thank you

Just wanted to say a quick Thank You to everyone who has bought from my shop recently. And, actually, not so recently. A Thank You to any one who has bought from my shop ever. I guess I don't say it often enough, but I really really appreciate it. It is the difference between me drawing for a living and not.

All the recent orders are now in the mail/post.

Thank you thank you thank you.

the reasons i love ink

The reasons I love ink (part 1)

This

This

 This

Oh, and this

And all of this.

a new affair

Recently I've had this urge. An itch to scratch. I just cannot get enough of colour. Specifically watercolour. It coincided with the landscape stuff I've been doing (in my last couple of posts), and has pretty much taken over all of my work.

 I've always known that urge would come knocking on my door one day. My watercolour set has been patiently sat there, like a book that you're really excited to read, that's been in the pile of books by the side of your bed, just waiting for it's time to come.

 I'm not impatient about stuff like that. I totally believe that you shouldn't try something because it's the thing to do, or cos everyone else is doing it or because it's there. I wait.

 Until I really really want to do it. Until I have no choice in the matter.

 Now, you see, I LOVE ink. I am head over heels with it, but lets face it, ink is a pain in the ass. It's a pain to take out. It's high maintenance. I'm not talking about just taking out one colour, that's fine, but if you want a full palette it's just an impractical pain in the butt. And, believe me I tried to make it work.

 So, after a year of juggling dip pens and three or four bottles of ink on a street corner, or scrubbing the table at your regular café because you'd spilled the bulletproof black ink, again, the watercolour set caught my eye.

 Sure it isn't quite as dramatic as Mr Ink, he's more subtle, but, you know, more reliable. True, he's not as intense either, but, you get twelve colours in one set and he doesn't leak all over your bag. And, anyway, I'm kinda enjoying his subtle flatter tones. Plus, it doesn't show you up in your local café.

Yes, I have started falling for watercolours.

 I haven't got a clue what I'm doing yet, but I don't care. The fun bit is finding out where this new affair will go. And, if that turns out to be nowhere that's okay too. I'll have new stuff in my locker.

I've always loved monochrome drawings but it feels liberating to not be tied to that black line.

Prints of my new landscapes now in my Etsy shop

(sorry to be peddling my wares but I have bills to pay. Lots of bills).

how green is my valley

Okay, I'll stop with this soon, but I'm really enjoying this work right now. All of these recent landscape drawings were meant to include a signal box (you can see it in my last post). The white space, on the right hand side of this one, was left so that I could squeeze it in. Now I'm not even sure if I'll put it in at all. It's been a bit of an obsession for me that signal box. I think if anything could become my Monte Sainte-Victore (for those not in the know, Cezanne painted it over and over again, in every season) it would be that signal box. I love it and have done since I moved here. I've wanted to draw it for the longest time, but never got around to it. But the other day it was just calling me. I've been back each day since. So far, it's only made it into one drawing.

that's where you'll find me

 I have this thirst for landscapes at the moment. I don't know where it has come from, I try not to question it.

 I adore the British landscape. It's so beautiful and green and lush.

 I've done quite a bit of travelling in the past, and been to some stunning places, but I think that the colours of the UK are my favourite. There has to be some pay off for all that rain. I always knew what an inspiration it was to me, even though I was drawing lots of man made stuff. I'd drive through these hills and imagine I was breathing in the beauty and that somehow, even though it wasn't obvious, it would come out in my work.

 I've a long way to go before I produce anything I'm really happy with as I'm playing around with a whole new medium in watercolour. My attempts are a bit dull and dirty looking, but that's because I'm a messy worker.

Anyway, I am just enjoying playing in the fields right now.

on not looking a gift horse in the mouth

What did we do before phones? I mean mobile phones. And laptops. And tablets. How did we manage?

Our lives were so much more difficult. Everything was so much harder. Just think about how much easier phones, tablets, laptops, notebooks have made our jobs.

I cannot remember what sitting in a coffee shop was like before there were phones, laptops, notebooks. Although, actually, coffee shops didn't exist back then either. Not in this country anyway. But I can't remember what it was like sitting in cafes and greasy spoons before phones.

Or on a bus stop. Or on a train. What did we do?

I can't remember. Obviously, we'd have been much more self conscious. Exposed even.

But now, that's all so different. Now everyone is on a device and everyone around them blends into obscurity. It's great.

It is the greatest gift.

Really, technology is a complete gift to a sketcher.

For now we have models on hand. Everywhere you look. Still, focused models. Who never look up.

Who are so caught up in their Facebook/Twitter/Instagram feeds that they never move. So, yeah, how did we manage before phones? There is, however, one downside...

