Capturing the essence of life before it's too late.

The opening picture is of St. Georges Market Place on the island of Grenada, and the sketches below are from the scores I made of the market in the 1980's for my book Caribbean Sketches. 

 

My mission in those far off days was to capture the essence of the islands before it was too late. It began with sketches made in the 1970's for my book Virgin Island Sketches. The contents of that book are now history. And the same goes for the hundreds of sketches that I made throughout the Caribbean.

The "Come See Department Store" (below) once stood a few yards away from the new - "all mod. cons" - Market Square shown in the closing image.

The New Market Square, Road Town, British Virgin Islands.

As the Dubliners sang of their own land in the 1970's...

The old ways are passing and soon will be gone
For progress is aye a big factor...

Farewell to the besoms of heather and bloom
Farewell to the creels and the basket
The folks of today, they would far sooner pay
For a thing that's been made out of plastic.

Shakespeare wouldn't stand a chance against today's censors

 

I've left it rather late in life to be brushing up my Shakespeare, but over the last year that is what I've been up to. In doing so it has brought me to the conclusion that he wouldn't stand a chance against today's censors. His suggestive writings have been banned from many schools in the United States and my interpretation of his lines from Venus and Adonis haven't fared any better.

The code of Shakespeare's writing is a difficult on to crack. In the words of jazz musician Wynton Marsalis: He's not going to come down to you; you have to go up to him. But having cracked the code you're in for some risqué double entendre surprises.

A double entendre that Shakespeare would have been proud of appeared in a press release about a new market square in the British Virgin Islands. At first reading, reference to the vendor's market stalls can be confused with reference to the male and female lavatory stalls in the adjoining toilet facilities. Either way, the stalls are a market version of Pete Seeger's "Little Boxes" hit song from the 1960's.

And they all look the same...

I'll leave you with Cole Porter's Brush up your Shakespeare from the musical Kiss me Kate.  

From clockwork to digital

 

The classic Bolex 16mm Camera

I started out in film at the age of eight, drawing my own animated film strips on rolls of post WW2 heavy duty toilet paper and viewing them on a projector that I had made out of a cardboard box. Fifty years ago, I progressed to a clockwork Bolex 16mm camera. This classic camera has been the choice for documentary film makers and it still retains a dedicated following. Twenty years ago I updated my equipment to early digital format, and this week I moved up to high definition digital. 

My "new" (already out of date) camera has none of the romance of my clockwork Bolex, nor the creative ingenuity of my cartoons on toilet paper. And although Sony have ambitiously enabled me to digitally set the date up to 2079 I doubt that the camera will last that long - but then again, neither will I. 

Furthermore, my Sony is not as photogenic as the Bolex.

My Sony HDR-FX7 Video Camera

My return to the moving image has been triggered by needing to capture the "movement" of my paintings, sculptures and fashion designs. None of my work is static. 

The poet Dylan Thomas, who was all for taking the highfalutin nonesense out of poetry, claimed that a reader's response to a good poem should be the same as viewers responded to the first motion picture: "By God it moves, and so by God it does!".

Getting caught: hook, line and sinker

When I was at a loss for what comes next in my Bare Mininum fashion designs, my wife caught me: hook, line and sinker. The word crochet is derived from the Old French croche, meaning "hook" and the pictures below show what she's been up to.

Forty years ago I may have been the first to hit on the idea of crochet bikinis. My insperation came from old ladies in the Virgin Islands skilled at fine crochet work. Since then crochet bikinis have been all the rage, but not as I originally conceived them. Today's versions are made from heavy threads in all colours and the end result is more suited for the North Pole than for the tropics.

Using the smallest needle and the finest thread Denise created Mk1 of a Bare Minimum version. They quintessentially follow my theme of subtly revealing the beauty of what lies beneath.

No sooner said than done!

On the banks of Shibden Brook

My brother's latest blog post makes reference to the countryside of our childhood and to a stream that we played alongide. His memory was prompted by the old picture postcard shown below. He adds, that he has yet to see any artist transpose its features to canvas, although he strongly suspects that he will receive an e-mail within the next few days to tell me he has done so several times. 

