Golden Globes - Oranges in Art

Looking at the glowing oranges hanging in such bounty from the trees in the garden, I find myself marvelling in the play of light on their rough skins and the intensity of the colours.  The lustrous dark green leaves are the perfect foil for the fruit, the brilliant Mediterranean blue sky above the ultimate enhancement.  The temptation to paint these oranges is constant, but I have learned that watercolours are not the best medium to convey the intensity of these glorious winter fruits.

I began thinking of the paintings I have seen over the years of oranges; I realise that of course, it is mostly artists who have lived in the Mediterranean area - or at least visited - that have used oranges in their paintings. One of the earliest artists that comes to mind who used oranges in a wonderful still life painting was Spanish Francisco de Zurbaran (1598-1664).  I was spellbound, like so many others, when I saw this painting at the Norton Simon. It glows - and the oranges could almost be smelled in their tangy citrus perfume.

Still Life with Lemons, Oranges and a Rose, 1633, Zurbaran, (Image courtesy of the Norton Simon Museum)

Still Life with Oranges and Watermelon, c. 1760,  Luis Melendez, c. 1760  (Image courtesy of the Prado Museum)

Still Life with Oranges and Walnuts, 1772, Luis Melendez, (Image courtesy of National Gallery, London)

Another Spanish artist that comes to mind celebrates oranges in a different fashion - oranges growing in orchards or being sold:  Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida, Valencia-born artist of light and Spanish life, straddled the 19th and 20th century, and recorded history, landscapes, portraits in vivid, lyrical fashion.

The Orange Seller,  1891, Joaquin Sorolla, Private Collection

Orange Trees on the Road to Seville, 1903,  Joaquin Sorolla, Private Collection

Another artist who loved the brilliance of oranges in the South of France was, of course, Vincent Van Gogh.  He returned to these golden marvels several times, and I am sure their colour not only echoed the golden yellows he loved so much in sunflowers, ripe wheat fields, or his chair, but they must have cheered him up when he was in mental anguish.

Still Life with Basket and Six Oranges, Vincent Van Gogh,  Arles, 1888, Private Collection

Still Life with Oranges,, Lemons and Blue Gloves, Vincent Van Gogh, 1889, (Image courtesy of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon)

 Paul Cezanne used them too in some of his still life paintings. One of the most famous is a complex feat of celebrating fruits, including the oranges.

Apples and Oranges, Paul Cezanne, c. 1899, (Image courtesy of Musee d'Orsay)

Still Life with Milk Jug and Fruit, c. 1900, Paul Cezanne, (Image courtesy of National Gallery of Art, Washington)

At almost the same time, Henri Matisse was also experimenting with still life paintings that included oranges.  It was a theme to which he returned...no one can resist these golden orbs!

Still Life with Oranges II, Henri Matisse, c. 1899, (image courtesy of  Kemper Art Museum)

Basket with Oranges, 1913, Henri Matisse, (Image courtesy of the Louvre, Paris)

Every time I walk in the garden and see the oranges, I understand why these artists used them in their brilliant still life studies.

The Art of Facing Extreme Danger - Gallipoli, 1915. Part 4

Frank Anderson's 1915 Gallipoli diary continues recounting his experiences as part of the 10th Light Horse Regiment fighting in the Dardanelles.

Sunday, 8th August - "All day in the firing line, with no prospect of being relieved.  We have practically no men here now, all being on our left  where the battle has lasted all day."  9th August - "The night passed off quietly in our section, but the awful dim on our left made us ready for an attack any moment.  The beach is covered with wounded waiting their turn to get aboard.  We are all nearly knocked up having had no sleep for nights.  No relief yet."

Australian Stretcher-bearers

Wounded and Sick waiting to board boats in Anzac Cove

10th August - "We hear that they are afraid to let the Tommy take over the forward line of defence on Russells Top, so we are to man them indefinitely with the remainder of the Brigade or what is left of them. We are unable to get our dead in and it is heart-breaking to see all our fine fellows lying a few yards away,  most of them horribly mutilated.  We are all just about knocked out, and the Germans' 77 mm high explosives are damnable. Every day one or two men are hit.  Bill Lyall was wounded last night.  Amongst all the sadness it came out in orders that Arthur Irwin and myself had our commissions. Fighting continued all day on our left,  mostly around hill 971.  Wrote Baby the sad news of Dumpty."

