Under the Skin

Grove K Howell 2012 Acrylic on Board 40cm x 61cm

     In view of the weather - strangely tired of the ubiquitous grey, lovely as it is - I've been working on a piece based on a study from last spring. There's a wood I frequent that has some clumps of very young trees. I love visiting this little grove because the sinewy trunks are electric and crackling with growth. Still spindly, they are finding their feet. So to speak.
     This piece is not dissimilar to a polarised light micrograph of human skin with hair follicles. (See here at the Science Photo Library, credited to Dr Keith Wheeler.)
     The landscape we live in gets under our skin - but maybe it was always there? Do we recognise design similarities on some level?
     I'm working on another tree portrait now and a winter take on a nearby grove that are both much darker, so this was an interesting sidestep in anticipation of spring, and the world refreshed.

Reflections

Lightly Here K Howell 2012 Acrylic on Paper 36cm x 26cm

      In slick February mud, a crater-basin  collects the rain and grows a flat forest...
       One of the advantages to having an unadopted road nearby is the infinite capacity for puddles. They constantly change shape and colour. Each one contains its own shifting microcosm, a small reflection of the surrounding world.
     Trees don't move around much, being rooted in the earth the way they are. But they can turn up in unusual places.
     Puddles are transporting! Even without wellies.

Sum of its Parts

Oak Queen (Detail)  K Howell 2012 Acrylic on Board 61cm x 92cm

     In any creative endeavour, we're looking for synergy, aren't we? We want to make something that proclaims itself Complete and more than the materials, time, energy, inspiration and technique that go into the making. Greater than the sum of its parts, as the saying goes.

     Well, I'm posting a detail of a finished painting. For a few reasons. It's large and will probably look ridiculous reduced to a thumbnail. Looking at something as a reduced, flat image, rather than 'life size' in a large space can be dispiriting. I don't want to see this piece reduced right now. I enjoyed the process, and need to take the real thing by surprise a few times to see what's there. 

     So, there it is. I hope the part is indicative of the whole, and I hope one day to see the whole and make an assessment of its state of completion in view of the sum of its parts.

Hiatus

Before the Snow K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper 28cm x 28cm

     Please check out the sidebar of blogs to visit. Hopefully it will grow as I find my way about, but it's a start.
     In the meantime, my Lego duties continue. I don't want to boast about how I'm spending my time whilst four-year-old is poorly, but I know the names of all the Octonauts. And today, it seemed he had turned a corner and was properly recovering. When I ventured to get paints out, he was aghast. What are you DOING? WE are playing cards!
     After a stack of books, he decided we must watch a knight film. A knight film? We watched Henry V. He loved it. He has decided he's still very unwell. He's pretending to sleep now, but I know he's organising tomorrow's agenda...

Trees are People too

Twisted K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

     I'm putting together exhibition proposals, and decided to Google my summary statement of Painting trees as a metaphor for the human condition. The first link that comes up is to Mary Hrbacek's work, so whilst I was gutted to find my agenda may not be completely unique (Surprise!), it was fascinating to see another take on themes I love, and I hope you enjoy them too!
      The anthropomorphic form of trees makes it easy to identify with them as creatures. And in trees, the resilience,  damage, variety and beauty is much like we find in humanity. The nature to strive and flourish. The infinite capacity for transformation.
      Trees may not travel in distance, but their journeys aren't far removed from our own. In the immortal words of the Kaiser Chiefs:

Well it's time honoured tradition
To get enough nutrition
Stay alive until you die
And that is the end of you!

    
(I've rambled on about tree/human affinities before, in raw, lingering disquiet, life and limb, branching out, and about inspiration)

Winter Sun (and winds of change...)

And the shadows steal over the hill... K Howell Acrylic on Paper

     Last week we had a dazzling and brief day of winter sun. So very cold.
     This wasn't the painting I wanted, but it's what I ended up with. A little Stiff, you say? A little Awkward? Let's blame the uncooperative frozen digits, shall we?  
    
     January is an extreme month. John Updike describes it brilliantly in "January",  from A Child's Calendar:

The days are short,

The sun a spark

 Hung thin between

The dark and dark.

      It's the right time of year to drag the heaps of studies out for an overview, which I'd intended to do. I'm developing larger acrylic paintings on panel, and want this series to work together as a body. Well, bodies. Time for the method in the madness.

     Instead of this crucial bit of analysis, I found myself aiding and abetting with the production of pugiones in the kitchen. I have to remind myself, no, I don't have ADHD, I have children. And they've decided to be Roman Assassins. It's that sort of day. Beware the Ides of March...

Investment

Broken Birch K Howell 2012 Pastel on Paper 14cm x 21cm

     Howard Hodgkin says, I don't think you can lightly paint a picture.
     A painting is the product of such focused energy. It's a ritual that is repeated again and again, and each new painting has all previous experience behind it, somewhere. Each empty page, canvas, board becomes an investment in understanding.
     When the process goes well, there are Discoveries, Epiphanies and Exciting Accidents. Other times, it's hard work, reminding ourselves of what we know and seeking out something new in the activity.
     A painting is a serious effort. And yet, on the face of it, it does seem a frivolous way of living. Sitting in the woods or in a studio, making a mess; all for the magic of conjuring an image, an impression, a feeling, a memory onto a blank surface. We are so lightly here. Why compound that reality by chasing the elusive?
     At least as artists, we can rest assured that our investments won't cripple an economy.