Well, if not on canvas, I've certainly painted the Shibden Valley, and the stream in question, on the best watercolour paper. Moreover, he can safely copy today's painting on his Facebook page. In more recent years my subject matter violates their stringent puritanical Community Guidlines. 

Long live the artistic freedom of Blogger!

 

Getting it right by letting it go wrong

One wet colour thrown down on another.

A watercolour can't go right until it has gone wrong is a truism all the more true when painting diaphanous cotton voile with fabric dye. The dye and fabric make a mockery of calculated control. The dye begs to bleed beyond imposed boundaries. It is when they are allowed freedom to interreact that the magic happens. As with watercolour, speed is of the essence and the best results are obtained by throwing one wet colour down on another.

Up to now, I have fraught shy of painting with fabric dye on cotton voile and have restricted myself to the tighten weave of cotton lawn. But the latter does not have the transparency of the former. And the veiled glimpse of what lies beneath the fabric is what I am after.

The subtlety of the design becomes all the more apparent after washing removes the surplus dye. The images below show a design before and after washing. The "before" image was photographed flat against a white background and the "after" image was photographed against the dark skin tones of the model. The final picture shows the imprint left on a paper towel used to absorb surplus dye during application - a surprising image created by accident rather than intent.

In watercolour the only white is the white of the paper. Likewise, when painting with dye, the only white is the white of the fabric. An added variable is the material's transparency and it's ability to cluster, drape and flirt in the breeze. 

At a fleeting glance

Light as a will o' the wisp.

Merriam-Webster defines diaphanous as "characterized by such fineness of texture as to permit seeing through", "extreme delicacy of form", and "insubstantial, vague".  

Diaphanous is derived from the Greek word diaphanes. The prefix dia- means "through", and phanous means "to show or to make visible". Thus, diaphanous translates directly as "to show through".

Shreads 

Both pictures refer to my Bare Minimum experiments. What I am after is not so much fashion, but a way of revealing at a fleeting glance the beauty of the human form.

Seaweed, the entrails of worms and the hides of oxen.

Experiments with block printing.

The seaweed in the title of this blog is Gracilaria, the Caribbean indigenous variety of seamoss. When soaked and converted to a gell it can be used to thicken the fabric dyes I use for block printing. I am experimenting with incorporating block printed designs to my Bare Minimum fashion lable. The process is centuries old and getting it right is a steep learning curve. 

While my hands are taken up with the task of carving the blocks my mind wanders on the subject of clothing in general and brings me to the "entrails of worms and the hides of oxen". On that score, the following quotation speakes volumns.  

The horse I ride...is his own sempster and weaver and spinner; nay his own bootmaker, jeweler and man-milliner; he bounds free through the valleys, with a perennial rainproof court-suit on his body...nay, the graces have also been considered, and frills and fringes, with gay veriety of colour, are not wanting. While I - good Heaven - have thatched myself over with dead fleeces of sheep, the bark of vegetables, the entrails of worms, and the hides of oxen or seals, the felt of furred beasts, and walk abroad a moving Ragscreen, overheaped with shreads and tatters raked from the Charnel-house of Nature, where they would have rotted, to rot on me more slowly. 

From Sartor Resartus by Thomas Carlyle, Scottish essayist, historian and philosopher (1795-1881)

Outdoors in a cold climate I can well believe needing the felt of furred beasts. But in the Caribbean women dress for autumn in New York, and jackets and ties are derigueur for attending Government meetings. Missionary zeal and Colonial hand-me-downs have a lot to answer for.

Freedom from Restraint

The subject of a painting should not be an end in itself, but a point of departure. 

So many painters today, especially those working in watercolour, slavishly copy from photographs. If the medium of watercolour could speak it would surely say: For God's sake set me free.

For thirty years I have been hammering home this message to artists and art students throughout the world by way of my blog posts. For those working from the live model my book "Notes on the Nude" drives home the same message.

The painting I have used to illustrate my point was made there and then from life. The "there" being a hillside between rain showers, and the "then" being less than five minutes from start to finish. Rather than spoiling my painting, the rain aided and abetted it.

