Time spent:
I’m trying to keep a track on the time I spend on the course so that I can bring it in inside 400 hours.
The first course, Drawing 1, took two years and I guess nearer 800 to 1000 hours, last year, Practice of Painting 1, took a year and was nearer 600 hours. This year I would like to keep it inside the 400 hours, both so I can finish Level 1 within 4 years but also so I can raise my head and spend a lot more time on art outside the course… visiting exhibitions, sketching, log book, general reading and maybe even some of my own projects.
My answer, like being on a diet, is to log all my hours. It’ll keep me on track and make me work faster.
Written response: 20 hours
Visual response: 4 hours
Total for this research point: 24 hours
……………..
Slick, flat paint
Gary Hume, Sarah Morris, Ian Davenport, Inka Essenhigh, Jane Callister and Brian Alfred
I’ll research Gary Hume as it’ll serve as an introduction for me to this painting style and I can carry that over when I come to my likes and dislikes of the other artists, and I’ll have considered what slick, flat paint means.
Gary Hume, b 1962, associated Young British Artists, works in London and Accord, New York.
Medium: Household gloss paints. He chooses this medium because it flows and sets. His works don’t appear to have any brushstrokes so he is doing away with one of the painterly tools, surface and texture, and making them more like photographs?
He also has a psychological reason for choosing household paint, that it is common and everybody has some in their house. Does this mean he is painting for the people? What is his market? How does the medium affect the viewer?
Research Tate studio visit: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/gary-hume-2403/gary-hume-studio-visit (for Tate exhibition May 2013)
He talks about abstract formalism which I take to be found shapes in the real world, as he mentions finding shapes in the environment. Then he makes up a palette (which has nothing to do with representing the original colours). The example he gives is of painting Angela Merkel… he took shapes from her face, meaning from his interest in the rise of German politics and ‘random’ colours to make a meaningful abstract painting. He adds that he lets the painting lead him rather than trying to create a predetermined image. So it’s not about his , the painter’s, intent… his intent is that the painting stands in its own right and through him creates itself.
Aesthetica magazine http://www.aestheticamagazine.com/review-of-gary-hume-at-tate-britain/ said: ‘The man who made a name for himself by painting hospital doors has come a long way with a very simple formula: gloss paint in bold, treading a line between abstraction and figuration.’
I would disagree with this as the paintings I’ve seen have not been bold and are mostly figuratively abstract. You can recognise shapes and faces but the colours are doing something entirely different. And the colours, even if bold, lack emotional energy.
Do I like them?
Gary Hume, Anxiety and the Horse. Angela Merkel 2011

No.
Why?
They make me feel slightly sick, frustrated and like I have stomach ache.
Firstly I’d have no idea this was about Angela Merkel unless I attended the exhibition and read the title and blurb.
I think the selection of shapes from one object or person matched with the colours based on a psychological interest in something else makes this a process painting. This process gives each painting a strange slippery coherence but the particular shapes and colours don’t matter and are not important to understanding the finished painting, they just give him different visual outcomes.
For me his paintings lack emotional power; it’s almost as if they are emotionally abstracted in the same way that they are pictorially abstracted, one step away from an emotional reality in the same way that he has moved them a step away from a visual reality. More like a Rothko in the sense that I think he is asking for spiritual contemplation rather than emotional engagement. Though I think Rothko’s paintings have a direct emotional connection that Gary Hume’s don’t.
I like something that grabs me by the guts and demands a response, that stimulates and engages me. If it was a person, and for me paintings have personalities as well as meanings, I might find this painting annoyingly disengaged and wishy-washy, and living in its head.
His career is also very interesting as he worked as a film editor up to the 1980’s… did he do paintings as a hobby? Did he lack confidence? Did he not paint at all? He suddenly had an idea that got him attention, his series of infamous door paintings. This shot him to the top of the art tree. Having established himself he changed direction. Why?
Initially he dabbled with sculpture and refers to it in the talk, but is mainly known as a painter. His fame in the Art world was further enhanced in 1999 by representing Britain in the Venice Biennale and being nominated for the Turner Prize.
Title:
I don’t think it has anything to do with the finished painting; it merely refers to the process he used to make the painting, using shapes from Angela Merkel and his interest in German politics. I have no idea what ‘Anxiety and the Horse’ means.
Composition:
They remind me of simplified, non linear Bauhaus house paintings (see below). There’s something about the lack of saturation and the colours that look like they’ve been chosen by theory rather than emotion. And the lack of any complementary colours and visual energy, which is further exacerbated by the lack of brushstrokes.
Walter Gropius – founder of the Bauhaus School

