We got so much done this morning before heading off to my audiology appointment. Unfortunately I’d left my letter pinned on the pinboard and as they run a no-login ‘wait until called’ system it wasn’t until thirty-five minutes later that I realised I’d turned up forty-five minutes late.
Not surprising after a week of meetings. But things at last seem to be settling down.
The wait did give me more than the usual amount of time to do one of my innumerable waiting room drawings. I was particularly pleased to make as start on this page as this is the last spread in my Wainwright sketchbook. Yippee!
I never liked the paper but its shortcomings have forced me to try crayons again because watercolour bleeds through. I’m so looking forward to a fresh sketchbook. It couldn’t have come at a better time with spring and fewer commitments ahead.
I wouldn’t normally draw that cliche of drawing journals, the pepper and salt pots, as we waited for our meal in Frankie & Benny’s but I was keen to bring the Wainwright sketchbook to a conclusion. I started it in the dentist’s waiting room, drawing the goldfish, on 23 May 2013. I feel as if I’ve spent half my life in waiting rooms since then!
I knew that it would be easy to finish off this last spread this evening at the pantomime, bringing the book to a suitably upbeat conclusion.
The scenery worked well, our attempts at perspective created a sense of stylised space and I liked the way the cottage, made from a couple of small canvas-covered panels, extended the scenery into real space, allowing for a slapstick routine using its door and window.
But, if anything, the perspective painted door on the backdrop, with its gleaming rivets and chunky black hinges, looked more realistic than the real door on the cottage.
You can’t believe anything you see in a pantomime.
You ask me why the stony face? Well, you’d look like that in my place; I sit at table 23 But no one seems to notice me. Five hundred years at Blacker Hall And now I’m stuck here in this wall! Most gargoyles have a tusk or horn, No wonder I feel so folorn; They gave me something else instead, A bloomin’ ridge-tile on my head!
I hadn’t spotted this small carving in the converted barn at Blacker Hall until we happened to sit at table 23 in the farm shop cafe.
Drawing from the left side I assumed this was a clean-shaven man or a child. It was only when I drew the pencil sketches above from some photographs we’d taken that I realised, especially when seen from the right, that this looks more like a woman.
She reminds me of Tenniel’s drawing of the Queen of Hearts in the trial scene in Alice in Wonderland. A Wikipedia article suggests that Tenniel based his drawing on a stained glass window painting of of Elizabeth de Mowbray, Duchess of Norfolk (c. 1442-1507)
Tenniel’s Queen of Hearts
which means that roof-shaped headpieces were in fashion towards the end of the Wars of the Roses. I’m sure that Blacker Hall dates back to that time and the weathering on the bedding in the sandstone suggests that the carving has been subject to the elements for hundreds of years.
I’ve been trying to imagine what kind of character ‘Roofus’, or as I now realise ‘Roofina’ would be.
We went to see the Aardman Animation movie Shaun the Sheep today and I thought that I’d try to work up the gargoyle into an Aardman style character. That’s not so easy as they make it look. If you do get to see the movie, it’s worth making the effort to sit out the credits as they’re illustrated with what look like production sketches of the characters.
If I had the time and enough Newplast modelling clay I’d try modelling her.
Developing Roofina as a medieval character didn’t seem to work. I think that it’s important that she remains a gargoyle (although I guess intended to be a fashionably dressed lady of the period, not anything scary).
I imagined the male version of the character, Roofus, grumbling about his film career as a gargoyle extra;
‘I auditioned for The Lion in Winter and, would you believe it, they used French gargoyles for that title sequence! Talk about overacting! And a couple of them hadn’t even called in at make-up to get their cobwebs removed!’
Or the least worst of the bunch. Drawing bananas is one thing but drawing them foreshortened is tricky. I found myself triangulating the black flower scars, as if I was looking for the pattern of a constellation. The repeated curves are more difficult to relate to each other.
I turned them around and tried an easier angle.
