Recreating Caravaggio's Doubting Thomas...

...with Playmobil.

Of course.

More nonsense here.

Top Ten Paintings

Now, because it's Friday, I thought I'd compile a list for a bit of fun.  A list of my Top Ten Paintings.

Obviously there are a lot of paintings out there, so perhaps I should lay down a few criteria here.  

• Only one painting allowed on the list from each artist (otherwise it would just be a list of Caravaggios). (Oops - I've given one away, haven't I?)
• I must have seen the real thing - not just as a illustration.
• These have to be paintings that when you see them, they have a real emotional punch.  You look and look at them and can't take your eyes of them.
• You want them.

So here goes - in reverse order.

Oh, and I'll leave you to come up with the artists, titles, dates and location of the paintings.  They're all pretty easy.  Answers on Monday.

Actually, this has been quite an interesting exercise.  No landscape, and they're all pretty much red.

Of course, it could all be a different selection of ten tomorrow, or next week.  And I'm sure there's just masses of paintings that I just can't bring to mind right at the moment, which I will be kicking myself for having forgotten about.

What would you choose?  Feel free to post your lists.

Death of John Bellany

I was sad to read on the front page of The Herald today of the death of one of Scotland's most famous artists, John Bellany. 

His work was strongly rooted in his Port Seton fishing community childhood, and was full of eerie mystical characters who seemed to be involved in some sort of great mythical elemental struggle, often portrayed in his characteristic palette of strong reds and yellow hues.

 John Bellany, Celtic Allegory (Oil on canvas)

This is The Ventriloquist, from 1983. 

John Bellany, The Ventriloquist © the Artist's Estate / Bridgeman Art Library. All rights reserved

Forming out of agitated brushwork, a skeletal figure holds up two skate, which seem to be acting as the mouthpiece for the dead person.  But it is difficult to make out what they are trying to communicate.  It is as if those who have been through the rigours of storms and who have died at sea are trying to speak, but can't quite be understood.  It is as if the dead are amongst the living, and the past is continually within the present.  

Thus all that is in Bellany's life finds its expression and outpouring in his very personal work.

The 1980s were a time of great personal crises for Bellany, including health problems of three heart attacks (one outside his own exhibition) and a liver transplant.  Famously, he even painted whilst he was in hospital, gravely ill.  His illness became a subject for artistic exploration, even though he was near death.

John Bellany Self-Portrait with Oxygen Mask (from ʼThe Addenbrookes Hospital Seriesʼ) (1988) © the Artist's Estate/ Bridgeman Art Library. All rights reserved

Now a statement on his official website says: 

"It is with great sadness that we announce the passing of a true Scottish giant.  At seventeen minutes past seven on the evening of Wednesday August 28 John passed away, in his studio, surrounded by his family.  He was clutching a paint brush in his hand as he took his final breath.  His passion was life and he painted as if each day was his last."

It's quite a way to go - in the studio, brush in hand, as his family stands around him.  It's such a powerful, romantic, cinematic image, that it could be one of his own paintings.

He was a very prolific artist, always painting, painting, and drawing, pouring all the passion and energy of his tumultuous, event-filled life into the art.  

There's a really nice little film about Bellany HERE.  

It was made in February this year, and has art historian Alastair Sooke sitting cross-legged on a couch interviewing John Bellany about his retrospective at the National Gallery of Scotland, called A Passion for Life.

Poignantly, the film ends with Bellany exclaiming, "I love being alive! 

"I'm looking forward to the retrospective at 90!" enthuses Sooke, who's clearly captivated by Bellany and all his intense, dark energy. 

"I can't promise that, but I'll do my best, replies Bellany, with a rueful sigh.

He died yesterday at 71.

 

'Water, Water' - Paintings off to Bristol

That's a consignment of work off to Bristol for a show entitled 'Water Water' at the Lime Tree Gallery.

As the name suggests, it's a water-themed show, which gives great scope for all manner of rivers, streams, seas and oceans - one of my favourite subjects!

Here's a couple of little drawings in mixed media - pastel, acrylic and charcoal on handmade paper, very textural - that are going to be in the show.  It's good to show something a little different now and again.  

They're both of the boats at the little harbour at Penberth Cove down on the south coast of Cornwall.  It's a beautiful little harbour, very secluded and peaceful, with a really old-fashioned timeless feel about it.

Boats and Creels, Penberth Cove (10 x 10)

Rowing Boat at Penberth Cove (10 x 10)

The exhibition opens with a champagne preview on Thursday 12th September, 6 - 8.30pm. So if you're in the Bristol area and would like to go along and see them, please feel free as you'd be very welcome!   

In the meantime, here's a link to the paintings in the show HERE.

If you'd like a full-colour catalogue and an invite to the show, then please contact the gallery HERE.

Peter Sellers Mini?

Now, this is a tad off-topic, but I was wrapping some paintings in the studio today and had the television on.

Playing in the background was an old British comedy from 1963, Doctor in Distress, with James Robertson Justice and Dirk Bogarde.  