The palette for the Angela Merkel painting is restricted: yellow, green and white. Although they’re harmonious, it’s a sort of ghostly harmony.
Time of production, 2011.
Eight years ago…

In 2011 I can’t remember there being anything other than the normal run of stuff that happens in the world. No major wars, depressions or periods of big technological, social or economic change. There may well have been something personal to Gary Hulmes but there’s no way I could know that.
Sarah Morris, b 1967 in UK, now lives in New York city
It is interesting that she uses the same medium, house paint, as Gary Hume.
Morris also, like Hume, has a process of production. She visits different cities and studies their typographies and then tries to capture them in an abstract pattern.
This seems a little cynical to me, more like a marketing ploy than genuine artistic endeavour. You’re almost selling the painting off the back of the city it represents. Commercial typefaces and colours certainly gives her work a slick commercial look but I can find no link with typography; they look just like sharp poppy commercial designs to me.
It would also be interesting to ask a room of well-travelled businessmen if the paintings reminded them of anything, and see whether anybody mentioned a capital city.
Morris also applies the process to events like her Total Lunar Eclipse below. Again, she is attaching her painting process to something with a high-profile.However, here she has warm sun colours, cool moon colours and moon shapes and sun shapes, so there is a connection with her subject.
Do I like it?
A little, a lot more than Hume’s.
Likes and dislikes…
I like that it’s graphic, but I don’t like that it lacks graphic energy. It’s a sort of middle class posh graphic with the edges taken off. The colours don’t zing or shout, and the harsh hard energy has gone. And like Hume, the colours lack intensity, almost like they have been watered down.
And, like Hume’s painting, the lack of brush strokes, which aren’t compensated by visual energy, make it emotionally flat. The colours are almost pastel, no complementary colours, with no movement and no direction.
But I think my biggest dislike is that I can’t connect with it in any way. It’s a pallid intellectual painting with no key, a clever pattern, like something I might see in a tube station, when I like powerful emotional paintings that pull me in.
Total Lunar Eclipse, 2012, 50cm x 50cm, gloss limited edition, 108, screen print

Ian Davenport, b: 1966, YBA painter of 80’s, trained at Goldsmiths.
Poured painting.
Like:
I like the way the paints have mixed at the bottom, but there is no plan or cohesion to the mixing so my ‘like’ is fleeting, there’s nothing to hold me.
Dislike:
I dislike that it has no effect on me and leaves me emotionally and psychologically cold. I think this is because I can’t detect any humanity in it. There doesn’t seem to be any connection between the artist and the canvas; it’s as if it’s been painted by a machine.
It looks like a process painting, where meaning is replaced by process.
Any effect it might have relies on size and the awe factor, rather than soul, ideas or artistic vision.
It’s all surface.
I could imagine it in a few years time in a fun park where you could make your own Ian Davenport painting.
Inka Essenhigh, b: 1969, American based in New York City.
Daphne and Apollo, 2013, Oil on canvas, 152.4 x 182.9 x 0.6 cm

Like:
The way the restricted palette brings the painting together.
Dislike:
I dislike the style and the washed out quality of the images. I think it might be to do with the lack of brushstrokes, so there’s no surface texture or energy. This could be a film or a photographic image. The lack of contrast adds to the lack of energy and dynamism. If it was black and white it would be all shades of grey with little tonal structure under the colours, like flesh without a skeleton.
It seems to be a strange mixture of the surreal and fantasy. But unlike the surreal paintings of the 1930’s it isn’t disturbing, there aren’t enough strange juxtapositions and links to the real world. And as a still from a fantasy film it would lack enough context to hold any meaning.
Jane Callister, b.1963, Isle of Man, UK, based in New York City.
I think she works in acrylic.

