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Joan Mitchell: Light, energy & tension

I got sucked into some reading and thinking that led me to some works of Joan Mitchell that have really gotten under my skin. I started exploring the 550+ compiled works on the Joan Mitchell Foundation website – what a treasure trove it is! I wish I could include some specific images here, but I don’t want to infringe on anyone’s copyright, so I’ll include some direct links here:
City Landscape, 1955
Liens colorés, 1956
The Green Book of Barbara Guest, 1960
Girolata Triptych, 1963
Untitled, 1964
Vétheuil, 1968
Untitled, 1969
Weeds, 1976
La Vie en Rose, 1979
Edrita Fried, 1981
Faded Air, 1985
Untitled, 1992

What has struck me most is the energy and tension in Mitchell’s post 1960’s paintings. Similarly to the early impressionists, her canvases vibrate with colour, and her energetic brushstrokes enliven these paintings that evoke landscapes. Without obviously defined subjects, I am left with a sense of the tensions of the painter, perhaps, in relation to the landscape.

For me, what I want to take from Mitchell is the sense of freedom with which she makes her paintings. That isn’t to say she lacks intention or is chaotic, it seems to me that she connected to, and yet, unencumbered by constraints – whether her own physicality or circumstances.

In my own painting practice, I find that I need a foundation on which I can build my expression. To me, the big picture brushstrokes aren’t as exciting without the detailed nuances that come with the meticulous understanding of any given subject. Nor are the accurate representations of a subject without the gestural, expressionistic of the painter’s touch. I want each of my canvases to hold at least part of this spectrum of understanding.

These thoughts being me back to consider a series, The Conversation, 2020, that I’ve meaning to get back to. The earlier versions incorporated a paintbrush attached to a long stick that meant I was unable to be accurate or precious, and left scratchy, expressive strokes that are remind me of some sketches done entirely with my non-dominant hand.

The Conversation: Study I, 2020.
Oil on wood board, 30x30cms.
The Conversation: Study II, 2020.
Oil on wood board, 30x30cms.

I remember I was trying to find a way to paint how conversations might look. At the time, I was in the UK in the midst of some fairly hefty conversations about Brexit, and I wanted to make visual representations of how a conversation looks from the outside. These first studies weren’t quite working, but I’ve wanted to get back to the techniques I was experimenting with during this time.

The Conversation: Study I, 2020 and The Conversation: Study II, 2020 are both available for sale on my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

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Cy Twombly: Erasure & visual language

Still Life: The Essential Cy Twombly, 2022.
Oil on paper, 21x30cms.

I’ve been a little stuck on what to post. I’m in research mode: reading, thinking, and having discuss – which makes it difficult to write something cohesive while I am still processing. However, someone asked me last week what my daily schedule is like, which inspired an idea of how to approach this post. I will share snippets, ideas and sources that are shaping my thinking along with some notes and sketches. At this research focused point, it’s hard to maintain a cohesive written blog, so some posts will act more as an online sketchbook.

The works of Cy Twombly were a slow burn for me. I didn’t understand them and I didn’t like his aesthetic. But when I visited The Menil Collection several years ago and experienced them in person, I was smitten. A few weeks ago, I happened on a talk on Twombly by Jenny Saville at The Menil Collection, which inspired me to return to Twombly. I discovered I love listening to painters talking about other painters. The dissection of how a painting is made and the interpretations are fascinating, so there will definitely be more of that in the future!

Coincidentally last week, a podcast that I enjoy referenced a scare bibliography on the artist, Chalk: The Art and Erasure of Cy Twombly by Joshua Rivkin. I also found a review of a recent exhibition, Cy Twombly, the Content Painter in The New Yorker, both prompting me to spend some time revisiting Twombly’s visual language.

A study concerning visual language from 2022.
A portrait study from 2017 that I painted over in 2020.

I’m spending time thinking about erasure in drawing and painting, a topic that is resurfacing in my mind but I have not yet been brave enough to action. In Art Psychotherapy, we often think of paintings as precious, rather than as ephemeral objects, an interpretation that has stuck strongly in my mind. However, there seems to be a shift towards ephemerality, maybe as a result of our preoccupations with environmental concerns and human fragility. On the personal side, I have been playing with ideas of impermanence, perhaps as I am getting older, and so this area seems to be resonating. (A side note that is interesting, when I considering painting over my paintings, I seem to end up adding to them, rather than erasing. This requires more consideration before I can comment more.) In the meantime, I have identified a few older pieces that are contenders for being, at least, partially erased.

I am currently reading The Essential Cy Twombly, by Nicola Del Roscio and listening to Chalk: The Art and Erasure of Cy Twombly, by Joshua on Audible. Still Life: The Essential Cy Twombly, 2022, is available for sale as a fine art Giclee print through my website and the original painting can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.

