Making Art During the Coronavirus: Normal Activities Can Create Hope

'The Sound of Colour: Fiona's Place,' acrylic on canvas, 93 x 72 cm

Since I last wrote over a month ago our daily life has changed drastically. A month ago the Coronavirus had not taken its pernicious hold on the UK; it seemed to be something that was only really affecting the rest of the world. 

The UK is now in lockdown since Monday night and like much of the world we have to completely reconsider how we do things daily. Some normal activities are no longer possible or restricted. Even today, on such a lovely sunny Spring day, my husband and I had to choose a route for a walk that was not overlong and decreased our contact with other people. To write this seems really strange and would have been unthinkable a month ago. At this point in time I'm wondering how much further these restrictions will have to go.

Some of my paintings, which featured people in physical or close contact, as in the painting below, now represent a time that we may not see for several months or longer. Imagery has ceased to have its usual values and certain imagery, both moving and still, has quickly taken a different, questionable meaning. Seeing videos of packed supermarkets with counters overflowing with fruit and vegetables in between News reports underlines how much has changed in a very short time. Similarly, adverts featuring holidays and gatherings of people on beaches or at parties now appear part of a past lifetime.

'Social Integration, Peace and Opening Up,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 100 x 140 cm (exhibited at the Dafen 1st International Oil Painting Biennale, 2018/19)

As artists we now find that exhibitions which were planned some time ago, gallery opportunities and our source of income has also been impacted on. Much is uncertain and several of my own exhibitions are now postponed. However, I've been selected for an interview for a high quality online art magazine called Art Habens which will be viewable in April and I'm busy writing answers to the interview questions. This sends a positive strand in to the future for me personally.

Personally I always feel I can keep going  through the positive impact of colour. My artwork inspires hope for the future and making it gives me a sense that life will return to normal at some point. It's a strong link with the future and I always believe in being optimistic.

At the same time, I'm exploring new ways to work as the art shops locally have closed and I'm not sure how long online art suppliers will continue to deliver materials. This has been a worry because I have several large paintings to make for exhibitions later this year. On the positive side, working with my collage series is still possible at this time as I have a large supply of cardboard, papers, paints and inks.  One of my favourite collages is the one below.

'B Went Missing In The Land,' mixed media on cardboard, 51 x 38 cm

People will keep continuing to find ways to feel as normal as they can. People will find ways to be inventive and to adapt to the new routine and life. One of the best things about modern technology is that whereas in World War 2 when they had only phones to contact one another, we have social media and can contact each other online, through Skype, through Messenger, and by sharing pictures and our thoughts. No one needs to feel alone, and there's always the phone if you don't have other means of contact. 

Every morning before I start to paint I view paintings on social media by my friends and it really lifts my mood. It was always part of my daily routine but now is more so. Art may be at the bottom of the list of things to buy right now when people are having to reduce visits to the supermarket, but online it can give joy to others and I've already been told by followers across social media that my artwork has lifted their mood. That's really warming to know during this time of social isolation. 

'The Sailor's Song,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

This last painting is about Hope. My father was in the Royal Navy and was a Commander with his own ship during the second World War. He used to tell me about the times he piloted a ship over 100 foot waves and dangerous moments navigating around icebergs. He also spoke about prayers to reach land safely when at sea in peril. This painting is about a rough sea in the evening, with high waves and rocks, and in the distance is the shoreline and safety. The boats are headed there.

Stay safe and well!

How Using Collage Can Suggest Creative Possibilities For A Painter.

'B Went Missing in the Land,' ink, gesso, acrylic, papers on cardboard, 48 x 36 cm

Recently I've begun using collage as a way to extend my working approach. Grappling with different materials allows you to question why you use certain elements in your work and to see ways you can simplify, substitute or drop aspects of your practice which perhaps are no longer relevant.

While my main focus is landscape, and some of my works are more landscape referenced than others, I feel the call of colour and shape pushing me to drop certain landscape references. Questions hang in the air every time I work on canvas or collage and I like that side of creating because I see painting as opening one's eyes to potential. 

'They Passed Many Trees on Their Way to the Mountains,' collaged canvas, ink on canvas, 35 x 45 cm

The examples I'm posting today show different ways of working with varied materials. While they are only a step in the process, they have been really helpful to me with thoughts about reassessing edges, shapes and ways of making marks. They have helped generate a bolder approach.

