I've had an idea throughout to put me somewhere in the picture, observing me in the scene, as it were. Like Alfred Hitchcock, to have a bit-part in my own production.
Or maybe to imagine me as I might be in five years. Hmm...
Everyone in the background looks preoccupied with something. Colin and Mr James, the men in the foreground, occupy their own private worlds.
Today I was talking with my mum about the Taylor Wessing photographic portrait exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.
Certain pictures were easy to relate to – for example, a picture of young men having their hair cut in halls of residence.
Some of the pictures didn't mean so much to me, because I couldn't figure out what the photogapher was thinking. I couldn't put the picture in any meaningful context. Sometimes I like to look at the picture without having to read about it in order to understand what it's about.
This applies to paintings, too. For example, the paintings of Leonardo, or the paintings of Vermeer. It's hard for me to connect with some of them. I suppose it is interesting for a painter at that time to be painting someone ordinary doing something routine (eg, a woman pouring milk) but when I look at it, I find myself looking more at how the painting is painted, rather than spending time considering the subject.
I don't find that I'm as interested in the woman, or her expression, as perhaps I should be. This is my fault, I know. I guess that it is important to put things in context and that life is richer as a result. Yeah yeah.
Maybe I should turn this attitude on myself.
I want people to understand that I am trying to convey a message about the nature of commuting. But if my picture survived for a few hundred years (I'm not for a moment thinking that it will, I'm just following a line of thought) then people wouldn't get the picture at all, I suppose. It wouldn't mean anything to them unless they understood what it meant to be a commuter, at the time. Or could be bothered to find out.
Some of these things will have to take care of themselves. I think the important thing, for me, is to paint well – and to put across the feelings of these people, and my feelings towards them, as best I can.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
Sunday, 1 January 2012
I've mapped out the grid on the canvas and have taken my time (well, about four days) to make a soft pencil outline of the picture.
Unfortunately, the photograph of the picture isn't very good! But it gives the general idea.
I've deliberately changed the men's faces. Colin (the fat man) will have a slightly angry expression. The older man (I'll call him Mr James) will be slightly more fragile and hunched.
Unfortunately, the photograph of the picture isn't very good! But it gives the general idea.
I've deliberately changed the men's faces. Colin (the fat man) will have a slightly angry expression. The older man (I'll call him Mr James) will be slightly more fragile and hunched.
Decision
I've decided, then, to work from photography to painting. See the post below, Commuting Syndrome, for some more details.
I've picked a photo which I think is fairly successful. The characters of the men in the foreground are strong. I took several pictures of the same two men and watched them closely for the duration of the journey.
I have worked several of the pictures together to make a composite image.
In all the pictures, the fat man in the foreground (I need to give him a name — I'll call him Colin) has his phone in his hand, but in the painting, he will not be looking at it. This will help to get over the point about preoccupation and distraction on a train journey. I also want to show how isolated people are determined to be, in general, on a train, in spite of their closeness to one another.
I have been looking at the catalogue of the Leonardo exhibition at the National Gallery. There's a term called 'synthetic naturalism'. It sounds complicated, but isn't, really. For example, Leonardo drew parts of various horses, taking what was ideal from each horse. He wanted to combine these different parts to make an image of a perfect horse. In a similar way, I want to splice together different photos of commuters to make a painting that captures as much of the experience of commuting as possible.
I've picked a photo which I think is fairly successful. The characters of the men in the foreground are strong. I took several pictures of the same two men and watched them closely for the duration of the journey.
I have worked several of the pictures together to make a composite image.
In all the pictures, the fat man in the foreground (I need to give him a name — I'll call him Colin) has his phone in his hand, but in the painting, he will not be looking at it. This will help to get over the point about preoccupation and distraction on a train journey. I also want to show how isolated people are determined to be, in general, on a train, in spite of their closeness to one another.
