Set yourself a challenge

Posted on by Alan

New year, new paintings. Attracted outdoors by a welcome break in the flat grey days we’ve been subjected to,
the bright sun streamed across this lane, sparkling off the wispy young hazel growth and bathing the near bank
in sunshine. Essentially looking into the light, my challenge was to convey this drama with little tonal value changes for the most part, and try to describe the brightness.

I decided to rework the hedge when back indoors the following day and re-establish some values. A few flicks of white for sunlight catching the branches is easily overdone, I think I got away with it. Win Green Hill in the far distance helps the feeling of depth enormously.

Winter sunlight, Brookwater Lane. oil on canvas 10 x 12 Jan14, 2022

Rapid plein air sketch developed further indoors

Posted on by Alan

It’s March 2, 2021. Spring has been showing itself for a while once more. There are new buds, small birds are more noticeable, the sun is higher in the sky – when we see it – and you can feel the energy in the air.

Time for a quick sketch with a broad black marker on an A4 cartridge pad, looking up from a gully in my local wood. Keep it simple. On the ground the bluebell leaves are through the leaf litter a good two inches, not yet forming a green carpet.

Looking up the slope the trees beyond catch the light from over my shoulder, a metaphor for the whole experience, maybe.

I worked on this further when back indoors. While I like the pen drawing, and the gouache version (right), possibilities opened up when I began cropping in to the image in Photoshop, concentrating on the upper section. These are quite lively semi abstract images and might lead to further development.

A little mixed media

Posted on by Alan

Every now and then it’s good to loosen up and try something different. Here are some recent sketchbook pieces with gouache, coloured pencil, charcoal and some collage.

Sunset in treetops, Mixed media sketchbook collage, 13 x 10 inches, Jan 2021
Bush End ice and snow, mixed media sketchbook drawing, 13.5 x 11 inches, Feb 2021
Winter on the Hill, mixed-media collage 11 x 11.5 inches Feb 2021

A country footpath, en plein air painting

Posted on by Alan

A rainy morning but just enough time for a quick oil study of a country footpath in Hertfordshire, UK.

Morning Footpath: Oil , 8×10 inches, Oct 2020

A couple of days later, I returned with a larger canvas to paint another view of the same footpath. This needed two sessions, a couple of days apart, and a few tweaks in the studio to complete.

Footpath 2 – with Ash tree on the bend: Oil , 14×18 inches, Oct 2020

Painting en plein air Hertfordshire

Posted on by Alan

Marden Hill, Hertfordshire

Marden Hill, between Welwyn Garden City and Hertford. An area of largely unused paddocks and meadows popular with dog walkers and the occasional birder. Overhead, Red kites are now common, and Ravens soaring in pairs is no longer a rare site, as in much of lowland Britain. I was fortunate to disturb a Redstart on autumn migration in the low, berry laden brambles that cluster around some remaining fence posts. Nuthatches quip in the high beech trees and oaks that sit on the high ridge, exposed to the wind.

Still very warm in September, the exposed trees on the edge of the wood drew my attention. Several trees had fallen, leaving a gap that threw those that remained into relief against the sky. They seemed to stand defiantly at angles competing with each other, rocking in the breeze.

I made this quick sketch in gouache and coloured pencil on a red ground, aiming to record the late summer afternoon mood.

Going back several times to the same spot, producing a pencil sketch and then painting in oil on card (old backs of drawing pads, primed with acrylic, can be very useful when you are fresh out of ‘proper’ canvases or panels).

The afternoon sun streamed through the wood, catching the top of the young tree in front of the tall, swaying beeches.

I like to visit the same location in different weather conditions, time of day and even seasons, to get to know it well – picking out likely spots to paint or draw. This area, with its scattered mature trees planted with intent many years ago, now has the look of a forgotten landscaped park.

There will be more to be had here.

One man’s weeds

Posted on by Alan

weeds reference

It’s mid-summer. The early morning sun lights up the long grass and all is a grey orange, hard to describe but wonderful to look at.
In the field beyond my weed filled ditch is a rotation crop full of blue flower. There seems to be a bee every square metre, and there is a gentle hum.