Like:
It’s difficult to find anything I like about this apart from it’s bright and cheerful and I like red as a colour.
Dislike:
It looks like it’s all energy and accident. There doesn’t seem to be any internal coherence or anything that ties me to the artist. I can’t feel Callister in the canvas; there doesn’t appear to be any artistic vision. It’s abstract but compared to say, a Pollock, where there is a huge internal coherence, this feels accidental and busy.
The flatness saps the energy, so even though it’s bright red it’s also limpid at the same time.
Brian Alfred, b. 1974 USA, based in New York
Summer Sky, 2018, Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 inches, 76.2 x 101.6 cm

Like:
I’ve tried really hard but I can’t find anything I like about this.
Dislike:
I have no connection with it. I can’t feel the artist in the canvas; I can’t see his vision of the world.
This has the feel of digital art when somebody puts a photograph into a computer and then ‘paints’ it in the programme. I can’t breathe the air as he breathes in the sunset… or feel the cool breeze on my face… so it just becomes a colour composition using the shapes of a sunset.
I dislike the lack of drama and meditative beauty in the sky; it looks dead.
I get nothing from this, no reason, no meaning, no feeling and no artistic vision.
Loose thin paint
Mimei Thompson,
Contemporary British, Tokyo born… she works in thin layers of translucent oil and terms herself a figurative and process painter.

Like:
I like her fun and non realist approach because it allows me to read emotional narratives into her marks. This reminds me of weeds in a gutter (not a common subject; they remind me of gossiping Saturday shoppers on Oxford Street.
I like the freedom of her quick loose brushstrokes and how they delineate form. It’s a bit like seeing shapes in clouds, but there’s enough there for me to be sure it’s weeds in a gutter.
The simplicity of the background is also very appealing as it blends and enhances the weeds but also gives the painting a little depth.
It feels like the artist is present.
Dislike:
The lack of movement around the painting which I think is due to the composition. Compositionally it reminds me of an all over painting, but the all over is in strips.
I also miss the energy of texture on the surface which thicker paint and brushstrokes bring.
Annie Kevans, b, 1972, lives in France
Humberto Branco, Brazil, 2004, Oil on paper, 50 x 40 cm

Like:
It’s haunting.
Something about the eyes pulls you in.
I like it because it commands my attention and I connect with it. In some way it’s almost as if Branco is present. The more I look, the more the paint dissolves and I’m looking at the boy, seeing through her eyes.
It’s almost as if I’m looking inside the boy. In the same way that when you look at somebody you stop seeing their face and just see ‘inside them’ through their eyes.
Dislike:
I don’t like that the face is so sketchily painted. It’s a place holder for the eyes, and there’s nothing to spoil the illusion of ‘face’, but it’s not quite enough to hold me and sets up a dynamic of staying and looking away, which after a while becomes a distraction.
Kathyn Lomax, b, 1963, London
She was going to leave, 2018, oil on paper, 21x18cm

Like:
I like the composition; how the painting is broken up into strips and the repetition of the colour, which bounces the eye across the painting and creates movement. And the use of the window which breaks up the background around her into geometric shapes.
It reminds me of classical paintings that used curtains or Greek pillars to frame their subject. And the window lights her, so all the focus is put on her.
Dislike:
That she positions it as a narrative with her conversational title, but I can’t read the story in the painting. There’s no mood, no tension and no narrative, it’s just a woman standing at a window with a finger on her mouth.
Also, for me, this looks like an oil sketch for a traditional painting rather than using the loose thin paint as a medium/technique in its own right.
My comparison might be Hopper, who is very filmic, and who I could imagine painting a similar subject, only with the woman smaller. But his would be much more powerful and his medium would match his message. Here the paint is doing one thing, diffusing the image and stepping away from reality, and its title is doing the opposite, trying to portray a very real human dilemma and pull the viewer into the moment, so the painting loses all focus and falls flat on the canvas.
Eleanor Moreton, b, 1956, London
She examines pauses in people’s lives when they presented themselves to the world, such as in historic posed photographs.

Like:
I’m struggling to find anything I like as I can find no way in to connect with the painting, and there’s nothing from a painterly or emotional point of view that I like.
Perhaps the reflections. I like the way the shiny surface (water?) catches the reflections. They read as reflections yet if you look at them closely the reflections are barely there which is very effective in creating a smooth, shiny, but distorted surface.
Dislike:
I dislike that there’s nothing to connect with emotionally and the painting is very cerebral.
The colours have been thinned and sucked dry. The composition matches the original photograph, I assume, and is flat and boring. There’s no movement and no texture.
I dislike that the faces have not, or only partially, been painted.
This is a dead painting. Not a living thing that has died and is fading… not holding of lost memories like a sun-blanched flower… but a mental accretion on top of an old photograph, a process with no connection to its source. I see a process, not a painting.
Photo-realism
Chuck Close, b, 1940, American
Close has changed his style and his current portraits are semi abstract, but as this section is about photo-realism I’m going to look at one of his old paintings.
John, 1971-72, acrylic on gessoed canvas, 100 x 90 in. (254 x 228.6 cm)

