I've done 6 new paintings this week, all on hardboard, all about the same size, and all with a black frame.

This isn't new, i've done a black frame before, i did a whole series of them back in 2006, on the first year of my course. Then i wasn't quite sure what the point was, it was sort of vague, i liked old films, i liked the cinema screen, and the blackness surrounding a projection, and that was the influence. And most of the images inside of the screen where stolen/copied from films. And i played around a bit by inserting frames inside others, and having 20 frames side by side all took from a film noir, which admittedly people do like.

 

 

But now, that black frame is more than just the influence of film coming through. I actually see it as quite an effective way of making a painting.. for me. I almost liken it to Baselitz (who i love) turning all his paintings upside down. The frame isn't being explained or accented, its just there, it doesn't matter what picture goes inside it, it's just taken for granted that this frame surrounds it. Its like a negative, its looking into a viewfinder, it cuts off the image from the world even more, as there is a definite gap between whats 'out there' and painted here. It's almost like my whole style, whatever is 'me' in a painting, has been reduced to that frame. It gives me free reign to paint whatever the hell i like inside of it, it's still got my imprint on it because of that blackness (maybe i'll do other coloured frames.

 

Maybe it won't stay forever, maybe it's just a transitional phase i'm going through, maybe it's cheating, but it's simple and it's effective, so simple that it borders on cheesy, it might be no more than a macguffin, a 'rosebud', a regretful little quirk, a trick that gets it noticed, which in the end means nothing very much, and certainly requires that there be more substance on the image within. But that's the point i suppose, that's the problem; people notice tricks, they very rarely notice substance, not unless they're exposed to it for a long amount of time... After three years of roaming around Manchester Art Gallery, it was only in the last year that i started to notice the better paintings that i'd ignored the rest of the time. But it was the bolder, quirkier, dumber paintings which made me come back for more. And maybe this is me trying to find a happy compromise between dumb but attractive prettiness, and something more, both within the same image.

 

It's blunt, and i like that. So for now, it stays.

Panic on the streets of dudley

Last couple of weeks i've had the unstoppable feeling that its all going to shit.. I've sort of set myself on this tightrope; i have to be a painter, if i dont succeed as a painter i'm fucked - i have no back up plan. This is worrying, especially as i can't even get a simple job as a courier.. But, times are hard, jobwise, times are always hard otherwise. Hope things pick up soon though, can't paint without money.

 Anyway, found these two out recently, they're about 4 or 5 years old, did them on foundation course. Ones of my grandad, the others of me. And its made me think that maybe my painting skill has deteriorated since going to uni, as these are pretty good, and its been a while since i've done something as good.

This also is from college, the same year as the paintings, and its nothing like the stuff i do now. Maybe i've been conditioned by uni, or maybe thats an easy thing to say, a way of stopping myself looking at the truth.. maybe i just wasn't that good to begin with. And the good that i did produce, was a product of a specific time and place, influenced mainly by the people that surrounded me.

Sorry for the barrage of images, but these are the most recent ones, the ones that i think are better than the others, and i've done a lot. Looking at them now they don't seem too bad, but then why is nobody buying them? why have i got no leads? possibly because the right people aren't seeing them, which would be my fault.. Maybe i'm just having a moan, maybe this is one 'blog' to delete in the future.

There is this though;

 

This probably doesnt mean much to anybody else. Its a painting i havent seen in 15 years, if not more. It hung in what is now my dad's lounge, but back then it was his parents. And as a kid i remember seeing it all the time, being fascinated by it, much as i was fascinated by the deep dark cellar which had lemonade at the top, the outside toilet, the magnetic bluebottle, and the huge sideboard thing, most of those stuff have gone, burnt, rebuilt, or whatever. BUt the painting is there, leaning against a pigeon pen in the rain and the snow and all that, cracked, spoilt and irrepairable. And when i look at it i always associate it with my nan, who i never really knew, but she seemed nice; and there was a song, i dont know now how it went, something about 'holding hands', or something or other.