Over the next couple of days I try and capture my response to this on a small 8 x 10 canvas. It takes several sessions of about half an hour each, and stopped when it all ‘felt right’.
Weeds-oil-on-canvas-10x8-web

I went further with the theme but with a completely different approach,
and created a paper collage of the same scene in the studio.
This time I included one of the butterflies that passed by regularly as I stood there.
Weeds-and-Ringlet,-mixed-media-collage,-july-2018-web

A garden still life

Posted on by Alan

It’s early summer, the weather is good, time for a warm up painting or three before I sling all the gear in the car and try my hand at a few en plain air landscapes. Looking around in the garden for potential subjects I noticed a red chair and big yellow plastic bin calling attention to themselves under a fruit tree that sails across at an angle, on which I’d hung a basket of lobelia. There’s a nice balance where the viewer’s attention is kept by the colours and angles, with the shadow of the tree taking you back around. I moved things around slightly here and there until I was satisfied with the placement of the objects, and then started to loosely sketch onto an 8 x 10 inch canvas. It was then that I noticed the patch of long grass and nettles behind was a bit bland, so I placed an aluminium pot there to ‘fill the void’.

set_up_and_blocking-in

I usually cover canvases with a thin layer of raw sienna to avoid painting on white. After a simple pencil line I go over this in very thin ultramarine to roughly indicate the main spaces, and then thinly block in the dark areas. I’m also using my oldest and much loved wooden sketching easel which I’ve repaired a few times. It’s not too stable out in the open in even a slight wind, but you make do. Hanging a heavy kit bag on it helps a lot.

I’m also using a very limited palette of just two blues (ultramarine and cobalt), two yellows (lemon yellow and yellow ochre) and two reds (light red and cadmium red) plus white. I can mix everything I’ll need from these, even using the white sparingly. It’s good discipline too, and will help me avoid using too many unnecessary colours. I prefer turpentine to any other medium, not just because I just love the smell!

Stages Garden still life wip oil on canvas 8 x 10

Garden Still Life, oil on canvas 8 x 10 inches
Garden Still Life, oil on canvas 8 x 10 inches

As I was working just outside my own back door, I took my time and completed the picture in six sessions of about half hour each, over a couple of weeks. Partly because the shadows had to be in the right place and therefore the sun had to be shining! I spent nearly as much time looking and assessing and making decisions about what comes next or what to change as I did actually painting. This is normal for me, it’s an all consuming experience. I was careful to describe the aluminium pot in just a stroke or two, and the yellow bin didn’t need much work at all, you can see the stain of the raw sienna on the canvas easily. The only area I’m not too sure about is the patch of nettles but overall the finished painting is ok. On to the next one….

Baba’s Last Journey Part 10: Celebrations

Posted on by Alan

Saturday 13th May. Dawn. I’m up and ready, full of anticipation for what the day ahead brings. I take my coffee outside, where two family members have been up all night, sipping beer and keeping vigil over Baba’s coffin. The dj and his two buddies are asleep, one slumped over the music console, the others in white chairs hired for the occasion. The Naija style R&B is still playing, and is very loud. There is a feeling of premature aftermath which is difficult to explain, like it must have felt like before a day’s great battle. Time for eggs, onions and peppers.

Waheedi is late with the attire for everyone. There is tension, understandably. The outfits for immediate family including myself, are handsome and voluminous. Rich ultramarine blue and white for men, tasteful green and golden yellow for ladies. Other attendees wear outfits according to this colour dress code. Even Waheedi and family employees are to wear matching outfits it turns out, so much work, no wonder he is late!

The original idea was that Baba would spend the night at the old house in Isale Osun, but plans are flexible, and so the trumpeting, drumming, dancing cortege is on its way there now. Disappointingly (and predictably, perhaps) the road is blocked to the old house and access only possible when N15,000 is shelled out– ‘welcome to Nigeria: now bend over’. Shameful.

Oke okanla
A view down the street from First Baptist Church, Oke Okanla, past the new church build project in progress, and looking up to the existing church from the grounds.

All captured by the official videographers, the family members and onlookers pay their respects. It is crowded and noisy, and I would have liked to have been there to see this, but we must go straight to the First Baptist Church, as time is pressing. The church stands on one of the highest rises in the town, and from its tower there will be views taking in the whole of Osogbo. The new, even larger church is being built close to the road at the front of the grounds. It is still all block work and bamboo scaffolding at this stage. There is no hurry here. Full of butterflies, bees, lizards and scorpions, the grass slopes down away from the church towards the family plot, easily seen in its white marble splendour.