11th August - "Today there seems to be a lull on both sides, but our vigilance is not the least slackened. All our supports have been withdrawn and are now on our left, so it will mean a fight to the last man  if we are attacked. Water is getting very scarce and we are trying to live on 1/4 gallon of water a day. I have fortunately been been given A Troop and the men seem as pleased as I am. We are all filthy and need a wash badly.  The smell from the dead is appalling but nothing can be done."

The next day was mostly quiet, "am terribly weary", and the same the following day, when everyone was consolidating positions and entrenching on both sides, he writes, "My night watch is from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. and find it very hard to keep awake. Felt very seedy."  On 14th August, "takes me all my time to crawl around. Felt rotten all day and during night. Bentley copped me in the trenches. He insisted on taking my temperature which was 103.5 so took me down to the surgery and said I had pleurisy, which I cannot credit. I think it is only weakness & want of sleep. Anyway he insisted on sending me, in the middle of the night, to the Field Ambulance on the beach, and they are to send me to a hospital ship in the morning."

"Was brought here early this morning  on this floating palace hospital ship, the "Reva"." (16th August)

His Majesty's Hospital Ship "Reva", World War I

"I nearly fainted when a real live lady, in the neat uniform of the Red Cross, met me at the top of the gangway and gently led me down to the officers' quarters." From then on, Frank was cared for by these Red Cross nurses, who removed his filthy clothes, bathed him and gave him clean clothes. He recounted every detail of the arrival on the ship, the food, the pure white sheets, the utter delight of being in a civilised place after the hell of the trenches.  Since his temperature would not go down for long, he soon found himself shifted to the "Andania", "a huge Cunarder", en route to Malta.  Feeling in "a deplorably weak condition and rotten with rheumatism", he was told by the doctors on board that he would need at least three months to get him well again and that he was therefore being sent to England.  In fact, Frank's hip had been broken during bombardments in the trenches, although no X-Ray could reveal that at the time, and he walked with a pronounced limp for the rest of his life.

Torpedo scares and rough weather on the trip to Devonport made the first days of the voyage trying, but by the time the ship reached Gibraltar, fair weather had calmed the sea.  Soon cold weather made all his joints ache and the morphine kept him drowsy, but by the night of 30th August, he was being checked into the 3rd General London Hospital. That Hospital became his de facto home for the next year, as painful treatments were tried and his body slowly healed.

He was able to spend time out of the Hospital with his fiancee's cousin, Sophy Hassell, whom he had known pre-war.  He began to get organised, contacting old friends and linking up with fellow officers to try and lead as normal a life as they could.  Frank spent time in Saltash with Sophy Hassell and her friends. In London he was often detailed to accompany people to the theatre, some of them minor foreign royalty. He also took part in the first ANZAC ceremonies held at Westminster Cathedral. Whilst at the 3rd General, he took up photography, which was to be a lifelong passion.  Some of his photographs included pictures of his nurses.

K Ward Nursing Staff

The long months of recuperation are not recorded in the 1915 diary, for Frank ceased to keep the account after September 25th. His progress was recorded a little in photographs.

Frank Anderson, Saltash, Cornwall, 1915

Frank Anderson, Saltash, Cornwall, 1915

Eventually, after a year in hospital,  Frank Anderson was sent back to Western Australia, where he was demobbed, on crutches.  On 24th July, 1917, Frank Anderson married his pre-war fiancee and great love, Honoria Ethel Hassell, daughter of a prominent grazier family in Albany, Western Australia.

Newly-weds, Hillside, Albany, July 24th, 1917

Frank Anderson had survived one of the most brutal war campaigns of the 20th century.  As I read his diary, I marvelled at his matter-of-fact statements about the awful situations and experiences.  No complaints, no hand-wringing, just the stoic sense of duty to be performed, as best as possible. A spare elegance in his descriptions of events, an understanding of the fearful dimensions of the fight and a lucid assessment of the abilities of his fellow soldiers and commanders.  In short, an impressive demonstration to me of an art form - how to live life as best as is possible under very trying circumstances.

The Art of Facing Extreme Danger - Gallipoli, 1915. Part 3

Frank Anderson's 1915 diary continues the entries about fighting with the 10th Light Horse Regiment, now at Russell's Top, an area which became know as The Nek.

