Moon Paintings

For this post I'm including a few paintings inspired by the moon. I began painting this theme during lockdown. At the time I didn't realise why the moon had become so important to me, it seemed to be on my mind because I was walking late at night. Then I reflected on the theme and I felt that the moon is suggestive of eternity and the continuance of normality during the difficult time of Covid-19. It became a symbol of optimism and the change back to normality. The above painting is called 'Moon Lake,' and it is acrylic on canvas, 29 by 43 cm. As I painted, there appeared a dark lake and suggestions of water and a moon above. This painting went through quite a few changes. I left it for a month but it called for more work and I finished it with thicker paint, feeling my way through emerging shapes and colours. When a painting calls for more work I usually pay attention. I've destroyed a few paintings by pushing too far but with this one I was glad I searched further.

The above painting is called 'Rings Around the Moon,' (acrylic on canvas, 25 x 20 cm). It evolved completely from laying down paint and allowing a scene to emerge.

'Moonscape,' (acrylic on canvas, 29 x 43 cm) also evolved from the paint and laying down stains and marks. It went through quite a few changes and gradually suggested to me a rising moon over an autumnal landscape.

This final painting is not so much about the moon but suggests that last warm light of dusk just before the moon appears. Though I was going to work further, I decided I liked the simplicity of the image and its suggestiveness. 'Dusk,' acrylic on canvas, 20 x 25 cm.

Inspired by the Moon: A Series of Summer Paintings part 1

''Rainfall Moon,' acrylic on canvas, 92 x 73 cm, 2020

As summer races by, I've felt incredibly inspired by several different experiences, alternating between abstraction and abstract figurative themes as paint suggested new approaches. One of the reasons I haven't posted for quite a while has been the intensity of my excitement and the momentum of working almost daily. 

The moon has often appeared as a theme over the years. As I love to walk at night, in the UK, Cyprus and other countries such as China, I have always found night to be full of mystery and open to boundless imagination. In Cyprus I often watched the moon as it rose luminous and green on the horizon and turned to pink, orange and finally yellow. Sometimes I've been surprised by a sudden view of the large Harvest moon behind some trees and I wanted to try to convey some of the magic I've felt. There's also something unseen, and a sense of the beyond, in particular beyond this planet, that the moon brings to mind for me. At a time of coronavirus and many global problems, watching the moon reminds me of the vastness of the universe and makes me question the meanings of our existence.

Light and the time of day often feature in my work and the moon theme gives me the chance to play with ideas about colour, calligraphic brush strokes and shapes. Some of the paintings focused on the developing interest in the process of making imagery and different ways to apply paint. Sometimes paint parallels light and the work veers towards abstraction.

The first painting is about the summer rain, of which we had little in the UK. I was thinking about the last warm colours as dusk fades to night and the rain streaming down, obscuring a landscape. It was painted with thin layers and was unplanned, the way I always work.

'Rainfall Moon,' (2) acrylic on canvas, 92 x 73 cm, 2020

This second painting is still in progress. I'm brightening the moon and tweaking a few other areas. I love this size of canvas, (and larger), and this painting is also quite layered with translucent and opaque paint. I layer paint until an image emerges and I feel transported to a new place. 

Here are a few more moon paintings, some more figurative based and some abstract.

'Moon, Mountains and Forest,' acrylic on canvas, 25 x 20 cm 2020

'Moonlit Terrain,' acrylic on canvas, 25 x 20 cm, 2020

'Lavender Moon,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 50 x 60 cm, 2019

'Moon Over Brighton,' acrylic on canvas, 30 x 23 cm, 2018

And two of the more abstract paintings in which I was thinking of the emotional experience and loving thick paint.

'Moonlit Landscape,' acrylic on canvas, 30 x 23 cm, 2019

'Scents of the Moon,' acrylic on canvas, 30 x 23 cm, 2020

This last one is about the delightful fragrance of summer which I often associate also with walking along the coast at night or through landscape. It's a fragrance that's quite hard to define but is slightly perfumed, sweet, and uplifting.

I will post more of my moon paintings this week and also some of the new landscape/abstracts I'm working on.

