The piece on which I’m working at the moment reminds me of one of those crazy fairground rides such as the “Big Dipper” at the Pleasure Beach in Blackpool, where I spent part of my childhood. It is a series of exhilarating ascents followed by truly worrying descents. I commented a little while back on the fact that I had decided to abandon a picture, but then shortly afterwards decided that it could be rehabilitated. The story continues.
Having decided that it was going to be possible to recover the piece in question I spent ages making a succession of small improvements to it, encouraged by a remark of my wife’s that she quite liked it. There was always a niggling feeling that, despite these advances, all was not well, until, quite suddenly, I saw a major improvement that needed to be addressed. I threw myself into this task, and all seemed to be going well, if slowly, until yesterday. I realised that there was a serious inconsistency in the way the light fell across the landscape. Should I just throw in the towel and find something else to do?
Often I find that my sleep at night is interrupted, and I will be wide awake at two in the morning. Under these circumstances I have discovered that there is nothing else for it other than to get up and do something. I might read, or write, or (as one this occasion) think about a piece of art-work.* On going into the studio I found myself looking again at the incomplete picture on the easel, and then at the reference photograph from which I had drawn the original idea. Quite suddenly, once again, I had the feeling that there really was a way in which I could introduce consistency into the chiaroscuro without too much drama, and actually strengthen the composition at the same time.
Today has been too busy with other domestic commitments for me to be able to do anything artistic, although I’m hoping that tomorrow I might have time to explore this new idea. Am I on the path towards the sunny uplands of completion? Or will this be another false hope? Heaven only knows! I can’t remember an occasion on which a picture has passed through such a crazy series of changes of direction and fortune.
*This is a long-term pattern in my life and it certainly doesn’t worry me. It goes back to the writing of my MA dissertation, most of which was written at night. That’s just the way I am.