Wetherby market last Thursday
The banana is, botanically speaking, a berry, as is the kiwi fruit. The onion is a bulb.
I got a chance to draw an old cherry and a Ficus benjamina (an artificial office plant version) on my travels recently.
There are now only three double-page spreads to go in my old sketchbook, then I can make a fresh start for the spring!
With the village scene finished, this afternoon we swivelled around the eight flats that make up the backdrop and my helpers obliterated Robinson Crusoe’s desert island.
This gave me chance to elaborate on yesterday’s rough of the palace. Taking a piece of cartridge of the same proportions as the backdrop, I divided it up into the eight rectangles of the individual flats then transferred the perspective from the rough, keeping it blocky so that I can scale it up onto the flats themselves.
The timber framework of cross-members of the flats is just visible beneath the canvas, which gives me a handy horizontal grid, which I’ve indicated with pencil lines.
I borrowed a carpenter’s pencil and began mapping out the whole thing on the flats themselves, starting on the right (stage left), the most critical area, and projecting the radiating perspective to the left. This will be a giant-sized paint by numbers for my team next weekend. They’ll soon have it blocked out in with the ‘W’, ‘Y’ and ‘B’ that I’ve indicated; white, yellow and a light pastel blue. If we can establish the structure we can then enjoy working up the details.
As I put it on Facebook this morning; ‘we’re aiming high today; for the Palace think Mad King Ludwig of Bavaria, something that’s going to make Versailles look tatty. And we’ve got real gold paint, no, not the spray version, that’s a fire risk so we can’t use it on stage. Wouldn’t it be great to produce a set that when the curtains open the audience is stunned into a hushed ‘wow!’ Never happened yet but who knows, this year . . .’
My first rough idea for the Palace of the Golden Egg in this year’s Pageant Players’ pantomime, Mother Goose, was to keep things simple and have three arches with pillars suggesting farmyard geese with a webfooted base and a beaky capital but I remembered reading somewhere that if you’re going draw a background at least go for an interesting perspective.
My next design shows the palace in perspective and this time, in addition to goosefoot bases, I’ve got egg-shaped windows and ormolu mirrors and a poached egg colour scheme of yellow/gold and white, plus a pastel blue as a colour contrast to represent shading.
However, Wendy the producer tells me that we’re starting with the village scene today. Last year we were in Robinson Crusoe’s Rio to I’m obliterating its bougainvillea festooned taverna, shutters and pan-tiles with a Cotswolds barn inspired by the film of Into the Woods, a double-fronted half-timbered house and, as a contrast in shape, a thatched Georgian shop based on the Roundhouse on Queen Street, Horbury.
I painted the brown outlines but luckily I’ve got a team of young helpers waiting to help colour it in.
I like to keep life simple and my sketches are usually line first, then colour. And that’s it. But here I wanted to indicate form too. I’m not good at multitasking so could I simplify the process to three discrete stages; line, form then colour? It didn’t quite work out.
Using the Tower Pen nib in the dip pen and brown Noodlers’ Ink, I drew the orange pepper first then added a tonal wash in paynes grey. Blue sits opposite orange on the colour wheel, so I guessed that a wash of orange over the greenish-blue Paynes grey would add form without throwing the colour off-key. The Paynes grey should theoretically work as an neutral shade. It’s not such a bad solution to the problem but the drawback is that I’ve lost the transparency of the orange. I’d like something more luminous.
For the tomatoes I remembered the advice of botanical illustrator Agathe Ravet-Haevermans; lightest colours first. The tomatoes started as an overall pale golden yellow, omitting only the highlight. The calyxes and stalks started as an ochre yellow. I prefer this approach because what I might lose in sculptural solidity is made up for in more luminosity. The white of the paper is still able to show through. A tonal under-drawing of Paynes grey would be more suitable for an architectural subject.
Bananas have long been problem for me. What colour is dark yellow? Again I started with an all over pale lemon yellow and instead of having neutral shadows I looked carefully to try and see the hints of green and sepia reflected in the yellow.
