Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

On the Road

I've been on my travels for the last couple of weeks.  It's been refreshing to see different landscapes and different people for a while, and a break in routine after Rosie's death has been helpful.

On one of our journeys, we travelled up to the North Norfolk Coast, to places that I haven't been for many years.  I had forgotten how beautiful the gently rolling countryside is as you drive towards Holt on the Thornage road.  The colours, patterns and shapes made me think of paintings by Paul Nash and Dora Carrington.  It was a wonderfully crisp, blue day when we arrived we in Holt, which has changed enormously from the quiet little town that I remember from childhood.  Now "discovered" and full of quirky shops and cafe culture, it was a very lively, friendly and enjoyable place to spend some time.

Next we travelled on to Cley, where my aunt used to live and visited the Made in Cley Pottery, buying three beautiful bowls.  I felt a surprising sense of exhilaration at being there again. Happy family memories I suppose.

We continued on along the coast road, through Blakeney, Morston, Stiffkey and Wells, stopping finally in Holkham.  We parked on Lady Ann's Road and set off across the vast expanse of Holkham beach. I love the HUGE sky and the freedom of the emptiness that I experience there.  No buildings, hardly any people, just………………SPACE………………PEACE……………...the mind at ease.

The air felt so cold and purifying.  I felt as if I wanted to drink it down in great, refreshing gulps.  We paddled in the sea (in Wellingtons of course - we are British after all!) and then walked back through the dunes and across the marshy bay to the loud accompaniment of skylarks.  So much beautiful birdsong.

Then it was off to the tiny village of Burnham Overy Staithe, before heading back home for the day.  What a wonderful day out!

http://www.madeincley.co.uk/

All text and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Endings and Beginnings

It has been a very difficult week following the death of my beloved dog last Friday.  The constant companionship of more than 13 years leaves an indelible mark on the soul and a vast empty space in everyday life.  She was a very gentle, happy creature, that loved people and, as such, was very popular with both first time and regular visitors to the studio.  It seems a cold and empty place without her and our cottage also has lost an element of "home".  I find myself challenged by my own words (24 Feb) to "rise up and start again, even through very tough times".

It seems particularly gloomy today as the snow and cold have returned and Spring is temporarily put on hold.  However, I do know that when the sun reappears, the flowers, the birdsong, the light and the warmth will make me feel more energised and less lifeless than I do now.

Even amidst the sadness there is always some little spark.  At the end of last Friday afternoon, when we were completely wrung out, I sat down reluctantly to check my email and found a newly arrived message notifying me that my painting "The Bright Field" had been shortlisted for the Adrian Henri Poetry in Art prize.  It's an honour to be considered for an award such as this, particularly one which is specifically concerned with the inspiration of literature, which is something that I love.

I know that I will eventually get my energy back and go forward from here, but things will always be different.  In my experience, when you lose someone things are never the same but you do eventually move on again, carrying something of that person's character within your own.  The positive influence that they have had on you stays with you and partly shapes who you will become and what you will achieve.  It makes me think of the very old text that says that unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains a single grain, but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest.

It was a pleasure to have known Rosie and an honour to have been entrusted with her care throughout her long and happy life.  She was the best of friends, and her cheery and loving personality will stay with me always.

All text and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Walking

I'm pleased to say that we've had a lot of sun this week-end.  I walked to work and back on Saturday, which is now possible due to the longer hours of daylight - well technically it's always possible, you just need a very good torch!  It was lovely to feel the warmth of the sun and experience the quiet and the solitude (my elderly and increasingly frail dog stayed at home with my partner). The stream that runs down the left-hand side was bubbling loudly as the water table is still high.   I watched the pheasants and partridges running across the pale-coloured earth. Those partridges can really shift!  A couple of weeks ago I listened to a programme on BBC Radio 4 which is called Ramblings.  The subject of the episode was the meditative aspects of walking and how having some time alone, in silence, in the landscape is good for our mental well-being.  It talked about the increasing number of intrusions, largely by technology, into our everyday lives.  I certainly appreciate a walk of that kind for that very reason.  There's no chance of a phonecall or text as I lose the signal the minute I start to descend the hill after passing my neighbour's cottage. It's strange to think that so many people are never really alone now.  If I don't get some solitude each day then my brain becomes overloaded.  I love people, but need a space to breathe. 

