one I am currently engaged with. They want examples of 'working drawings,' ones that artists make to examine ideas - drawings that may lead to a finished painting, but may also never be seen. I have a month to photograph my drawings, and send the CD to the US. Of course, thousands of artists will apply, but it's worth a shot. I'm aiming in wider directions, hoping to widen my network and opportunities. In April, I will take my painting up to the Royal Academy, for another attempt at the Summer Show, and by April 3rd I should hear whether I have been selected for the Creekside Open.

'The Wind Blew the Bags into the Trees,' was inspired by one of those sudden visual impressions! On March 10th I went by bus to get some hardboard to paint on, my stock of canvases being finished. As I stood with the hardboard, waiting for the bus home, I noticed the skeletal trees opposite had plastic bags snagged on them. It was an icy, windy day, the bags were snagged randomly across the line, and it reminded me of musical notes, and at the same time was quite funny.
(Click on images for larger view.)

Winter Blue

'Nicosia, Mountains and Washing,' oil on board, 91 x 61cm

We came in to land at Gatwick amid swirling snow. It was a huge contrast to the Spring temperatures of Cyprus. Behind this white void,  I could still see the coast of Paphos shimmering under 25C, and could still feel the warm breezes on my face. An hour later, as we sat outside the airport, with a 5 hour wait until we could take a train home, the arctic blast took my breath away.

It is just under a week since I returned, and winter blues have set in. The snow has nearly all gone, but part of me has stayed in Nicosia, and my inner eye still sees washing blowing in the breezes, the blue of the mountains, and the warm hues of the city. My painting (from a few years ago) embodies the atmosphere and colours I am missing so much.

There has been no word on my residencies, which may be a bad sign. The best thing is to put out lots more applications, and get back to painting.  Now that I have caught up on housework and doing piles of post-holiday washing, I've ordered some stretchers and I can't wait to start work again. In Nicosia I made some black and white paintings, and a lot of drawings. Certain colours and shapes have stuck in my mind and will doubtless find their way into the new work. The greens in Cyprus at this time of year are always stunning, and almost appear artificial in their brightness.

I used the internet cafe in Nicosia several times a week, hoping for news on the residencies, and was thrilled to find an email announcing that I have been put on the artists' register at The Painting Center, New York. I applied last summer and had forgotten all about the application, so the news was a great start to 2013.
http://thepaintingcenter.org/

A Viewing.

     I was up at 6.20am, as usual. I helped dress Alice (my niece) and took her up to her waiting school taxi at 7.15am. A group of men arrived to put scaffolding up around our block of flats. As the clink of heavy metal poles echoed outside the window, I was running around with canvases in my hands, placing them in positions around the room, in preparation for viewing by my art agent, June. I assumed that the three hours I had before her arrival was ample time, but it was scarcely enough! I selected 25 canvases, and after trimming off rebellious strands of canvas, labelling them, whitening a few unprimed edges, and displaying them against tables, on sofas, and in front of the TV, it was with a few minutes to spare.

June chose 10 paintings. We made a list of the titles and measurements and prices. I realised that I need to paint more large canvases, as June likes my larger paintings and feels that they really suit a corporate environment. I am also very happy working large, as the scale suits my use of colour. I felt rather awkward explaining why I couldn't part with the two huge canvases on the living room walls. One is about the memory of Nicosia and my late partner Tom, and has huge sentimental value. The other, a large (140cm by 140cm) canvas about women in the Turkish Baths in Nicosia, I had promised my husband I would hold on to!  But the positive aspect is that June knows I will be painting some more 'biggies' soon.

Now it is a matter of waiting for confirmation that the work will go on show at the Kings Hill Project.

(My paintings, scattered around the living room this morning!)

I Never Imagined.....

When I made this drawing 25 years ago, I was teaching English at the Americanos College in Nicosia, and this was the view from my second floor classroom. The large window framed the main square, and the Nicosia Town Hall. It was an image I loved, and on my days off I drew from the flat roof above my classroom. It was a magical time, and I'll never forget drawing above the piercing sound of traffic, as the flickering sunlight cast green fire into the foliage below. As the heat burned my back, I delighted in the sense of being in my own secret world. Possibilities fanned out all around me, and on my paper.

I never imagined that one day, many years later, and after a life tapestry heavily textured with grief and light, I would be married in that same Town Hall. I often wonder if there's a time-line that with some insight I could have looked down, and seen that future self stepping into that muted pink building, with its lovely columns, on a day when I was truly, incredibly happy.

