Sunday, 22 June 2014

It's Over

Well, the Choose Yourself Exhibition is over. I nearly said no to this. We were only given a few days notice, I didn't have much that was new, I had reservations about a few things. But either I am serious about this or I am just playing.

As some of you already know, this has been an incredibly successful exhibition for me. Normally I bring home everything, or if I am lucky I bring home everything minus one piece. This time I put in fifteen pieces and brought home only six.

Six.

Only six.

Still a bit stunned by that.

Frank Woodley, the ultimate bewildered comedian. I am with you all the way, Frank

More bewildering was WHO purchased some of the Tangles.

Wyong Shire Council has always banged on about the arts and its support for local artists and artisans. Sometimes it has backed this up with real support, other times not so much. The actual council officers in charge of the arts (as opposed to the councillors) have always been great, very understanding, very interested, very knowledgable, and the Council does make grants available which have facilitated many arts projects on the Central Coast. If you are looking for financing for a project, see what your local Council has to offer. You never know.

This time, however, Council has started something lasting. It now has an arts acquisition fund, aimed at building a permanent collection of local artists' works. The acquisitions officer visited the exhibition last week and decided that six of my little pieces would be a good fit. As I wrote elsewhere at the time, I feel a bit concussed by this. Several days later it is still making me blink.

I knew one of the other exhibiting artists, Amanda Anderson, all the others were new to me, but I feel so privileged to have been in this with them. The styles were different, but somehow worked well together, and as people we worked well together. I think I have some new friends from this, which is the biggest bonus of them all.

Now I have to get on with making something new, for the next time. Because there will be a next time, and a time after that, although I am mentally preparing for the inevitable return to drought following this. But that said, there's no going back now. I am on my way.

(And I have included this clip just because it's a laugh, and I feel like laughing today. It was this, or Freak Fandango Orchestra)


Wednesday, 18 June 2014

A Preview

I wasn't going to post any of these until they were all finished, but I am forcing my own hand to a certain extent. There has been a beautiful image appear on the internet, and, while not like these, there is a link. I don't want to be accused of plagiarism, so here are my preliminary sketches (done on my first duty day at the Choose Yourself exhibition). I will actually get off my arse and hopefully finish some of these properly this afternoon, and there will only be six in the series instead of the planned nine (although they may come later, if they will just stop morphing in my head and on paper). They should all have been finished already, but it has been a very busy few weeks, so they have crept along. I am about ready to add colour to the finished pieces, so it shouldn't take long.

Preliminary sketches, "Airships of Asia", Megan Hitchens, pencil on paper, 7 June 2014
These sketches are linked to a post I am writing about Steampunk and cultural imperialism.

I don't know that anyone will really care, and I am probably just being paranoid, but, hey, what does it hurt to cover your arse once in a while?

Saturday, 14 June 2014

I Want More!

SOMETHING SOLD! Ha ha! Something sold!

Someone bought one of my pieces in the exhibition. Actually, someone bought my favourite piece in the exhibition. Which is wonderful. My mother doesn't like to put her favourite pieces on sale in case someone buys them, but I suppose we are a little different.

There are a couple of pieces that I will never sell, but beyond that...

My wall at the Choose Yourself Exhibition, Entrance Gallery, The Entrance, 2014. Cipher is the one in the middle, you know, the one with the snakey thing.
As you already know, I put in abstracts drawn using the Zentangle method (you can find out more about this wonderful way of drawing here), something of a departure from my usual figurative realism. And I was quite nervous about them. But I am quite proud of them, they are good pieces. And I love Cipher. I think it works really well.

So it is very satisfying that someone else thinks so too.

My painting master, Charlie Sheard, always said to do what you love - eventually you will find someone who loves it too. This was in the context of "don't paint to trend or market", and is very sage advice.

And it works (and has covered the cost of the frames).

But here's the drawback - that's one sold. What about the others? Who will give them a home? Who will love them enough to GET OUT THE WALLET?

It's not enough to sell one. I am a selfish git. I want more.


Thursday, 5 June 2014

Moan, Moan, Moan

Okay, be warned. I am having a whinge.


Anyone who knows me knows I am a whinger. Never more content than when I can tell my woes to another. Quite disgusting. Especially when I have friends who have real problems - divorce, illness, deaths in the family. Could I possibly get some perspective?

But I am still going to have a whinge.

My kids have flu. They were supposed to go away with their father this weekend. Down to Canberra to roleplay at a convention. And I was supposed to have the weekend all to myself.
For the first time IN YEARS.

But they are both quite ill. Which isn't their fault and sucks for them more than for me.

And to make matters worse, my daughter, whom I thought was on top of all her school work, has chosen, CHOSEN (see those capitals?) to send it all (well, History anyway) to hell in a great, big flaming handbasket of doom. Doom, I tell you.

So it has been a lovely day. And I really feel like going to the exhibition opening tomorrow and then doing duty on Saturday (I'll be there Saturday, and Monday 16th June if you want to come in and say hi. Promise I shall be chirpy).

