#paintseptember 2021

 

 Paint September was a Twitter art challenge.

All artwork copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

 

November Oak.

 November Oak brings me to the end of my one-per-month series of twelve paintings. I’m really pleased with the result. A time honoured subject with a contemporary approach.

Importantly, I can lead you to any one of these trees and you would recognise it from the painting. Unlike the vague “one size fits all” tree paintings of the gallery shops, these function more as portraits, and I hope I’ve captured the character of tree and season alike in each case.

Above: Not the nicest of ways to end my one-painting-per-month year. A heavy cold. I reckon nature has a way of making one stop occasionally, creating a space in which to lie back on the duvet, rest up, and have a think.

All artwork & text copyright Ian G Craig.

 

October Oak. “When shall we three meet again?”

 October is the Halloween month, a sinister, "witchy" time. It is also the season of autumn shades, leaves falling, and the darker nights advancing. There will be lengthening shadows, Nottingham Goose Fair doughnuts to be eaten, pavement leaves to be kicked and conkers to be picked.


All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

September Oak. The days grow short.

There is a famous song lyric: “The leaves of brown came tumbling down, September, that September in the rain”. Great song, but it’s not actually true, or least in the U.K. it’s not. Here I am a couple of weeks into the month, and the leaves on the trees are both abundant and decidedly green. So, whilst still adding a little sienna to the mix to take the brightness out of that green, how best to represent September in this the tenth painting of my series of twelve oaks?

My painting depicts one of those days when the sky is evenly overcast and the air is still and a little humid after the occasional passing shower. Colours are a little more sombre. One of those days where one now knows for sure that, if the sun does make its presence felt again this year, it will probably be only a fleeting visit.

“Oh, it's a long, long while
From May to December
But the days grow short
When you reach September”.

“September in the Rain” Harry Warren and Al Dubin.
“September Song” Kurt Weill lyrics Maxwell Anderson.

All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

July and August Oak Trees, Sherwood Forest.

 

Above left: July. Right: August.

In July you should “make hay while the sun shines”.

“It’s 8.45…” I have a built-in body clock. No need to set the alarm. I now sleep and paint in the smallest room in the house with everything is close by. I roll up the blinds, open the window, drink the last drop of last night’s water and check my phone, all without leaving the duvet. Yesterday’s jeans and t-shirt are within arm’s length on the floor beside. I only change work clothes between paintings. It helps preserve the mood. Such closeness is working for me. Hashtag "prolific". Breakfast is juice, porridge, coffee; Sky news, second coffee, then back upstairs to stand and survey yesterday’s artwork. The year is half over. Am I on course?

July Oak, the eighth in a series of one-per-month acrylic paintings, sees my target for the year well ahead of schedule. Like the others, this oak has depended on fleeting visits into Sherwood Forest, avoiding the current rain. For this one I want to convey a more typical summer. I am pleased with the outcome, the dense green foliage almost obliterating all shape and form in the forest, yet failing to completely disguise the fact these ancient oaks are ageing and fading. My energy for art has not faded.

In August you “reap what you sow”.

It’s still summer, the leaves are still lush and green, but gone are the blooms and blossoms of June and July, and out in the fields the harvesters are busy at work. So, I decided my August Oak would be about the sun setting at the close of a warm summer evening. The holiday season may not yet be over, but the anticipation of its ending is there.


All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

June Oak. More loon than bloom.

The month started cold, dark and breezy. I’m in tune with the cold dark bit. Perhaps not the breezy. On days like that my motivation is low, as if painting wasn’t hard enough at the best of times.

I completed “June Oak” within the first week of the month. Such pieces normally take two or three weeks, working reasonable hours. I think the result is a good one, but one has to question the pressure and isolation caused by such self-imposed deadlines.

 A lot of my resources for this series of paintings were gathered in the winter months, and didn’t address the problem of depicting foliage; a pictorial challenge I find quite daunting. However, I am happy with the solution I came up with and look forward to July and August presenting more of the same. 

All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

April and May Oak Trees Sherwood Forest.

 

Above left: April Oak. (It looks like showers).

April Oak is the 5th in a series of 12 planned acrylic paintings featuring a selection of oak trees from along the path which leads to Robin Hood’s tree (the Major Oak), Edwinstowe. I am pleased with progress and the idea of making 12 paintings all adhering to a common theme, composition, size, and materials. I like having defined parameters to work within.