I married on August 5th, at 11.30am, to a wonderful man I have known for 9 years, and had a long distance relationship with for five years. Everything just fell into place, in a way that's rare in life. We booked our marriage 48 hours before the event. My pace slowed as we walked along the cool corridor to the Registrar's office, because I recognised paintings by Cypriot artists I knew well. Suddenly I stopped in front of a huge oil painting of Nicosia. 'It's my painting!' I shouted so loudly that a woman came running out of a nearby room. But she began smiling when I explained that this was the painting I'd donated to the Mayor of Nicosia in 1988! I hadn't seen it since 1990, when it was hanging in the conference room, and I'd assumed it was in a dusty cupboard somewhere! I felt as if the past had reached into the future, and seeped into the committment I was about to make.

They allowed us to take photos in front of the painting, a few minutes before the marriage. For a split second I remembered Tom, who died 13 years earlier, and who had embodied Nicosia for me back then. As I took my vows, I felt that a huge circle had closed.

(Photos: Me in front of the Town Hall: Me with my Marriage Certificate: In front of my Nicosia painting, just before we married: my charcoal drawing of the Town Hall.)

Emotional Cords

There comes a point when you have to detach from a painting. I have a natural tendency to obsess over my work so I'm quite grateful when I reach a state of detachment through outside forces. Often a friend or family member will say, 'That looks finished to me,' and I step back, drink a coffee, and try to view the painting as if I hadn't painted it. How many times has a friendly remark prevented me from over-working a picture! Sometimes turning it to the wall for a week has the same advantages.

As I prepared to deliver my latest commission, I realised with some relief that it was finished after all. Up until that moment of cutting the emotional umbilical cord, I can't enjoy the painting. Once it stands separately from me, it can go off into the world hopefully with the meaning that was intended. My 'Nicosia Balconies at Night,' held exactly the sense of place I'd wanted to convey.

Then the process begins all over again; the same searching, the same self-doubt that is the Artist's life. I'm working on 5 more canvases, of differing sizes, and the first rays of sunlight brought with them an invitation to put two painting in the Not The Royal Academy Summer Exhibition at the Llewellyn Alexander Gallery in London.

(Photos: Fiona with a large Turkish Baths canvas/A selection of recently completed works, and works in progress.)

Admin versus Creativity

After much painting, erasing, and contemplation, and numerous cups of coffee, my commission is finished. I could have gone on longer, but felt that it had reached the stage where it conveyed the buzz of night life and multi-layered conversations that were the original impetus. It's a theme I love, as each brushstroke takes me back to my many night-time walks around Nicosia, and colours start to carry the essence of those memories.

The painting will be delivered on Saturday, but during the painting process my client was kept updated by the means of photos of the progress of the painting attached in emails. Modern technology can be so helpful for an artist and saves so much time.

Much of my painting day tends to be taken up with what friends refer to as 'Admin Time.' Perhaps there was a Golden Era when galleries sought out artists and opportunities dropped in through the letterbox each day. Now we have to be on constant alert for exhibition opportunities and the chance to showcase our work. This means signing up to gallery newsletters online, joining artists' databases, and constant networking (often on the internet) and putting your work on as many websites as you can find! It is time consuming and can be expensive, and of course there are thousands all doing the same thing. But what I love about the internet is how easy it is to enter other artists' worlds and make connections. My own practice has been greatly extended by sites such as Facebook, which allows me daily discussions with artists around the world.

('Nicosia Balconies at Night,' 120cm by 60cm, Oil and Acrylic on canvas.)

Travel

As 2010 ticked into 2011, I was standing watching the fireworks in Nicosia, Cyprus, with my partner. As the fireworks exploded, and cascades of fiery stars fell through the darkness, I cheered loudly with the crowds. Faces shone with the universal hope a New Year always brings.

A few days later, after numerous walks through sunlit parks glowing with the artificial greens that unfold at that time of year, I was yearning to paint. I wrote this in my diary:

'Images are struggling to get out, beating against closed eyelids: when I close my eyes they flit across my inner vision, they seep into dreams, they burst out from behind and between leaves and concrete as I walk, they float up from the sweet earth and sing from the trickling river. I smell them as I pass rainbow flowers, and hear them bubbling behind apocalyptic clouds strewn with grey streamers. Vision and experience cross over into one another, they mutate into something new and bright. I sense the life forces between things, and feel the energies. The problem is to find the right form of expression and this takes time, focus and integrity. I don't want to follow trends or adapt my work for commercial reasons. It has to be pure, at the 'risk' of never making it in the 'real' world.'

('Out of the Loop,' watercolour, 16ins x 12ins, painted in Nicosia.)

