We are all Nomads

                                ('We are All Nomads,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 110 x 70cm)

As I write my last post of 2012, the window near me frames a grey sky, and torrential rain. The television in front of me is once again showing the extensive flooding in the UK, which underlines some of the reasons for my recent painting, above. This germinated from images of Tahrir square, with its mass of tents, and the shocking videos of places in the UK which resemble swampland. Interspersed with these were reports of world recession, homelessness, and increasingly the fragilites of life flash by on that screen. The idea of tents sparked my painting, and the concept that anything can change from moment to moment.

My application for a 3 month residency in Scotland has to be finished before Monday. It is, like most of these applications, long and complicated, and I spent several hours on Boxing Day writing my statements, proposals, checking travel costs (in case I get to the interview stage), and checking out the paintings of the artist whose name titles the residency. I believe my work fits the ethos, though there will be many painters applying for this amazing, funded residency. It's my last application for this year, and the results of all three will come in late January.

As my happiest artistic event of 2012 was participating in the painting residency in Daugavpils, Latvia, I am attaching a few more photos from those incredible twelve days.

           (At the Theatre: From left to right, Peter, Minas, myself, and my good friend Anna)

          (Hotel Latgola, 10th floor restaurant at night: from left to right, Anna, Madara and myself)

This photograph was taken on 25th September, at the Daugavpils Museum of Art and Regional Studies, where we opened our group exhibition on the date of Mark Rothko's birthday. We are standing in front of my friend Anna's paintings, I am at the far left of the back row. The exhibition Opening was filled with people, shoulder to shoulder, and the speeches went on for at least 45 minutes, and during this each artist was presented with a certificate to confirm their participation in the residency. I had difficulty pushing my way to the front to collect my certificate! The Opening was also televised, and I was interviewed. I was thrilled to find that my 3 paintings had an end wall to themselves, with my largest canvas in the centre. My largest painting really shouted its presence on that wall.

As the year ticks to a close, I'm wondering if 2013 will bring any further surprises.

                                       ('Twists and Turns,' oil and acrylic on board, 60 x 45cm)
                                                   (Click on images for a larger view.)

White Curtains

                                 (My walk through the park to the studio, September 2012)

We had our first snowfall a few days ago. So begins the curtain that separates the old year from the new, as temperatures plunge and my thoughts are on which bulbs to plant. I am remembering the walk to my studio in Daugavpils, as I deal with another rejection. It was half expected, as I had applied to a big company which showcases artists' work, but the slant was that it had to promote an aspect of scientific innovation or relate to something ecologically 'friendly.' I didn't fit the brief. As a friend posted on Facebook today that he had just received a rejection, I was not alone.

                                     (September 16th, our trip into the Latvian landscape.)
I finished my long application for the residency in Scotland, and have half finished an application for a grant, from an American foundation which helps artists. Both are a long shot, but worth the try. Before the white curtain drops and opens into the New Year, another 5 applications will make their way across cyberspace!

                        (View from the 10th floor restaurant, down to the main square at Daugavpils.)

I am closing this post with a recent painting, called 'Seasonal Echoes.' (Acrylic and oil on canvas, 50 x50cm)

Beginnings and Endings

My entry for The Crash Open Salon was unsucessful. Friends on Facebook helped put it in perspective, as this is part of the uncertain territory of being an artist. You never know what the selectors are looking for, or what the tone of the exhibition is. But I have never met any artist, established or beginner, who doesn't feel a slight wobble when a rejection notice arrives! My response is always to begin new work, and in the last week I have worked another two canvases.

I have applied for a residency in the US, and I am racing against a deadline of 7th December to complete an application for a residency in Scotland in 2013. Both of these are set in rural areas, which would be very inspiring for me, as my colourful abstractions often reflect landscape elements, and certainly I feel the energies of the land. I am longing for a period of isolation, in a studio, to focus solely on my work.