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Albers’ relativity of colour

Almost Home: Vistas de Baixo, 2023.
Oil on canvas, 73.5×63.5cms.

I think this painting has a lot of vibrating colour – sometimes it almost gives me a headache and other times I’m completely attracted to it’s energy. In choosing the palette, I was thinking about utilising complimentary colours, and my palette had to be cleaned off several times during the painting process to prevent the colours getting too muddy. My palette consisted of Titanium White, Zinc White, Williamsburg Indian Yellow, Michael Harding Yellow Lake Deep, Daler Rowney Crimson Alizarin, Gamblin Radiant Green, Gamblin Radiant Turquoise, Isaro Prussian Blue and Sennelier Indigo.

I thought it would be interesting to use the palette of this painting as the inspiration to do the first few Albers: Interaction of Colour exercises. I didn’t get the exact shades unfortunately, but quite close. The optical illusions of the three layouts show how a colour is affected by its surrounding. In each, the center colour (red/mint/red) is the same in the top and bottom half, but the colour that abuts affects hue.

Sidebar: I wonder if anyone has tried to match hex colour codes to specific paints? I know that artist paint pigments have a specific coding system that doesn’t relate to the hex system. The Pantone system is used for house paints, fabrics, and other commercial applications, and can be translated into hex codes fairly well, but I have had occasions where I would like to use my specific oil paint colours, for example, my business cards and now I’d like to play with my specific colours in the Interaction of Colours app. I have in the past used the tools available at DIY shops that allow you to point scan a sample and match specific wall paint colours, but I haven’t seen the same facility available here in Lisbon.

I’m thinking about how to apply this kind of colour illusion to my paintings. I particularly like the lavender and mint effect where the edges seem to blend and shift (or do I need a new glasses prescription?). It has crossed my mind to make an abstract painting consisting only of shades of middle greys. I imagine it would have an effect, where your eyes aren’t able to focus on the edges up close, and the colours almost merge together from far away. What then happens to the painting itself? Does it end up melting into sea of greys? And then what happens when it is placed next to the vibrating colours of Almost Home: Vistas de Baixo? Perhaps these thoughts will find their way into my next paintings…

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Colour: Tropical colours

Currently hanging in my studio

I’ve re-organised the paintings in my studio and I’m seeing a trend towards the acid yellow-oranges and deep green-blue hues of the tropics. I was reminded of a comment from a visitor to my atelier who felt my paintings had something Asian about them, she thought something about the colours, which I hadn’t seen until reframing my thinking to tropical colours.

Galo B. Ocampo
La Concha, 1980.
Oil on canvas, 61 x 76 cm).
(Image courtesy of MutualArt.com)
Galo B. Ocampo
Untitled (Small Town), 1980.
Oil on board, 121 x 121 cm.
(Image courtesy of MutualArt.com)
Galo B. Ocampo
Brown Madonna II, 1983.
Oil on canvas, 81.2 x 66 cm.
(Image courtesy of MutualArt.com)

A few weeks ago, I mentioned an exhibition that I saw at the Singapore National Gallery, Tropical: Stories from Southeast Asia and Latin America. Of particular note, I particularly enjoyed the colours of Galo B. Ocampo’s paintings. The acid yellows, sunny oranges, hot reds and sallow greens evoke memories of oppressive heat and sun burning my skin, whilst the dark greens and blues are reminiscent of the coolness of drinking sweet tea under the damp shade of jungle foliage.

In fact, my palette shift since moving to Lisbon is undeniable. When I lived in London, my preferred colours were the numerous shades of browns and greys that were a result of a limited palette of titanium white, yellow ochre, burnt sienna/Venetian red, and French ultramarine blue/indigo. I particularly loved the variations of greys from mixing burnt sienna and indigo. Upon moving to Lisbon, I replaced the yellow ochre with Indian yellow and burnt sienna with alizarin crimson. However, this palette began to feel restrictive when I began regularly painting foliage, and I added lemon yellow, cadmium yellow, and phthalocyanine blue to my regular palette. When I began to paint scenes of Singapore I exchanged my palette with additional colours until I no longer used a distinct set of colours (and I had so many paints that I couldn’t ever find what I needed). This led to my thinking about creating distinct palettes that represent the various places I’ve lived.

I think this approach deserves returning to, now that I am investigating colour more systematically. I have managed to get my Albers: Interaction of Colour app up and running, so next week I will post some of the exercises for you to see.

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Colour(ful) resources

I’ve been slowly trying to shift through various things in my mind since returning to my atelier, and colour is jumping out at me as my current focus. I’ll be spending some time delving into reading, experimenting with, and studying the use of colour by other artists. As such, this blog may read differently in the next few weeks as my reflective hat comes off for my exploratory hat (maybe I should actually have different hats to wear?). I’ll be compiling resources, quotes, thoughts, and ideas that will demonstrate how my creative brain sorts through and processes the world of colour.