I don't expect my painting to garner the "beautiful", "lovely" and "nice" comments, but it honestly speaks of life and it's not "just like a photograph". 

Facebook and the Fine Art of Censorship

Work in progress on a life-size reclining figure.

 

Todays image is just one of thousands that have been deemed as inappropriate for the eyes of Facebook subscribers. Since their inception in the mid 1990's blogs have served as a valuable record of artists' work in progress. But alas, links on Facebook to blogs such as mine are ruled as spam by the administrators and immediately deleted. Appeals on the ground of legitimate art content, fall on deaf ears. 

Why the majority of art societies favour Facebook as their preferred means of communication is beyond me. No organization has done more to censor artistic expression. 

Nothing serves better to bring this message home than this brilliant YouTube video. 

In trying to find ways around this ban I was reminded of Guinness Brewery takeover of Bells Scotch Whisky in 1985. At the time, publication of the slogan "Guinness Is Good For You" was prohibited on health grounds. In order to attract Bell's shareholders, Guinness used the ban to their advantage and took out a full page add in the Times Newspaper. Other than the heading "Message to Bells Shareholders", the page appeared to be completely blank. But on closer inspection, in the smallest type size available, were the words: Guinness Is Good For You.

My attempt to evade the searching eyes of Facebook censors hasn't the subtlety of the Guinness ploy, but it seems to work. The permitted image shown below enables Facebook users to copy the link to this blog.

Larger than life

 

In my book Notes on the Nude, under the heading "A New Visual Experience", I mention that I am forever searching for different ways of presenting my work in the belief that there has to be more to exhibiting paintings than static pictures on walls. If, as been said, my paintings represent a different way of seeing, it follows that there needs to be a different way of viewing

One variation that I have been experimenting with is fast-moving audio-visual presentations of images for the large screen. A watercolour no larger than the page from a newspaper takes on a completely new visual experience when projected to the size of a house wall. My video Body and Soul represents a first step in that direction. 

I give credit to William Shakespeare for inspiring the theme for the paintings. 

Incidentally, had Shakespeare lived today, rather than 400 years ago, he would most likely be regarded as a persona non grata on Facebook.

Painterly Painters

A clip from a YouTube preview for my book Notes on the Nude

For many artists it's not just my paintings of the nude that shocks but my way of painting. This particularly applies to those watercolourists who seek to achieve a photographic likeness down to the last minute detail. If the paint itself could speak it would say: For God's Sake Set Me Free!

One of the notes in my book Notes on the Nude refers to this dilemma. 

Painterly Painters

My paintings suggest rather than the defined detail. I leave it to you to interpret them as you may. The American painter and writer, Charles Movalli has this to say about those he terms painterly painters.

The painterly painter uses the viewer's experience to give life to the work. Instead of being a passive receiver of information, the viewer becomes a participant…Painterly painters believe that an abbreviated style is best suited to capturing elusive effects. But although they consciously strive to develop a rapid execution, their detractors often criticize this characteristic, dismissing their work as little more than sketches…The painterly painters labour under a disadvantage, since their idea of finish is not that of the general public.

This link takes you to a YouTube preview of my book and this link enables you to preview and purchase.

Notes on the Nude e-book

 

My book Notes on the Nude is now available as an e-book. Click the link.

The book contains 100 high definition illustrations of my paintings and sculptures and the notes express my personal approach to depicting the nude and to working in accord with the model. They are not meant as a course of instruction or an academic thesis. As with my paintings, they were jotted in the heat of the moment and suggest rather than define.

To circumvent the reluctance of publishers when it comes to depicting the nude, the entire production has been done in-house, or more to the point, "in studio". Hence, the book comes directly from me to you from my island of Dominica in the Caribbean. 

I welcome your feedback.

Unlikely bedfellows

Untitled sketch by Roger Burnett

Untitled painting by Tracy Ermin

Although my work and that of Tracy Ermin are unlikely bedfellows - and more especially when it comes to her controversial "Unmade Bed" and other installations. But we do have the freedom of line in common. And freedom of line reflects freedom of thought; and freedom of thought is an essential component of art. 