The Mark Rothko residency will soon be part of a year past. I can still remember the intoxicating excitement as my aircraft tilted on its approach to Riga airport, and the sight of endless, dark forests. I'll never forget my first night at the hotel near the airport, and the claustrophobic white drapes that obscurred all but a few straggly tree tops swaying against a dismal grey sky. Or how I just wanted to run home! I wondered COULD I cope with being with strangers all day, and would I be the one fraudulent artist among the group? (Because surely it must be a mistake that I had been chosen!) I waited for 6 hours at the airport the next day, until the bus came to collect me (and 3 other artists who appeared from nowhere). Riga shone brightly under grey skies as we walked around and met artists who were waiting there, and got to know each other.

I think that one of the highlights was the evening journey to Daugavpils, and drinking balsam for 3 hours on the bus while chatting non stop about art. I felt so incredibly happy. It's not often that you feel endorsed as an artist, and after years of struggling, I felt I was where I was meant to be. And as we neared Daugavpils in the darkest night, our hotel was illuminated green, blue and red against the sparkle of the city. We had our supper at 10.30pm, at a long table near to the band, whose loud music jarred on us in our tiredness. People were dancing a Russian kind of dance, bumping against us.

I'll never forget going up to the 10th floor for breakfast the next morning, and being told that we had to go down to the second floor for the Press Conference at 10.am. I sat in the row of artists, with the journalists, Mark Rothko Committee, and TV cameras staring at us. Flags denoting our countries lined the table. One by one we were asked what we planned to paint, and would it relate to Latvia? I said that I was already buzzing with colour ideas spun by the previous day's journey. I looked at my colleagues and they all appeared so calm!

I'll also never forget how, when I pulled my room curtains aside on that first morning, my only view was a puce-coloured wall just beyond a narrow ledge littered with pigeon feathers. I was on the 4th floor and up against the side of the Mall. Mario was in the next room and he asked to change his room. I thought he couldn't stand the sound of my phone calls every night after midnight, but he couldn't stand that wall.

So this post is a re-visiting of my Latvian residency, as I am feeling rather self-indulgent today!

         (Photo: The Press Conference on Saturday, 15th September - I am the 6th from the left.)

On that first day, we also went to see our studios, and chose some art materials from the art shop, which was near the hotel. I was surprised how easily we all bonded, and it was as if we had known one another for years. Sunday was our day-long trip out into the landscape (which I will include more photos from in another post), and Monday was the first studio day. My husband had bought me sachets of 3 -in-1 coffee (sugar and milk included) so I had a reminder of him, and also my own supply of coffee to take to our coffee room, which was just along the wide, bright corridor. We were also asked that day if we had decided who would do their presentation that night, and who would do it on the Tuesday.

It was a very intensive programme. We were given schedules and every evening we had some activity - ranging from Presentations, to a visit to the Theatre, to a wonderful meal in an unforgettable local restaurant (on the Saturday night). It was all within a walking distance, and I have some lovely memories of walks back in the dark, chatting to friends as colourful interiors and warm-stoned buildings vied for attention. We passed through a park one night and were shown benches designed by local artists. They were amazingly creative and intriguing, and each one provoked gasps of admiration. I thought how forward thinking these people were, that they commissioned artists and supported them.

                                          (View from the Latgolla hotel, 10th floor restaurant.)
I'll never forget our many lunches and suppers, and how some of the artists became fed up of being served chicken (usually under melted cheese) and fish (also under melted cheese!) and went out to find burgers. I was always so hungry and found most of the meals delicious, apart from the tendency to put blobs of sour cream in the soup. We had a huge choice of food for breakfast, and always unlimited access to coffee and tea. I loved to sit in the restaurant at night, drinking coffee and chatting about art, as the town sparkled around us. The staff treated us as if we were Royalty!

Before I went to bed, my husband called me. Some nights I was not in my room until 1.am, and we chatted for a few minutes before I fell into bed happily exhausted.

More to come.
(Painting: 'Leaving,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 55 x 46cm.)