It is too early in the month to see any significant foliage on the trees, but look closely and you can see blue bells amidst the bracken. I wanted to capture that moment on an otherwise sunny afternoon when one anticipates April showers. Being no stranger to the rain falling on my parade, I think I pulled it off.

Above right: May Oak. (The modest buds of).

The oak tree I selected for my 6th painting of the series has a rather auspicious presence about him. He’s probably the oldest of the twelve I have chosen to depict, and bears many scars. Nevertheless, come the month of May, he still rises to the challenge of the new season ahead, producing fresh buds, stimulating new ideas. I like to think I can identify with that.

As one might expect from such a cantankerous old character, set deep in his roots and his ways, his “portrait” didn’t come easy. Oak trees would seem to show their foliage later than most, and extra visits to Sherwood Forest were necessary to monitor that growth. However, in the end it’s safe to say we were both happy with the outcome.
 

All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

February and March Oak trees, Sherwood Forest.

 

Above left: February. Right: March.

Apart from Valentine’s Day, February is something of a forgotten month. The frosts and snows of winter might have passed, but the dramatic winds of March and the light showers and buds of April are yet to come. Me and February have much in common: We’re both expecting rain.

In February the sun is still low, but the yellow hues it makes along the horizon are more “lemon” than cadmium. The high clouds vary from silver grey to slightly lilac. The low clouds which bring the rain are fast moving, and much darker, almost silhouettes.

 I chose this particular oak for February because of its form, distorted from straining to reach the sunlight between the surrounding birches. It’s quite a dark painting, and proved a bit of a struggle, but it is the painting which emerged from that struggle. I’m always a little disappointed my landscape paintings don’t look like everybody else's in the arts and crafts gallery shops, but if they did, I’d bin them.
 

I thought the colours for March should address those subdued shades as the month sees the green hues of Winter tree trunks take on a browner aspect. My chosen oak tree for this month, shaped by the strong winds of March, continues to reflect the demise of Sherwood Forest. There are no fresh buds on the branches anticipating the coming Spring. That’s true for me to.


 All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

January Oak, last year’s snow.

 

I wonder what normal folk do on New Year's Day? I spent mine painting, making a start on the second of my series of Sherwood Forest oaks. This one has no particular personal message, I simply wanted to have a go at painting snow. The secret would appear to be not in the colour but in the rhythmic patterns it defines along the branches. Although I love painting, it's always really hard work for me. It's like I'm always struggling to find a graphic solution for what's in front of me, as if simple observation isn’t enough.

I visit Sherwood Forest often. At this time of year it is an even more enchanting spectacle than usual. The snow highlights every small detail, whilst turning the sound-scape to an eerie mixture of silent and still. But I have to confess, there was no snow this year, so I had to work from previous resources. “January Oak” is the second in my ongoing series of acrylic paintings.

 
 All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

December Oak. Making a list, checking it twice.

 

In June of this year, I set myself one main objective: To move house by the end of the year, and put all serious artwork on hold until then. However, after four months of paperwork chasing the bungalow of my choice, the deal fell through. In consequence apart from small sketches on Twitter, lethargy set in amidst the packing cases. To break the spell I have decided to embark on the next project: A series of acrylic paintings (one per month) based on the oaks of Sherwood Forest.

My spirits lifted. I am really pleased with this first result. Especially because my natural drawing style is so evident in the painting technique, something I’ve often strived for. I’ve also become a fan of acrylic paints, because they dry so fast one can just get on at pace.

All text, pros, poetry, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

 

On my selfie in june.

Summer failed to arrive on time. Inside, away from the rain, I painted a quick self-portrait instead of making the usual series of (almost) one-a-day sketches. Acrylics on stretched paper, not intended to be anything too permanent. However, I do like the result.

Whilst my painting “Along the A614” is hanging on a wall in Patchings Gallery I received news that I've been chosen for the Claire-Fontaine award. £100 of art materials.

Went to the cinema to see “Behind the Candelabra".

 All text, pros, poetry & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Malt Cross Open Mic.

 

 

At the end of March, 2010, I took a few small snapshots of the Malt Cross Open Mic Night. Music being one of my main interests I thought a series of paintings of Nottingham musicians might prove successful. The acrylic painting above was completed this month.