A shameful thing

Pudendum (plural pudenda)

Definition: The external genital organs, especially the female vulva.

From the Latin: A thing to be ashamed of.

Curiously, what nature devised to attract we consider shameful and visually degrade it to the realms of phonography. This conundrum has led me to the series of paintings that I am currently working on. Perhaps the fleeting suggestive sensuousness of my watercolours can rescue the pudendum from its shameful state and innocently reveal its beauty. 

A faultless recollection

 

A recently discovered photograph of an early watercolour of my wife Denise. 

I can recollect all the paintings that have flowed from my brush over the last sixty years - with the exception of this one. It is an early watercolour of my wife Denise and would have been painted in the early 1990's aboard our boat in the Caribbean but I cannot remember painting it. It's image survives on a faded colour slide. I can only assume that the original sold.

The fortunate buyer, whoever it may be, has a rare paintings that I cannot fault. 

They will adorn you like ancient Jezebel

The opening pictures show Sudanese fashion model Adit Priscilla, before after her claim to fame. In the before picture she could well have modelled for the paintings and sculptures in my series Daughters of the Caribbean Sun. True enough, it would have been the Sedan sun. But no matter, all my models are of African decent. 

To those who keep asking: I have not given up on my Bare Minimum fashion label. It is just that my creative energy is presently taken up with other projects. The unknown young lady in the picture below temps me back. She leaves the world's fashion designers and catwalk models standing.

The devil is in the detail

I've been harping on about the allurement of detail by it's absence since my 2013 post of the same title . There is nothing more dreary than the contrived finish that most people are looking for in a painting.

In my book Notes on the Nude I mention experiments that I am making in projecting details from my paintings onto a screen the size of a house wall. The result is a dramatically new visual experience that has elements of the abstract. In its original form, the detail that illustrates today's post is no larger than a matchbox. The breasts that gave life, have life.

As Dylan Thomas once said in reference to a good poem having the captivation of a motion picture, By God it moves. And so By God, it does.

I am my own most ruthless critic

When it comes to viewing the paintings of aspiring artists you're expected to say either say something nice or say nothing at all. Criticism, especially here in the Caribbean, is perceived as a negative.  

Fortunately, I serve as my own most ruthless critic. And regardless of the shock I may occasionally give you, I also serve as my own most ruthless censor. 

For this post I've avoided the erotic and kept my subject on safe ground; that being the tops of palm trees. The detail shown in the opening image is all that a watercolour should be, and in the closing image all that it should not. The first is confident, the second confused.

In Homage to Egon Schiele and John Running

John Running's photograph of the model Nettie Harris in homage to Egon Schiele.

Close on the heels of my last post, I follow with this haunting photograph by John Running (1939-2018) in homage to Egon Schiele (1890-1918). Nettie Harris, also deserves credit for her remarkable modeling.

I quote from John Running's commentary on his photograph.

Here is one of the most lovely images of Nettie Harris, which says a lot, since dozens of the best photographers have shot her, and she's helped create probably hundreds of photos that will someday be seen as the masterpieces of this time.

It is, of course, the nature of Art History. So much of it is hindsight. Like seeing the work of Egon Schiele. He was a protégé of Gustav Klimt. His work, often self-portraits and women, noted for their twisted bodies. Some say he was a fore-runner of 20th Century Expressionism. Schiele began to explore not only the human form, but also human sexuality. At the time, many found the explicitness of his works disturbing.

Today, the sexuality of the work isn't shocking. Rather, we can see that he was just a pioneer of erotic art. 

It is exactly a century since Egon made his now classic erotic work. This portrait of Nettie, holding a book of his work, is a fitting tribute, that I am sure would thrill Egon. 

At a first glance I would have attributed John Running's photograph to the masterly work of Jan Saudek. My post Weird or not Weird featured Jan Saudek's work.

Incidentally, the painting I featured in my last post is from a collection I have titled Sensuous Suggestions. Alas, my collection is to too sensuous and suggestive for a fine art society that claims to represent the full spectrum of the beauty of the nude.