Just Another Hill

Limited time recently hasn't allowed me to finish describing the residency. Instead I am going to add a few photos of places I saw in Latvia (mostly from the first Sunday, when we had an all-day trip into the landscape, and forests), and try to catch up very soon. Edges of the residency catch on me daily, and still inform my work.

Highlights, for me, were that day trip, when we went to visit a bread museum, lakes, forests, and had a picnic by the river. We also did a wonderful walk in the country, strolling through a museum of old houses, passing fields of sunflowers and gardens full of Cactus Dahlias (a favourite flower). I watched our guides picking mushrooms in an endless forest, with at least seven varieties and colours of mushrooms within a three square metre area. It all fed into the work I made in the studio. Also memorable was the night we went to the Theatre and saw a lively, colourful and very beautiful production based on a novel by Emile Zola. The singing and dancing, and stage sets are something I will never forget!

My life has become a case of constant juggling. I have applied to show work in a large office space where artists can showcase their work. I submitted four oils, including my second, large version of 'Flying into Riga Airport,' and a description of why I would like to show my work in this particular place - great space, great exposure, (and also it frees up space at home for me to paint more canvases, though I didn't add this part.)  Also I applied for the Crash Open Salon 2012, at the Charlie Dutton gallery in London. I submitted four recent paintings, and should hear by the first week of December. I felt confident about the paintings, but you never know how the selectors want to set the tone of the exhibition, so in the end one's work may not fit.

I have been stretching canvases, and working with great energy on seven paintings. And I changed my website design, which necessitated completely resizing all my images - a huge and ongoing task. It is so important to have a good website, and this is the best design I have used so far. Artists have to do a lot more self-promotional jobs than ever before!

(photos: Devil's Lake;  Mushroom picking in the forest; a house in the museum of houses; a recent painting, 'Just Another Hill,' acrylic on canvas, 45 x 45cm)

Hectic Days

Post-Latvia, I have been busier than ever. A plethora of committments and daily responsibilities overlap with intensive painting time. Last night I went to see an exhibition of work by Ashley  Hanson at the Canvas and Cream gallery (London). Ashley studied at Canterbury College of Art, in the same year as me. I had not seen him for about 25 years! As we greeted each other, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. Over all these years, we have both carried on, and while the memories of College days (and student mischievousness) were still clear in our minds, we faced each other as mature artists, with much to say about colour and technique. We both agreed that our 'era' at Art School had been a very rich one.

The ripples from Latvia still prompt new work. I miss my studio so much, and the company of all the artists. My only complaint was that we needed a longer time. But it was wonderful getting up each morning in the Latgolla hotel, going up to the 10th floor restaurant and choosing from an enormous selection of cooked foods, cereals, juices, and coffee. We ate while overlooking the town with flat, luminously green landscape beyond, and discussed art and artists. It was a fertile ground from which to head to the studios.
I loved the short walk across the main square and down through the pretty park to the Art school. The trees shimmered with shades of gold and yellow, and the fountain sparkled in the sunlight. Though I was often very tired, the sight of the studio gave me instant energy.

Yesterday I worked on 'Flying into Riga Airport,' version two. In the photos we are carrying the first version to the exhibition venue, on September 24th. Though it was resolved, I had an idea to start a second version, to explore some other possibilities. This new version is the same size, 100 by 140cm, and of a similar format, but I am allowing other marks and colours to seep in. Seeing Ashley's series of paintings 'City of Glass,' in which he explores the same format across 6 huge canvases, confirmed that I am right to make this a series.

Shortly after I arrived back from Latvia, I wrote an article for THE JACKDAW, on the invitation of David Lee. My copy of the magazine arrived last Friday, and I was very pleased to see that I have a whole page for my description of the painting residency, and its affect on my work. If you are interested to read this, it is in the November/December issue, available through The Jackdaw website.