Shortly after my neighbour's house I pass my favourite tree on the lane.  It's the only pine along the route and always makes me feel as if I'm by the coast, either North Norfolk or Italy - either will do!

Having talked about the intrusion of technology, I am always interested in it.  Due to the kindness of a friend I have recently acquired a smartphone and found a really brilliant app.  I enjoyed basing my last painting on a poem, so I downloaded the app from the Poetry Foundation.  It will randomly select poems for you or you can search the database.  I've already discovered poets of which I was formerly unaware.  I can see that there will be more poetry-inspired painting to come!

By the end of Saturday's work the pale-coloured earth and the shapes of the trees in the lane had found their way into the painting.  That peaceful walk feeds my soul!

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All text and images (except Art & Psychology) ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Time away

The days are definitely lengthening.  It's great to get up at 6.15am and see light already in the sky and hear the robin singing.  In fact, I'm sure that I heard his intermittent stirrings as early as 4.15am the other day!  I'm really looking forward to the whole Spring dawn chorus starting again.  It's such a brilliant time of year.  It feels as if everything lies before you and everything is possible once again.  I'm amazed how that hope is built into us as humans, and how we constantly rise to start again, even through very tough times.

This morning I went outside and fed the female pheasant that comes into our garden daily.  Every year we get two or three that are regular visitors.  The females are so trusting.   After seeing me for only a few days they will run to me when I step outside the back door of the cottage.  Today she even let me take her photo!

Progress on the poetry-inspired painting has been slow this week.  My head has felt as foggy as the morning photo due to an encroaching cold and I've had a number of necessary appointments to attend and trips to make which have kept me out of the studio.  I dislike not being able to really get into the flow of my work and unless I've produced something satisfying at the end of the day I don't feel as if I've really done anything.  Life is so full of distractions and I understand that administration or hospital appointments are necessary, but unless I'm making a painting I don't feel as if I've done any "proper" work.  I've often heard painters say that if they are not painting, then they are thinking about painting.  This is definitely true of me.  We are a little obsessive to say the least!

By Friday afternoon, however, I managed to finish it.  Having a bit of time away may have helped in the end.  A period of time away from a piece usually allows me to see it afresh, just for a few seconds, and therefore better determine what is needed.  It has a similar effect to turning the painting upside down or looking at it in a a mirror.  I couldn't work without a mirror.  My brain gets so used to seeing it in one way and needs to be presented with it as something unfamiliar.  In this way it can be jolted into working with it afresh.

I also had to sacrifice one particular area that I had been hanging onto.  I've noticed that this is often the case.  It is very difficult to do late on in a piece of work, and I therefore try not to become too attached to any one area early on, as everything has be constantly up for grabs if I am to make a successful whole.  I had been hanging onto one key area all week, but as soon as I bit the bullet and painted over it with a broad sweep, the whole painting became more alive.  The vitality of the brushwork showed and the composition began to hang together as one piece.  I am continuing to try to produce simpler paintings, and to this end I find that removing areas in this way works well.  There is the added bonus that the new, simpler, area is rich in character as it contains several previous layers underneath.  All of this adds to the depth of colour and texture.

All text and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Reading

A beautiful Spring day and a welcome break from the recent wintry weather.  We've been out in the garden today, cutting back the dead herbs and flowers that have stood for too long.  Having been kept out of the garden by the excessive rain of last autumn and the snow of this winter, it was a pleasure to be able to tidy everything at last.  There was so much new growth lying beneath the dead leaves!  The snowdrops were looking especially good and some pale mauve crocuses had opened today for the first time.

Now that the light is fading I'm looking forward to a bit of reading by the fire.  I don't claim to be the most widely read person in the world, but it is one of life's great pleasures for me, and another source of inspiration.  My most recent reads have been "The Spiral Staircase" by Karen Armstrong, "How To Be A Woman" by Caitlin Moran and "The Cleaner of Chartres" by Salley Vickers.  A bit of an eclectic mix, but all brilliant in their different ways!  I love books that contain really interesting ideas that my brain can grapple with and ones that are beautifully and elegantly written -  like Salley Vickers' novels.  Over the years, I have found stories, concepts and descriptive passages all inspirational for painting.  For example, "Through a Glass Darkly", by Jostein Gaarder comprised a quirky story and some thought-provoking ideas.  "The Hours" by Michael Cunningham has some really beautiful descriptions in it and Virginia Woolf's "The Waves"  contained some of the most fantastic word pictures that I have ever read.  Caitlin Moran's book was poignant, stocked with outstanding common sense, and probably made me laugh more than any other.