If you would like to see more of my new work, my website is:

https://www.fionastanbury.com/gallery_759043.html

How Important is Knowing an Artist's Intention When Looking at a Painting? (part 2)

'Lost Paradise: Tears For Burrswood,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

I'm posting 2 new paintings and one work in progress. They have a message behind them which I feel it might be important for viewers to know. I don't believe it will spoil their enjoyment of the paintings, if they had attached a different meaning to them, but as the impetus for the first 2 paintings has a highly personal meaning, it seems to be an integral part of the image.

The first one, above, is about a place I loved and which has now gone in to receivership. I first went to Burrswood when I was 17 as my father had just got a job as Public Relations Officer there. It was at that time being promoted as a faith healing centre and my sister had a miraculous healing from Leukaemia there.  Some years later the place became a place for people to stay, as respite for ill people or just to enjoy the peace of the huge grounds, forests and lakes. There is also a beautiful church and I often used to sit in it feeling the quietness. Often I would go to the cafe which had a view down to the lake and distant hills.

I painted there every week over an 8 year period, seeing the trees grow, seeing the change of the seasons with their minute differences from year to year, breathing in all the scents, and always loving the wild orchids that grew near one of the lakes. 

I found out about a month ago that this place, which has occupied much of my life in one way or another, has now closed. My painting is about remembering paths, seasons, flowers, the lakes, and my deep sorrow. It was about wondering what will happen now? Will it all be destroyed as money dictates that flats should be built on the land? The church also destroyed?

It has been a heavily reworked painting and as I seemed to feel there was so much to say, the best thing is now to start another painting. While working on this, I was also exploring my ongoing ideas about colour, composition, (how much to include, where to include it, what could be left out), and how to make an image that respects paint as well as the initial inspiration. Once I start to paint, I walk a line between the original inspiration and what the paint is pushing me to say.

'Spartans Shields Returning Home in the Rain,' acrylic on canvas, 40 x 50 cm

This second painting, which was painted over an older work, is a bit of a strange one! My inspiration was the thought that people's lives often pass through many struggles with courage that is unseen. I thought of the Spartans and their saying 'Return with your shield or on it,' Their shields were emblems of courage and honour and this is why my abstract landscape - which has elements from my 14 years in Cyprus - includes shields. It was quite an intense painting with all kinds of thoughts going through my head at the time and also I wanted the paint to show the traces of my feelings through the brush marks. It is also about the passage of life, the certainty that you can not go back only forwards.

'Throwing Pebbles in the Lake While the Moon Rises,' acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

The final painting I am posting is one from my moon series. It grew out of my imaginings of being by a lake, usually with pine trees and distant views of mountains, and having the time to sit and throw pebbles in the rippling water while the moon rises. This is imagery I visualise when I'm falling asleep, it's where I would like to be! I liked the idea of the moon changing through different colours, as it does in Cyprus, and I don't feel that the composition is yet there. 

I don't believe all paintings need to be explained. They should greet the viewer with a certain kind of completeness, but when there is an intense message behind them, it can enhance any interested viewer's appreciation of the work to find out more.

How Important is Knowing an Artist's intention to Understanding a Painting?

'We Threw Pebbles in to the River as the Turquoise Moon Descended.'  acrylic on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

This question came up during a conversation with an artist at an exhibition recently. Is it really necessary to know why an artist painted a painting you are viewing at an exhibition or possibly thinking about buying?  While most buyers will purchase purely because they like something, recognise something in the painting, find joy or beauty in the colours, or follow and collect that particular artist's work, I personally believe it is essential to have an understanding of an artist's intention and ideas. It can enrich our viewing and enjoyment of the artwork and reveal things that are not immediately apparent.

At the same time, some artist's work needs less explanation than others. One well known website which sells artists' artwork advises that an explanation can often help sell artwork. As I scroll through paintings, I often find that some call out for the reading of their descriptions because the artwork may either be quite striking and unusual, or challenging.