(Photos: Taking the large painting to the exhibition venue:
The Opening evening of the Mark Rothko residency, when we were all presented with Mark Rothko umbrellas, and a bag of goodies. There was an amazing presentation, with dancers clad from head to toe in skin-tight colour, their faces hidden. I will add photos of this in another post. Photos by Vladimir Vatmahter.)
All photos in this blog may be viewed large by clicking on them.

My Studio.

These are a few photos of my studio. This was my half, which was quite large, and I was able to work on the 4 paintings with enough space to lay them on the floor. I shared the studio with Heidi, and we are both artists who work very intensely and don't like to talk! So the only noise was my palette knife as it slid across the surface of my canvas, some traffic outside, and a soft buzz of music from Heidi's I-Pod. Such is the perfect environment  for painting!
We both laid plastic on the floor, because though we are not messy painters, you never can tell where paint can end up. I worked without my shoes on most of the time, and my pink socks ended up with paint splatters.

Lost in the Forest

One of the aspects of this residency that I really loved was that they gave us tastes of our environment before we set foot in the studio to paint. Our first Saturday was full, with the Press Conference (and there was an article in the paper), and with the allocation of studio space, and in the evening we had the official Opening of the event. (More on this later.) Sunday was a day to explore the landscape. We started off at around 10.am, and did not arrive back at our hotel until about 9pm. It was a day I looked forward to, as a painter who is inspired by landscape.
Latvia is fairly flat. There are endless forests, and curious paths that disappear randomly into their thick lines of verticals. We had trips to several locations. First there was a long walk down a forested hill to a wide river. We explored the river banks, went up a very tall, wooden tower to get a panoramic view, and then had a picnic by the river. We also visited a Bread Museum, which I will write about in detail in my next post.
As the light began to soften, we went to see Devil's Lake. The bus let us out on a dirt road leading into a forest that seemed to engulf the world. Our group ambled along this road chatting away, while our guides gathered mushrooms. (This is a national pastime.) I was amazed that within a tiny patch of mossy ground, you could see 6 or 7 different varieties of mushrooms: red, black, yellow with frills, yellow round ones, grey and domed, puffballs, flat beige, spotted. As our group were slowly walking along, I stopped with Anna to go to the toilet. (The strong vodka-like drink we'd had at the Bread Museum had created a sense of urgency!) We didn't take long, and hurried up the road to find our group. They were nowhere to be seen. We reached a fork in the road, by a large sign marking the lake. We had a choice, to take the road on the left (which went up a slight hill), or turn right and follow a very narrow, mossy path alongside the lake edge. The lake was in front of us, a crystal clear expanse, with the dark, serated reflections of pine trees. Still we could hear no voices. The forest was silent, not even birdsong punctuated the rhythmic verticals.
A car passed, and men stared out at us. For sure, two women alone in nowhere was very odd. We hoped they wouldn't come back! Were there bears, I wondered?
As evening was sapping the light, we had to make a decision. I said let's go back to where the bus left us. Anna was worried that the bus was collecting everyone from another point. But everything seemed to be saying to go back to our starting point, and just wait there. They would be sure to come back to look for us there.
The ridged, earthy road back seemed to go on forever. We passed the same groups of mushrooms, which were the only points of reference in a forest without signposts. Then, as we rounded a corner, there was the white bus. Our relief sent us into hysterical laugher, which began to echo around the trees. As we neared the group of our friends, our hysterical laughter grew even louder as we realised that no one had missed us! They were all busy drinking some more of the Vodka-like drink, and talking about Devil's Lake. Anna and I were passed small cups of this clear fluid, and I drank mine in one go. No one asked us where we'd been, and we were rather relieved. The talk was about Devil's Lake, and some related spooky or paranormal events, and how beautiful it had been.
Next day I began to mention to the other artists that we'd been lost. They all said, 'We didn't realise!' I guessed that they'd taken the mossy path by the lake, and somehow returned to our starting point on a road parallel to the one we were on. This painting is about that experience. I began it on my first day in the studio, but did not finish it until 2 days before the end of studio time.
('Into the Forest,' oil and acrylic on canvas, 90 x 60cm)