*These are a tiny selection of sketches that I've made of people on phones, tablets, laptops, whathaveyou. Seriously, I've millions*

how to make an urban sketch in ten easy steps

How to make an Urban Sketch (in the North of England in Autumn (i.e. it's cold)) in 10 easy steps;

(Optional step; Turn up to the location and realise you've brought all your inks but no pen. No really (I told you I was a rubbish urban sketcher). Go buy pens)

Step 1. Find a coffee shop with a window seat and a view

Step 2. Have a coffee and sandwich. This is one of the more complicated steps; I'm in the Northern Quarter, of Manchester, so will have to decide between ten different coffee beans, made in fifteen different ways, then there's the bread...sour dough, brioche, rye....

Step 3. Make a mess of the table

Step 4. Ah shit. Why did I put colour on it?

Step 5. Have another coffee. And a Danish pastry. Try to hide the mess you've made of the table when they bring it over.

Step 6. Add lettering to try to take away the focus from the awful colour work

Step 7. Pigeons

Step 8. Scrub the table then go outside and take the obligatory out of focus urban sketcher photo, whilst holding your book in front of the building with one hand and trying to take photo with the other hand whilst worrying that somebody is going to snatch your phone.

Step 9. When all else fails go shopping

Step 10. Reassess at home over a cup of tea. Followed by either throwing it in the bin or feeling a little bit smug.

the streets are ours

For one reason or another, I seem to have been talking, and thinking, a lot recently about how my work is changing/has changed. And it is/has. It's changed dramatically.

There are a few reasons for that, which, if you're interested, I'll share with you now. If you're not interested please take a look around at some of my pictures.

1. The first reason is that I went on this ink workshop. And I loved it. It felt I'd been reunited with an old love. Way before I ever believed I could be an illustrator, I used to play around with ink. Mainly just cheap fountain pens, but I also bought a whole load of those little bottles of Windsor and Newton inks back in the day too. I'd paint with them, like in this old children's illustration, and loved the intensity. I kind of forgot about all that as time passed. But, it was taking the ink workshop that woke me up to the possibilities all over again. It truly was like coming home.

I should also mention, that just around the same time I inherited a load of old inks - a huge box of bottles of all different kinds from acrylics to Indian ink to luminescents - when an art studio was closing down. Half of them were so old or crusty that there was no way of opening them. I threw all of those away, but what was left, coupled with the W&N ones I'd bought twenty years ago (which incidentally were all still in perfect condition), became my new palette.

2. So now I'm armed with my new weapons, but I'm really stuck. I'm really...well...bored. Bored of what I'm doing. I'm still running my Drink & Draw series which I absolutely adore, so that's giving me lots of practice on the life drawing front, I'm still going out and doing lots of observational drawings, but I'm still stuck. Now, I don't think I even noticed this. Not quite. Not until my next change, but I see it now. And it's not always a bad place to be. In fact there's something quite exciting about being in that place.

Cos change is gonna come.

And, I love that. I love just knowing that.

3. One morning I woke up and just had an incredible urge to draw the Buxton Opera House. This surprised me. It surprised me because the thought of doing that before that point would have bored the pants off me. The place had been drawn and painted by every artist within a fifty mile radius of it over and over again. Quite rightly too, it's really beautiful. REALLY beautiful. But it's been drawn and painted to death. The idea of doing it just felt soooo predictable. So obvious. But this day I got up and I had a need to draw it. So, I did. Then I drew the town hall. Then the Palace Hotel. Then some of the gorgeous flats that overlooked the Opera House.....

And so I drew Buxton (I haven't got around to scanning them yet, so that's another post) until I'd drawn all of Buxton. It is only a small place. But now something was awakening.

4. And then came the Urban Sketchers Symposium, that just so happened to be in the city I work and the city that I see as a spiritual home. Manchester, the city where half of me is from (my mother's half).

Now, I've been a part of an urban sketching group (Yorkshire) for around four or five years, in fact, I now draw with two (Manchester), but I've never felt like much of an urban sketcher. My favourite outings were always the coffees shop ones. I'd always end up drawing details or people. So I always felt a bit of a incidental urban sketcher.

What the Symposium did for me was open my eyes to our amazing city and to share that and show off Manchester with people who love drawing as much as I do. I also discovered so many drawing opportunities. Around every corner there's a little surprise, a little gem, and I intend to draw them all. It was wonderful to share that with other sketchers. I've learnt a lot about the city. And about where I want my work to take me.

So, yeah, my drawing has changed. And for the first time in quite some time I'm loving what I'm doing again. That's a good feeling.

Just go with the flow kids. Don't get hung up or frustrated by your drawing funks. It'll all come around. It'll all come back around.