The artist's personal statement is really important to gaining insights into their sources of inspiration, their methods and why they choose those methods, and how they find inspiration and interpret their ideas. The creative 'process' is incredibly interesting and much can be written on this and its mystery, but artists often feel the need to verbalise their intentions. Some paintings are easier to 'read' and others do need the message behind them explained, though generally it is assumed that a painting should speak clearly to the viewer. Ultimately, painting is a language and learning about painting is very rewarding and enriching.

In relation to my own work, when I'm painting I don't want to know exactly what I'm doing. I'd never paint if it was simply a case of filling in spaces I've calculated in advance. But there is always a demanding and passionate idea that generates the impetus to make the image. Ideas bounce off one another, jumping in to my mind in the middle of the night, or I see some shapes on TV or in a magazine that just seem to give an answer to a difficult passage in a painting. It could be a word, an idea could pop in to my mind while cleaning the house. Anything can inspire or give clues when your mind is buzzing with imagery and that creative passion is pushing at you to unveil a demanding, all encompassing and emotional theme.

My painting 'We Threw Pebbles in to the River as the Turquoise Moon Descended,' pushed at me for days to paint it. The theme is the transience of life and a desire to sit by a river (a metaphor for the passage of life) and have time to throw pebbles until the moon appears. It is about reflection, the desire to be awake, to feel life in all its aspects, to have the time to feel oneself in relation to the world. 

I've seen the moon rise in Cyprus in many colours and somehow turquoise fitted my feelings. I feel that in my work I 'surf' on meanings, pushing at the paint in a dogged way, making many erasures until I pull that image in to reality. It doesn't always work, of course, and the painting may take days to consider if I need to do more work on it. When dealing with unknown factors, you ultimately have to learn to read your own work and to absorb new elements in order to move forwards, which is why I let work sit for a while in order to be able to 'see' it afresh.

This next painting, 'Beyond the Black Lake' has just been finished a year after I thought it was finished. As my ideas for the translating of my ongoing themes keep being tweaked and the language extends, sometimes I see things that are irrelevant. 

If I'm asked to explain its meanings, it comes down to very personal feelings as with much of my work. The lake is the darkness in life. There is movement in the landscape, the movement of daily life, the tracks of passage across the land, brightness amongst the darkness. Possibly the turquoise shape above the lake could be a house and a suggestion of security. I like to enter meanings the painting suggests and follow those clues. I go in to another place entirely.

'Beyond the Black Lake,' acrylic on canvas, 35 x 45 cm

When I write about my work, or speak to people, I find that my intention is quite important to explain. My work is a reflection on the passage of life, personal journeys, and finding a way to translate these in to paint while exploring what paint can do and suggest. I let the paint direct me as much as possible and try to learn from the process of painting. It is always open to the potential for something new and exciting.

To be continued.

New Work, Tweaking Work, Abstract versus Figurative

'Untitled,' acrylic on canvas, 120 x 160 cm

These new paintings are from this week. The first is a canvas I'm painting for a potential exhibition submission and there is a deadline of mid November so as soon as I stop writing I'm getting back to work on this! It is large, 120 x 160 cm, and I'm inventing the elements as I paint, with one thing leading to another. 

Figurative painting makes you look at edges and transitions of colour in a different way to abstraction and it is challenging (something I welcome), and impacts on my abstract landscapes in a positive way. If I had to define what the main difference is, I would say that working with figuration helps to make the 'drawing' elements in the abstracts more definite and focused. I don't define drawing necessarily as putting a line around a shape and filling in with colour; drawing, for me, is the way edges meet and relate to space, shapes, and this includes the transitions of colour and mark making.

'Moon Web,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 40 x 40 cm

'Moon Web' is a painting which also seemed to evolve by itself. I became interested in the moon as a painting subject recently because I love night imagery and often watch the moon and moonlit sky at night. I also liked the idea of webs being a creative factor and they relate to how I see myself as an artist: spinning webs all the time and trapping ideas. 

'Arriving Home,' oil on board, 60 x 45 cm

This is a work in progress from a few years ago. I often go back to older paintings and tweak them and in this one I just want to soften the 'white tree trunk' on the left and sort out a small area in the middle front. Often I find that time needs to pass in order to 'see' what is relevant in a painting and what needs to be tweaked or changed. Some paintings shout out that they are finished, many need that extra time to consider them - though not always years.