Looking towards Russell's Trop, 1915

Two soldiers at Russell's Trop, 1915

In the Trenches, 1915

6th August, Friday - "The attack is to come off to-night and we are all fearfully busy. At 5.30 p.m., the right flank attacked amid a tremendous bombardment but captured two lines of trenches. An awful fight lasted all night and news came through that the left flank was doing remarkably well."

The Anzac Trenches, 1915

Next day, 7th August - "We were called at 3 a.m. after a sleepless night and took up a position  from where we were to charge.  All the saps were crowded and confusion reigned supreme.  The  first line of attack was made up of the 8th as was the second. A squad and A & B troops formed the third line, the remainder of our squadron & C squad made the 4th line.  We could hear a big battle going on to our left and we underwent a heavy shelling, which caused a good number of casualties and broke our trenches up considerably.  At dawn the first line was ordered out but were mown down before they had gone more than 20 yards.  From then on God only knows what happened.

1915, Charge at The Nek

"The trench was full of dead, dying & wounded, some of the second & third lines went out together, only to feed the enemy's machine guns. Still no orders came for us & the suspense was awful. Then the fourth and some of the third  got over the parapets, but not one got more than 15 yards away and very few got back.  In some remarkable way, Mr. Kidd's troop actually got over and only lost one man.  I had no idea what my own troops' casualties were, but knew they were not very heavy. Then the order came to retire, and when we collected back on the Broadway, over half the regiment was missing.  It was Arthur that first told me the news of D Troop being wiped out, then we heard of all the rest, Cmdt. Piesse, Mr. Rowan , Springall, Jackson, Dumpty (Frank's fiancee's brother), Phipps, Leo, the two Harpers, Barrycloc, Fenwick, Capt. McMasters, Lt. Hellon, Tom Burges, and in fact everyone that I seemed to know and like, were all dead. Craig, Jim Lyall & Bill wounded and a lot more. In my own troop, Eustace, Sandy & Chipper dead. Arthur and the few that got back had marvellous escapes.  Was most anxious about Irwin but he turned up all right.  In fact Pat, Arthur, John and myself seem to be the only ones left of our little clique.  I can't realise it yet, but my nerves seem to have all gone.  How I'll ever write and tell Baby (his fiancee, my grandmother) about it all, I don't know.  It is all too awful.

"Major L. acted the coward, as we all expected he would, but the old Colonel was game and is immensely popular. After the first shock was over we started inquiring about our left flank and the sight that met our eyes in Anafagasta Bay was one never to be forgotten. A fleet of 8 cruisers & innumerable torpedo boats were heavily bombarding the Turks while a fleet of eight large hospital ships were in readiness. The transports were too numerous to count, but we could see that our men were gaining ground fast.  The Turks had evidently got most of their troops reinforcing the position we attacked, with such disastrous results. But I believe we did our role and achieved more than was expected.  We spelled until 4 p.m. almost exhausted, and we then took over the main firing line.

"Things were quiet for the remainder of the night on our immediate front, but the two flanks were fighting most desperately. During the night, the bodies of Mr. Rowan, Leo & Springall were all brought in. Phipps was got in before he died and had time to leave messages to Molly and his mother.

"And so ends the most terrible day I've ever experienced."

(Part 4, published next in this blog,  will continue the account of Frank Anderson's experiences in Gallipoli, as recounted in his 1915 diary.)

The Art of Facing Extreme Danger - Gallipoli, 1915. Part 2

Along with A squadron, 10th Light Horse Regiment,  Frank Anderson was shifted to Walkers Ridge, ("our new position is called Anzac") in early June. Water had to be fetched from 1/2 mile away and fireward very scarce. No mail either. "Wild rumours of every description.  We don't even know the truth of our own position."

1915 View fron Walker's Ridge towards Suvla Plain

Despite being able to swim in the very cold water of the nearby bay, he reported catching his first lice, and being unable to sleep because of the extreme cold. By 18th June, the lice were "breeding in the most alarming manner.", while shell fire and shrapenel caused continual casualties, even down on the beach and in the water, where Frank had "a narrow escape" in one attack.

Anzac Soldiers on the Beach

Long bombardments in the trenches killed more and gave everyone very "disturbed nights", in the great heat of mid-summer. "Water is getting terribly scarce and flies are awful." The food too became a great problem, with little fresh meat. Many men were constantly suffering from dysentery.