'Land Rhythms,' canvas, newspaper, ink, gesso and acrylic on cardboard, 24 x 13 cm

Things I want to think about in these works are: how to simplify; how colour and marks can suggest a place without constantly illustrating 'trees' or 'houses,' etc (not that this is wrong, just that for me right now something else is calling). I want a sense of 'air' in the work yet to explore how colour can be an entity in its own right. Perhaps this might even lead to more sculptural work.

'Rain Dance on My Patio,' rice paper, ink, acrylic on cardboard, 50 x 50 cm

Some of these use a lot of layered paper, as the example above shows, and some combine canvas on cardboard with inks and acrylics. Each approach tripped me up, made me re-evaluate the way I think about the picture arena and what I want or don't want.

'Lemba Evening,' (series) painted canvas, rice paper, acrylic, gesso on cardboard

With some of the works it was not possible, due to the nature of the materials, to make too many changes. However, I feel that this is a good strand to follow while also painting on canvas because the combinations of materials really force you to focus and some of the 'accidents' suggest fresher directions.

'Untitled,' paper, ink, canvas on canvas, 30 x 30 cm

More to follow.

Inspired by a Visit to Cyprus

''Coastal Poem: Night, Day,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

It's been a while since I have posted anything on this blog. My posting was cut in to by a visit to Cyprus. I went to see my sister-in-law and visited my mother-in-law's grave as she died in February, just a few days before the 1st anniversary of my mother's passing. It was my second visit to Cyprus this year.

New imagery from a change of environment always forces its way in to your imagination, whether you want this or not. Since my return, I have begun work on 5 new canvases and naturally some Cyprus elements have begun to appear if only in the intensity of colour and light. 

Cyprus inspired acrylic on paper

I'm still working on the waterfall painting which I posted in March and I find that working on more than one painting allows a rhythm to be set up and elements cross-pollinate between paintings. Also, I feel less pressurised about any one painting so become braver in making changes!

Creating and maintaining an artistic rhythm is so important to being an artist. As a student you have all day in the studio to focus on and develop ideas but out in the 'real' world that time often has to be fought for. Right now I'm fitting painting in between rearranging an entire flat - necessary because my mother lived with my husband and me and there are all her belongings to sort through - and also I'm finally sorting through numerous canvases and doing a kind of artistic 'stock-taking.'

'Paphos Lighthouse Remembered,' acrylic on watercolour paper (painted in Nicosia, March)

I will post more paintings very soon as they are finished.

Love and Loss

''Fiona Drifting Down the River,' acrylic on canvas, 80 x 40 cm

A theme running through my paintings for the last 14 months has been that of loss, both in a personal way and of possessions lost through moves and events. Daily there are layers of loss which we constantly have to make adjustments for.  The 1st anniversary of my mother's passing is tomorrow, and last Wednesday my mother-in-law Stella passed away. I was fortunate to be in Cyprus with Stella for the first week of February and I feel blessed that I spent some time with her and also during the summer. She was the best mother-in-law anyone could wish for.

The painting posted above is a recent one which references my ideas of loss and movement through life and through unfamiliar territory. It was unplanned - most of my work evolves through processes of applying paint and allowing elements to emerge - but boats and a river appeared and it matched how I was feeling at the time. Certainly my past year has seen many changes and naturally this impacts on your thoughts about your paintings and how you want to translate your life experience and feelings. While my core interests continue, new thoughts start to tweak and adjust those interests.

Stella loved colour and so did my mother. I painted this canvas last year as a tribute to my mother but I am posting it also for Stella. I painted Daffodils because they herald Spring and my mother loved them and filled the kitchen at this time of year. 

'Daffodil Poem: Tribute to My Mother,' acrylic and oil on canvas, 90 x 45 cm

Due to various obligations I have not been able to do as much painting as I wished to in these first weeks of 2019 but I hope to get back to it soon. Here is another recent painting about the loss of much of my patio garden. It is still being considered for further work but I wanted to paint something about the traces left by plant pots, leaves that fell, shadows and marks on the walls, and the shadowy traces of stems and masses of disappearing foliage.

'The Remains of Things Gone,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 87 x 76 cm

Finally, I made a few paintings on paper while I was in Cyprus 10 days ago. The change of light filtered in to my colours. This is one of the paintings.

'A Land Far Away,' acrylic on 300 gsm paper, 21 x 29 cm

While I was in Cyprus I bought some acrylic paint and a certain kind of canvas I can not find in the UK. For my next post I will be writing about my favourite art materials and explaining why they work for me.