I have been looking at the catalogue of the Leonardo exhibition at the National Gallery. There's a term called 'synthetic naturalism'. It sounds complicated, but isn't, really. For example, Leonardo drew parts of various horses, taking what was ideal from each horse. He wanted to combine these different parts to make an image of a perfect horse. In a similar way, I want to splice together different photos of commuters to make a painting that captures as much of the experience of commuting as possible.
Wednesday, 14 December 2011
Street Photography
I've found a really cool book called Street Photography Now (Thames & Hudson 2010 — so I guess it should be called Street Photography Then...but it feels very contemporary).
The book contains images by '46 contemporary imagemakers noted for their candid depictions of everyday life'. Here are some of the highlights:
Melanie Einzig, New York. She says 'My best photographs were taken going to or from work, or some other destination. It's about tuning in to intuitive clues, to turn this way and that.'
I like the natural light and the way the picture hasn't been fiddled around with. I like to find interesting people in my pictures – but I have never seen anyone quite like the guy in yellow! I'll keep hunting. Here is a picture of mine that I feel achieves a similar effect.
Christophe Agou is French, but also lives in New York. He works mainly on the subway. His black-and-white close-ups of faces are very strong. For example:
I would like to hope some of my pictures can get close to the strength of his pictures. This one isn't so well framed, but captures a similar emotion:
I'm not sure I agree with Christophe Agou when he says 'there is a certain honesty underground, a certain truth'. In my experience, people on the underground are closed off, wary, untrusting, and no-one speaks to anyone else.
Maciej Dakowicz, born in Poland, lives in Cardiff. His street pictures are brutally honest, challenging — and they make me feel I should just get out there and do it! The woman in this picture doesn't seem at all bothered about being pictured in such an unflattering environment. (The quality of my picture of the picture in the book is not great!)
This style of photography reminds me of Nick Waplington. Sometimes I feel that the photographer is judging people, it feels almost like a class thing. And I'm uncomfortable with that.
Another photographer in the book, Carolyn Drake, says: 'I am weary of stereotypes and aware that photos often perpetuate them. I'd like to take pictures that somehow counteract this'. Hear hear!
The eye contact in George Georgiou's pictures (he lives in London but has spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe) is often quite shocking. For example, this picture of a man on a train in the Ukraine:
Sometimes I have experienced a level of discomfort, taking pictures. Here, for example, the man at the edge of the picture is very aware of what I am doing.
Nils Jorgensen is Danish but lives in London. He says he likes 'small random moments which have no obvious news or commercial significance'. I appreciate that. For example, this picture makes a strong image out of an advertisement:
It reminds me slightly of a similar picture I took:
Now, look, I'm not comparing my work with the work of these photographers. Clearly, they are all highly skilled and have produced some great work.
All the same, it is very encouraging to realise that other people are doing the same thing as me. I'm not entirely alone. I'm not the only freak out there!
The book contains images by '46 contemporary imagemakers noted for their candid depictions of everyday life'. Here are some of the highlights:
Melanie Einzig, New York. She says 'My best photographs were taken going to or from work, or some other destination. It's about tuning in to intuitive clues, to turn this way and that.'
I like the natural light and the way the picture hasn't been fiddled around with. I like to find interesting people in my pictures – but I have never seen anyone quite like the guy in yellow! I'll keep hunting. Here is a picture of mine that I feel achieves a similar effect.
Christophe Agou is French, but also lives in New York. He works mainly on the subway. His black-and-white close-ups of faces are very strong. For example:
I would like to hope some of my pictures can get close to the strength of his pictures. This one isn't so well framed, but captures a similar emotion:
I'm not sure I agree with Christophe Agou when he says 'there is a certain honesty underground, a certain truth'. In my experience, people on the underground are closed off, wary, untrusting, and no-one speaks to anyone else.
Maciej Dakowicz, born in Poland, lives in Cardiff. His street pictures are brutally honest, challenging — and they make me feel I should just get out there and do it! The woman in this picture doesn't seem at all bothered about being pictured in such an unflattering environment. (The quality of my picture of the picture in the book is not great!)