Anzac Cove, mid-summer 1915

The war grinds on, with Frank having dysentery or food poisoning, busy plotting plans of the Australian positions, spending 24 hour stints in the trenches followed immediately by 24 hour stints sapping,  By 7th July, "it has been ascertained that the Turks have got a supply of gases but we all have respirators and fear them not. Had charge of our section of trenches as Mr. Rowan (Frank's senior) is  not well enough.  The night was a very nervous one, and an expected attack did not come off." Next day, "there is a report about that cholera has broken out in the Turkish lines so every care is being taken here. Evidently the Turks have brought up some guns from Achi-baba and are giving us the advantage of them."

On 9th July, while in the trenches for 24 hours, "at 6 p.m. received instructions to proceed with Mr. Jackson to take accurate bearings of Snipers Ridge, for the use of the naval authorities.  It was most risky work and we both narrowly escaped being sniped. The way our orderly room mutilates their messages is awful." On 10th July, "tried to have a swim but the snipers successfully kept everyone out of the water.  The weather is getting hot again and as soon as Achi-baba is settled the better, as there is a tremendous lot of sickness." Cholera had indeed broken out among the Turks, so everyone was inoculated and felt very sore, compounding the sleepless nights waiting for attacks that did not materialise. Meanwhile, "our trench is almost untenable" with even the flies preventing any sleep.

By 20th July, "Mr. Rowan told me that the Turks had received 100,000 reinforcements and that a concerted attack on our position was likely to take place any night.  We are making great preparations for defence.. It is expected they will use gas & liquid fire. Pleasant things to look forward to." Next morning, "came out of the trenches very tired, and we were busy all day with one thing or another. As soon as it became dark, I went out with 20 men and erected entanglements in front of our trenches finishing at 3 a.m."  The attack did not take place the following day but everyone was so "on the qui vive that we'll all be knocked out for want of sleep.The work in the trenches was most nerve-racking, and greater portion of the night was spent clearing scrub for a good field of fire" - all while Frank was coping with serious dysentery.

By 29th July, "Absolutely nothing doing and am developing  beastly liver. Everything gets on my nerves."

By the end of July, Frank was sent to estimate the number of men needed in their new trenches at Russells Top and to "make a sketch of our position, which is an awful one, the stench being awful."  "Our new position is a perfect cow, plenty of bombs and dead Turks.  We relieved the N(ew) Z(ealanders) in the firing line. 3 casualties."  1st August - "Very weary day in the trenches and we were most thankful to be relieved."

(Frank Anderson's account of his war experiences in 1915 as an Anzac fighting in Gallipoli will continue in Part 3, the next post in this blog.)

The Art of Facing Extreme Danger - Gallipoli, 1915. Part 1

I usually write about art in the visual art sense, but life as an art form extends far beyond the visual arts.  I have just had such an impressive example of other ways of perfecting a way of living - and survival - that I cannot resist writing about it.

In searching for some photographs that my grandfather, Frank Anderson, took in the immediate aftermath of the 1923 earthquake in Yokohama, Japan, through which he had just survived, I happened on the small leatherbound diary that he had kept in 1915. 

Francis James Anderson

A Western Australian educated in Switzerland and England, he had immediately joined up as the First World War broke out.  He was in B Squadron of the 10th Light Horse, the most famous and heroic of the Australian regiments, and as 1915 began, he boarded the Mashobra,  transporting him and his fellow soldiers and their horses by ship to the war raging in Europe.

Along with the rest of the 10th Light Horse, he trained in Cairo and Heliopolis, enduring sandstorms and caring for the horses as they waited for orders to move to the front in the fight against the Turks, in the now-hallowed area of Gallipoli in the Dardenelles.

Desert Camp, Egypt, 1915

Wilfred and Gresley Harper and fellow 10th Light Horse soldiers in Egypt, 18th April 1915

On 15th May, he and his  fellow Australians and New Zealanders left Alexandria for the front. By 21st May, they were ashore at Walker's Ridge, in the trenches at Snipers Corner, digging themselves into the side of a cliff under deadly fire. Frank Anderson was charged with doing sketches of the Anzac trenches, and in the evening, "took a party of officers up a gully to show them three corpses. A shrapnel burst right amongst us wounding Olden and tearing Craig's britches to pieces. A ricochet caught me on shoulders but only bruised.  Quite exciting."

