Skull on the Wayside

Skull K Howell 2013 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21 cm

Well, elder wood, actually. But the shape immediately suggested a cranium with horns and fenestrae.

I've watched this elder tree deteriorate over the last couple of years, but recently it was uprooted and broken apart. Unfortunate, but it did lead to some beautiful remnant shapes.

There's a curious feeling of enclosure in this bit of wood, even though it 's hollowed out and empty. A sense of inhabitation. 

Funny that we have a skull to protect our brains and to keep our ears and eyes an optimal distance apart - basically, to enable accurate perceptions. But we can still fill our heads with nonsense in an instant. That makes me ridiculously happy.

Spine

Vertebrae K Howell 2013 Acrylic on Paper (smallish)

Being fortunate enough to have access to moorland with ancient roads is something I'm Very Happy About. When traveling along these old ways, it does feel as though you are treading the spine of the land itself.

I've been quite obsessed with spines lately - even the word, and the fact that it refers to the physical skeletal structure that keeps us upright, the concept of strength of character and resolve and also defensive mechanisms. Something prickly to put predators off. All fascinating.

Of course, there's also the fact that a book has a spine. And the spine holds the absolute essentials of what the book contains. I love that. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself embrace e-books. They have no spine! They cannot be trusted.

This tune may change when I run out of shelves...

Gateway

Penrhos-Feilw K Howell Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

One of the greatest barriers to my obtaining a drivers' licence was a tendency to be distracted by landscape details. Trees. Standing stones. Birds. People. Just about anything outside the car, actually.

But in order to stop for standing stones, you need to be in control of the car, so in the end, it was necessary to keep distraction under restraint to better apply focus.

I love the way standing stones create frames within the landscape. Like ancient figures, marking a gateway. The stature and weight distribution appears anthropomorphic from a distance - their solidity a proper contrast to the whispering grasses.

Standing stones offer a new framework. And a stone circle? Don't get me started...

It was a wet day when I visited these stones; water clung to everything and after wading through the grasses and getting thoroughly wet, the next logical step was swimming in the ice cold Irish sea. With the man-eating jellyfish (They won, in the end. It was a short swim).

Field

Field K Howell 2013 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

Fields are enchanting. A crowd of grass is about the only crowd I can endure. I like the movement and texture of swathes of moor grasses and reeds, and these clumps emerge like the heads and shoulders of a rising subterranean army.

As a child, I read and reread a book featuring the story of Jason and the Argonauts. To obtain the Golden Fleece from Aeetes, the King of Colchis, Jason drives fire-breathing oxen to plough a field, sowing the teeth of a dragon in the freshly turned soil. An army rises out of the ground, and Jason vanquishes the mass of soldiers by throwing a rock amongst them. In their confusion, the soldiers destroy one another. Brilliant illustration of crowd mentality.

Of course, Jason wouldn't have completed these tasks without the help of Medea. If there's one thing scarier than a crowd, it's a woman whose resourcefulness is disregarded by a man in search of better connections.

There is more snow - I'm off!

Bleak

No Fishing K Howell 2013 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

I've been neglecting this blog something terrible, but in the hope of returning to some kind of pattern, I'll post something from early January that I left unfinished in order to address Other Things:

Winter without snow still confuses me. I love the stripped landscape, the cold aspect, the shape of the bare world. But a little snow would be nice.

Many rainy days result in liquid paths that stream through the valley, washed out and colourless, like the sky. In a word, Bleak.

The word Bleak is amazing, and I didn't know that it can also refer to a small silvery shoaling fish of the minnow family, found in Eurasian rivers. That distracted me completely, and in the time it took for me to return to the post, we'd had two generous snowfalls.

Complaining to the universe sometimes gets results.

On the Bright Side

Bright Side K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

Autumn. A Reduction.

• Taught classes. Killed Clutch on the inside lane of a roundabout (fun). Had a level tow (very fun).

• Traveled by train a bit. It doesn't seem to matter where you go by train in the North West, it takes two hours. On the bright side, it's beautiful.

•  Read Martyn Bedford's Acts of Revision, easily one of the best books I've read lately. 

• Considered Values. Avoided the internet. 

•  Came creeping back, because I like seeing other people's work without traveling two hours by train.

There are so many ways of reducing visual information to essentials - I'm looking for ways of simplifying overall shape, giving weight to colour contrast, juxtaposing stillness with areas of energy and retaining the essential light of the moment.

Winter holds promise. It will snow...

Gravity

Charcoal on Board - very small K Howell 2012

I was thinking of calling this project Fifty Shades of Grave, but I don't think it'll catch on.

I've concluded that monochromatic is the way to go for these - something about the weight of shadow works better. I've yet to find the silvery light I'm after, so I'll pursue that seriously now. And see what works. Definitely an inside job, as the rain pours down.

