Nearby to my home, is the St Edmunds church yard. The church building was demolished a few decades ago, for seemingly no good reason. I've always loved the squat presence that the photos of it show, and it's quite sad that it's gone. However the church bells migrated to the Wellington Cathedral in New Zealand, which I think is a lovely touch.
In the small town of Merthyr Tydfil, this is the remaining synagogue out of the three that were established. Left to it's own fate, it's currently in the midst of being restored.
Not sure I did it justice, but still quite like it.
This is the site of the current...ahem coach stop on Victoria Street. Only seen in photos, I've drawn this shoe factory and painted it, and people tell me it was lovely to look at.
On the left where the large factory has a low terrace adjoining; in the second pic below, the view point is from the site of the terrace...I think.
The large windows show where this is. Halfway through demolition, the municipal buildings in the back ground on the right. I love the effort I had to draw the rubbish, it was a bit uniform in the original photo.
I would have done a third one showing the bland thing they knocked it all down for...but not going to.
It can't be unnoticed that the moon appears a lot in my drawings. A favourite view of the inner harbour at Penzance is subject to an imaginary appearance. While I've walked past this view at night often, I do not recall it in moonlight.
So a photo caught my eye and my first thought was I wanted to draw the windows. I think it’s Antwerp, but I wouldn’t swear in court!
Saw a photo of this scene years ago and kept it in my ‘to do’ list. If you don’t know the street, it’s changed completely as it’s now the back entrance to the Premiere Inn near the theatre. There is something about the houses being slowly demolished a bit of a time which made me feel quite sad.
The houses would have had a great view of the river valley that is gone because of St John’s car park, but then it had a train line near by which might have distracted.
The church who’s bells I can hear when I’m in my garden. Walk past frequently, often more than once a day. Special sense of the world when near, nothing to do with Christianity. When drawing the sky, I wanted to give a sense of seeing more than the darkness. The night sky and the moon often pull my gaze and hold my attention endlessly. Bit of a ham fisted go at capturing this watching, but really happy with it.
Fascinated with the grainy photograph I saw in the paper of a street I know really well. The view is not easy to see anymore because there is a multi storey car park and a college now nestling up to the buildings.
Many of the buildings still exist; the one behind the two buildings with the thin triangular wings has gone. The small row of terraces at the end have gone for the raised exit from the car park. The rest remain, in various states of repair or use.
Some of the best drawings turn up when you just relax into them and don’t worry about how they turn up.
The card: My originally planned picture didn't work, so I hurriedly threw this together. Growing up in Wales, St Illtyd's (Brnythel) was a very short and steep walk up from our house. In my childhood it was locked away and unloved, but I have an early memory of my father taking me in when it was open (sometime in the late 60s or early 70s). The location feels very welcoming and special, and although the church is old, I always thought they built it there because of how special the place was. Has a round church yard, which makes it Norman, but as a place of worship before they came I reckon and allegedly has Roman connections. Once I left home the local community among others, agitated slightly and a much needed restoration was finally completed and if you get the chance to get in one afternoon when it's open, you won't be disappointed. Its plain and simple and during my family history reseach I discovered relatives who were married there, and they would probably find it very recognisable.
One day as a teenager, for some mysterious reason, I climbed the short hill in the snow and cold to visit. I didn't stay long, it was bitter, but it was the only time I have ever seen the Milky Way and the painting comes from that memory. Obviously couldn't capture the memory well, the stars are dense and multi-coloured: a memory I return too often in mediation.
Not really picked up my pens this year apart from practice and doodles. However I have done a few long-standing projects. This was inspired by a snow covered picture of Hebden Bridge. All freehand and pleasantly got there in the end. Because of the snow it looks quite empty so consider this just a practice.
While my drawing style has settled quite well, it’s rare I challenge myself to go into new directions. An offhand comment to a friend that I hadn’t done a self portrait for ages meant the start of something new.
I most certainly didn’t want to paint in the style of my periodic xmas cards, which I always consider just to be drawing with paint. So it had to be a bit more abstract than I used to….and honest!
The inner core of the portrait is where I go when I meditate. I don’t sit in this slightly odd position, but the pose aims to show that I think. The all over blue was a conscious decision to take me out of realness, but I like to think it accidentally was linking to Celtic roots and the paint that warriors used before battle.
When I sit on the banks of the Nene in Becket’s Park, I get a real sense of niceness that this river can be used to reach my birthplace. My origin and my adopted home seems like a circle completed. The grass and flowers represent the summer evenings within my mind, and often where I end up when within myself.
My enduring memory of hot summers as a child in Wales, are the mountains almost baked yellow in the dry heat, but the hedges and fields remaining green. At the top the old, old church of St Illtydd’s the end of many a walk.
St Michaels Mount is there showing the other side of my roots, and as I generally see it in the winter, the waves are high and white.
The stone ring, the waterfall and the green hill is the landscape of my soul. Not reachable by physical means, I find it sometimes in my dreams or my internal
My earliest memories include me cuddling my teddy as a baby and unable to sleep under a full moon when seen through my window. The sense she was alive and watching me and not to be afraid of has never left me.
One winter’s night as a teenager I climbed the hill towards the old church. The winter was bitter, dry and windless and pitch black. I have no idea why I was out. As I reached the hill top the Milky Way was above my head. A huge band of millions of diamonds stretching across the sky I was entranced. Not seen before or since, the memory is a place to retreat to when restless and seeking peace.
Covid means that the gates have been shut far more than ever before, which for some reason made the drawing more appealing.
So you don’t do much over lockdown, but a couple of days a week I get a coffee on the way back from the shops. Cutting across by the theatre, you hit Albion Place. The windows don’t get the right proportions completely and I almost abandoned the drawing. As is often the case though, carrying on just for practice releases you from expectation and often means a nice result.
What to do if you still like producing a seasonal card even if you’re not Christian? Why, fill it full of different things.
I feel very linked to the moon, so it hangs proudly. The dark winter sky and the snow signifies the end of the year. The blazing lights in the factory remind of the warmth and growth to come. I love Northampton as a place that shelters me well, so honour that love with one of it’s former buildings.
And the two blokes manhandling the tree in the office is the echo of the Yule celebrations of the past.
So almost a year into the virus, it’s strange to think I’ve not been more than a half an hour walk from my front door. The Racecourse in town has been the place I generally walk around the most, and the gradual shift through the seasons has been lovingly noticed.
The corner of Kiln Brick Lane is the point in the walk where I turn for home, and has always been one of my favourite places. In the picture I’ve not drawn the trees and bushes in the real life expanse from the summer as there would be no buildings! And of course I’ve removed from the picture the modern street furniture in my usual quest to make modern Northampton look like older Northampton.
Could you draw me a church a friend said. Give me a picture I said. Did a postcard sketch and sent it off with the comment “ignore the obvious mistakes, I’ll sort them.” She wanted a full sized picture. I sent it off. I asked her to send me a photo of it framed. She paid for it with some nice brownies
Another set of postcards. Two of Northampton shoe factories (one demolished, one surviving) and a rare picture from home.