Like:
I like the skill. It looks like a photograph. And I would imagine given the huge size it would have a big impact on the viewer, like a billboard.
Also, I admire the subtlety of tones that he’s achieved with acrylics.
Dislike:
That I can’t see any purpose or any meaning in the painting.
It doesn’t offer me the artist’s vision of the face, his interpretation of the world, or his unique way of seeing. It doesn’t let me share another person’s soul looking out. And it doesn’t give me any exterior meaning or viewpoint of the world.
I can’t tell the difference from the original photograph. This could be a mechanical reproduction by a camera without any human intervention. For me, the fact it is done in paint doesn’t make it art.
Mark Fairnington, b, 1957, British

Fairnington seems to do a range of paintings, many of which aren’t photo-realistic, so I found one that was. I don’t know when this was painted, but I might surmise that as photo-realism is out of fashion this is an early painting. Did he alter his style to suit the market?
That said, his photo-realism isn’t really photo-realism, it’s more like the realism of botanical illustration. It doesn’t look like a photograph or real; you can tell it’s a painting.
Like:
I like that he’s captured the quality of a taxidermist bird; that frozen dead look where stuffed birds are put in big glass bell jars. It doesn’t matter that it’s not quite photo-real, and indeed the bird (or the taxidermist?) has a whiff of personality which is very appealing.
Dislike:
I dislike the lack of meaning and emotional engagement. There’s no way for me to connect with this painting. I don’t get any painterly vision, or interpretation… no debate is opened up, no meaning is passed across.
Robert Priseman, b. 1965, British
Amy Winehouse, 2012-13

His paintings, even when they fill the canvas, like his Wannasee paintings, are not photo-realistic, and always carry a meaning. The meaning is often ‘in your face’ and more important than the painting.
Looking at his bigger paintings on canvas and the harsh unsubtle colours, I’d say he paints in acrylic?
Like:
I like that he has combined a found image with painting to create a new meaning. Tragic pop stars are now our modern-day saints. It makes me think.
The found image reminds me of time; of changing art styles; of how people stay the same while technology and society change around them… and our need for tragic figures to be ‘idolatised’.
Dislike:
The painting of the face has the feel of a very good amateur or Saturday painter. It looks more like a fan painting than an image created by an artist. The painting of Amy’s face doesn’t connect emotionally because it’s poorly painted, nor is it ‘photo-accurate’, nor does it give me any feeling for her personality or the artist’s vision.
The above may be the whole point of the artwork (I think it’s an artwork/fine art more than a painting because it’s a construction and because the meaning is more important than the painting)… her image is like something a fan might paint and tie to a lamppost with flowers, and its lack of psychological insight stresses how we don’t know her at all. But I can’t get past its lack of skill.
I dislike that it becomes a heavy-handed philosophical comment on the nature of humanity, rather than a painting I can ‘enter’, and that it can be ‘read’ like a book. It does not depend for its effect, or meaning, on the painting, but on the juxtaposition of ideas. The meaning is word based, rather than being visually captured on the canvas.
By contrast, a painting like Guernica affects me deeply and pulls me in, as well as raising issues about war. I have the same reaction to this as I would to a clever cartoon, or a paragraph in a book.
It could be classified as picture book philosophy rather than painting.
Tim Gardner, b. 1973, USA born now lives in Canada
Tourists at Lake Louise, oil on canvas, 2009

He paints in both oil and watercolour, his oils paintings are more ‘real’, but I like his watercolours much better.
Like:
I like how he has captured the heat of the day, and it feels like the man on the left could really walk across the frame. Although it’s not visually ‘real’ like Chuck Close it is experientially real. He has put me in the painting and I can feel the heat. I like my other senses to be engaged when looking at a painting.
In short he’s captured the reality of being there rather than just the visual reality.
In the composition, I like the way all the lines point to where the white mountain meets the green valley at bottom centre, including the people, and then he has one man breaking the focus. It sets up a really interesting dynamic.
The foreground with the people is stunning; it’s like I’m really there. I wouldn’t want to paint it, but I really like it.
Dislike:
The colours aren’t very saturated and look a bit washed out; and the trees on the mountainside look generic, like they’re not trees at all but a green pattern painted without much thought.
Black and white
Raymond Pettibon, b. 1957, American