These forms are grounding, stable. Solid, and yet empty. Full of contradictions. Seriously wonderful to play with.

Dangerously Dysfunctional (Can we fix it?...Yes we can!)

Dangerously Dysfunctional K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper

I write a lot. What I struggle with (most) is rewriting. Well, rewriting effectively. However. I took copious notes while I was away spending time with words and lovely word-people, because wise words were being flung about. I came back and read the novel that needs rewriting. Saw the naked truth of out-of-sequence reassembly, intermittent failure and parts problems. All of which I knew.

Took said novel apart. Laid out the pieces. Refashioned some parts. And contemplated how to put it back together in a way that would ensure that the engine ran smoothly and accelerated on hills. Re-read the copious notes detailing most excellent advice. Considered my tools. And tried some things.

I then read the most astounding passage. Page 304 of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. The narrator discusses internal blocks to affective understanding, or "value traps". He says,

"Of the value traps, the most widespread and pernicious is value rigidity. This is an inability to revalue what one sees because of commitment to previous values. In motorcycle maintenance, you must rediscover what you do as you go. Rigid values makes this impossible." (Robert M Pirsig)

Who, me? Ah. (*&%&^*^%).

It's magic when practical advice is echoed in fiction. I'm documenting this in the hope that it might be useful to someone else.

The Shark in the Cellar

Dogfish - it followed me home!  K Howell 2012 Charcoal on paper

      The smell was an effective reminder. I'd been meaning to draw it since it did a posthumous leap into the sandcastle bucket earlier this summer. But with all the distraction of a week away Writing (!!!!!), it didn't happen right away. The Dogfish Remains patiently continued to decompose in the cellar. Silent, fragile and fragrant.

      But today, at last, we spent some quality time together. I took the shark corpse out on our back drive and did some drawing. We share the drive with a neighbour, in front of whose garage door I had parked myself to draw. To his credit, he didn't bat an eyelid when he came out through the garage and had to negotiate me, my dead fish and children on various arrangements of wheels. I do appreciate my neighbours. All of whom will be pleased to know I've now disposed of the Remains. 

Away

One of the benefits of working on studies out of doors is the time spent away from all other demands and the resulting clarity of focus. It is refreshing and energising. It keeps studio work on its toes.

With this in mind, I'm heading off on a residential course for the next week to write. Just write. Only Writing. The very idea makes my brain go inside out with incomprehension. But there it is.

It's going to be weird. No question. But I think I can handle it.

Anyone interested in booking on the Painting with Chalk Pastels Course (13 September - 1 November) can still reach me by mobile (might be voice mail, but I'll get back to you, I promise!), and e-mails will be answered. 

So for now, Away we go!

Detour

Meeting of Ways K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper (Very Small)

     Summer is full of longer, more circuitous routes. Even our broadband is on holiday. I don't think it's the heat.
     A short drive home from a camping trip became an exciting day-long exercise in finding a way off a vehicle-mosaic M road. Probably beautiful and sparkly from the circling helicopters' point of view. On ground level, more of a study in passive/aggressive driving. But I digress.
     Work on larger pieces has stalled. In the short term, I'm doing tiny studies when the English summer will allow.
     Detours give us the opportunity to come at things from a new direction, with a new perspective. The trick is probably in keeping sane whilst time slides past And We're Not There Yet...

And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
 (As You Like It , the Bard)

Connections

           Stairs, unlike broadband, never fail to connect. 

Doors of Perception

Portal K Howell 2012 Charcoal/oil pastel on paper 14 cm x 21 cm

Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it! Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. 
So says Goethe. 
And then comes the development work.


 I love the simple magic of doorways. A door is choice and possibility, the unexpected and undiscovered just beyond the threshold.
This is a reconstructed Saxon arch, and while it appears to go nowhere (it's part of a freestanding wall, the building no longer extant), it offers a whole new view through its frame. A Portal. From here to somewhere else, furnishing a glimpse of the Other Side (In this case, a shifting tide and Cumbria ).


Paintings are coming along Slowly... so many possible doorways!

Still Waters

Coming Up For Air K Howell 2012 Pastel study 13 cm x 13 cm

     Still playing with the stone cut graves. There's something about the  quality of the reductive anthropomorphic shape filled with water. Says it all, really.

     This study shows a calm, still puddle,  but it's often windy on the headland and at times the water in the graves is quite choppy. A mini tempest brewing, creating all kinds of interesting and beautiful patterns. I've been messing with ideas to build a series of paintings for ages, and it's becoming clear.

     Water contributes 65 - 90% of the mass of human cells, along with carbon, nitrogen, calcium and phosphorus and trace elements. It's the phosphorus I have my eye on right now - and I think I can see where this is going. Finally. As all alchemists know, pissing about does pay off.