I think I shall stick my head under the covers for a bit.

And just to prove that it's not all Abney Park and to give me the kick up the bum I deserve:


Monday, 2 June 2014

I've Been Framed

Actually, my works have been framed. Took a few good hours (DIY is a good way to save money), but I don't think they look too bad.

T12, Megan Hitchens, 2014, Sakura ink and graphite on heavy cotton paper

It's been a mad dash, and there were many instances when I wished I had a TARDIS or a time turner, or ANYTHING so I could sneak in a couple more hours. This morning I had to drop them all off at the Entrance Gallery. We were supposed to start hanging today, but the previous exhibition hadn't come down, so instead we did a whole lot of waiting around. We'll start hanging tomorrow.

Cipher, Megan Hitchens, 2014, Sakura ink and graphite on heavy cotton paper
A form for the exhibition arrived in my email this morning - you know, artist bio, description, work title, description, extra notes or instructions, that sort of thing. I'm terrible about this. I don't mind writing a short bio - who I am, where I studied, how long I have been doing this - but I WILL NOT write a description/explanation for each work. I hate that sort of thing. Drives me mad when I see it on paintings, whether in a small gallery, the AGNSW or wherever.

Either a work stands on its own or it fails as art.

I'm not talking about the need to explain a particular element that references something specific (thereby enhancing your understanding). I am talking about an emotional response. If you need an A4 sheet of waffle in order to respond to a work, if it has no meaning or resonance for you without that, then it has failed. You are responding to the written words, not the work itself. As an artist, if you need an A4 sheet of waffle to justify your work or show how "clever" you are, go do something else.

Side bonus - the form has just become quicker to fill in.


Wednesday, 28 May 2014

The Story Starts Again

There was movement at the station... well, movement here, anyway.

As of next Tuesday I will have some pieces hung in a joint exhibition. It's not a big thing, but it is a thing (well, it's not a thing. Technically a thing is a viking "leaders" meeting and a meeting of all the leaders is an allthing. But I digress).

It's at The Entrance Gallery and is the inaugural joint exhibition of the Central Coast Collective, thanks to a Council grant. One thing our council does well is support the arts in our area, and this exhibition is part of that initiative. We don't have an upfront fee, but instead have a commission of 25% taken from any sales. That's not too tough as commissions go. We are also required to each man two shifts at the exhibition. Which isn't a bad idea. It is nice for potential customers to be able to talk to the artists, and can be a boost to sales.

I got the notice about the exhibition yesterday and confirmed my participation. It starts next week. Not a lot of time. I am now panicking a little, which is why I am writing a blog post instead of getting my arse in gear. The question is: what to hang?

Most of my paintings are now three to ten years old (I have been without a studio for a few years). The abstracts are a good six months away from being finished (and I have plans for them, so they were a no regardless). Do I beat myself mercilessly to start and complete some new works? Or do I go with these (and all their friends)?

Tangle 1, Megan Hitchens 2014

Tangle 2, Megan Hitchens 2014

Tangle 3, Megan Hitchens 2014
These are abstract pieces created using a drawing system known as Zentangle. As I have said, I struggle with abstract, and you can see why from these. I mean, they aren't entirely abstract, are they? There are certainly objects in these. Shells, sheafs of wheat, whatever. But Zentangle has become very useful in moving me along the path toward true abstraction. It has given my brain an inroad and taken the anxiety out of it. I have also been teaching my son and his classmates how to do this. Children are unbelievably good at Zentangle because they very quickly let go of the "rules" that stop real creativity (and I mean "rules" as opposed to technique. Zentangle is very much about technique).

We are told there will quite a few school groups coming through the exhibition, so I thought why not do something that they might like to try.

Okay, this is a small exhibition. It isn't going to catapult me to fame and fortune, but I haven't had an exhibition for a while, and it is a start. And what is the point if I don't start, if I say "It's not big enough"? I mean, have you watched "Withnail and I"?

I want to do a series of drawings on mechanical animals, but I don't know that I can get enough of them done in time and I want to do them justice. So, opinions, thoughts, feedback. Am I taking an easy way out?

In the meantime, yet more Abney Park (I'll put up something else when I feel it fits) - "The Story That Never Starts". I love Titus' violin intro. It always gives me a physical thrill.
Don't let them check you
They're sucking the wrong brew
The cowards should not steer
Your life by their own fear
Don't care what they're dreaming
The future is teeming
With stories that wait to start
 

Tuesday, 20 May 2014

Ogres Aren't The Only Ones With Layers.

Alright, this is probably going to be immensely boring to most people. But here goes...

I said I would write a post about the process of painting and here it is.

