Berlin - im Winter und im Sommer.

I've been to Berlin twice this year, so far.

I missed the Christmas markets, so timed my January visit with my birthday.  Staying with the Berlin Boys (who wish to remain anonymous) I had easy access to the Museum Insel and would walk there most days.  Getting the three-day ticket from the kiosk saves you loads of money and takes the pressure off making the most of each visit.  I returned to the Alte Nationalgalerie and Pergammon several times, spending only the time I needed, rather than exhaust myself looking at everything.

I found a sculpture that I first met in Nice last Autumn - The Bronze Age (by Rodin) - a fine figure of youth.  I attempted to sketch him in pencil.

(Nice on the left, Berlin on the right) (images are my own photos)

Amongst the paintings I admired were Anselm Feuerbach's selfportait (1873) - his blue eyes, high forehead and wiry, dark hair (image is my own photo).

Carl Schuch's 'Stilleleben Mit Äpfeln' (1876) - its blocky application of paint and weightiness of the fruit (image courtesy of pinakothek)

'Sommer' (1873) by Hans Thoma, its startling cobalt sky (image courtesy of wikimedia).

The touching humility of the family welcoming Christ to their modest table in Fritz von Uhde's 'Das Tischgebet' (1885) (image is my own photo).

Finally, 'Orangenpflücker' (1873) by Hans von Marées.  I remember photographing this in detail, years ago, to help me tackle a male nude I was preparing to paint.  I was encouraged by the shameless thick lines, creating shadows and highlights, delineating muscularity.  The brushstrokes don't attempt to reproduce the surface of the skin.  Rather they form repeated arcs of paint that suggest form.  The same strokes depict the tree to the model's left.

At the Pergammon, I took out my watercolours to make a short, simple study of a 'daisy' motif from the throne room, adjacent to Ishtar Gate.

As I approached the end of it, a guard - who presumably could stand no more of my cleaning my brush into a rag on the marble floor - told me to stop.  I think what troubled me more was that, halfway through the piece a young woman asked me to take a photo of her, with the throne room wall behind her.  After checking that I understood how to use her iPhone (ffs), she posed herself with one hand holding her shoulder-length up in an attempt to look vacantly alluring.  I couldn't help but wonder what trials the inhabitants of Babylon had to endure in 575BC, compared to my friend who probably filled her FB account with vacuous self portraits.  Can't imagine a thoughtful account of visiting the museum accompanying her glamour shot, can you?

I returned to the Pergammon another day, to study rug samples in the persian section upstairs.  Borrowing coloured pencils (in an attempt not to piss off the guards) I sat for hours counting stitches and attempting to reproduce patterns in my sketchbook.

Jump to the Summer - and I took my watercolours to the Motzstrassenfest.  It was a little foolish to attempt painting moving subjects, progressively drunk, as I was.

The following day, I started sketching, and finally painting the scene from the Berlin Boys' flat window.  Conveniently framed between two tower blocks, I had the Spree leading up to the Dom, passing the Radisson Blu along the way.  I made a preliminary sketch and left it alone.

I returned to it later, to add some detail.

I added watercolour.

Finally. I added pencil detail.

I'm quite proud of that.

On Monday, one of the Berlin Boys invited me to the Martin Gropius Bau, where an exhibition of Paul Klee and Johannes Itten art was open.  An impressive show.  I went in looking forward to seeing Klee and came out with my notebook predominantly referencing Itten.

My favourite pieces of Itten's work were Portrait (1915), 'Ribbons' (1918), 'Der Berg' (1929), 'Früling' (1945) and 'Feistlich' (1966), none of which can I locate an image, unfortunately...

Of the Klee I enjoyed were 'Tor in Garten' (1926) and 'Ohne Titel (Vollmond im Gebirge) (c.1939).  Also neither of which can I find representations.

Anyhoo, that was Berlin this year.

Watercolours and Pelargoniums

I'm spending what time I can to practise using watercolours and improve my confidence in mixing colours.

A couple of things I've learnt along the way -

Providing an outline of an object into which you apply paint to define its light and shade is preferable to creating a detailed sketch then trying to impose colour on it.

Always have a scrap of paper with you to test watercolour mixes before you commit the brush to your piece of art - it's very difficult, if not impossible to undo what you've added to a watercolour.  Overpainting to hide a mistake doesn't work, in my opinion.

Here are a few attempts.

The first one, painted in the university botanical gardens, was overseen by a guy who was taking photos of the flowers.  When he saw the outline of one of the flowers, to which I had just added a pale yellow wash, he commented 'Oh, you're just going for an impression then...' :S

The second sketch was me seeing how much I could alter the warmth of colour, reaching for mauve.

Lastly, today, I studied a potted pelargonium in my Dad's back garden.  I sketched the outline of the flower head, the leaves and visible stems, then worked from adding lightest tones to darkest and finished up adding pencil detail.