Overlapping Lives

As I prepare to continue work on a large commission, I'm remembering the many commissions I undertook when I lived in Cyprus. The memories are particularly poignant as the painting I've been commissioned to do is based on one of my favourite themes, Nicosia at night. I have always loved night and random views through windows onto people's lives. In Nicosia, people tend to live on their balconies, especially in the summer. I'd push my way through crowds on the pavements, catching snippets of conversations, while my eyes were always drawn to figures on balconies above. They would be sitting at tables eating, or watching a TV pulled out of a half-lit room. Sofas jostled for space with plant pots. Lights flickered eerily within fluorescent rectangles, curtains danced in the longed for breezes, and figures leaned wearily across their washing and watched me move past. Lives overlapped, breaths were shared, and heartbeats echoed within shimmering blocks of yellows and greens.

Sometimes I sat on the flat roof of my building in darkness and watched shadowy forms moving inside semi-lit rooms. My eyes journeyed through the many shades of Night's interiors. All the time I tried to memorise the particular warmth, scent and pulse of night. Gradually it seeped into me.

The painting has evolved from these memories. I know the streets intimately, I know those crooked balconies and unevenly spaced rectangles of colour. I can smell fried food, hear the chink of dishes. It is a theme I could paint forever because within each brushstroke I'm reliving my walks and the warm passages of night life.

('Nicosia Night,' 120cm by 60cm, oil on canvas - work in progress.)

The Far Edge of Winter

This painting says everything about the potential of the approach of Spring, and the rising waves of energy I feel as a painter. Though it's still like the arctic here, I have struggled to go outside with frozen fingers and feet, to start some new landscapes. In comparison with last year, when the colours of Spring excited my eyes and brush much earlier in the year, there isn't much sign of impending change yet. But I can feel it, especially in the changing quality of light.

My painting embodies my preoccupation with the impending surge of light and colour. Though made from a drawing of Nicosia, my delight that day was in the luminous sunlight, the washing blowing in the breezes, a bird circling the rooftops, some men replacing some roof tiles, and plant pots on rooftops. There was also a Digger, which was demolishing some old buildings, to make way for the new. I chose this painting to mark the far edge of winter, and brighter, more optimistic times to come.

Location Sketches, Nicosia

I have always loved drawing Nicosia from rooftops, and when I lived there I spent many exciting hours seeking out rooftops which would give me a panoramic view of this beautiful city, with its minarets, assorted church spires, and tiled rooves. Many flats there have flat rooves, and I wandered the streets seeking out buildings that might have the potential for a great view. I often entered unfamiliar buildings, climbed the narrow stairs to the top, and checked out the view. Then I would sit on the roof, amongst washing and pots of plants, and make my drawings or watercolours. All around I could hear the traffic, and voices below on the streets, and I loved being a silent observer. I always liked to find new viewpoints, and this quest was not without hazards. The closer you ventured towards the Green Line dividing the city, the more suspicious you might look if you were seen drawing from a rooftop. One time I asked to draw from the Delphi Hotel, which was not particularly near the Green Line, and the Manager was waiting to see my drawing as soon I came down from the roof. I never knew exactly what he thought I could see and draw from there, but he was extremely relieved when he saw the vagueness of my drawing, saying 'It's modern art, isn't it?'

I never ceased to be enthralled by the endless shades of gold and yellow walls, red tiled rooftops, the ever-changing blue of the distant Kyrenia mountains, and the swaying palms and Cypress trees. It's a theme that still inspires me, though now I can sit in the 6th floor cafe, in the Shacola Tower, and draw or paint from there . Now no one cares what I'm painting, except perhaps tourists.

Living on the Green Line, Nicosia

At the time I lived in Nicosia, from 1984 to 1998, the memories of the Turkish Invasion of 1974 were still fresh in people's minds. We were always aware of scuffles and tensions along the Green Line, the line that divided the Turkish-Cypriot northern third of the island from the Greek Cypriot southern two-thirds. I lived not far from the Green Line that ran through Nicosia, and I was inspired to write a novel about life in an unstable country from an artist's perspective. Here is an excerpt from my novel:

'At four in the morning we heard a man chanting a Turkish prayer from one of the mosques in the other side of Nicosia. The hauntingly beautiful melody sent a delicious shudder through my warm, naked body as I lay next to Tom. Drowsily, I thought about the Green Line, and the many people hidden from us beyond it. Hearing the same prayers, breathing the same fragrant night air.

