Recently one of my commentaries in the media evoked contrasting opinions. The subject was my mission to convince the Afro-Caribbean woman of her natural beauty, rather than prostituting herself to a foreign concept of beauty. It was titled: The Colour Black.
The first respondent stated: "You are called upon to be a voice to our Afro-Caribbean sisters through your work. You must never give up".
The second respondent claimed: "It is a waste of time for Roger to waste his attention on these people....he should use his God given talents to make money and become rich...there is scenery he can paint which will make him plenty of money.."
I have on occasions painted "scenery" but not the type that is likely to make me rich. My task is not to paint the beauty that you can already see, but to lead you to beauty that would have otherwise eluded you.
Today's picture is not of a palm fringed coral sand beach, but of the countryside that surrounds the industrial towns of my native West Riding of Yorkshire.
It was painted twenty-five years ago, and when today I took it out of its frame to photograph I found the caption that was attached when it was first exhibited. It reads:
"Whether it be the figure or the landscape, no photographic reference can match working from life. Not only must I see the approaching rain shower, I must smell it and feel it".
Nothing has changed!!
Other than to keep warm in cold weather, I see no point in wearing clothes at all. From a moral standpoint it makes no sense. A clothed body is more sexually alluring than a naked body. We cover breasts, bottoms and pudenda but leave the face unashamedly in full view. Yet when it comes to seduction, whether the message is innocently beguiling or sexually provocative, the face wins hands down. We might hide the body but the face speaks the naked truth.
It is the exposed naked truth that makes an honest portrait difficult to paint or sculpt. By flattering the sitter I am guilty of fraud. It is usually on my first attempt - a hurried sketch made in a matter of minutes - that I come closest to the truth but not necessarily to what is perceived as a "likeness".
Fortunately, I get to keep those first attempts while the sitter claims the likeness. Here, in all honesty, is one of them.
Research for my book "Notes on the Nude" has sent me digging deep into portfolios and dairies from long ago. The sketches below are of my wife Denise and they were made in the confined space our boat's cabin. My diary note from twenty-six years ago that goes with them reads:
"...I have to take a chance and in doing so risk failure, but not total failure for there is credibility in trying. The results are imperfect, but not without a degree of truth. The truth being my passionate belief in the beauty of the nude..."
Nothing has changed, I am still taking chances and I still have a passionate belief in the beauty of the nude.
In my book "Notes on the Nude" I make mention of fragments and versos.
Within watercolours perceived as failures I find fragments of truth, and on the verso of a painting that has been cast aside I sometimes achieve success.
If only the painting in its entirety had the strength of the breast emerging from the depths of its surrounding shadows, as in the fragment below.
Luckily, I found this forgotten drawing of the fore-shortened arm and torso on the verso of an early painting in my series "Daughters of the Caribbean Sun".
When Samantha modelled for her sculpture twenty years ago she was a college student and her e-mail address was "sexy sam". From more recent correspondence I learn that she has climbed to the top of her chosen profession, got married and is expecting her first child.
Actually Samantha didn't come to my studio with the view of being a model but to chaperone a friend that did. It is not the first time that I have chosen the chaperone rather than the applicant. Hence, the end of a beautiful friendships.
Samantha re-entered my life today as I was looking through images to illustrate my forthcoming book "Notes on the Nude". Samantha's sculpture qualifies as it includes, as she put it in her student days, her boobs.