 

I leave you with one of Egon Schiele's drawings.

Unadorned, unabashed, unappreciated

We are forever demeaning natures natural beauty and then diminishing it still further by what is known as "beautification". When nature is unadorned and unabashed she is regrettably unappreciated. 

My watercolours attempt to record nature's subtleties without favour or shame. They suggest rather than define. I leave you to interpret them as you may.

When the world was young

Relaxing aboard Dan Bowen's yacht at English Harbour after our first Atlantic Crossing.

The above faded photograph was taken soon after we had completed a five week voyage from the Canary Islands to the Caribbean. Dan Bowen, a veteran of many ocean crossings, is on the far left, I am on the far right, our friend Caroline is in the center, with my daughter Di and my wife Norma to each side. 

The painting below dates from those early sea gypsy days.

Down Island Boat at St. Barts.

I have taken the title of today's post from Eartha Kitt's poignant recording of When the World was Young.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBm5DD6DAWo&list=PL_YnYFDhXSMIbp8A7G4LXAesGSuZawBTH&index=6

Fiona and the mists of time.

The village of my childhood on a misty day thirty years ago.

For two days the countryside that surrounds my studio has been lost in mist due to the passage of Tropical Storm Fiona to the north. Thirty years ago I was painting my childhood village veiled in mists that were far from tropical.  

My current project, a mezzanine floor and stairs for a museum, is on hold until the weather improves. My woodwork shop relies on natural light and on most days there is no pleasanter place to work. I have a view of the mountains on one hand and the Caribbean Sea on the other. To that you can add the scent of wood shavings and tropical blossoms. 

So here I am, impatiently waiting for the sun to come out.

By Appointment...well, sort of

Me (center) with the fund raising committee for my lockkeeper sculpture.

As the British monarchy is in the news, let me add my slender links to the royal family. Not least being Prince Charles's contribution that covered the cost of casting my sculpture for the town of Sowerby Bridge. The article that accompanied the above press cutting reads:

The sceptics said that a small Yorkshire mill town would never be able to raise the money to pay for the sculpture - but it did! The money came from all over the place: the dentist, the sweet shop, the bobby on the beat and the old ladies who dipped into their savings. The town's newsagent has a vested interest in the lockkeeper's boot laces: after all, his contribution paid for them. When Prince Charles got wind of what we were doing, he also chipped in handsomely. He didn't sell off his football boots, but someone in Sowerby Bridge did, and the proceeds went towards the Sculpture Fund.

The sculpture went on to win the 2000 National Trust Award for Public Sculpture. From one of the old ladies that dipped into their savings, I received a letter that read:

I don't know much about art, but I do know that your sculpture will always be loved by the people of this town.

Incidentally, Prince Charles (now the King) shares many of my views on art and architecture. The Prince's Foundation School of Traditional Arts stresses the importance of working from live model, and his Regeneration Through Heritage initiative recognizes the merits of architecture linked to the Industrial Revolution.   

Expectations

Annabelle Sleeping

I perhaps have too greater expectations for the work of others, and hence my disappointment in ninety percent of what's out there. Valid criticism is replaced by "say something nice". I am my most stringent critic and only rarely do I meet my own expectations,. Today's painting dates from an halcyon period twenty years ago. It is one that I wish to be remembered by.

Education Through Art

A recent photo of the new British Virgin Island High School which was scheduled for completion in September 2022.

Regardless of the predictable constructional delay, the "new" BVI High School building is already outdated in terms of its ability to accommodate the new concepts that are desperately needed in education.

Actually, the "new concepts" are not all that new. They date back to when Herbert Read published his ground-breaking book "Education Through Art" eighty years ago.

The Caribbean is rich in natural resources but lacking in the one essential human resource that is needed to benefit from this abundance: that is, the ability to think and work creatively.

Research indicates that children are born with 98% the creative potential of genius. However, as they go through life, the figure falls dramatically.  At the age of eight, the percentage has dropped to 32%.  By the time they reach thirteen, peer pressure has brought it down to 10%, and by adulthood, conformity has reduced it to less than 2%.