The church is packed to the rafters with people, including the upper balcony. It is a big space. The walls are decoratively painted which helps create a light atmosphere, even though there is plenty of dark wooden furniture and structures. Fresh flowers are everywhere. There has already been a memorial service in Kaduna and in Jos, where Baba Lawoyin knew many people from his time there in service to the church, and the Pastor and other clergy are here today. Among the congregation are many people that have travelled long distances. They are of mixed faiths, sharing orders of service, praying and singing together. This is one of the stand outs I have learned on my travels, that people are people and will just get along, without the long nose of politics interfering. Another is the obvious contrast between this and a similar event back in the UK/West, where things are much more sombre. This is a wonderful celebration, and I know which I prefer.

Everyone looks very fine. It is refreshing. A gathering of people from far and wide to pay their respects and honour a very popular man. A man of god. There are sermons and a fine speech by eldest son, Segun, now officially head of the family. The immediate clan are invited forward to sing and clap hands at the front behind the coffin, while the band and the choir play on. It is the same choir from yesterday at the house. Tradition has it that row by row of the congregation pass by dancing, dropping money into a hat. I go round several times, in the noise and confusion not realising at first that I should be with the family too! But at least I earn the title of best dancer, which I’m sure is patronising in the kindest way possible!

After the service we attend the burial at the bottom of the grass slope. Prayers at the graveside. I start to realise I am very hot and sweating in my attire, but it won’t be long until I can relieve myself of the outer garment and fila. I take my turn to shovel some soil into the pit, and we make our way back up to the top of the hill. Suraju is close by, looking after my much needed water!

The celebrations are in a large hall in the northern sector of town. Here is where all the food cooked overnight is served (well, I am sure some of the food, especially some meat, didn’t make it that far….and went to feed some of the locals). There is an mc in a dark suit fronting a large band playing Afrobeat crossed with gospel, and some entertainment in the form of dancers and a spectacular short play involving actual fire eating. There is plenty to drink, and I must say a large whisky was very welcome. Family members are to dance while the mc chants along and mentions them by name. The better dancing the more dash placed on your forehead is the way it goes, and I am also singled out for this treatment, so having loosened up with a whisky or two I’m much less self conscious than I might otherwise be, and enjoy myself, albeit a little stiff in the hip movements! There are some really good dancers here, some young men in particular stick in the memory. There are lots of introductions and handshakes, and I know I won’t remember everyone’s name. Sikiru is here with some other lads from the house, and advises me not to wonder too far from the action as there is no security and as he puts it “not everyone is your friend”. This is good advice.Hall dancers

Plenty of photographs and video, both from official and unofficial sources. A photographer offers to use my camera to take pictures of me and other guests, and always on guard and alert I straight away notice him slowly wander further and further away as I chat and pose for other photos. He is hoping I will be distracted enough to not notice what he is doing, and so I retrieve my camera from him before it is ‘lost’….

Good to see the basket lady and her companions from town turn up.
(episode 5)

Eventually the party’s over. We are last to leave. It has been an extraordinary day, and I feel privileged to be here, once again.
There are more adventures before we leave Nigeria in a few days’ time, but for now Baba Gabriel Oladosu’s last journey is complete, and he is at rest.

Baba publications

 

Baba’s Last Journey Part 9: Wake-keeping day and night

Posted on by Alan

May 13th

Up early to witness the goings on in the back yard. The air is slightly misty and cool before the sun comes up. I’m already too late to witness the slaughter of cow number one, which is now pumped full of air, I’m told to make it easier to clean off the hairy coat from the skin. There is the inevitable comparison to Pink Floyd’s famous inflatable pig from the “Animals” album cover. Some boys look on before starting work on the cobble driveway again. Nothing is wasted. Our slaughter man proceeds to dismember the animal on blood soaked concrete and plastic sheeting. There are no prime cuts here, just meat and skin in chunks. When served up, it’s a matter of luck if you end up with a piece of meat that isn’t very chewy and tough, but that’s how they roll here. I witnessed the demise of cow number two, took video and photos for my own education, I guess, but perhaps not suitable for display on this page. An education, certainly.