I am currently working on a painting inspired by a poem.

"They swept the beach with steel blue and diamond-tipped water"

"The Waves" - Virginia Woolf

All text (except quotation) and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Sketching

It snowed again overnight on Sunday leaving us yet another white covering over the landscape.  The studio is closed on a Monday, so I get to catch up on a few jobs and maybe do some sketching.

The drawings that I make are another source of inspiration for me.  When I sketch I work very rapidly, often simply making reference to a shape within seconds.  I'm almost not looking at the paper, just allowing my hand to follow the shape that my eye is reading.  It's a bit like when I write, which happens very fast and rather loosely, as my hand cannot keep up with my thoughts.

The rapid sketches are a way for my brain to record the seen objects. Just making the shape with my hand is laying it down somewhere in my memory.  I have found that even the quickest and roughest of sketches will be of use to me later as reference material.  When it comes to working on a painting however, I do not refer to them directly.  Rather, I look at them before-hand, then close the sketchbooks and simply begin to paint, otherwise I can find them distracting.  It is better for me that I let my subconscious use them in the composition.  I am learning, over the years, to trust that part of my brain.  The best work is the freest work.  If I let it, it will do the work for me, rather than my conscious mind telling me what I "ought" to put there and what it "should" look like.  Forget "ought" and "should".

Bypassing the conscious brain is not easy.  It is perhaps similar to meditation - a space created by discipline.  It does not involve a random letting go, but learning to recognise gut feelings and working quickly with them to solve the puzzle of the painting, resisting the inevitable inner dialogue which will begin to discuss the elements laid down.  It is necessary to hold other mental intrusions at bay by strength in order to create a peaceful place to work.

All text and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

Absorption

I often get asked about what inspires my painting.  The answer is really numerous things, although one of the major sources of input is that which is around me.  Basically, what I see in my surroundings is continually feeding into my thought processes and being mixed up somehow with all my feelings and musings about daily life.  It's as if I'm some sort of recording system, continually taking in sensations and impressions of the environment.  The work that I produce is about atmosphere and what it is like to be in a certain place at a certain time.

I'm very lucky to live and work where I do.  I love the shapes, textures and colours of the English landscape and the continual changes that the light causes  - sometimes subtle shifts, sometimes dramatic effects.  Every time that I look out of the large studio window the sky is a slightly different colour.

Some people love to travel far and wide around the globe.  In a lifetime they may encounter many different vistas, peoples, shapes and colours and have widely differing experiences.  For me, rather than a widely observed world, the little valley that I live in is a microcosm.  I have the daily opportunity to observe small changes and this is a different kind of privilege. The traveller can experience and record the exotic, I can observe the contemplative - looking at the same thing over and over again and being very aware of small changes. Slow consideration - the first appearance of buds, changes in the colour of the light as the days pass, the colour of the surface of a field as millions of shoots begin to emerge from the earth.

In the studio this happens with objects and images with which I surround my easel. In my peripheral vision I will pin up images that I like.  They are not in my direct line of sight as I work.  They are usually perpendicular to the painted surface, on both sides of me, and laid below my field of vision to the left and the right.  For example, I have a print of a painting by Vanessa Bell, faded postcards of paintings by Ivon Hitchens and Mark Rothko, photographs that I took of the interior of a boutique hotel interior with lots of bright, contemporary design, and photographs of our valley in the snow.  Pages torn from magazines with patterns on, pieces of textiles from 1950's collections by designers such as Lucienne Day and a Christmas card by Mary Newcombe.  Pictures of my garden, work by Barbara Rae and Archibald McIntosh and a postcard of an icon from a Norwegian museum.  What I find is that I tend to absorb these by a kind of osmosis.  I don't really need to practice mixing the colours in them that I like because I find that they "accidentally" get included in a piece.  I will often look at a finished, or partly finished painting and think, "there are the colours of that Rothko", or, as I did with my last painting, "there are the colours of that Vanessa Bell portrait".  Strangely enough, I had been looking at that picture repeatedly and trying to calculate how the colours were mixed, and then, without consciously trying, I had started to use the whole set.  My brain had solved the problem for me and just being around the painting daily had taught me something new about mixing and combining colours.

All text and images ©2013 Carol Saunderson

Painting is a detail from "Bright Light on a Windy Day"