Cyprus Poems (2)

'Landscape-Poem,' watercolour and gouache on paper, 11.8 x 8.3ins

I'm on a deadline right now, preparing a complex application for a painting residency I really want! It would be a huge turning point for me because when you can have 3 months to paint, as many hours a day as you need, and a large space, you can get nearer to that fidelity and meaning we as artists are all constantly seeking. I'm very restricted by lack of space to pursue the large CYPRUS POEMS watercolours on an even larger scale, or just to be able to work on 5 canvases at once, without any interruptions. To have that studio would be HEAVEN!

'Coastal-Night-Poem,' watercolour and gouache on paper, 30 x 22ins

'Coastal-Poem,' acrylic and watercolour on paper, 33 x 23ins

The 17 paintings I made in Cyprus have spilled over their abundant energies onto larger sheets of paper back in the UK, and I'm surfing on the meanings of colour, marks and shapes to make colour-compositions that catch, for me, the essence of my experience. The series is throwing up some strange and unexpected elements, which seem to be full of potential for further exploration, and I'm really excited by the way that my hand just wants to do its own thing!

'Coastal-Poem,' acrylic and watercolour on paper, 33 x 23ins

New Work - New Opportunities

'A Journey Through Paint,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 95 x 54cm

My diary for this coming month is full. It is getting to the point where preparing work for shows, and doing all the admin work and website updates, social media updates, and all web-related, promotional admin is taking over from actual painting! But these two paintings are some of the recent work.

I have to deliver two paintings to the Llewellyn Alexander gallery (London) in May, for the NOT THE ROYAL ACADEMY EXHIBITION, and they are still not framed. I am showing some work at The Art Pull gallery, in Tunbridge Wells (Kent, UK), in the middle of May. I'm entering a portrait for a portrait exhibition, which is a long shot as it will be very competitive. I haven't painted a portrait for a while and it was a very interesting thing to do. Also I have several applications for exhibitions pending and I am still planning a show in Cyprus with a friend, though currently we are looking for a venue.

'Paphos Walk,' (2) acrylic on canvas, 60 x 50cm

My work is still hanging in Camden Quarter (Tunbridge Wells restaurant), and every time I walk past the bright colours catch my eye. I think they catch everyones' eyes as they walk by!

I have also made a few updates to my novel's details and hope to get on with the sequel soon. The link is:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jagged-Green-Line-Fiona-Stanbury-ebook/dp/B00IIOX92Q/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1398699203&sr=1-1&keywords=fiona+stanbury

Interpretation versus taste

Taste and prejudice are the enemies of creativity. As a painter I can't afford to 'hate' any colour or my options are limited. Through the act of painting, new horizons open and we follow where they lead, without self editing. The worst thing is when someone says 'I prefer it when you paint trees,' or 'Your flower paintings were so good.' Other people's interpretation of what you do grows from many sources, some relevant, some not, but how crushing it is when someone blocks the flow with a random remark. I've known painters who couldn't paint for days.

Recently an art agent collected 11 canvases for a show. I thought a lot afterwards about how others look at my work once it has (hopefully) become a separate world. Always there is the fear of how one's work will be interpreted - and of course, maybe I am deluded and in a creative cul-de-sac without realising it! (The fact that it is not an exact science leads me to many wobbly moments.) What amazed me was that she selected what I considered to be one of my worst paintings ever. ('Puddles in the Park.') I wondered what she had seen in it that I was unable to connect with, because of the tangle of aesthetic and technical questions in my mind.

I had deliberately used shapes and colours that challenged my visual comfort zone, and had been unable to unify them. I let the painting go for exhibition as perhaps when it re-enters the studio, it will need just a tweak here and there.

One of the exciting and eternally challenging aspects of painting is that there is no set viewpoint, no one way or fixed interpretation. But artists tread a fine line between listening, and closing our ears to unproductive interpretations when working.

Then there are the demands and evaluations of the market, but that's another post!

('Puddles in the Park,' oil on canvas 50cm by 70cm. 'Coastal Landscape,' oil on board 12ins by 24ins)

Finish It

The eternal Artist's Dilemma is: How do you know when a painting is finished? It's something that I've dissected a lot recently, as I try to finish 3 troublesome paintings, and prepare to start a large commission. In trying to assess whether a painting works (for me), I take into account a number of factors:

• Does it bounce back to me something of the original intent and emotion - especially important when a painting starts from a word or experience.
• Do the colours work all across the painting, not just in sweet, tempting little pockets?
• Have I in some way gone beyond the original idea?
• Have I created a self-contained world?