Stumped

Stump K Howell 2012 (tiny study) Pastel on Paper

Torrential rain last week and now the sky is a careless, indifferent grey. Maybe that's what I like about living here. The unpredictable, intense flashes of sunshine that never last, but are more interesting for their infrequency. Well, it's a theory.

I've painted this stump before - it looks totally different now, having entirely shed its bark. It's looking more vulnerable and exposed. Fibrous. I suppose what caught my eye was the dance of supple limbs around the ragged remains. An intricate, rented world momentarily brightened.

Moving on with some larger acrylics which are building slowly, but hopefully will be ready for a tiny local exhibition next month. They are twin paintings, exploring paint application and dancing with the devil in the detail, it seems. We'll see what emerges.

Congratulations, Lucy Watkins! Lucy's painting has been selected for the Royal Academy's A-level Summer Exhibition online, which is quite a feat! There were over 1450 entries, and Lucy's piece even has a room named after it.

Having seen the actual exhibition of A-level work, I think everyone deserves congratulating, as the developmental work, sketchbooks and finished pieces are really wonderful. Great to see! Keep it up, lovely people...

Seven Good Things

Persistent Fog K Howell Acrylic on Paper 2012

Life goes in so many directions. My thoughts are in several places on various projects and refuse to cooperate and regroup for anything resembling a blog post.

So here's some things to love, instead:

1 Fog: it makes the ordinary surprising.

2 Simon Armitage: what he does with words is Magic.

3 Writing books with magnetic closures. A tool that is also a toy! (for those of us who never cease to be amazed by simple mechanisms...)

4 Chewable Vitamin C. And they're legal.

5 David Blackburn's pastel landscapes. Genius.

6 Placebo. Who knew? I'm slightly obsessed. Slightly, mind.

7 Rocket. Related to cabbage, and yet...

Seven is a good number. Let's leave it there.

Zoomorphism

Loping Branch K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper 28cm x 28cm

A blistering day. It's unusual to be slowly baking whilst working outside. Lovely for those of us with reptilian inclinations.

This branch was bone dry, brittle. But so marvelously contorted. Most interesting is the way the energy of growth is etched into its being. Such is the nature of wood, but it's so much more fun when it's twisted!

Once, I designed a tattoo of three hounds running in a circle, a typical Celtic unity symbol. The idea was that each of the hounds could be mistaken, in some aspect, for the quarry (a deer), but not so clearly as to be Obvious. Their tails all became twining vegetation that filled the empty spaces, interlacing everything together. I was a child, it was a phase and no, I'm not wearing it.

But looking at this branch, I remembered creating that particular design vividly. And zoomorphism has stuck with me. Quietly. Under the skin.


Wishing us all more of this weather...

Half-Remembered

Figure K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper

This character caught my eye.

The figure is carved on the base of an Anglo Saxon decorated cross, the rest of which was destroyed by Puritans. There's some nice foliate scroll work on the sides of the truncated base. In that way, I thought it fit right in with my tree stumps and fallen trunks.

 The sandstone carving is over a thousand years old. And what is interesting is the way that all extraneous detail has been eroded, and we are left with the presence of the figure and its piercing stare. Which I like. 

Is it male or female? Is it a mother and child? My five-year-old is convinced it's Megamind. It doesn't really matter. It's human energy staring back from long ago. And that's amazing. Compelling.

Today's adventure becomes tomorrow's half-remembered dream.

Fresh Air

From Inchfield K Howell Very Rough Sketch

Still experimenting and playing with possibilities. Mostly, I've been making a mess. But the fresh air is beneficial.
It's been one of those weeks when most skills  have been Misapplied.

A baby starling plummeted to its death outside our back door. This was a landmark occasion, because it is the first recorded bird death in the vicinity for which our cats have not been responsible. I thought it was a Remarkable thing and presented it to the children as such. Best not to parent like an artist.

Resident nine-year-old decided to enhance a part of her school uniform. I'm all for that, lovely idea. I just pointed out that whilst the decoration was very nice, the marker would wash out. And maybe that would be for the best anyway, since she had misspelled one of the three words, and the message was confusing. Tears ensued. It is not good to parent like a writer.

I thought writing was generally literary, owing to being constructed with words. But literary might also mean writing like an artist, which might make the writing less compelling.Who knew?

So I was expecting one of the Galleries I'd contacted to get back to me with "The painting is too narrative," but no. The lovely gentleman said my work was not for them, but that I should "continue to work to satisfy myself and not a fickle market." Which is fine advice and a lovely reminder. But still...he probably meant too narrative.

So when all else fails, Fresh Air.