Snow aside, I’m starting to feel the urge to set out on adventures again, armed with a fresh travel sketchbook. As I’m always tempted when I see a different kind of sketchbook, I now have a drawer-full to choose from, ranging from one from Amsterdam which has handmade Thai paper to a waterproof notebook with its own graphite stick.
Industrial unit seen from Birstall Retail Park.
But my next travelling companion is going to have to be the Moleskine 8×5¼ inch sketchbook, which I bought from the 1893 Gallery shop in Salts Mill last summer and which I’ve been looking forward to getting started on ever since. I’ve never used a Moleskine sketchbook before and I’m guessing that it’s not going to be brilliant for watercolour but its advantage over my regular Pink Pig is that, lacking a spiral binding, it slots snugly into my A5 format art bag without getting snagged on the inner pockets or the zip fastening.
Only twelve pages to go in my Wainwright sketchbook, so it shouldn’t be too long before I can set off with my new ‘Legendary Notebook’.
Sketchbooks & Notebooks
Those sketchbooks and notebooks from the top to the bottom of the pile;
Sherlock Holmes Letterpress notebooks
waterproof notebook
two A6 landscape Pink Pigs
ECO Grey recycled leather Freewriters in A6 and A5
Moleskine Sketchbook
Yodels of Kendal watercolour spiral bound hardback
A5 Pink Pig
Olino ‘Karen Hill Tribe’ sketchbook with handmade paper from Thailand
Daler Rowney Lyndhurst High White 10 x 7 inch spiral bound pad.
It was the tin that attracted me but we used the Royal Baking Powder years ago and it ended up, like the treacle and syrup tins that sit alongside it at the end of my bookshelves, as a pot for pens. I have an awful lot of pens. This little tin usually has a dowdy assortment of fibre tips in it but I’ve done the pen equivalent of flower arranging to make it more interesting for me to draw.
Some of the pens are in need of refills but I’ve listed each working pen – using each pen – on the right. For the drawing itself I used a uni-ball gel grip, which, unlike them, doesn’t bleed through the absorbent paper of my current about town sketchbook (yep, still the Wainwright one, when will get to the end of it?).
The smooth-haired fox terrier paper knife was what my parents used in the 1950s and early 60s until they went for something more practical in steel.
Royal Baking Powder is made in Spain by United Biscuits Iberia S.L., Montornés del Vallés, Barcelona. It contains the raising agents disodium diphosphate and sodium bicarbonate, plus some maize starch.
All this talk of Barcelona and Baking Powder, makes me want to make a cake. How about the Nutty Magdalenas recipe from Sophie Ruggles My Barcelona Kitchen?
After a busy day it’s relaxing to sit down, listen to a few episodes of Plants; from Roots to Riches, and draw just for fun. I have a habit of clearing my desk prior to starting any project. Sometimes it makes a change to enjoy the accumulated clutter.
Of all the vintage pen nibs that I tried recently I didn’t come across a bad one for drawing. This was drawn with the last one I tried, the Tower Pen, and it’s as good as any. It’s a lot easier to draw without a camera fixed above my sketchbook!
I’m enjoying trying out these vintage nibs and this latest is as good as any I’ve tried so far – or am I getting more accustomed to drawing with a dip pen?
The Tower Pen No.11 was manufactured by F. Collins & Co Ltd, Prestwich, Manchester. I’m lucky to have box full each (144 nibs) of the gilt and bronze versions, in fact the bronze version is unopened. Enough nibs to last me a lifetime, provided I live to be 250 years old and draw every day!
I’d characterise this nib as being the most elegant I’ve tried so far, so I’d have to imagine Henry James writing with it rather than Bob Cratchit.
That bloomin’ booklouse makes another walk-on appearance! I blew him off the sketchbook but no doubt he or she will trundle across my sketchbook again the next time I’m filming.