When most people say "painting" these days, they don't mean what they think they mean. There are two types of "painting". The one with which most people are familiar, even if they don't realise it, is called alla prima. That means something like "all at once", it's also called "wet-into-wet" and it is what it says it is. You paint more or less all at once, wet paint up against or over wet paint. Sometimes this is exactly what's needed. Clouds and hair work particularly well alla prima. But it has its problems. It is harder to keep colours clean. It is REALLY EASY to end up with a muddy mess. It looks flat, no matter how thickly you apply the paint. Don't get me wrong. It can be very beautiful. But it is not all there is.

Have you ever looked at a modern attempt to copy an old painting (ie pre-C20th) and thought "the form is right, but something is wrong. It just doesn't look quite right"? That's because the technique is wrong. You'll find, more often than not, that the copy is painted alla prima while the original was painted. Or painted in layers, if you prefer (I don't).

So, "painting". This doesn't have a particular term or phrase because IT CAME FIRST. Sometimes you will hear it called "painting in layers", which is descriptive, and accurate, but irritates me a bit. The Dutch were the first to use oil paints, and they used them as if they were using egg tempera - carefully applied thin layers in very small strokes (egg tempera dries really fast, so you have to work that way). Oil paint takes longer to dry than egg tempera - much longer - so it took some time to perfect the technique. Once the Italians got playing with the stuff there was no stopping them, and Leonardo da Vinci was one of the leading practitioners, perfecting and even at times inventing technique. His oil paintings are still in beautiful condition to this day because of his profound understanding of the medium and the care he took (his frescoes... well, that's another matter. Some things don't wear experimentation well). Interestingly, the Italians did much the same as the Dutch with brush stroke and layering, but they blew it up. Similar number of brush strokes, but larger, bolder. And the paintings got bigger. The early (C15th) Dutch paintings are tiny.

Why does drying time matter? It matters because paint films expand as they dry.
Let me explain.
Actually, let me go back to the start and THEN explain.

To use the painting technique - first you put down an imprimatura. That is, a layer or layers of colour all over your support (be it wood, canvas, whatever). Some people call it a ground. It isn't. The white paint that covers your support , that's the ground.

After the imprimatura is touch dry you put on an underpainting, usually in lead white and burnt umber, ie lights and darks. I tend to do this in two stages - map in the darks and then the next day put in the lights. You use lead white and burnt umber because they both have a very low oil content. They are LEAN paints. They dry quickly.

The images are from a copy I did of JW Waterhouse's "Circe Invidiosa". This is the underpainting
Then you start putting on layers of paint. You do not have to cover the entire painting every time (in fact it's probably better if you don't). Wait for each layer to be touch dry before you apply the next. And make sure that each layer has a higher oil content than the last, either by using a colour that has a higher oil content (a FAT colour - alizarin crimson is a good example), or by adding more oil. It doens't have to be much, just a few drops, but it does have to there. This is called FAT OVER LEAN.


More layers for Circe. Images Megan Hitchens
Which brings us back to drying time. As a paint film dries it expands. Lean paints dry faster than fat paints, but each time you apply a layer of paint you reduce the oxygen getting to the layer beneath and so you slow the drying time of the lower layer. If the paint on top is lean (or leaner) it will finish drying first. The layer underneath will continue to dry and continue to expand. End result - your top layer will crack.

Go to any art gallery and have a good look at the paintings. You will see cracking somewhere. I am not talking about the concentric ring or classic spider web cracking. That is caused by a point of pressure on the canvas and hopefully is only in the varnish (although, sadly, not always). I am talking about the crazy paving style of cracking. You occassionally see it in very old paintings, you see it very often in modern paintings. The idea that you may need some technical aptitude to use oils seems to be anathema these days. It really shouldn't be.

Some colours are transparent (like alizarin crimson), some are opaque, so light travels through the layers in different ways, going through the transparent layers and bouncing back at the opaque layers. No wonder painting looks different to alla prima. No wonder alla prima looks flat - the light comes back from the one level. And this is why it is only painting that will give you that particular sense of luminosity.
"Circe Invidiosa" Megan Hitchens 2010 after JW Waterhouse 1892. Oil on canvas. 180cm x 90cm
There is a trend when painting alla prima to apply the paint thickly in places, to give depth or texture. Couple of problems with that. It can be applied too thickly so that the weight of the paint causes it to slide or fall off the canvas. Also, the top part of the thick paint ends up... cracked. You can guess why.

Thin layers of paint can easily be textured. It is subtle, but once you put a glaze over the top it becomes dramatic. Look at any number of Rembrandts. That beautiful texture he achieves is done thinly (or at least thinly by today's standards).

Notice I have said "touch dry" above. It takes SIX MONTHS for oil paint to fully dry. Six. Months. If you don't want to worry about fat over lean, but you do want to paint, you shall have to wait six months after each layer before applying the next. I think it is simpler and I know it is quicker to just master fat over lean.

I paint. I use alla prima for quick colour studies for reference for paintings, but then I paint. So when I say "process" now you know what I mean.

(There were many more layers for "Circe Invidiosa" than I have shown. There is a series of photos somewhere for one of my original paintings, but I have no idea where it is. So you get my copy of someone else's work. It's a valid way to learn.)