Given the importance of creativity and the fact that at least 50% of children are creatively, rather than academically inclined, we would benefit if our schools and colleges gave more attention to the subject.

Nor should it be limited to what is perceived art. My work as an engineer demands just as much creative input as does my work as a sculptor and painter.  Creative thinking enhances academic qualifications but it is not necessarily dependent on them.

Apart from a technical block (presumably focused towards motor mechanics) and a small amphitheater, the new building appears to be a warren of regimented classrooms. I see nothing in the plans that caters for the creative arts in general: music, dance, fashion design, architecture, theatre, ceramics, painting, sculpture, carpentry, etc.

To think and work creatively demands courage, vision, initiative, innovation and resourcefulness. It thrives on doing rather than theorizing. Creativity fosters individuality and resists regimentation. Specialization and rote learning hamper the all-embracing aspect of creativity and committees are its death knell.

Perhaps the new school was designed by a committee!

On my own terms

A page from my book Notes on the Nude

My book Notes on the Nude has languished in the side bar of this blog for almost four years. Three years ago, I promised that I was working on it.  But then everything ground to a halt due to social media's horror of nakedness. All publishers have fought shy of the content, which is nothing more shocking than the page that illustrates this post. 

But enough is enough, and rather than modify the book to suit their prudish community guidelines, I will publish it on my own terms as an in house eBook. This makes sense in that the followers of this blog are scattered throughout the world. Many of them are art students and the cost of a hard copy would be beyond their means. Furthermore, since the 2017 hurricane, we have had no postal service from my island in the Caribbean - other than the prohibitive cost of sending by courier. 

Once again, I'm working on it. 

O muse. wherefore art thou.

Figures, palms and ruins, Caneel Bay, St John, 1989. 

The ravages of time has diminished the ebullience of the opening watercolour, but the lyrical quality that remains can be directly attributed to the influence of my muse. 

In an article about the role of the artist's muse, Germaine Greer writes:

A muse is anything but a paid model. The muse in her purest aspect is the feminine part of the male artist, with which he must have intercourse if he is to bring into being a new work. She is the anima to his animus, except that, in a reversal of gender roles, she penetrates or inspires him and he gestates and brings forth, from the womb of the mind...Artists have painted their wives over and over again, but their wives were their subjects rather than their muses.

At its best, the relationship between the artist and his muse is a platonic love affair. It is not dependent intellectual understanding, nor of conscious influence. The muse has no desire to create of her own accord. She displays none of the censoring influence of those who want to create but can't. She is that compassionate smile that leads the artist's unsuspecting heart on a merry chase.

O muse. wherefore art thou.

Missing but not forgotten

Alice. Seated with head resting on hands.

While searching through hundreds of colour slides and prints I found faded photographs of these two drawings from my 1989 BVI exhibition "A Portrait of Alice". The exhibition served to highlight the natural beauty of the Afro-Caribbean woman - Alice my model and assistant was from the island of St. Vincent. None of the drawings sold, and all but these two remain in my collection. The two that are missing but not forgotten, were given as gifts; one to Alice, and one to the manager of the hotel that bravely sponsored the exhibition.

The year that I worked with Alice marked a turning point in my work; from the popularity of palm fringed beaches to the beauty and profundity of the human form. 

Alice. Seated with hands resting on back of chair.

Alice. Portrait Bust.

My portrait bust of Alice was also included in the exhibition and has pride and place in my studio.

Beauty that goes abegging

 

Portrait, Denise 1992

After highlighting the depths of depravity in my last post, as witnessed in images of the British Virgin Island's August Festival, I now substitute the gross, course and hideous with this early portrait of my wife Denise. 

It's my attempt to put the record straight and reclaim beauty that goes abegging. 

Differentiating between nude and lewd

British Virgin Island August Festival Celebrations (Photo Credit BVI News Online)

My comments on differentiating between nude and lewd were first posted on this blog over four years ago. Nothing has changed. Whereas social media has no problem with the opening picture, they find the following photograph of work in progress on my life-size sculpture of the reclining nude violates their community guidelines.