Walker's Ridge, Gallipoli, 1915

In the Trenches. Gallipoli, May 1915

Sapping, issuing stores, coping with acute water shortages and seeing fellow soldiers wounded or killed left and right were the new norm. A 3 a.m. stand to arms began the day on 27th May, followed by occupation of the trenches at 11 a.m. "The Turkish trenches are only 30 yards from us and  (they) drop hand grenades into our trenches. Found it very hard job to keep awake . Occasional firing but with the exception of blowing one of our saps in, things were quiet. We were in Quinn's Post, the worst trench of all."

Quinn's Post Trench

After a days of snipers taking out another 18 men, Saturday, 29th May, began at "3.15 a.m.(when) we were startled by a tremendous explosion and were half buried in dirt. The Turks had sapped and blown no. 3 Quinn's up and they immediately rushed the whole of our centre. The awful din that followed I will never forget. Shells, hand grenades and rifle fire made an absolute hell.  The Adjutant sent me with 12 men to help no. 5 post. On our way up, Sydney was hit in the elbow.  When I got into the firing trench, found that the Turks had captured no. 4 trench and were enfilading us with bombs. There were a lot of wounded  but the stretcher bearers were doing good work.  

"The Turks come rush after rush to try to get our trench but we kept a murderous fire going and they got no further than our parapet. Young Jackson kept very cool and turned up trumps.  Several men were kept busy bringing up fresh rifles as they soon overheated and jammed.  A lot of harm was saved by throwing our overcoats over the bombs as they came into the trenches, but on two occasions I was almost buried with dirt. Pat's part got it very hot too and he was hit in the  arm with a bit of bomb and I believe has gone back to Cairo....About 5 a.m. our men stormed no. 4 trench and after a hard tussle, drove the Turks out again. Almost immediately after, the enemy rushed our trench again, but none got in. One Turk grabbed my bayonet and in some way got it off the rifle, but got my bullet through his chest and was soon dead. From then on things got quiet and we were relieved at 3 p.m. Our casualties were 16 wounded in our squadron."

(Part 2 of this diary account of Frank Anderson's war experiences in Gallipoli, during 1915, continue in Part 2, the next post in this blog.)

Art Museums' Attitudes to the Public

I recently had occasion to go looking for the e-mail addresses for Curators or Directors of a number of museums scattered throughout the United States. It was quite an exercise, and it got me thinking about museums' attitudes.

In today's world, a presence on the Internet is a given, a vital tool for everyone from the local plumber to the most prestigious of museums.  But, as we have all recently observed in excruciating detail, websites are a vexed issue. Granted, an art museum certainly does not have the same demands made on it as the Government Health site.  Nonetheless, web design is a very clear indication of the general attitude and ethos of the museum - or any other entity.

Many of the museum websites to which I went to find details of how to contact staff members via the Internet were clearly laid out and very functional. But a surprising number were positively lurid in their technicolour and busy overkill of information on the opening page, whilst making it hard to find out where next to navigate to get to the staff details. The impression was that these museums were so desperate to get the public involved, and hopefully through their doors as financial supporters in some way, that they were in a frenzy to attract them, rather like some of the amazing courtship displays of some bird species. And perish the thought that they might actually name their curatorial staff!

New Guinea Male Bird of Paradise Courtship Display (Image courtesy of the BBC, London)

More indicative of the museums' ethos was their opacity, at times, I decided. Some museums literally block one from knowing names of their personnel.  Others make it a complicated exercice to contact anyone working at the museum, obliging one to fill out forms and supply personal data. One even stated, in very small letters, that any e-mail address you supplied (the usual obligatory requirement) implied that from then on, they were free to send you publicity - i.e. spam!  What does that tell one about that museum's attitude to the public!

I have always believed that museums are keepers of our cultural heritage, in whatever form is appropriate to the mission of that museum. Consequently, to my way of thinking, a museum has an implicit obligation to make itself open and welcoming to the public which it is set up to serve. Transparency and ease of navigation would therefore seem to be basic tenets of a museum website.

