Triumphs, trials and tribulations

My bas-relief of a rose.

My online diary posts began before the days of Blogger, before the days of YouTube, and before the days of Google. They recorded the triumphs, trials and tribulations of my work as a painter and sculptor. In those days, complaints were in the public domain, by way of a letter to the press or a dissenting voice at a meeting. Hence, the artist had a means of countering criticism. But that has changed. 

A week ago, in all innocence, I posted a picture created by one of the foremost artists of the twentieth century. To my mind, it was brave, profound and beautiful. But alas, the image fell foul of social media censors with the result that all my Google accounts were closed pending an appeal. It's a frightening scenario!

I trust that this week's image - my bas-relief of a rose - will not result in further trials and tribulations. 

Calling Vietnam

In the heart of Saigon, S&S Art Gallery.

Over the last few weeks my blog has been inundated with page views from Vietnam. An indication that my posts go beyond friends, family and my small island in the Caribbean. 

I would love to hear from my far and wide follows. What attracts you to my work? I welcome your feedback.

Insights: curtesy of lovers, muses and models.

Nude:  Amedeo Modigliani

Valeria Parisi's film, Maverick Modigliani, is narrated from the point of view of his common-law wife. That being one of the reasons why it has been damned by many critics. The New York Times called it a textbook outline of how not to film the life of a legendary artist. 

I beg to differ: first hand insights from lovers, muses and models are worth more than the all the fine-art academia conjectures put together. Even the film's pointless youth-skateboarding linkages are no worse than the usual art documentary continuity device that shows the unconvincing hand of an extra carefully applying paint to a canvas. 

The prolific art forger's contribution stressing that speed is of the essence gives an accurate insight. Artists don't dawdle, they paint with a passion. Many of his successful Modigliani forgeries were knocked off in thirty minutes. Quite possibly, that was the time it took the artist to paint the originals. 

If only we had a first hand account from Leonardo's model for the Mona Lisa. And on that score, I still subscribe to the possibility of her being the baker's wife. 

My book Notes on the Nude delves deeper into the contribution of the artist's lover, muse and model.

The passage of time

Fifty years separate me in the photo above and me in the self portrait below. Other than the transition from red to white, not much else has changed. 

My fling with flowers

 

Click on the image to view the video

My fling with flowers further demonstrates my way of rapidly working in watercolour. For these paintings I am quite literally, flinging paint on the paper and scribbling in the ink lines, wet on wet. 

In my younger days I stove for an exact botanical rendering, But now that I'm in my eighties, I realise that life is of the essence. 

The sculptor Jacob Epstein, claimed that he has earned more from his flower paintings than what he had earned from his controversial nudes. Perhaps I'll find the same.

Throwing off all restraint

A flower.

For my video Variations on a Theme, by way of the abstract, I threw off all the restraints associated with depicting a certain piece of the female anatomy. The paintings were elusive to the extent that few viewers could fathom them out. Therefore, instead of inducing shock and horror, they attracted favourable comment as to the beauty of line and colour. They also sneaked by social media censors. 

In contrast, my interpretation of flowers, if assembled in a similar collage, might be damned by the "isn't that pretty" beautificationists. 

In point of fact, there's no difference between the two. Both celebrate the raw beauty of nature.

Under my nose

Each morning, when I open my studio door, this is the view that greets me. Within the confusion of its component parts, right there under my nose, in the first rays of sunlight, are countless subjects for my paintings. Furthermore, unlike the complication of arranging and paying for a model, they are there for the asking.

Breaking the Ice

A rough note jotted down on paper.

A video I am working on is about the creative relationship between artist and model. It begins with a twenty minute trail session for a new model. The purpose of the session is to break the ice. I spend most of the session giving the model words of encouragement. The painting is secondary; it amounts to no more than a rough note jotted down on paper. The challenge is how to capture the hesitancy of both artists and model in random words and fleeting moving images. I know what I'm after, but achieving it won't be easy. 