Live from the Whitney | Seminars with Artists: Amy Sillman

Colour is exciting and intimidating. It often captivates and goes unacknowledged. It divides and unites us. It can warn and keep us safe. In the studio, colour inspires and overwhelms me. Given the power of colour, it seems responsible as a painter to continually spend time studying, thinking, and appreciating one of the core elements in my art practice.

Chart to test my colour palette in 2018.
Charts to test my colour palettes in 2020.

In the past, I’ve briefly dipped into some of the experiments of Josef Albers’s students, and now I feel it is time to return to more experiential study. Watching Color in Context: Revisiting Albers with Anoka Faruqee reminded me of the modernised Interaction of Color app that I downloaded several years ago on my old iPad, which didn’t get used as much as it should. However, I do remember thinking at the time that it was a bit dry and I needed something to balance it.

One of the books I listened to while painting in Singapore, was Colour: Travels Through the Paintbox by Victoria Finlay. It’s actually the second time I’ve read the book, and I’m contemplating a third sitting, this time taking notes and reflecting on how these rich histories can come through my colour choices. It could be a great complement to Albers, with its dramatic stories and adventurous spirit.

In addition, I’ve also begun reading Documents of Contemporary Art: Colour, edited by David Batchelor. The introduction brings into focus the variety of ways colour has been thought about by artists, philosophers, scientists, anthropologists, historians (and plenty of other fields) and that without a fuller understanding of this subject, I will lack the deeper connection to the colour choices in my practice. “Colour is truly fluid: it spills over subjects and seeps between disciplines; and no one area can mop it up and claim a privileged or proprietorial relationship with the subject” (Batchelor, 15).

Other resources on my list:
On Colour, David Scott Kastan and Stephen Farthing
A Natural History of Color: The Science Behind What We See and How We See It, Rob DeSalle and Hans Bachor
The Secret Lives of Colour, Kassia St. Clair
The World According to Colour, James Fox
A Geography of Colour, Ruth Philo
Winifred Nicholson Writings

Until next week!

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January in Singapore and the year ahead

I’m back in my atelier in Lisbon after two months in Singapore. It was a rather productive two months of painting, seeing South-East Asian art, meeting artists, and spending time with friends and family.

I was invited by multidisciplinary artist Dana Lam to present my January project, Mum’s House, during her open studio event at Goodman Arts Center, as part of the Singapore Art Week 2024 programme. A huge thanks to Dana and everyone who came to see our works in progress! The discussion and feedback has sparked connections and further directions for my painting: in particular, how my experience of home and identity are also inherently linked to permanence and impermanence. I suspect there will be more on this in the future.

As such, the break away from my studio has been invigorating and I’m ready to get back to some halted paintings as well as some new projects that have been brewing in my mind. I started today by getting my hands dirty making some leaves using polymer clay. The first exploratory batch is about to go in the oven.

2024 will also look a little different as Atelier do Tijolo will be open to the public by appointment only. This decision is to accommodate my working patterns and also for attending more events and workshops. I still welcome studio visits, so please do email me or message +351 913896919 if you’d like to drop by and see what I’m working on.

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Peranakan Museum, Singapore

The Peranakan Museum in Singapore has gone through an impressive refurb since the first time I visited it in 2018. In particular, the ground floor Origins exhibition included a video of interviews asking various people what Peranakan means to them. Although Peranakan isn’t an identification historically relevant to me as my family are Hong Kong Chinese, I found the mixed heritage and individual explanations of what Peranakan means interesting. I have emailed the museum in the hopes that the video will become available on their website in the future (watch this space).

I tried to take notes of the various identification terms that that were mentioned:
– True Blue Peranakan
– Baba Malayu
– Baba Peranakan
– Arab Peranakan
– Chinese Peranakan
– Indian Peranakan
– Hokkien
– Singaporean

I had wrongly thought that Peranakan was a term that could be interchangeable with ‘Straits Chinese’ or ‘Peranakan Chinese’. Although perhaps historically these may have been accurate as the term described the Chinese who settled in maritime Southeast Asia. Peranakan has developed in its classification over time to include other multiracial settlers in the region, however, in the video there is no reference to the European settlers being part of this identity.

However, I have found references to ‘Eurasian Peranakans’ that include the ‘Kristang’ or ‘Serani’ (the Malacca-Portuguese) and the Peranakan Belanda (of Dutch heritage).

Something of the inherent multiculturalism in Singapore appeals greatly to me as someone who has struggled to identify with a single culture, and so I have made this note as a sidebar to my explorations into my own identity, culture and home.