If a museum makes itself so inaccessible to the public through its website, the message I receive is that that museum believes itself superior and not needing to have any truck" with the general public, only the chosen inner circle.  However, in today's world, elitism in museums seems to be a rather unfortunate attitude, to say the least.  As in any other  walk of life, you absolutely never know who might just turn up out of the blue and do something stunningly wonderful and constructive. If you make it so difficult to contact the requisite people through the website, you might miss out on an amazing opportunity. That applies particularly when geography comes into play and the museum you are trying to contact might be the other side of the country or of the world.  We all know that museums are full of very busy people and that there is usually a lack of funding and staff.  Nonetheless, the website design can still be welcoming, positive, elegant and clear and very much an open door to the physical museum.

I often wonder how many museums - or other businesses - go through the exercise of opening up their websites and checking out the ease of navigation, access of information and general appearance as if they were Mr. or Mrs. General Public.  Museums could do themselves a favour to do this – no one likes a message of superiority and elitism, nor of opaque functioning vis à vis the public.

An Artist's New Year Thoughts

The New Year dawns grey and soft over the marshes of Georgia, with wood storks sailing high and exquisite little American Goldfinches rushing to feast on the sunflower seeds in the feeders. 2014 - it starts beautifully and gently.  Today is one version of the wide marshland world, but the memory of so many others underpins today's views. 

Another Dawn

The Golden Marshes

It is one of those times when art is more a concept than an action: there do not seem to be enough hours in the day to paint or draw at the moment,  But that will change as everything in life comes in cycles.  It is a time instead to reach out to other artists, to seek opportunities to share with others the art that I have created in past months and years.  That aspect of being an artist is full of fascinations and rewards too: some of my most delightful friends are fellow artists, some of whom I only know via the Internet and telephone.  But their art is eloquent and tells of their inner soul. 

Thinking ahead to the New Year and art endeavours is always exciting - an Artist Residency in Portugal ahead, perhaps others in France if I get accepted, landscapes to celebrate in paint, silverpoint drawings to develop.  Always with the thought that nature, in its wonder and diversity, is the lodestar of my art, for I never tire of its incredible detail and grandiose complexity.  Perhaps the thought of enormous climatic changes impending lends urgency to my desire to celebrate the natural world around me that I know and love so deeply.  

Mallorcan landscape, watercolour, Jeannine Cook

Mallorcan Mountains, watercolour, Jeannine Cook

I came across a quote that I had jotted down on a Post-It note ages ago: I don't know whence it comes and for once, Google does not help me find its source: "And those that limned with magic brush, The fleeting joys of earth."

So many wonderful artists down the ages, from 30,000 years ago until today, who give us joy with their magic brushes - it is a heritage for which we are all the richer, and one which each of us needs to celebrate, mindful of the "fleeting joys of earth".

Somehow, it seems part of an appropriate New Year toast to my friends and my fellow artists as I wish everyone Molts d'Anys, Happy New Year!

Lines of Joy

On the eve of Christmas celebrations,  I was delighted to receive my copy of the hardcover and beautifully presented catalogue of the Silverpoint Exhibitionat The National Arts Club in which my work was included.  Looking through it,  savouring of all the images of the drawings, I could not help thinking of a quote I had seen from Robert Henri: "All real works of art look as though they were done in joy."

Many of the silverpoints included in the exhibition were indeed drawn in joy, it seemed. Tender, loving joy in the case of Maddie Asleep by Ephraim Rubenstein, for example.

Ephraim Rubenstein - Maddie Asleep, 1990, silverpoint on prepared paper, 21 in x 16

Joy of careful, sensitive observation and quiet in this drawing: 

Juliette Aristides - Natalia Sleeping, 2005, silverpoint on toned paper heightened with white, 9 in x 13

Joy of form and line in this highly polished self-portrait, by Lauren Amalia Redding.

Lauren Amalia Redding - Self Portrait with Ring, 2013, silverpoint and silver leaf on panel, 30 1/2 in x 24 1/2

Joy of honest scrutiny and realism in this portrait.

Mary Grace Concannon - Intimations of His Mortality, 2011, silverpoint on prepared clay-coated paper, 6 in x 9

Joy of quiet stillness and creative attention in the still life drawings of Jeffrey Lewis and Tom Mazzullo.