This painting took a long time to finish. It was inspired by the vibrant memory of Spring trees seen on a daily car journey. One morning I said to myself that the passages of colours were so sumptuous that I wanted to dive into them! I began painting in a burst of energy. Once I start and colours are painted on, wiped off, gouged, knifed, stroked on, swiped on, I find that it is indeed like swimming across a tapesty of essences and meanings. They keep coming into focus - then a slash with the palette knife, a sweep with a loaded brush, and they slip out of focus.

For me, painting is life splattered across a surface, my breathing, feeling, movement pressed and encapsulated into brushstrokes. I have to excavate the image from the paint, and to re-experience my lived experience......incidents, events, relationships made and broken, redefined, a change of mind, all the time surfing on edges, textures, bursts of time and colour.

In the end it's that indefinable something that either lets the painting stand or fall. 'Finished ' can be some sudden flourishes of last minute indecision. Searching and finding are the sirens that call me back to paint over and over again.

And then you simply hope that it may meet some recognition in someone else.

('Diving Into Green.' Oil and acrylic, 91cms by 61cms)

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.

Striped Coffee Cups

Yesterday was a red-circled date in my diary. It was the date my gallery was returning my paintings. My short reprieve had failed. The manager, Mr P, had kindly offered to drive the 9 canvases back to me from London, and I waited anxiously for the ring on the doorbell.

I'd prepared for his arrival, still hoping in vain to be seen in a good light. I'd scrubbed the striped coffee cups in preparation for our last coffee, I'd screwed the leg back onto the wobbly, mangled old coffee table, so it wouldn't collapse when we put our steaming cups on it. I'd even cleaned the bathroom, paying particular attention to the toilet.

Still feeling rather raw about being dumped by the gallery, I consoled myself with the thought that at least Mr P. would get to see my numerous large canvases, glowing splendidly on the walls. He'd never seen them, not that it would have made any difference as they were too large for the gallery. Surely he would, for the sake of our 2 year association, and out of protocol, drink a last coffee with me? He couldn't be planning to fling the work out of the car windows as he passed along my street?

Mr P. arrived at 11.15am. I wondered why he chose not to park in one of the spaces outside the block of flats, and instead stopped his car at an angle across the drive. 'Thanks so much for delivering them back to me,' I said. He asked, 'Do you want some help inside with these?' I said 'Yes, thanks very much,' but he shoved them up against the nearest wall faster than I could say, 'Aren't you coming in?' As he pushed a form at me to sign for the delivery, I asked 'Don't you want to come in for a coffee?' Sheepishly, he shook his head. I couldn't help myself - I blurted, 'But I was really hoping to show you the large works.' He merely said he was sorry they hadn't been able to sell more of my work. I said, 'You win some, you lose some. Anyway, I've got 3 shows in June.' His eyebrows raised, a look of surprise spread across his face. I wasn't going to end on a negative note!

I waited for a formal goodbye, but he got into his car. The encounter had taken all of 5 minutes. As I carried the works to the side door, I noticed Mr P. sitting in his car, perhaps watching, perhaps working out his homeward route. I waved as he turned the car, and he was gone.

As I struggled with the canvases down the stairs into my basement flat, I felt an untidy medley of emotions. Sadness that I would never see Mr P. and his lovely gallery again. Panic that no one might ever give me another chance to be part of a 'stable' of artists at their gallery. And defiance! I unpacked the works. They looked better than they should for rejects. The positive thing, I told myself was that I had more than enough work for the 3 forthcoming shows.

Now a day later, it's all slipped into perspective. That was not the only gallery, nor are they the yardstick of quality. The art market is a complex thing, even more so in these times of financial crisis. Plus there's the artist's dilemma. Do you make work that follows your vision, hoping it fits the current trends, or do you doctor your work to fit what is wanted? I could do any number of photographic, realist paintings (I used to live from doing portraits in Cyprus), but the lure of composing with colour beckons. I'm not going to adopt an 'I'm a misunderstood artist' stance, just hope that soon I will find a gallery where my work fits.

As for June, I can't wait for the 3 shows. First is my solo show here, in a new space called 'The Big White Wall.' Then there's the 'Not the Royal Academy,' at the Llewellyn Alexander. I had work chosen for that from photos. Finally, I have work going into a group show at the Brick Lane gallery. Will anything sell?

Paintings: 'Sussex Journey,' (oil on board), 'Spring landscape,' (oil on canvas), 'Spring Stripes,' )oil on canvas.