There is a general mood building, and has been for a couple of days, part excitement, part sadness. Austin has finished installing lights along the compound walls, inside and out, which are now newly painted and smart.

Baba Lawoyin’s immediate family, including myself, are wearing blue and silver outfits for the wake-keeping day. Waheedi the taylor and his team are late delivering them to the house, understandably as he has outfits for tomorrow, including friends and associates of the family to produce and deliver. It’s a big task. I am changed and ready. I have the honour of collecting Baba, together with eldest sons, from the mortuary at the hospital, where he has been ‘on ice’ since March.

At the hospital, we are invited to inspect the workmanship of the funeral parlour team in presenting Baba in perfection, led in his open coffin, looking at total peace. He is dressed in a glorious vintage style white cotton gown. It is hot in the sun, and the odour of the embalming fluid is too much for me and once experienced, is never to be forgotten. While discussions are held and we await the arrival of the hearse and the band, I seek the shade of the ward block nearby. The nurses have nice white uniforms with matching shoes and white bonnets with a red band, and appear to be a throwback to the 1950’s, but very smart. It is a peaceful, sunny morning, with a Woodland Kingfisher calling from a thicket in the hospital grounds, and butterflies flitting lazily past.

The bearers and the band arrive to escort the coffin back to the house, and we follow. The mini bus and the hearse stop 100 yards from the house, everyone gets out. The band strikes up their drum and trumpet tune suitably loudly and the bearers hoist the coffin aloft, the two dancing girls at the head of the procession. Family members are invited to carry the coffin (symbolically, the bearers always in control) and it is set down, raised up, turned around, and when down low, family again are invited to dance around it, laying money on top, as is tradition. It all looks flippant and casual, but is in reality tightly controlled and choreographed, and looks amazing. It’s a good twenty minutes before the procession reaches the courtyard and places Baba where he will rest for today and tonight, before the church service tomorrow.

The music continues. An elderly man no-one knows and dressed in a bright yellow kaftan is clanging two pieces of metal together rhythmically hoping for dash. A talking drum band play on throughout, people placing notes on their foreheads encouraging them. They respond with louder, faster drumming. People are dancing, taking photos and video on their phones, and there are many bystanders. Oscar shows off his dancing skills as Baba’s coffin is placed on its plinth. Austin mocks him playfully by pretending to place money on his forehead. It is a celebration of life, after all, and uplifting to witness.

Afternoon Service

When the dust has settled, there is still much to do. There is a constant supply of jolloff rice and sweet potato served, group photos taken, bottles of beer drunk. In the afternoon, the Pastor from the First Baptist Church, Oke Okanla, (where tomorrow’s service and burial will be held) arrives with his team and delivers a service in the yard complete with choir. The heavens open, lashing rain pours down but thankfully we are mostly kept dry by the awnings and canopy erected just hours before. On the table in front of the Pastor is one of Oscar’s batik designs. The official videographers somehow keep their equipment dry. The rain on the roof almost drowns out the words spoken, there is a service sheet, but everyone seems to know them anyway.

afternoon service

All night vigil

In the afternoon, ladies of all ages come from the old town, singing and clanging small metal bowls together, celebrating Baba’s life. They come into the house and sing and chant phrases led by an elder, and I guess, as in much of local custom, they have the opportunity to leave slightly wealthier than when they arrived… All are dressed in specially prepared and coordinated traditional attire with different blue and yellow schemes.
Infectious and emotional.

The ladies in the back yard were cooking food for tomorrow’s celebration feast, and would be there all night. There were stoves fuelled by gas, and the main fire was still going strong. Earlier the slaughter man had boiled the whole cow’s head, horns and all, in a large cauldron over this fire. He readily posed, without any prompting, holding a horn in each hand as if balancing the head in the cauldron. Today’s cheap plastic bowls and utensils are eye-catching and colourful, but I couldn’t help thinking that only a few decades ago, this would have all been done with grass baskets and clay pots. I was offered a meat roll, which was delicious. There are those that will sit with Baba all night, keeping a vigil, though I decide to get my head down for a while, as tomorrow will be the big day.

night-cooking