This style of photography reminds me of Nick Waplington. Sometimes I feel that the photographer is judging people, it feels almost like a class thing. And I'm uncomfortable with that.
Another photographer in the book, Carolyn Drake, says: 'I am weary of stereotypes and aware that photos often perpetuate them. I'd like to take pictures that somehow counteract this'. Hear hear!
The eye contact in George Georgiou's pictures (he lives in London but has spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe) is often quite shocking. For example, this picture of a man on a train in the Ukraine:
Sometimes I have experienced a level of discomfort, taking pictures. Here, for example, the man at the edge of the picture is very aware of what I am doing.
Nils Jorgensen is Danish but lives in London. He says he likes 'small random moments which have no obvious news or commercial significance'. I appreciate that. For example, this picture makes a strong image out of an advertisement:
It reminds me slightly of a similar picture I took:
Now, look, I'm not comparing my work with the work of these photographers. Clearly, they are all highly skilled and have produced some great work.
All the same, it is very encouraging to realise that other people are doing the same thing as me. I'm not entirely alone. I'm not the only freak out there!
Commuting syndrome
What I want to do is pull together images that represent the qualities of commuting in my mind.
Here is the first picture I stuck together from several pictures I had taken:
I imagine this would be easier if I had PhotoShop!
The face of the fat man in foreground in this picture is pretty poor quality and not very tonal but the creases in the shirt are very distinct and I can imagine painting this image. The old man looking out of the window has better contrast. The old man the lighting has a better contrast, with more visible tones. I need to balance all the tones. It's one of the problems of working from photographs. And especially, from my secret snaps!
I don't want to make the whole background surrounding the two men in the foreground completely blurred out, but want more detail to add to the overall idea.
Here is another, more worked version of the same thing. The wonders of the Pritt stick!
Returning to the subject of honesty. Let's put together some key words that come to mind in connection with commuting: repetition, distraction, tension, purpose, purposelessness, boredom, fatigue, career, motivation, preoccupation, self-sacrifice, family.
Gazing out of the window and dozing off are escapes for some people, forms of meditation that help to get away from the tedium and uncomfortable routine. Or looking at phones, or listening to music. They also help to get away from the terrible closeness of strangers! The enforced intimacy and unwelcome nearness to other people.
The man immediately behind the two main figures has a phone, repeating the action of the man in the foreground. Almost everyone seems to be looking at some or other electronic device.
Commuter trains are commonly crowded. In one sense it's a blur. In another sense, everything is black and white and tense. Everyone sees everyone else. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing, but no-one is looking at anyone. I hope to represent this tension through sharpness, tactical blurring and detailed line direction.
At first I thought I would blur the entire background. As per the example below (made with PhotoShop on a borrowed machine):
This was, in a way, pushing back on earlier thoughts - that life is the blur beyond the window. I do regret losing the background. And so I have rejected this in favour of a more considered image (the second one, above).
What I hope to achieve, by dealing with photographs in this rough way, is a basis for a painting that will give a more personal and a fuller version of the subject.
Here is the first picture I stuck together from several pictures I had taken:
I imagine this would be easier if I had PhotoShop!
The face of the fat man in foreground in this picture is pretty poor quality and not very tonal but the creases in the shirt are very distinct and I can imagine painting this image. The old man looking out of the window has better contrast. The old man the lighting has a better contrast, with more visible tones. I need to balance all the tones. It's one of the problems of working from photographs. And especially, from my secret snaps!
I don't want to make the whole background surrounding the two men in the foreground completely blurred out, but want more detail to add to the overall idea.
Here is another, more worked version of the same thing. The wonders of the Pritt stick!
Returning to the subject of honesty. Let's put together some key words that come to mind in connection with commuting: repetition, distraction, tension, purpose, purposelessness, boredom, fatigue, career, motivation, preoccupation, self-sacrifice, family.
Gazing out of the window and dozing off are escapes for some people, forms of meditation that help to get away from the tedium and uncomfortable routine. Or looking at phones, or listening to music. They also help to get away from the terrible closeness of strangers! The enforced intimacy and unwelcome nearness to other people.