'B Went Missing in the Land,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 50 x 70 cm

As well as these works there's a canvas that I started yesterday which is driving me mad! The colours are in reality much brighter (iPad photos tend not to be too accurate). Hubby says 'leave it alone' but when I am frustrated by a painting it generally means that I need to do more work on it. Sometimes the extra pushing at a painting really improves it, sometimes the whole painting gets lost, but it always improves your general practice to push for more. The thing is to never be afraid to want more.

An Outline of My Painting Process

'Feeling My Way Through the Land,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 100 x 80 cm

Before I begin a really large (120 x 160 cm) canvas I have been working on several medium sized paintings as a kind of preparation for working on a larger arena. I also wanted to explore some landscape elements I may use in the large painting which will be submitted to an international exhibition when finished. (Not a lot of pressure, then!)

The two medium sized canvases I am posting show how I often approach my series of landscape 'poems' from slightly different angles. The first, 'Feeling My Way Through the Landscape' was evaluated during frequent short breaks.  After the initial calligraphy I took time to think about each area before making changes. Some areas of detail remained untouched, some were painted over so that the lovely pale brown under-painting shone through. I wanted that base colour to have an emotional impact and for my mark-making to be like my emotional footsteps across an emerging landscape. My landscape experiences are so important to me that often my paintings are inspired by these. I like the mark making and colours to be almost like 'tracks' across the land.

'The Pathway to Forever,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 100 x 80 cm

This second painting takes a more spontaneous approach because I let the paint language dictate the calligraphic brush strokes and colours, with a lot of layering of fluid colour. (Once again, the photograph is not completely accurate; the blue is more of a grey-ultramarine blue). This reflects my approach when working with ink on rice paper which requires a confident touch because you cannot alter marks once they have been painted - other than tearing up the picture and making a collage (an idea for the future). I like the way that marks and colours can suggest a place or world, and as the 'landscape' emerges I take short breaks to evaluate what is going on, while wanting to retain the spontaneity of mark making. This can mean erasing parts completely, altering the intensity of a colour, or viewing the painting from another side. Sometimes I even prefer it from another side and will continue working it that way around.

The 'spontaneous process' paintings tend to be worked on fairly rapidly and with a lot of destruction and over-painting. Then they need a period of being left alone while I think about them. One recent painting, 'Three Escape the Deluge,' (which I am posting again) was left for a week, pending destruction, but then I decided it was actually finished. Artists are not always the best judges of their work in the immediate aftermath, so leaving a work alone allows the emotional censorship to fade and the chance to see what is actually happening in the painting.

'Three Escape the Deluge,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 50 x 70 cm

Painting really requires much testing of colours and shapes  and making mistakes, especially when your imagery often emerges through processes and letting the paint speak. Painting from the landscape or a figure has an exact set of references that can give a skeletal framework to attach colours to but working in an abstract way requires an intense attention to edges, shapes, colour transitions, colour relationships and also drawing. I am not saying that figurative work is more easy, just that you are starting with something to work from whereas working from the process of putting things down and 'trapping' an image takes some time and a lot of awareness of potentiality. You have to be open enough to follow where certain clues might lead you.

However, I also like to start from a visual memory and the final painting I am posting was inspired by a recent summer evening in the park in Tunbridge Wells (Kent, UK) watching a music festival with my husband. We sat up on a hillside with the moon rising to the side. There was some Lavender nearby. So my skeletal references were: moonlight, the full moon, lavender (purple), hazy shapes of trees, the glow the moon cast across the slightly cloudy sky. Painting that moon was a big challenge and I must have changed its colour, shape and position at least 12 times!

'Lavender Moon,' acrylic and ink on canvas, 50 x 60 cm

Once my large canvas is stretched I will post images of it as it progresses.

(Afternote: For my previous post I added a slideshow of some of my artwork on YouTube. It is not the best video as the colours did not translate well.)