Annihilating a whole oppressive culture.

The girl with dark hair was coming towards him across the field. With what seemed a single movement she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside. Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed he barely looked at it. What overwhelmed him in that instant was admiration for the gesture with which she had thrown her clothes aside. With all its grace and carelessness it seemed to annihilate a whole oppressive culture, a whole system of thought. (George Orwell, 1984) 

Life-size sculpture of my idylic bathing figure.

My 1989 diary refers to a similar scene while sketching on a riverside in Grenada.

One day, a young woman, undeterred by the teasing of her mates, planted down her basket of washing on a boulder close to my chosen spot.  I rapidly made sketch after sketch until she had scrubbed, beaten, and rinsed her last item.   But her day’s wash didn’t end there, for she next deftly took off her dress and added that to the wash.  Then, unabashed, she soaped herself down and - using a calabash bowl as a ladle - knelt and poured the cooling river water over her naked body.

Prêt-à-porter

Robert Altman’s film Prêt-à-Porter is a stylish and sexy satire on the fashion industry.  The catwalk scene with a difference brought home to me what I've been getting at all along, that being: the human body is less sexually alluring nude than when scantily dressed. 

For the fashion houses the catwalk model has to be devoid of personality. She serves only as a stereotype clothes hanger. But what we see here is a refreshing change. No high heels, no make-up, no spindly ectomorphic figures, no weird costumes. Nothing distracts from the innocent beauty of the nude. The scene bowled me over and made me realise that my interest is not in fashion per se, but in the beauty that lies beneath.  

The nude is truely prêt-à-porter (ready to wear). 

ÔøΩ ÔøΩphanous

 

The torso of my wife Denise draped with clinging cotton voile.

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

Clinging drapery on the nude figure is a sensuous device that reveals rather than conceals. The scantily clad figure is more sexually provocative than the nude. By partially concealing the model’s attributes by what the French call Draperie mouillée the nude form becomes all the more alluring. It also suggests movement.

This leads me back to my Bare Minimum fashion designs and the allurement of the fleeting glimpse. A video of the collection is one of my works in progress. The word ''video'' is appropriate as it is derived from the Latin videre ''to see''.

Venus Genetrix (Roman, 100-200 A.D.) 

Based on a Greek sculpture created in about 410 B.C.

Out of the blue

There is a connection between my sculpture for the West Yorkshire town of Sowerby Bridge, my painting of the Yorkshire moors, and the photograph of my mother (first on left) when she worked as a mill girl in the Yorkshire mills.

The connection is a request that came a few days ago out of the pale blue of my native West Riding of Yorkshire and into the brilliant blue of my adopted Caribbean. 

That's all for now, but I will connect the dots in a future blog post.

The subtleties of the nude

Continuing my experiments in allowing the photograph, the painting and the sculpture to blend as one. Today's image is from my video of sculptures in my series Daughters of the Caribbean Sun. It could equally represent a screen shot of my brain as I struggle to capture the subtleties of the nude.

My book Notes on the Nude records a lifetime's triumphs and tribulations of working from the live model.

Now you see it, now you don't...

As I mentioned in my last post, to promote and find funding for a forthcoming documentary on the creative relationship between artist and model, I am faced with the curse of social media censors. However, by combining the painted image with the photographed image, both of which are to be seen in motion, I may be able to avoid the degrading compromise of pixilation. This still image from my most recent video is an experiment in that direction.

But censorship apart, those of us that live and work in out-of-the-way places, have no access to many of the platforms that promote the work of creative artists; Esty and Kickstarter being prime examples. The reason being that they don't recognize countries that fall outside their area of activity. Amazon/Kindle will accept us lessor mortals, but at the price of creaming off most of the profits from a sale. 

It is these restrictions that motivated the formation of Studio Publications. It comes to you direct from my studio on small island in the Caribbean. 

Perverting the virtuous

Detail of a photo by Dwayne Martin of model Shana Wonder. 

