The Shirley Sherwood Gallery at Kew

The Art of Plant Evolution 22 August 2009 - 3 January 2010

The current exhibition at the Shirley Sherwood Gallery at the Royal Botanic gardens Kew,

is focused upon the present updated sequence of plant evolution. It features paintings

from many of the plant families, including the life size Lilium regale (see the post on

Lilium regale from 02/01/08). This is the first public showing of this work.

For the official Kew press Release:

http://www.kew.org/press/art_of_plant_evolution.html

Painting Flowers In Watercolour

My book Painting Flowers in Watercolour - A Naturalistic Approach, which was first published in 2001, is now coming to an end and will not go to any further reprint. All agree that an eight year run for such a specialist book has exceeded all expectations.

Each year, around two thousand readers borrow the book from public libraries in England, and it is used by many botanical artists as a reference. It has always been my hope that the book will pass on the majority of my self-taught techniques and methods, which have indeed become a standard over thes past few years.

It has always been my belief that a botanical artist does well to be ambitious rather than competitive. Many times proffessional artists have asked me why I endeavoured to give away my techniques so freely. To me, this was never an issue - simply a wish to enable who ever wants to learn to be able to do so. I have lost nothing by sharing and gained much in seeing the pleasure that many have experience by following the reccommendations that the book prescribes.

My thanks go to A&C Black for recognising it's worth from conception in 1999 and onwards. And, to all those who have enjoyed this book, I offer my appreciation.

Leaf of the Winter Green 2009

Coral Guest

watercolour and graphite on paper
40 x 50 cms

I sat in my studio, with no heat, hoping to keep the leaf crisp.
In the cold atmosphere it stayed alive long enough to be drawn
and coloured. I saw the beauty in this most common of English
vegetables. Rich with the intensity of green hues, it possesed a
lattice of veining so complicated that it enthralled my perceptions.

Cynara cardunculus
graphite on paper 2008

Cynara cardunculus (cross section)

graphite on paper 2008

Light and Shade -Two Drawings

Light and shade is to drawing what chaos and order are to life.

Together they describe form. Graphite produces a dappled and

grainy effect, as the form of the plant appears to be fused with light.

A cross section, in the second drawing, shows the central core.

The shadow throws balance into the equation, making a dance of

light and dark across the two drawings.

The Mystery

When all is silent within and without and all I can hear is the soft scraping of a sharpened pencil upon a smooth paper its a time when there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be and nothing else that I would rather be doing.
Its a mysterious sensation that comes when I work. When I ponder upon it therafter, I remember that the state of focus and concentration which created a painting seemed to take my awareness out of time. This sensation fades when a work is complete, and a kind of forgetfulness comes to me as I turn my attention away from the work and back to daily life. The work is finished, and the painting has taken on a life of it's own. In painting, technique is the partner to something more profound, which is the heart and mind of the painter and the undefined moment working through them. When I look back on my work, I generally wonder to myself did I do that?

Tulipa 'Queen of Night'
watercolour and graphite on paper
40x40cm
2008

Early Days

At the beginning of 1980, when I first realised that Flower Painting was what I wanted to do, I set about learning how to perfect a set of techniques and methods. Initially, I went repeatedly to the local florist (where I lived in East London) and there I purchased some Dutch Irises. I then bought the same cultivar of blue iris every few days for 6 months. I painted these little jewels every day, again and again, tearing up the failures out of frustration, and trying over and over to achieve the soft watercolour washes. I was seeking the creation of light and texture on petals and fronds. I was seeking to create a method of painting that allowed the watercolour to act in such a way that it mirrored nature. I was at pains not to draw with the brush, wanting to make watercolour paintings that extend Durer's tradition of natural beauty in natural light.

It was a testing time and one of great difficulty, because I was never sure if I could do it. At that time, there were few books on how to do this kind of work. I found How to Draw Plants by Keith West, which I read from cover to cover. This helped me enormously, but there was nothing available about how to achieve the soft watercolour effects in the way that I wanted it done.

Rory McEwen died in 1982, but not before he had achieved three major shows at the Redfern Gallery in Cork Street. Thus firmly planting flower painting in the mainstream of art. I visited all of these exhibitions, studying his compositions carefully, making copious notes. In 1981 I remember vividly that as I walked around the Redfern show the frequency of so many McEwen's together in one space touched my heart. The standard of the work was superior to almost everything else I had seen from the genre. However, his methods of tiny brush strokes on vellum were not my way. I went home and I tried again.

After trial and error and working each day with the un known, eventually a methodology began to come together. I gradually began to make larger and more complete paintings of plants. After about three years of intense painting I had gathered a body of work together and began to think about an exhibition. In those days artists went door to door around the London galleries and showed their work to dealers. There was no correct protocol of submissions, the attitude was much more laissez faire, which was partly due to the fact that there were considerably less people practicing as artists at that time. Again and again I was turned down, told that the work was lovely but there was no market for it.

One day I was due to see a dealer in Walton Street, and being so disheartened by my failures I simply could not face it when I arrived. I walked on by, past the gallery, further up the road. I stopped outside the Oliver Swann Gallery, looked in the window, and for some unknown reason I walked in. There I saw the owner was on the telephone, and again I turned to walk out. But he had seen me, and waved. I remember being so fed-up that I thought 'Oh no, I'll have to speak to him now'. But this turned out to be the luckiest moment of sweet chance in the whole of my career, because he loved the work and offered me a show for the following year. I went home on cloud nine. The exhibition was a sell out and I have never looked back.