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Tropical: Stories from Southeast Asia and Latin America @National Gallery Singapore.

I’ve been thinking about including a new dimension to my blog about exhibitions that I visit. To start off, I’ll be writing about various visits to galleries during Jan and Feb 2024 in Singapore. These posts may come in the form of questions, thoughts, or opinions and should be taken as a single person’s point of view. I welcome thoughtful discussion so please feel free to comment at the end of these posts!

Since my parents moved to Singapore in 2019, I have adopted the National Gallery Singapore as my Asian art mentor. Having only studied art and art history in the US and UK, my art knowledge is primarily western focused. I’ve discovered artists such as Georgette Chen, Chua Mia Tee, and Liu Kang in their permanent collection as well as arousing interest in Singaporean history.

Siapa Nama Kamu? Art in Singapore since the 19th Century.
Permanent Collection, National Gallery Singapore.

The special exhibition on display in January, Tropical: Stories from Southeast Asia and Latin America brought together works that visually speaks to me in a way that I didn’t know I was missing. The colour palettes and depictions of every day scenes particularly invigorate my senses.

At the moment, I am still in the overview stage of stimulus input and will need more time to research and study what I’ve been seeing.

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Art as Practice: Strada Challenge 2024

Mum’s House: Spiral Stairs, 2024.
Oil on paper, 30x42cms.

For this year’s Strada Challenge, I decided to paint my parent’s house in Singapore. There’s a long story behind the decision, which I’m working on as part of my artist statement for the project. For this post I’ll stick with writing about my process.

The biggest challenge was that technically it would be a fairly large jump for me to go from painting single subjects to complex scenes. I suspected that finishing a painting a day would be a stretch for me so I allowed for the possibility that it would most likely be a painting over two or three days.

Painting with a short time limit means that I have to adjust my expectations. I had to remind myself constantly that the aim of the challenge is to paint everyday. One of the tricks I use is to paint on paper rather than canvas to reduce the preciousness I might feel about how the final painting turns out. I use Canson XL Oil and Acrylic paper as it has a nice smooth finish for crisp drawing and is acid-free to increase the lifespan of the works. I’m also trying out water-soluble oil paints to avoid using turpentine in the house.

When I was thinking about the project originally, I thought there would be plenty of variation within the architectural details to be able to paint at least one scene a day. I soon realised that my parent’s personal affects could not be separated from the space that is their home, and my attention shifted to portraying objects within the space. To me, this project is about my spending time with the house and its contents – and of course with my parents.

I write this post with only a few days left of the challenge, so am very pleased that it looks like I’ll make it to the end. There were a few hiccups and tough days due to battling a chest infection, Singapore’s rainy season, and mosquitoes, but the last few days are flying by.

See the full Mum’s House, 2024 series on my website after the 31st January.

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Art as Practice: Strada Challenge 2023

The Art in Function: 31/31 Bags in January, 2023.
Oil on paper, 21x30cms.

Last January I managed to complete 31 paintings for the Strada 31-day Challenge. The key to my success was my focus on a single object each day. I picked the theme of “bags”, hoping that it would help reduce that classic artistic anxiety of choosing a subject.

Bags can say a lot about us: size reflects the number of things we need/choose to carry with us; they can be fashion accessories or practical; they can portray one as professional, care-free, independent or confident. As I began to dig out my bags from storage, I noticed that mine were predominantly utilitarian and most were chosen for specific purposes.

I really liked the idea of telling the story of how I came to own each bag, however it quickly became clear that would over-complicate the painting challenge by adding in the extra (time- consuming) element of writing. One of these days I’ll get around to writing those stories.

The first few paintings were hard fought but, pleasingly, I quickly settled into the discipline of painting every morning. This success was largely due to the predetermined, single subject matter. I also discovered that listening to philosophy lectures were a great antidote to the diversionary tactics of my internal critic and thus I found my flow and discovered by the end that I actually thoroughly enjoyed painting (most) bags! The stilted, careful, initial drawings eventually loosened into thicker brushwork and suggestive gestures.

On day 26, as I assessed my remaining bags, I realised I had miscounted and was one short. So began a frantic search through our storage for an old bag I remembered once having. Unable to find it, on the morning of the 31st January I made the decision to paint a simple grocery shopping bag – a lucky decision as it has become my favourite painting of the series.

To me, this final piece is the most painterly work of the series: the impasto paint application and level of abstraction achieves realism through the viewer’s interaction with it. By this I mean that up close you see a series of lines and blobs of paint but from far away the brain engages its power of recognition to fill in the blanks and understand what it is looking at. It was a very satisfying culmination of the 31 paintings in 31 days and the discipline and practice that it invoked.

The Art in Function: 31/31 Bags in January, 2023 is available for sale through my website and can be viewed at Atelier do Tijolo.