This looks like black ink on paper. Some of his more recent images have colour. This is an ideal medium for prints (for a mass audience) and I would also expect him to make money from publishing in magazines and papers.
Like:
I like that his art, even though not beautiful, appeals directly to the viewer. The critics have no power over it and the meaning is clear. It enfranchises the viewer and establishes a direct connection between them, the artist and the art.
He makes an argument about enjoying life while you’re young, to be aware of the moment and that youth and fame passes.
It’s witty and powerful.
I like the way he has used direct language as part of his art as it, intentionally or otherwise, is a wry stab at the reams of art-speak that justify many opaque modern works of art where the meaning is only reached through the ministries of an art critic.
I like the power and simplicity of the black and white and how the composition is balanced between light and dark.
Dislike:
On its own it could be the drawing of an 18-year-old who’d never been to art school but enjoyed doodling on his work. In terms of traditional skill it’s naive… and therefore reliant on his words to make it work.
In that way it’s no different to any modern art that needs an explanation to give it meaning. However, as the artist wrote the words and they are part of his ‘painting’, and his painting needs no further explanation, it’s unlike modern art.
I am struggling whether this is really a cartoon? Or art? For me it is certainly on the boundary.
However, I think there’s something about his messages that raises it above the banal and tips it into art. But if I think of Hogarth… he might have had a similar message without words… which is more effective and does it matter?
Finally, this is about the human condition, so is timeless as long as Elvis is part of our cultural lexicon. It would be interesting to see if Pettibon painted political works and what effect they had, and how the establishment reacted.
Jose Toirac, b. 1966, Cuban

Toirac has a range of styles, it’s difficult to see how his coloured paintings of a banana or crisp packet are any more skillful or meaningful than any from a second or third year painting student. But as this section is about black and white painting I’ve picked a black and white image.
This reminds me of Gerhard Richter’s early work on black and white photographs.
The pieces I read about Toirac on the internet say that he deconstructs state-constructed meanings by taking old images and re-examining them, in the same way meaning would be reconstructed if the political situation changed in Cuba… say it became a capitalist country.
Like:
I like that this could be a moment from a life and can be read like a personal narrative. Fidel Castro is giving the boy his hand, a human thing to do, while being focussed on his own agenda. The boy is addressing us, the photographer, by looking directly into camera. He is inquisitive and innocent.
To me, it argues that Fidel was a real man as well as a mythologized leader. As such, it could be about anybody in the public eye or even, in today’s world, any one of us with a carefully chosen Facebook image.
Dislike:
That it looks like, and is still tied to, the original faded photograph, which may be skillful… but I can’t see the point as the faded photograph would be equally as effective.
I dislike that it is all mid tone because this gives it a flat, washed out feeling (this isn’t about faded fame) and I can’t see why he’s made that choice.
Alli Sharma, don’t know when she was born, contemporary, graduated BA Fine Arts in 1967 (but doesn’t mean she was young?)

Her painting is very mixed and it’s difficult to find out verifiable information on the internet.
Like:
That this is almost breaking away from the photograph and beginning to work as a painting. The use of light is interesting and it’s beginning to have its own internal coherence.
It’s almost capturing the woman and putting a presence down on paper.
Dislike:
Because the painting is not quite working as a whole I am noticing separate elements like the poor skill on the hand, which looks like a claw and doesn’t look like it’s resting on her elbow.
It feels like it doesn’t quite know if it’s representational, realist or something entirely different, and the different parts of the drawing have no consistency of style.
Gia Edzgveradze, b. 1953, Georgian, lives and works in Germany
He seems to ‘draw’ mainly unintelligible squiggles… or line drawings with words. However, as most of his words are not in English I can’t read them so have chosen the only black and white image without words I could find, it’s called The Big Bra.