The man immediately behind the two main figures has a phone, repeating the action of the man in the foreground. Almost everyone seems to be looking at some or other electronic device.
Commuter trains are commonly crowded. In one sense it's a blur. In another sense, everything is black and white and tense. Everyone sees everyone else. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing, but no-one is looking at anyone. I hope to represent this tension through sharpness, tactical blurring and detailed line direction.
At first I thought I would blur the entire background. As per the example below (made with PhotoShop on a borrowed machine):
This was, in a way, pushing back on earlier thoughts - that life is the blur beyond the window. I do regret losing the background. And so I have rejected this in favour of a more considered image (the second one, above).
What I hope to achieve, by dealing with photographs in this rough way, is a basis for a painting that will give a more personal and a fuller version of the subject.
Monday, 12 December 2011
True or False
I need to find out why I have these recurring thoughts of blurred images. Check myself for falsity. Here's the thing: truth and honesty in art. Some art is dishonest as art and maybe that's one distinction – at least in my mind – between art and craft. What do I mean? Oh, boy. Here goes. Art is about the need to do the right thing in the right way for the right reason; craft means the ability to do a thing that looks right for any of a number of reasons.
I need to be clear as to my motivations as I progress in my practice and keep checking my work for honesty of thought and feeling. Prohibit myself from doing something simply because it looks impressive or clever, but make sure my work is always good enough for me.
I need to scrutinize everything I do, track my thoughts, so I can communicate my experience properly. Otherwise I may have the experience but miss the meaning, as TS Eliot put it!
To what extent can I realise my – what shall I call it? – my communication? Who knows? Because if I can't identify what's going on in myself, how can I put clear focus in my art? I'd like to clear out all the garbage! See things for what they are, through my eyes. I must see the scene as it is to me.
This is what it's about, surely, bringing me to the table, to what I'm doing. I mean, in the most honest and direct way possible. I can't get to something that feels like art by trying to be clever, because that means being something I'm not. I can't get there by trying to do what other people have done, because that isn't me, either – and the people who have done it already will have done it better.
So. It's all about me! It seems pretty straightforward. I know there is lots to learn, but if I forget this, how can I ever hope to achieve something original? Like a personal vision, a personal statement. Like, perhaps, art?
I need to be clear as to my motivations as I progress in my practice and keep checking my work for honesty of thought and feeling. Prohibit myself from doing something simply because it looks impressive or clever, but make sure my work is always good enough for me.
I need to scrutinize everything I do, track my thoughts, so I can communicate my experience properly. Otherwise I may have the experience but miss the meaning, as TS Eliot put it!
To what extent can I realise my – what shall I call it? – my communication? Who knows? Because if I can't identify what's going on in myself, how can I put clear focus in my art? I'd like to clear out all the garbage! See things for what they are, through my eyes. I must see the scene as it is to me.
This is what it's about, surely, bringing me to the table, to what I'm doing. I mean, in the most honest and direct way possible. I can't get to something that feels like art by trying to be clever, because that means being something I'm not. I can't get there by trying to do what other people have done, because that isn't me, either – and the people who have done it already will have done it better.
So. It's all about me! It seems pretty straightforward. I know there is lots to learn, but if I forget this, how can I ever hope to achieve something original? Like a personal vision, a personal statement. Like, perhaps, art?
Thursday, 8 December 2011
Thinking about it
I have to get used to thinking of my photos as a form of quick sketch - and I need to find photos I really want to work from.
The medium must relate to what I see. I don't want just to take pictures and make paintings of them. I want to follow through why I took the pictures in the first place. Try and find a meaning in the images. Try to find the perfect expressions and gestures to convey the experience of this form of travel.
The communication is what brings out the human relationships.
The medium must relate to what I see. I don't want just to take pictures and make paintings of them. I want to follow through why I took the pictures in the first place. Try and find a meaning in the images. Try to find the perfect expressions and gestures to convey the experience of this form of travel.
The communication is what brings out the human relationships.
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