From the Guest House you could see the flags that marked the Green Line. It was only since I moved there that I had become truly aware of its presence. The long street ended abruptly, cut by blue and white striped barricades and an unyielding check-point. I lingered nearby, squinted to try to see the derelict yellow villas and walls of broken windows trapped in the buffer zone beyond the check-point. I glanced in disbelief at the young soldiers standing there with their guns tucked casually under their arms............ Is this real? It looks like a scene from a film! Surely these angry young men were partying at some nightclub last night?

Sometimes, when I wandered along the section of old Nicosia that lined the partition, I looked at houses on the other side and imagined figures moving behind the curtains. Were they also looking at me, wondering about life on this side of the wall?

Deserted houses merged seamlessly and silently into the partition. Then it continued its determined path behind and between crumbling buildings, and meandered along the top of ancient, stone walls, mutating into barbed wire and sandbags. Its uncompromising form glared at me, taunting: 'On my other side, not very far away from where you stand, you could see...'"

Now the Greek Cypriot side of Cyprus is in the EU, and attitudes have changed along with the interest in MTV, and the internet. I often wonder what changes another 10 years will bring. In my opinion artists have a lot more freedom than they did when I lived there. I used to paint on the streets and get chided by Tom's friends!

Paintings of the Turkish Baths, Nicosia.

Here are a few further examples of my series of 'Women in the Turkish Baths.' The lilac one is called 'Fiona in Blue Jeans in the Turkish Baths.' It is a mixture of oil and acrylic on canvas, 95cm by 54cm.

The next one is called 'Blue Baths.' (66cm by 46cm.)

Women in the Turkish Baths

One of the highlights of living in Nicosia between 1984 and 1998 was discovering the ancient Turkish Baths in old Nicosia. No one was able to tell me exactly how old this building was, but it must have been at least 400 years old. Inside was a decorative but shabby changing area, and then you walked, wrapped in your towel, along a corridor, dodging a naked light bulb, and entered the heated chambers. There was the main chamber, with a raised hexagonal plinth which you could lie on for massages, and several arched doorways into smaller chambers. These contained small concrete basins. As you sat there in the steam you could hear water dripping from a rusting tap.

What I also loved was that the ceiling of each chamber was domed, and decorated with tiny pieces of glass. Shafts of light came down through the glass and painted the figures with rainbow colours. From the outside the building was a conglomerate of four small domes and one larger, central dome.

Womens' days were Wednesdays and Fridays, but it was always funny how men would open the door to the rest area and say they hadn't seen the signs!

I used to go into the rest area and the heated chambers with my watercolours or pencils, and paint or draw the women as they undressed, reclined in the heat, or dried their hair and chatted. None of the women ever protested against my presence as I drew them, and here I was able to find the most natural and unselfconscious poses. It occupied me for 5 years, and I made many watercolours and drawings. I have used some of these as the basis for my compositions, though now I work also from memory. I close my eyes and I feel I am there, squinting in the steam, trying to make marks on damp paper onto which water drips at intervals, and all the time sweat trickles down my back and runs into my eyes. I hope this sense of the physicality of being in the Baths entered my paintings. It was a place I loved to be, as it felt cut off from the outside world, and I want my paintings to convey the atmosphere created by groups of women relaxing and chatting about their lives.

A Bad Day

Today I received notification that a painting I submitted for an Open Exhibition at the Mall Galleries was not accepted. (The painting submitted is the one in the previous entry, and is entitled 'Autumn, Late Afternoon.') It's strange but no matter how many times I submit work, and brace myself for the reply, the rejection slips always leave me feeling wobbly for a while! I spend a good hour or more thinking: 'Was my work no good?' or 'Did it just not fit their criteria, was it too colourful, not colourful enough, not figurative enough, not abstract enough....?' The list goes on and on, and each time new doubts emerge. But at the same time, I'm realistic enough to realise that one's work doesn't always fit the general tone of the exhibition, that often the personal tastes of the selection committee affect the final decision, or the sheer volume of work passing in front of their eyes makes it impossible to see or choose everything. I've learned that you should never slant your work towards what you think the committee might want - in the end you have to be yourself and follow your vision. The main thing is to keep on trying!
(With this entry are two paintings: 'Nicosia and Washing,' and 'Pool of Bluebells.)

Sunny day

It's an incredibly sunny day and I'm hoping it stays that way so I can go out painting landscape tomorrow with my watercolours. I find that this contact with nature feeds back into my work, even the more imaginary compositions, in all kinds of ways, though it's a joy to sit and paint in the land. The paintings are not always successful, but that is secondary to the experience.

I'm preparing 3 large canvases to start some new paintings next week.