Like:
It’s quite pleasing on the page. The simplicity and confidence are engaging.
Dislike:
As far as there is still any definition between drawing and painting, this is a drawing not a painting.
I cannot see any difference between this and any quick sketchbook drawing of any competent artist. The value and validation must have been given by critics, museums, collectors, universities and other arbiters of what is good.
I don’t dislike it per-se, but I dislike that it has no special artistic value or meaning apart from that given it by ‘experts’.
I wouldn’t pick it out of a student sketchbook, frame it, pay money for it or put it on my wall.
Colour and pattern
Peter Doig, b. 1959, Scottish but now lives in Trinidad
White Canoe, 1991
This reminds me of Gaugin.
I love it… so this might be an area that I could work in.
The blurb on one of the sites about Doig said his style was ‘magical realism’, which is a term I’ve never heard, but is very descriptive and is something I can see, in embryonic form, in my own work.
Like:
I like that it has a coherence, a focus in the canoe, and that it works. By works, I mean I enter the painting and am lost inside it. It’s like a gateway, I’m an equal, and I’m invited into a new, magical world.
It plays on the very edge of reality and unreality and it’s how I see the world a lot of the time.
Also it is heavily colour based and I love colour. The nuances and subtle relationships of tone and colour, saturation, edges, pattern… it’s a shimmering and beautiful piece of work.
I love that it doesn’t need anybody to justify or validate it. That it stands free in the world and is accessible to all, though the original is only accessible to the super rich. If I could paint lesser versions of this type of painting at a price everybody could afford I would be very happy.
It works on a subconscious level as well as having a stunning visual beauty. You can connect and lose yourself in it.
It is pure beauty and also pure art, it doesn’t have a verbal meaning, but it is very meaningful. If I were asked to define the difference between decoration, beauty without meaning, and beautiful art (not counting beautiful art with an argument, like Caravaggio’s ‘Doubting Thomas’) I would cite this painting.
And, as it isn’t carrying a political, religious or social punch it should retain its magic through time. It’s not a beautiful spell to pour meaning into a supplicant viewer, it is itself the magic.
Dislike:
I don’t like the dribbles from the ‘snowflakes’ as they remind me it’s a painting.
Edouard Vuillard, b. 1868 d. 1940, French
Paint maker and print maker associated with the Nabis, a movement I really like.
Breakfast at Villerville, 1910

This reminds me of Pierre Bonnard.
Vuillard painted many more realistic paintings, especially early in his career, but I really like this one.
Like:
The way the colours pick up on each other, echo and bounce round the canvas. It’s like colour jazz.
Within the ‘pattern’ you can read the narrative, but because the painting is all about the feeling, and experience, you catch what it was like for the artist to be there, rather than any definitive visual representation. Most of the time, especially in social situations, we don’t see the scene as a photograph, we view a photograph afterwards and talk about our memories, but we experience the moment.
I really like that this painting captures the moment.
Dislike:
There’s a small area on the bottom left hand corner of the painting, on the yellow tablecloth, which looks like a pattern (it doesn’t fit with the rest of the painting), as if he painted it quickly and without as much care.
Tal R, b. 1967, Israeli born but moved to Denmark when he was 1
Sex Shops, 2017?

Tal R has quite a range of paintings on the internet and it was difficult to select something typical, so I chose a painting from a recent exhibition.
Like:
I’m assuming the grey people are customers?
I wouldn’t have known this without the title… but it adds meaning to an otherwise meaningless canvas.
Dislike:
His use of colour seems random and I can’t find any coherence in the painting. Although he puts complementary colours together they jar rather than adding energy.
That the geometric pattern makes it flat but he has depicted a 3D space.
This is lacking life, and seems more like a failed pattern than a work of art.
Daniel Richter, b. 1962, German
A Pleasure Drowning, 2018, Oil on canvas, 210 x 170 cm | 82 5/8 x 66 7/8 in

This reminds me of Bacon on acid, if ever Bacon did such a thing. Or Bacon graffiti… or Bacon as pop art.
Like:
I like that it is figurative abstraction and is very ‘clean’ and professionally painted.
The brickwork background gives the effect of descending layers which could be like drowning, and signifies the loss of self, physically and metaphorically. And the yellow legs draw attention to the oral sex.
It is good that it has has a tonal structure with the dark and light patches of paint.
Dislike:
Having read the blurb in the Grimm gallery I dislike that, as a piece of art, this is meaningless without being moderated/explained/ameliorated by art critics.
I dislike not being able to interrogate and communicate with the artwork directly and don’t accept or trust the critics interpretation. It’s like mind control and takes away all my power, forcing me into a position where I have to make a stand and discard the critic’s view (when in fact it may be valid) or accept their interpretation without understanding it.
Compositionally, the colours don’t work and though there is movement in the dislocated limbs it’s neither a thrashing nor a swimming, neither a frenzy nor a struggle… just a confusion.
Messy
Denis Castellas, b. 1951 in France, lives and works in Nice and new York
Don’t know the title, 2017

