Clarity

Limber K Howell 2011 Pastel on Paper 14 cm x 21 cm

  
Mornings have been foggy. Very atmospheric. Quite conducive to contemplating the yogic exercises of trees.
    
I love the rich reduction of autumn. A new clarity in the bare trees. Crisp line and hanging mist. The sharp smell and cold air preparing the way for winter.
   
 Don Paterson, in his Book of Shadows, says:

     The trees in winter, those exact diagrams of all our dead yearnings.

   
It's a terrible thing to be distracted from work by an aphorism.
   

Rupture

Rupture K Howell 2011 Pastel on Paper 14 cm x 21 cm

     Being as it's fireworks season, minor explosions seem to be everywhere. Burning sofas, glittery sparklers and those keep-your-cats-indoors whistling rockets... I thought I'd been ignoring them. But I see that a seasonal theme is inescapable.
     I've been painting this fallen tree quite regularly, it's constantly changing. But today, it was bursting apart in the sun. We've had some spectacular autumn days; and the studio space is getting messy with experiments and work underway. So... flee!
      Today, there were deer. A pair watched me watch the tree. Emboldened by the sunshine and the quiet, they stood about for ages.  I might've been beneath their notice, but their indifferent company was enjoyable.
 

Words with Bite

Oak King K Howell 2011 Acrylic on Board 61 cm x 92 cm

     This is the first of a pair of disparate paintings based on the same oak tree. It has complete dominion over a sloping beech grove, and although it's not exactly a typical 'Frame of Civilisation' oak, it has attitude. Its wild disarray and exposed heartwood are intriguing; its galls are quite incredible.
     I've painted it many times and in trying to research what has caused the galls (disease, bacteria or parasite), I did find some recipes for oak gall ink, used extensively in Medieval and Renaissance manuscripts. The smaller galls produced by parasitic wasps are boiled to extract gallic and tannic acids to make an ink that bites into parchment. Over time, it slowly eats away at the substrate, and leaves a tracery of empty space instead of words.
      The word ink is directly related to encaustic, from the Greek 'to burn in'.  While I knew that many manuscripts were slowly 'eroding' due to chemical reactions, I didn't realise parasitic wasps were at the heart of it.
     It does make typing seem so ephemeral...
      

Just in Case...

Window Onto Winter II K Howell 2011 Acrylic on Paper (Very Small Indeed)

     Water Street Gallery in Todmorden is exhibiting work 'Just in Case', small works in any media presented in a CD case. The clever ruse here is to make art more affordable for the artist to present and for the public to purchase. The exhibition will be running until January and the Gallery details are here.  It's a brilliant idea and Todmorden is a wonderful place to visit. So, Just in Case you fancy a day out...
     My pieces are Windows Onto Winter, microcosmic paintings exploring the structure of a hawthorne tree, the weight of the snow, and the play of light on and through ice droplets.

Exposed

Exposed K Howell 2011 Pastel on Paper 14 cm x 21 cm

     I was looking for a still hour. Maybe two. No radio, no internet, no bloody words. Stone seemed a likely option...
     A kindly passerby asks me what I'm painting. I point at the exposed gritstone and he scrutinises it for awhile and then says, "What, just the rock?"
     That is what I'm facing, there is nothing else here. I nod.
     "Do you really see those colours?" he asks me.
     Now this is where I feel a little exposed. What shall I say?  No, I'm just using up superfluous pastels, really. But he seems genuinely perplexed when I say, "That Is How I See It."
     "Looks like brown rock to me," he says. "But have a nice day."
     If only we could all own such tolerance...

Metamorphoses

Metamorphoses K Howell 2011 Pastel on Paper 28 cm x 28 cm

     The cold is descending slowly. Perfect weather to visit the beech. This is one of my favourite trees. Depending on the direction of approach, it has many aspects,  its identity constantly shifting. Today, this tree scuttles. As though it has woken up, found itself lying prone, and is trying to work out how to mobilise itself.
     The closely-grained, smooth surface of beech wood used to be made into tablets for writing surfaces. Old English bōc and Old Norse bók both have a primary meaning of beech and a secondary meaning of book, and this is the source of our modern word book.
     Sitting on a load of beechmast, I try to forget about writing, but you see, I've come to the wrong place...

Out of Season

Window onto Winter II K Howell 2011 Acrylic on Paper 14 cm x 12 cm

     This blog is a year old. Thanks to everyone who has dropped by! I've really enjoyed reading other blogs and seeing what people are working on. A 'blogs to visit' sidebar will be coming in the near future.
     This tiny piece is out of season, but I've been putting together a series of Very Small Paintings to submit for a winter exhibition. I enjoyed the challenge of confined space and tried to go for truly microcosmic pieces, based on ice and snow collecting on a hawthorne tree.
     I did some studies last winter exploring structure, and used these as the basis for some miniscule work. Working small is very inhibiting, but this was an exercise in limitation. An experiment. Having completed seven, four of which are 6 cm x 8 cm, I think I'm suffering from some kind of repressed brush syndrome. I was going for jewel-like, and if nothing else, the paintings are small. Terribly portable.
     Anyone else tried working ridiculously small? Any lasting damage?