The circling of Dwayne Martin's innocent photograph of his model Shana Wonder is mine. It is not done to despoil his picture but to draw attention to how the profound beauty of the nude is degraded by social media censors. Thankfully, blogger stands aloof from such practices, but other platforms demand this compromise if they are to carry mention of the artist's and model's work.

The curse of this compromise came to my mind today when I began to search for supportive organisations for a documentary video that will explore the creative relationship between artist and model. It will follow in the footsteps of my book Notes on the Nude. But as my book has been blocked by the major online publisher, my chances of finding a supportive platform that is free from compromise are slim.  

My foray into video short territory

The opening title of my latest video.

In the time it has taken me to get my first YouTube Short video up and running I could have captured and painted a dozen models. Soundtrack copyright and working in a vertical format were the delaying factors. My usual classic jazz recordings violated copyright and my models prefer reclining to standing. 

My foray into video short territory was somewhat hesitant, but nothing ventured nothing win.  
 

The bare essentials

 

One of Erwin Blumenfeld's iconic minimalistic covers for the Vogue magazine.

The Man Who Shot Beautiful Women is a remarkable documentary about the life and work of the revolutionary fashion photographer Erwin Blumenfeld (1897-1969). His work is an object lesson on how to break every rule in the book with aplomb.

On occasions my own work has sort similar effects. As with the face of my model in this painting.

A detail from my painting of Naomi

A new look and new content

From 3,000 miles away my son Tristan has been burning the midnight oil designing and building a new version of my website: studiopublications.org  

This time around, in addition to books, the site includes my paintings, sculptures and videos. And there's more sections to follow. This makes the contents of my studio all the more accessible to the wider world. 

Thanks to ''Discord'' we've been able to work together online. I can give him access to my computer, sit back, and watch the mouse run around like magic while he accesses files and makes adjustments.

Tristan's come along way in the twenty-two years since I made this sculpture of him at age eight months.

Daughters of the Caribbean Sun

The opening image is taken from my recently released video of sculptures in the series Daughters of the Caribbean Sun. 

In the video I have interlaced images of my models and preliminary sketches as a means of enabling the viewer to enter the creative process. 

Stretching my model to the limit.

This small sculpture took a large effort on the part of artist and model. Holding the pose, even for a few seconds, stretched my model to the limit, and depicting it as a sculpture stretched me to the limit. But it is the speed of execution that gives it life. There is no time for playing about with detail. 

Access to forbidden territory (Updated)

Torso

Sculpture allows me a degree of access what would otherwise be forbidden social media territory. Thus, I can share with the world this lifesize torso of my wife Denise. Words are superfluous when it comes to the sensuous beauty of the nude.

Yesterday, to the horror of many, a cruise ship devoted to naturists made an inaugural visit to Dominica. I offered my studio as a venue but the island's tourist board failed to sanction my location. Perhaps the paintings and sculptures in my series ”Daughters of the Caribbean Sun” are too revealing. Although my island is promoted as the Nature Isle of the Caribbean, going back to nature is frowned upon.  

The visit resulted in two conflicting comments in the island's online newspaper.

Nudity, is nothing new in Dominica, as far as I can remember it is in our culture! I don’t know how many times as a kid I saw male and female bathing in the Roseau River together. In our innocent years, people bathe above the old Bridge, and below the new Bridge naked as they were born, they were people of all ages. Interestingly rape was not on the male agenda...

This nude bathing you’re referring to was as a result of poverty. It had nothing to do with culture. Folks were simply unable to afford some swim wear. This is 2025 and we’re now capable of purchasing swim wear. Also, we’re now more aware of what is considered ‘civilized behavior’, we’re not animals therefore this nude stuff is not going to fly in Dominica. Let those tourists keep their nude behavior practices in their places of origin.

I agree wholeheartedly with the first writer and totally disagree with the second. 