It’s very difficult to find information and images on the internet and I had no way of judging his body of work or what he’s doing now, so I picked a painting I liked.
Like:
It’s vaguely attractive and feels like it could mean something.
There’s an internal coherence that is attractive.
Dislike:
Above the level of being mildly stimulating it means nothing to me.
Presented with this (I don’t dislike the drawing/painting) I cannot access it, and dislike art that needs the interpretation of an expert, who may have a self-interest which I don’t know, to validate it.
Cecily Brown, b. 1969, British, lives in New York

Not sure of the date, but think it’s fairly recent? Her style seems to have changed enormously since her early work.
Like:
I like the merging of the figures as it takes you to a memory of your own love-making.
The indistinct background captures the presence and complexity of the world without the detail, there is an awareness of what’s around you without being focused on it. This is passionate, involved and present.
I like that the painting isn’t about the figure on the canvas, that I’m not a voyeur watching a secret indiscretion or private moment, but that I’m transported to my own memories.
Dislike:
I’m not sure the top needed to be red. It certainly creates a focus and draws the eye to the important part of the painting. But it is also adds a ping of painterly technique at odds with the invisible technique of the rest of the painting. For me it is a distraction and I would have been happier with flesh on flesh.
Carole Benzaken, b. 1964, French, lives/works in Paris
(Lost) Paradise J, 2009, acrylic on canvas, 200 x 300 cm

She seems to do a lot of mixed media, and I’m not sure this is entirely typical of her present work. But I did find a lot of blurred images, by movement or rain… or some other technique… so decided this would be okay.
Like:
I like the idea of seeing through a filter, be that glass, rain on glass, shiny tassels, or as here ‘snow flakes’. It echoes the other’s separateness from us and raises the philosophical question of ‘seeing’.
It also puts us ‘in the room’ with the viewer, so we are, in some way, a complicit observer.
Dislike:
I dislike just about everything artistic about this.
The paradise which has been lost is so obliterated it’s impossible to tell whether it had any value in the first place. It has the feel of a process painting where any old paradise painting is randomly obliterated by white marks.
These white marks become the focus of the painting and there is no form or beauty to them. They signify nothing. There doesn’t appear to be any love or passion in the brushstrokes… just cleverness.
Elizabeth Peyton, b. 1965, American, lives and works in New York
Dark Incandescence (Kristian), 2014, Oil on board, 15 1/4 x 12 inches (38.7 x 30.5 cm)

I chose this as a fairly recent work, and though not maybe her best, seems fairly typical. I’m not sure it’s properly classified as messy, as it doesn’t look messy to me… maybe more Loose Thin Paint?
Like:
I like the eyes, Peyton has captured a personality.
And the left wrist and bracelet
Dislike:
The looseness of the paint and the acres of white board.
I dislike that it doesn’t seem to know what it is; take away the face and it could almost work as a flat pattern. It ends up with the whole painting being a vague place holder for the eyes.
Chantel Joffe, b. 1969, based in London
Moll in a Mustard Jacket, 2014, Oil on board, 182.9 x 121.9 x 6 cm, 72 1/8 x 48 x 2 3/8 in

This seems fairly consistent for her output since about the 2000’s, though she appears to have got less representational and dried up some of her dribbles.
The paint is loose and thin but also messy, hence, I guess, her classification as ‘Messy’.
Like:
The looseness of it, and I think I would like the impact of the size.
Dislike:
Naive art is one thing; naive looking art by a trained artist (Joffe is highly trained) is entirely another, and there has to be a reason for that choice.
For me, a big part of whether I like a work of art is whether I can connect with it and whether it has any meaning. So, if the artist’s choice enhances meaning or connection then it’s a good thing.
But I can neither connect with this or find any meaning. It’s not working on a painterly level of colour combinations, it doesn’t work internally, there isn’t a pattern, figuratively it’s only just registering, and the exaggerated face conveys nothing. And I can’t find any meaning.
Jasper Joffe, b. 1975, works in London
Not sure when this was painted. I think it’s called, Old Vase.