I’m really happy with it. Yet, as with previous paintings of the Bell Inn jazz band, and the Jam Café reggae group, although the musicians seem as pleased as myself with the work, no-one ever asks if they’re available to buy. Similarly, the Malt Cross didn’t even reply to my request for details about hiring their gallery, whilst the LeftLion newspaper, keen at the outset to publish some of my work for free, I never heard from them again.

All artwork & text copyright Ian G Craig.

Winter changes into Spring.

 

February was too cold to remember what I used to do in February. But I'm sure it didn't involve keeping warm in one room, as the snow piled up outside. It only encouraged me to get up late, put a fire on, and be too easily distracted by menial tasks. Before too long it was time for bed. I hate dark nights.

March began by being bitterly sunny. Last year’s geranium on my bathroom window stretched its neck to impossible heights, trying to reach sunlight, and needing to get new roots into New Year soil. No chance of that yet. I re-assure my hot water bottle it won’t be long before it can return to its summer hibernation spot under the kitchen sink, but every evening further rubber particles from its decaying insides spill out onto the white porcelain basin. I think it’s terminal.

Above: Spring Daffodils. Acrylic painting on brown wrapping paper.

All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Jam Café, Nottingham.

 

 Above: Jam Cafe, Nottingham. Acrylics with collage mixed media.

Out on the town last night. Big wheel on the Market square, Nottingham Contemporary Gallery, and various pubs. Ended the evening in the Jam Cafe listening to a small white reggae combo. Today I stretched some paper ready to do some paintings based on the night.

I walked home afterwards. When I turned the corner into my street who should be there under the streetlamp but Rusty, my spirit friend the fox. She always turns up at significant times. Always a good omen.

Above: Stuck in 2nd, reggae band.

Below: The Jam Cafe sofa.

 

 All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Into the New Year.

 

Latte in the Contemporary Art gallery, before hot soup and bread rolls in the Dragon, then Jazz Night at the Bell Inn, where I wanted to give a photo copy of my Jazz Night painting to the band. (Above). It was received really well. Even the pub management wanted to pin it up. I granted them permission to use it, and provided an internet link where they can download a much better copy. Handshakes all round. A good time was had by all.

Above: An attempt to produce some "commercial" projects. A design that might go on mugs? T-shirts?

All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Creative Collaboration.

 I’ve never either accepted commissions or chosen to do portraits of people I don’t know. For me, using a model is a process based on a level of collaboration rather than instruction. And the nice thing about collaborating with other creatives is it brings out different ideas, encouraging experimentation.

Above: “Under the Bridge” was both a joint venture and an experiment. Outsize masks were made in advance of taking photographs at Lady Bay Bridge, Nottingham, and also on a small pier beside Thoresby Lake. The painting is about how most of us can have two sides to our character.

Above: This large oil pastel drawing was originally intended as a study for a painting, but I thought I’d never capture again the spontaneity of the drawing. The collaboration involved a story-board  communication. I suggested poses via sketches, she provided images to work from. The result is one of my personal favourites.

  

 All text, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Colston Bassett accepted.

 

 

A letterbox full of returned A4 prints usually means rejection. However, this year there was one print missing, "retained by the gallery for internet use". Which means my painting of Colston Basset church has been accepted for the Patchings Art Centre 2009 Exhibition.

Of course, one is then left pondering “Why that one, and not one of the others?” But I can see why: The painting looks like the moment in which it was created. Spontaneous; scant regard for fussy detail in preference for bold brush strokes, colour, contrasting tones, and a striking composition. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that, if any were to be accepted, this one would be it. It’s almost “commercial”.

All text & artworks copyright ian g craig.

Perlethorpe Church

 

I made a drawing of Perlethorpe Church in a very small sketchbook, whilst sat amongst the Duke's graves. Then in my studio I made an acylic painting from the sketch, on stretched brown wrapping paper. My intention was to make an expressive piece, avoiding all photographic references.

EDIT: I returned to this subject, and this view, in January 2017. See THIS LINK.

 All text & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.

Newstead Abbey Fountains

 I returned to Newstead Abbey, where I came two years ago to make studies for a painting. (THIS LINK). This time I didn’t choose the building as my subject, but rather one of the fountains instead. I think the result is much better. I really like painting with acrylics on stretched brown wrapping paper, but then worry that, if it sells, it might be rather too frail to last through the years in someone else's possession.

All text, pros, photos & artwork, copyright Ian Gordon Craig.