Reflecting on reflections

Reflections

Reflections is the theme and title of my seated figure that was one of two sculptures commissioned by the Macmillan Cancer Appeal for the Royal Calderdale Hospital. The concept of a figure gazing down into a fathomless pool was my model's idea. The second sculpture was of a nude figure emerging from a vortex of autumn leaves and titled, ''You Must Believe In Spring''. From the shadow of death and despair my figures sang to high heaven in praise of the beauty of life. But depicting the beauty of the human form can be controversial.  My book ''Notes on the Nude'' tells of the uproar my innocent figures caused with the National Health Board of Trustees.

Reflections Detail

You Must Believe In Spring

''Reflections'' is also the title of Sheila Hydnman's collected poems, a facsimile of which is contained in my book ''Sheila Hyndman Remembered''. But alas, my remembrance of Sheila has fared no better than my nude figures. As one of the Caribbean foremost poets Sheila is given scant recognition in the islands of her birth.

Experiments in patination and a dram of Scotch whisky

Life-size reclining figure in high relief.

I've been experimenting with patinating the master plaster cast of my life-size figure of Annabelle. The sculpture is modelled in high relief and I have patinated the figure in dark bronze. But the surround of the figure has taxed my ingenuity. Setting the figure against the white of the plaster cast results in too much contrast of one against the other, whereas extending the same bronze patination to the surround, deprives the sculpture of life. 

The answer to the dilemma lies in the fact that bronze can be patinated in all the tints of autumn. To achieve this effect, I have used pastels to colour the white plaster ground. And this is where a dram of Scotch whisky comes into the picture. The traditional formula for fixing pastels is casein (a protein derived from milk) mixed with grain alcohol. My regular tipple of rum is made from cane, not grain, and will not do.

The photograph makes the pastel patina appear lighter than it actually is. In reality the colours are richer and darker. 

Regular followers will remember my many posts of the work in progress from clay to plaster.

Avert your gaze

The Nipple

I advise those with a Facebook account to avert their gaze from the opening image. My sculpture depicts that which is censored on social media; that being, the female nipple. That such beauty should be considered immoral, speaks volumes about society's moral standards.  Just like the stars and planets, the nipple is central to the universe.

My video ''Variations on a Theme'' reveals more beauty that is hidden in the name of decency.

Capturing the Caribbean

Road Town, British Virgin Islands.

 

The above watercolour is one of hundreds that I made over a twenty year period while sailing the Caribbean. It is featured in my latest video Capturing the Caribbean.  

My paintings were sold there and then, and only occasionally was I able to photograph a painting before a buyer whipped it away. All I have left are faded photographs and colour transparencies that have deteriorated in the heat and humidity of the tropics. Restoring the images has been a major task, as can be gauged from  the "before" detail shown below. The millions of mysterious dots may have been caused by a chemical reaction within the emulsion. Perhaps related to a fault in processing. I welcome feedback on the issue.

What's in a name?

 

Halifax Parish Church

Twenty-five years ago, the Halifax Parish Church, in status and name, became the Halifax Minster. It is a Grade 1 Listed Building, which means, the physical structure can't be messed about with. I only wish that the listing protected its name. For me, it always was and always will be, the Halifax Parish Church. As yet, its soot blackened walls haven't been stripped bare and robbed of their patina by the destructive process of stone cleaning. But doubtless, that day will come.

I hope that the Church Guardians push for status and respectability will not obliterate a remarkable grave stone that paves the entrance. It commemorate a man who fathered 19 children and fought in the wars for 25 years. I quote both figures as "thereabouts'' because I last visited the church thirty-five years ago. At that time, I was up on the roof inspecting the gargoyles. Perhaps a collector of images of the West Riding's built heritage, will leg it down the church and send me a photograph of the gravestone.

In the years of my apprenticeship, the church grounds offered a short cut to work and the equally historic Ring O' Bells Pub, that conveniently stands just outside the church gates, was the venue for the work's darts and dominoes team. But alas the pub's soot blackened walls have been whitewashed and the cobbled yard converted into a beer garden. 

