Oil Paintings
Oil paints were not used a great deal at Chelsea in the 60's, it was all P.V.A. and pigments on raw cotton duck. I didn't really discover oils until I moved to the countryside of North Essex and, even then, I started to explore the landscape using primarily watercolour.
As a boy I had visited Winchester School on some sports fixture. I remember the fantastic smell of linseed oil as I was shown their art rooms by my opposite number. It seemed then a fabulous art department with some wonderful work on the walls. When I started at F.S.S.W I remembered my school boy experience and one of my first decisions was to bin all of the tablet poster paints, introduce acrylics to the lower school and, of course, oil paints for the 6th Formers. Firstly we used emulsioned card as a support but soon stretcher making and canvas priming was very much part of the art room activity.
I had to stay at least one step ahead so my little semi-detached cottage became a hive of oil painting experimentation and learning. I read up on the old masters' techniques and practiced more modern direct approaches. I loved it - oil paints suited me perfectly. My own painting sprang forward and I haven't looked back; I still love the smell of linseed oil and I still get excited squeezing out paint from tubes.
As a boy I had visited Winchester School on some sports fixture. I remember the fantastic smell of linseed oil as I was shown their art rooms by my opposite number. It seemed then a fabulous art department with some wonderful work on the walls. When I started at F.S.S.W I remembered my school boy experience and one of my first decisions was to bin all of the tablet poster paints, introduce acrylics to the lower school and, of course, oil paints for the 6th Formers. Firstly we used emulsioned card as a support but soon stretcher making and canvas priming was very much part of the art room activity.
I had to stay at least one step ahead so my little semi-detached cottage became a hive of oil painting experimentation and learning. I read up on the old masters' techniques and practiced more modern direct approaches. I loved it - oil paints suited me perfectly. My own painting sprang forward and I haven't looked back; I still love the smell of linseed oil and I still get excited squeezing out paint from tubes.
I'm currently working on some large pictures linked to some recent travelling that I have done. The thousands of years of culture that Turkey has lying around on its coastal areas. Walking through hot herb scented bush land and olive groves one comes across Greek and Etruscan foundations and carved stonework; the past comes rushing back, time vanishes - something that really excites me.
In Egypt it was the clash of different cultures and ethnic groups that I felt most. The beautiful, proud Bedouin men in their white or pale blue djellabaya with their red and white smaggs or plain white aymenma held on their heads by brightly coloured twisted cord loops. Rarely do you see the women but, when you do, they wear long black abaya with their heads covered by a dark tarha. These robes often cover brightly coloured dresses which are only revealed in their homes.
The Bedouins, now only semi-nomadic, still have few possessions that cannot be transported. A good tent has a much greater value than bricks and mortar; a beautifully woven carpet is a prized item, as is a delicate tea set. Kate and I were invited into Manir's house to have tea with his wife, his brother and various others of his extended family. We sat under a palm canopy, on a rug and we attempted to chat to this family group. We managed a bit and eventually left feeling humbled by their real kindness.
In contrast is the brash and harsh holiday making sea front areas. Stalls and shops, cafes and music. Not many step off the shopping malls and take time to wander and see how the Egyptians really live, but it's worth it. Goats, cats, half built houses, open fronted general stores full of vegetables, water bottles and tethered sheep soon to be festival food. The huge range of smells - some horrid, some delicious -the various strange sounds, the textures and colours, the plastic bottles, all so very different from Saffron Walden.
In Egypt it was the clash of different cultures and ethnic groups that I felt most. The beautiful, proud Bedouin men in their white or pale blue djellabaya with their red and white smaggs or plain white aymenma held on their heads by brightly coloured twisted cord loops. Rarely do you see the women but, when you do, they wear long black abaya with their heads covered by a dark tarha. These robes often cover brightly coloured dresses which are only revealed in their homes.
The Bedouins, now only semi-nomadic, still have few possessions that cannot be transported. A good tent has a much greater value than bricks and mortar; a beautifully woven carpet is a prized item, as is a delicate tea set. Kate and I were invited into Manir's house to have tea with his wife, his brother and various others of his extended family. We sat under a palm canopy, on a rug and we attempted to chat to this family group. We managed a bit and eventually left feeling humbled by their real kindness.
In contrast is the brash and harsh holiday making sea front areas. Stalls and shops, cafes and music. Not many step off the shopping malls and take time to wander and see how the Egyptians really live, but it's worth it. Goats, cats, half built houses, open fronted general stores full of vegetables, water bottles and tethered sheep soon to be festival food. The huge range of smells - some horrid, some delicious -the various strange sounds, the textures and colours, the plastic bottles, all so very different from Saffron Walden.