Jeffrey Lewis - Bowl & House, 2010, silverpoint on prepared paper, 18 in x 18 framed

Tom Mazzullo - Upwrap, 2009, silverpoint on prepared paper, 12 in x 9

Considering that a silverpoint drawing is a demanding, distinctly inflexible affair, it is remarkable how many of the drawings that were selected in the National Arts Club exhibition are fluid, assured works that speak of a clear objective, reached with practised lines that sing. Line built up on line, exploring, pushing out from the previous notation to record what the eye, the head, the heart and the hand all perceive. Many of us artists, when we talk of drawing in silver, mention this meditative aspect of the medium.  And in that quietness and, often, solitude, there is deep joy, as the subtle lines weave a web of timelessness.

Curator and participating artist, Sherry Camhy, also included a fascinating conversation with Dr. Bruce Weber in the Silverpoint Exhibition book. Dr. Weber had put silverpoint back on the art world map in the United States in 1985 when he curated The Fine Line at the Norton Museum of Art in Palm Beach, Florida.  He talked  with Sherry of the integrity of drawings done in silver, emphasising the importance of being true unto the medium.  Gerhard Richter talked of this same aspect of art: "I believe that art has a kind of rightness, as in music, when we hear whether or not a note is false."

Sherry Camhy selected silverpoint drawings that ring true, that speak of joy in execution.  They are drawings of many diverse subjects, approaches and contexts, but they form a shimmering song to the discipline of draughtsmanship.

The Silverpoint Exhibition, National Arts Club, New York

It is fun to start reading the reviews of this silverpoint drawing exhibition organised for December 2013 by a wonderful silverpoint artist and friend, Sherry Camhy, especially when one is far from the New York art scene. Seeing the images of fellow artists fills me with fascination and admiration. As always, the diversity of optic and subject matter is unified by all of us having to obey the demands of this medium of mark-making in silver, and sometimes in other metals too.  Metalpoint is a harsh task-mistress but each of us is in thrall to the fascinations and subtleties of these drawings.

Perhaps the most atmospheric introduction to the Silverpoint Exhibition at the National Arts Club is a video done by Odelle Abney. Then there is a long review by Robert Edward Bullock, in Bullock Online Reviews of Tuesday, December 10th, 2013, Beautiful Tarnished Lines. Or try another one,Saving Silverpoint, by Jeffrey Carlson, published in Fine Art Today, the e-newsletter for Fine Art Connoisseur magazine.

My drawing which was selected for the exhibition is one I did of the Spanish Moss variety which grows in north Florida, Tillandsia recurvata.  I love its jaunty, elegant flowers and twisting tufts of tendrils.

Tillandsia recurvata, silverpoint and white gouache on tinted ground Jeannine Cook artist, Private collection

Seeing the images in the reviews makes me excited to receive the hardcover catalogue which has been produced for the exhibition.    An enormous amount of work has gone into the preparation of the show, and I am grateful to be part of this lovely venture.  It makes me every more keen to go on drawing in silver!

Art and Music

I had been missing music in my life recently.  Then, oh joy, our hi fi system was repaired, and all of a sudden, music flows over and around me again like balm, like electricity, like sustenance.

Ludwig van Beethoven told us, "Music is the mediator between spiritual and sensual life." How right he was! For everyone, but, I suspect, especially for artists.  I cannot count how many times I have read of artists or heard artists saying that they always create art to the sound of music. I find that the type of art I am trying to do dictates to some degree the music to which I listen.  Gregorian chants or early choral music go beautifully with silverpoint drawing, while watercolours are far more eclectic! Life drawing too works marvellously to world music with a driving beat.

Different kinds of music, different rhythms.  Think of two wonderful artists who depicted music-making but who themselves made art that pulsed with rhythm - Romare Bearden and Jacob Lawrence.

Romare Bearden, Out Chorus, 1979-80, etching and aquatint (Image courtesy of the Romare Bearden Estate)

#55 Saxophone Improvisation - 1986, Romare Bearden

Jacob Lawrence (1917-2000), The Seamstress, 1946 (Image courtesy of the University of Rochester Memorial Art Gallery)

Jacob Lawrence, Play (1999); silk screen(Image courtesy of the Lawrence Jacob Estate)

Each of these amazing artists leaves an impression that they were marrying the music they heard with the images they saw in their mind's eye. Just as Alton S. Tobey described as he wrote, "There is a kinship between music and painting - with the same words used to describe both, as when a musical composition is said to have colour and a painting to have rhythm."  

Indeed, for me, music is art in real time, art is music in real time - but oh, it is nice to have the opportunity  to marry both together again.