Celebrating Sheila Hyndman

 

My 2024 blog posts broke all previous records, with viewers from 200 countries. In December alone the blog statistics recorded almost 10,000 hits, and each hit accessing multiple page views. Not bad for a niche subject! 

All the more gratifying is the worldwide interest in the posts that celebrate the life and work of my dear friend Sheila Hyndman. They include:

Sheila Hyndman Remembered; Curiouser and Curiouser and, Nor shall death drag thou wander'st in his shade.

The opening image is of one of the paintings I made to illustrate the novel Sheila was working on at the time of her death.

In the beginning

Taking delivery of Brookfoot, with family and friends aboard.

The "About Me" in the sidebar reads: 

60 years ago I gave up a secure job in engineering design and declared myself an artist on the pavements of France.

What it doesn't tell you about is the purchase and conversion of an eighty ton coal barge that made the transition possible. My blog post titled Grab a chance and you won’t be sorry for a might have been…  tells you a little more about that daring escape to freedom. The post includes a photograph of Brookfoot on the day I purchased her just after she had discharged her last cargo of coal to the Thornhill Power Station.

 

My blog posts How it all Began and I Will Repent Tomorrow say more about those early days. I quote:

Having freed myself of a mortgage and nine to five job I declared myself an artist on the pavements of France. My wife Norma and two year old daughter Diana shared those precarious days. For all its hardships, it was an idyllic lifestyle. My sketches were the songs for our supper and when we had exhausted the possibilities of one location, we sailed on to the next.  

The picture below shows Brookfoot passing through the lock at Boston en route for the French Canals. Norma and Di are looking on.

And finally, here she is, safely moored on the canal side at Bruges.

Before and after

The above painting is from the 1982 Peter Island Collection

In 1982, the American billionaire Richard de Voss, commissioned me to paint 32 paintings of his Caribbean island domain. He liked the collection to the extent that in 1995, he commissioned a further 32 paintings. The first series was painted when I was in the depths of a creative low, and I wouldn't give tuppence for it. On the other hand, the second series was created when I was on the brink of a creative high and contained what I consider to be the best of my lifetime's work. It came as no surprise that Richard de Voss preferred the contrived first series to the lyrical second. 

What came between the two was my muse, Sheila Hyndman. Thank you Sheila for reawakening my creative vision. I also give thanks to my studio assistant Alice and my wife Denise for enabling my subsequent transition to the figurative. 

From the 1995 Peter Island Collection

The above blurred images are taken from colour transparencies that have done their best to survive the ravages of the tropics. They are all that is left, for doubt that any of the paintings survived the disastrous 2017 hurricane.

The blight of mass tourism

Cane Garden Bay 1993

Hundreds of my Virgin Island paintings that date from the mid 1970's and up to the mid 1990's, were whisked away by eager buyers before the paint was dry. All I have left is an incomplete faded photographic record of the originals, often hurriedly photographed there and then. They can't be repeated because the lively scenes of those days have suffered the blight of mass tourism.

 Cane Garden Bay 2024 

Photographed at the exact same spot as my painting. 

Raw Sexuality

Egon Schiele (1890-1918)

In his brief life, the Austrian expressionist Egon Schiele, extended the boundaries of the nude. His work exudes raw sexuality to the extent that it becomes non sexual. He was a master of the line and the effects of exaggeration. The lines that define the thigh and torso, being a case in point. 

But as I know all too well, it is well-nigh impossible to carry a masterstroke throughout. With the raised left arm, Egon Schiele struggles and fails, just as I struggled and failed - albeit by an hair's breadth - in my painting of Annabelle. These are the problems that one faces when capturing the figure in motion. In voiding the ridged pose there arises the difficulty of remembering the whole figure as seen at the first fleeting glance. In my case, the model's turn continued after that initial vision, and my memory of the linkage between the left leg and buttocks became confused.