(You could tell it was a 50 year-old film because at one point, dishy Doctor Dirk examined a female patient's chest.  "But doctor, it's my ankle that's hurting."  The scene ended with chirpy music, rather than a sexual harassment case and counselling.)

However, what suddenly caught my attention was this beauty.

 www.imcdb.org

Yes, it's an A-reg 1963 Mark One mini.  But take a look at that coach-work!!!!!

In case you can't make it out, its wicker-work painted onto a cream shell.  A cream shell! 

 www.imcdb.org

Blimey, that's just like the Radford mini customised by coachbuilders Hoopers for Peter Sellers in 1963!! 

Except his was black, so you could actually see the wicker.   

Here's a close-up of the workmanship.  That's not painted on, that's actual wicker that has been sanded down until paper-thin, and then applied to the bodywork.  No wonder it cost £2600 (four times the price of the basic model). (You could buy a house for £4000).

Picture: Jeroen Booij

But wait a minute - that's not what's going on in the car Dirk is driving.   Have a closer look.

  www.imcdb.org

Yep, that's a different kettle of inferior fish.  

That's an actual piece of B&Q wooden trellis stuck on to that car (or the 1963 equivalent, which would have been purchased at a very nice ironmongers in the high street rather than a giant orange warehouse on some soulless industrial estate).  It's far less intricate, and you can see how thick it is, especially round the door handle.  It's all a bit Barry Bucknell .

So what the film makers did was fake-up a mini in order to make the movie really hip and right-on by referencing a very current iconic 1963 moment - namely the glamorous celebrity Peter Sellers with his achingly groovy customised mini, an event which was splashed all over the news.  Famous people having nothing better to do than run around in cute fancy cars was a kind of seminal moment, signalling that the country was finally emerging from post-war rationing greyness and the threat of Cuban missile-crisis nuclear annihalation by letting its hair down and just having a bit of fun.  

And what says 'frivolous fun' more than sticking a bit of wicker on your mini?

But now no-one gets that.  Except very very sad mini people.

So in the meantime, lets just admire Dirk there with that sliding window, chain-pull door opening system and external rear-passenger window hinges, and think of 1963 which seems like a whole world away now, rather than just 50 years ago.

Painting in Northern Ireland

I'm just back from my annual trip to the Causeway Coast in Northern Ireland.  The weather was very changeable, with rain, sun, fog and mist - so much the same as usual!

As well as meeting up with a lot of people while I was over there, my time was spent travelling about to take photos.  There's many favourite spots that I return to, including the viewpoint above White Park Bay, just along from the Giant's Causeway.  On a clear day you can see Scotland and the islands of Islay and Jura (not on that day, though :-().

When I arrived, I was slightly put out to find that my favourite spot, in front of my favourite clump of grass, had been taken by a large van.  

Going round to investigate as to who should have the cheek to park on MY spot, I found another artist, working away.

This is Shaun O'Boyle, who lives in the van (which was a green VW until last year) and travels around, painting out of the back of it.  He's very nice, and doesn't mind at all if you stop to chat to him.  He has everything he needs in the camper, including an awning to protect him from the worst of the Irish weather, and works away in acrylic on canvas board using palette knives.  He even took me into his van to show me his old dog, and all the mod cons inside.

Shaun used to be an accountant, but gave it all up to follow his dream of living as an artist.  Like me, his background was one where being an artist was the most ridiculous thing you could possibly have announced you wanted to be, like suggesting a career as a lion tamer or an astronaut.  Artists were something from the realms of fantasy, like unicorns.  But here we all are.

So there Shaun is, out in all weathers, doing exactly what he wants to do .  He's my new Artist Hero.  He makes a living selling his paintings to visitors, who take his work all around the world, so if you're in County Antrim and see him, say hullo to him.  He even has a WEBSITE you can visit.

Anyway, I elbowed Shaun out the way (needs must), and took my photos.  

This is the magnificent sweep of White Park Bay (with my favourite bit of foreground).

.Can't wait to get started!

Red Azaleas in The Herald

I spotted this in The Herald newspaper on Saturday.  

It's my painting Red Azaleas, featured in the Style section of The Herald Magazine.

You can see it above the fireplace, and the flowers in the painting have been echoed by a floral display of pink and white lilies on the coffee table.

The painting has a canvas size of 32" x 32", so it's easy to see how it fits well into a contemporary home, providing an accent of colour.

And here's the painting itself, in case you can't quite make it out in the newspaper photo!

Judith I Bridgland, Red Azaleas, Oil on canvas 32 x 32

If you think that this painting would look just as good in your own home, then it so happens that there's a limited edition giclee print of this painting available.  The prints come in various sizes. 

To order, just go online at The Bay Attic or The Atholl Gallery.

Just to be a little different, there's also a companion print to this, Red Azaleas and Yellow Poppies, available through the same links.

Judith I Bridgland, Red Azaleas and Yellow Poppies, Oil on canvas 32 x 32