A poem in the early hours

A lot is speculated between my sisters and me, about what Dad is going through, even now - a year after Mum's death.  We can't help but notice some things haven't changed around the house.  Mum's old INR blood test results (which determined her warfarin dose) still hang from a bulldog clip in the kitchen.

Dad has had old photos enlarged and framed.

I was awake at 3.45am, on Thursday 26th April.  This poem came to me -

Father lives alone now, but he's busy finding ways
Of keeping mother with him to the end of his days.
So, you'll see her old appointment cards
Are hung up in the kitchen
And reprints of old photographs
Are there to keep her with him.

Soundcloud

Cutting my teeth here, with the tune of a lullaby I created to carry a poem I wrote about loss.

Lullaby for March

Martin Bentham

This is a bit of a catch-up from the beginning of October.

I went to the RWA for lunch and found that Mendip painter Martin Bentham was exhibiting his oil paintings in the New Gallery.

As is my way, I didn't read the gumph on the way in and set to studying the pieces for what I could get out of them (as I do).  Working clockwise from the door, I observed that his small canvasses didn't quite succeed with the bold, thick-textured technique he utilised.  They seemed very muddy and, well - a mess.  Much more rewarding were the larger canvasses, where the technique was in proportion with the space.  The more paintings I looked at (and the dates they were painted), the more I realised that what I was witnessing was a developing style in the artist, which was moving away from 'fine art' to a more abstract form of expression.  This room was roughly the fruits of five years work.

I enjoyed his large paintings, rural scenes, moss covered dry stone walls and skies painted seemingly from Van Gogh's colour palette.

On my way out I passed a smiling man ascending the stairs - judging from the self-portrait on the gallery wall I'd just left, it had to be Martin Bentham!  I stopped to thank him for the exhibition and ended up joining him back in the gallery to discuss aspects of his work.  He seemed really delighted to answer my questions.

I especially liked his 'The Apiarist 2' (the image below is borrowed from the blog Beyond The Frame)

I told him I could appreciate it is a composite of several strong elements -

• The bramble infused hedge
• The dry stone wall
• The hives and boxes
• The complex, flower strewn grass

Martin explained that he finds working in 'plein air' difficult, due to changing light conditions.  He prefers to use photographs and sketches.  He brought in the dry stone wall element to balance the picture.  The inspiration for the carpet of flowers is drawn from his own back garden.

On the subject of the growing abstract nature of his later works - he uses a palette knife.  Martin found that using brushes influenced him to draw with them, whereas the palette knives don't affect him in the same way.  Martin prefers oil paint, as it dries slowly and permits him to rework his paintings the day after he has started.  In addition he likes to work directly from the tube of paint, as mixing paint on the canvas has an immediacy and a chaotic nature that appeals to him :)

Martin Bentham is a lovely chap. He also has the most extraordinarily rough skin on his hands, which made for a memorable farewell handshake!

River

I've been regularly enjoying playing the piano.  Taught myself to play to a reasonable standard over the last year.  I already know how to read music, so it wasn't like I was starting from scratch.  The knock-on effect has been that my sight-reading has improved too - I know the bass clef well enough now, I don't to have to look up what the notes are anymore :)

I'm an avid charity shop scavenger of piano tidbits these days, as well as recently discovering the joys of digital downloads.   I have to watch out for song arrangements that carry the tune in the piano treble clef as well as provide the vocal line.  I think it's unnecessary if you sing along.  I prefer to have the piano provide the harmony alone and not the tune as well.  I like to think I can sing that part myself!

I decided that this winter I would learn pieces that mark the season, so aside from xmas carols, I'm studying Winter by Tori Amos, What Are You Doing This New Year's Eve by Frank Loesser and River by Joni Mitchell.

River is the first one I'm tackling, 'cause I love Joni Mitchell's music so much.  I've already had a go at Rainy Night House.  Bought a book of her music, entitled Anthology, but this was disappointing as all the glorious piano introductions are truncated AND each piece carries the tune in the piano accompaniment (tsk...).  Thankfully, I bought it from Amazon for £5, so it's no financial loss.

Downloaded better arrangements from Music Notes, though there are still segues from verse to verse that don't follow the recording.  I've been pasting portions of blank manuscript over these and correcting the piano part to what I hear on the album.  Reading the blurb on the digital manuscript, this action is illegal. Hmmm...

SS - a sketch

I was working with clients on their Cotswolds holiday last week and on one particular day, a visit to Worcester Cathedral, I forgot to pack the camera.  However, 'cause I carry my sketchbook everywhere, I attempted a quick portrait.  I think it's kosher to do that, right?  I'm not broadcasting his identity, I'm not breaking confidentiality, am I?  If I am, tell me so.  Anyway, here it is.  I'm proud of this sketch.