I spent Lockdown 1 with my partner in Barons Court. It was great to be in a totally different visual environment and ‘forced’ to really look around me. Initially I focused on the view from one of the windows:
In the absence of a studio, I tried to make the whole house my studio, but I was particularly drawn to the reflections and surfaces in this bathroom:
While I was painting these I also did a bunch of still lifes and sold quite a few as part of the #artistsupportpledge on instagram (do check this out if you’re looking for some very affordable art – nothing is more than 200 pounds/dollars/euros):
Towards the end I ventured out to do this commissioned painting of Palliser Road:
Meanwhile, when not painting, I took lots of photographs in Margravine Cemetery:
Everything was going fine, until I was abducted by a mad hairdresser:
Hope you’re all well – Lockdown 2 post coming soon!
Still life with chair (and Sophocles), Oil on Canvas, 48 x 30 inches
Just before Christmas I was asked to talk to The Attic, part of Obelisk Legal Solutions, about my portraits. The talk ended up being much more philosophical than I had envisioned, and made me ask myself why I paint portraits at all. But before I dealt with that question, I had to answer another one: what exactly is a portrait? In my head at least, portraiture is a very broad category, the reason for this is that I’m very anthropomorphic when I paint still life. Often, my reason for painting a still life is that I don’t have a model – in other words, I’m trying to replace a human being. This painting of a chair is a good example: it’s an inanimate object, but rich in human associations. I found it on a rubbish tip behind my local library (no doubt the library has replaced it with a nice plastic chair). After I brought it home, I did what I often do with props: I let it sit in my studio for a very long time before I painted it.
Studio props need time to settle in. I have a collection of favourite props. The blue dressing-gown is one. I’ve painted both my father and myself in it. The vases on the windowsill have been hanging out in the studio for at least a decade. The plant is relatively new, but has shown itself to be tough and durable (both necessary qualities for surviving under my plant-care regime). The bust of Sophocles belonged to a friend who kept it outside on his balcony (I salvaged it when his flat was being cleared after his death). I had had the bust for many years when one day I happened to turn it over and discovered that there was a bird’s nest inside it. All these ‘human’ factors’ make me feel as though I’m painting a portrait – or even a group portrait – rather than just a still life.
Although I tried to convince my audience at Obelisk that a still life was just a portrait in disguise, they weren’t having it; so I put that argument to one side, and asked them whether they thought a painting of a person which did not show that person’s eyes was a portrait. They had a good answer: that kind of portrait is voyeuristic, and therefore not really a portrait – a portrait is a picture of a person where the artist and the sitter are engaged with each other. That’s why it’s often important to be able to see the sitter’s eyes.
I agree with all of this up to a point. One of the first things I have to decide when painting someone is whether to have them looking at me or looking somewhere else (e.g. out of the window). If they are looking at me, there is an automatic engagement, but getting them to look elsewhere can be a good way of making them less guarded and self-conscious, all of which is good, because ultimately my aim is to see behind any social mask, to see the human factor.
The discussion about the importance of eyes, gave me an excellent segue to show them the portrait I did of my friend George Amponsah, a documentary film-maker, which featured in the BP portrait awards back in 2003. The eyes were particularly important in this picture. Not long before I painted it, I had watched the Woody Allen film ‘Broadway Danny Rose’. I found it intriguing that Mia Farrow played the lead role without ever removing her sunglasses. When I painted George I let his eyes be almost completely obscured by the reflection on his glasses. I felt that having a partial mask could, far from hiding a person’s true nature, be in itself an expression of human vulnerability.
George is himself a great exponent of ‘the human factor’. His latest film, The Hard Stop, recently nominated for a National Film Award, follows the lives of two friends of the late Mark Duggan in the aftermath of his killing (the killing, by police, that sparked the Tottenham riots). The film was partly criticised in the Evening Standard for being one-sided (‘…this fascinating, well-shot, strongly committed and wholly unbalanced documentary on Duggan’s death and his friends and family in Tottenham’). But to me this was missing the point. The film was openly, deliberately one-sided. This gave it time to focus on the job of humanising a part of society that is too often de-humanised. This seems to me to be the hallmark of all George’s films. Not a kind of PC ‘let’s not be judgemental’ – more a willingness and an openness to see beyond superficial appearances at the struggling human being underneath.
You can see a trailer for The Hard Stop here.
John (2015), Oil on Canvas, 24 x 18 inches
Since I’m showing two portraits here, painted 15 years apart, I had thought I might make some reference to Shakespeare’s ‘Seven Ages of Man’ speech from As You Like It, but when I re-read it, I realised that nothing in the speech is very flattering e.g: “The sixth age shifts/Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,/With spectacles on nose and pouch on side/His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide/For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice/Turning again toward childish treble, pipes/And whistles in his sound”. Seems a bit unfair.
I recently very much enjoyed talking about my personal take on painting portraits to a breakfast club organised by Obelisk Legal Support Solutions. I would like to describe that in detail in my next post, but in the meantime you can read a summary on the Obelisk blog: http://theattic.london/2015/11/27/whats-in-a-portrait/
Those of you who subscribed to my blog at http://paulwuenscheart.wordpress.com, will notice that I have shifted the location of my blog to my main website. I have moved your subscriptions with it, so when I post you will automatically get a link to this blog address (www.paulwuensche.com) – not to the old one. Thanks again for following me – I hope I can keep this interesting and entertaining.
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Finally, I’d very much like to thank my piano teacher Phil Best, for setting up this new website. At some point I would like to do a post about the relationship between music and painting, but in the meantime if you like music and want to feel inspired please take a look at http://philbestmusic.com. Also, I especially recommend Phil’s performances on SoundCloud e.g. Clair de Lune
Nadia, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 16 inches
Cyclamen, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 16 inches
Hartland Quay, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 24 inches
Spent another 10 days in Devon with the Old Street group, exploring Dartmoor and the North Devon coast.
Hartland Point, Oil on Canvas, 12 x 12 inches
We didn’t have great weather this time, even though it was July. However, I found a place where you can paint even when it’s raining. The Two Bridges Hotel in Dartmoor, a charming old family-run hotel, that has hosted among other people, the actress Vivien Leigh, has a gazebo next to a stone bridge that forms part of its driveway. This allowed me to work on this painting for a good two and a half hours without getting wet:
The Bridge at the Two Bridges Hotel, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 24 inches
We did find one more place to paint under shelter: the beach at Welcombe has caves in the cliff face. If you’re an artist and you’re seeking to increase the value of your stock by dying an early and romantic death, this is a good place to set up your easel: while you’re busy establishing exactly the right shade of rose-tinted grey, the tide will come roaring in and swallow you up:
Welcombe Mouth Beach, Oil on Canvas, 18 x 24 inches
The figure in the middle is not in fact an artist fighting off the waves with his palette, he is a German surfer and travelling fire-throwing/swallowing (artist), the kind of person you often bump into in North Devon.
Lastly, during a brief interlude in the British July rainy season, I painted this sitting on the dunes at Bude beach:
Bude beach, Oil on Canvas, 16 x 20 inches
Ronald Board, Oil on Canvas, 20 x 24 inches
Spent last weekend in the village of Coombe Raleigh in Devon. We were surrounded by beautiful countryside but I couldn’t resist painting this wonderful face instead.