This last week has seen me creating content for my new course FIX & FINISH. I enjoy planning how to best deliver a course; breaking it down into component parts and then dissecting those into bite size chunks that embed the learning. Once that blueprint is created the fun can really begin. Creating videos on Zoom using screenshare, putting powerpoint presentations together, trawling the internet for examples of paintings that demonstrate salient ideas. Filming practical demonstrations – when the paints come out and I get my hands dirty. Editing, publishing, uploading… Gradually the blanks are filled, some fine-tuning and VOILA – you have an online course ready to deliver to the world.
FIX & FINISH will be ready in October for its first run through – so if you would like to be part of a small group of artists ready to learn how to fix and finish their paintings, assess the next steps as they navigate their way to the finish line, then sign up here and I’ll let you know first when the course is ready to roll.
Built on the three pillars of DESIGN, VALUE + COLOUR you will learn how to assess your work through the beginning, middle and end stages of a painting, and how to ascertain next steps in your work. You will learn about developing your own individual style and we will lift the lid on some mindset issues that can get in the way of finding our true self in our work. It’s going to be a meaty 8 week course dripfed week by week with tutorials, demonstration videos, homework and a weekly zoom teaching call to assess work in progress and answer questions. I’m looking forward to it and all that it will bring for all of us involved. New for me and new for those who join up. Jump aboard folks!!
“Standing at The Dock of The Bay” or Bob
All of my paintings have taught me something, but some paintings teach more than just colour theory or design principles. Some paintings have given me learning that has freed me up completely, adjusted my thinking and changed the narrative that plays in my head. One in particular I will always be grateful for as it gave me an anchor that ever since has kept me secure and absolutely embedded in the knowledge that whatever I do in a painting it will all be for the good. This knowledge allows me to take big risks, to really mess things up and to go back in and undo paintings that have sat in the ‘finished’ pile awaiting their final lick of varnish. This painting has given me freedom in the best possible way.
I didn’t always love this painting though. In fact, it was a D O G – I actually love dogs, so I’m not sure why I call it that, but this dog was a brute. It was one of a series of 7 paintings of various sizes. I always work in series so that no one painting becomes too precious or leaps ahead of the others. If in a painting session one painting starts looking really good and I think it’s nearly done I put it aside and will only go back to it when all the other paintings are at that same level. Funnily enough, when all the others have been attended to and reach that same ‘nearly finished’ level, the original runaway usually has been surpassed and it’s not looking quite so comfortable in the ‘nearly finished’ corner. And so we go, round and round, until they are all proudly standing their ground out of the NEARLY finished corner and lining up on hallowed FINISHED ground.
Well, that’s the theory, but this particular painting – I’m going to have to give it a name: Bob. While all the other 6 in the series were waiting - Bob was indecisive. I tried lots of stuff on Bob, I was rough with him, then I was delicate. I painted lots of wandering lines, then I painted over them. I went muted and neutral in colour – then I leant into greens and rusty oranges. I even painted abstracted knives and forks on Bob but they looked ghastly. Nothing I did satisfied Bob. Bob was becoming quite the beast. Bob kept me up at night and would wake me in the early hours of the morning nudging me for answers. He was getting really thick with paint, layers and layers of underpainting, layers and layers of overpainting. Round and round, I rotated Bob so that his head was in a constant spin. I was in a constant spin. I would try and stare him down, look into his soul – what did Bob want to BE???
Then, one day Bob showed me a little yellow shape in among all the goodness knows what and I loved that little yellow shape. So, I said to Bob, I said “How about you being about a little yellow shape?” Bob gave no resistance. What would make that yellow look good? A deep blue grey. Let’s try that on Bob. Bob gave no resistance. It didn’t take long before Bob was a new Bob. He wasn’t confused, he had clarity. He had great texture, lumps and bumps all over from the multitudes of layers – Bob had a story to tell, he had history. Bob was full of variety, he was no one show pony, but he made sense. I loved Bob.
Bob wasn’t with me long. As soon as I posted him on Instagram, someone wanted to buy Bob. Bob sold and now lives in America with a lovely man called Aaron.
When I struggle with a painting now, I think of Bob. I know now that the struggle only enriches the surface of the painting and that a struggle can be the beginning of a triumphant story. So now, instead of being in fear of failing in the struggle, I welcome it. The struggle is the hallmark of a process that is not afraid of trying, experimenting and risking, that will persevere until the solution is found.
Here are some photos (I would need an album to include them all) of Bob in progress.
Is there a painting that has taught you more about the painting process than any other? Each painting takes us on a journey, which is what I love so much about painting. It is so unpredictable, can be uncomfortable, but is ultimately incredibly rewarding.
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Please share your Bob stories in the comments below. I would love to hear them.