His paintings seem to be a bit hit and miss, and very varied, so not sure how typical this is, or even if there is a typical.
Like:
Looking through the paintings on his website I like the playfulness of his images.
Many of his paintings remind me of a cross between Raoul Dufy, in that they have a strong linear structure which he bursts out of, and Matisse, in his glorious use of colour.
I like his bold playful brushstrokes… and cool blue vase and hot Amaryllis.
The drippy paint doesn’t bother me as it feels like what part of the painting captures is its joyful creation.
Dislike:
I dislike the pale pink background. It’s too undifferentiated and flat, and for me doesn’t match the rest of the painting. I love what he’s done on the table, but the background wall is sitting there like an old flannel and sucks the energy out of an otherwise glorious painting.
Harry Pye, b. 1973, British
Cuong & Harry at Tate Mondrian by Harry Pye 2010, acrylic on canvas, 70 x 50 cm

Pye often collaborates with Rowland Smith, and I think those works are much better. But I’m sticking to the letter of the exercise and looking at a painting by Pye on his own.
Like:
I’m struggling to find anything I like.
Nope, I can’t find anything.
Oh… it captures the banality of a snap.
Dislike:
The best bit is the Mondrian, even atomically destroyed it still has power and structure.
I think the thing I dislike most about it is that it is totally meaningless and of no interest, as if a stranger opened his wallet in a pub and showed me a picture he’d had taken by a stranger of him and his mate in the Tate. It doesn’t even have any beauty to soften the pill, and though naivety has appeal, and faux naivety for effect is valid, this just looks like somebody who can’t paint.
Having viewed all the works in the gallery and said why I like and dislike them, and researched Gary Hume from ‘Slick Flat Paint’, I’m now going to research one artist from each section.
Mimei Thompson – Loose thin paint
Bio:
Mimei Thompson was born in Japan with a Chilean mother and American father. They moved to the Sudan and then to the UK. This cultural flux, and uprooting, has affected her deeply, and given her layers of meanings from different cultures, which makes her world view fluid, and forms the bedrock of her transformational terraforming art.
As in her life, her art is built on layers of fluid meaning which can slip and slide in an instant.
Nature has been a constant in her life; there are weeds in the gutter in both Sudan and the UK, but every culture views nature differently. It is as if she is searching for a fixed meaning in the ordinary, the overlooked and in nature, but of course, it doesn’t exist, as the meaning is in the culture, not in nature itself.
She studied as a photographer in Glasgow, before turning to paint around 2000, and her method reflects photography as she builds up an image with thin paint on a smooth flat surface like a photographic surface.
Method:
She paints using a process whereby she builds up thin translucent layers of paint over a white ground by mixing an alkyd resin medium with her paint. This preserves her brushstrokes, as if suspended above the thin flat ground.
This is very interesting as usually brushstrokes are preserved as texture, but her painting has no texture, so she is preserving something fragile and transient, like her shifting identity.
Brushstrokes:
These have two functions; they are descriptive of nature and also capture the physicality of their creation, and in that way add energy and draw attention to themselves.
Subject matter:
Physically… The overlooked and the ordinary, such as leaves on a pavement.
Mentally… States of mind or psychology, especially the mutable and shifting realities.
Painterly… the act of creation; she almost freezes her brushstrokes as they are made so that their creation is preserved in her painting.
Aim:
To transform the everyday into the extraordinary, and to create a sense of fluidity where everything is made up of the same matter and could transmute into something else.
Ideology:
Nature is the real but unobtainable that we long to return to.
Influences:
Surrealists and Max Ernst
Chuck Close – Photo-realism, b 1940
Born in Monroe, Washington, his dad was a Jack of all Trades and his mum a pianist too poor to pursue her dream. She did, however, want Chuck to travel beyond her limitations and paid for him to have private art lessons as a child.
Following that he went to the University of Washington in Seattle, won a scholarship to the Yale Summer School of Music and Art, and in 1962 went on to study the Yale MFA.
It’s interesting to think how a fixed 1940’s upbringing in Monroe, and the values around Close, would fashion a completely different personality and artist to the multi-cultural, well -resourced, world travelling but constantly uprooted childhood of Mimei Thompson.
He was a leading member of the super realist movement in the 1970’s but emerged from that to look at how photographic/printed images are created by mimicking the three colour method of photography and laying down (and in effect painting the same painting three times) the three colours of the photograph.
This interest in surface led him on to thinking that portraiture is a highly constructed illusion, just as photography is. And from that starting point he examined the nature of reality, looking at the way in which, though speeded up mechanically, a photograph was a no less laborious and time based ‘scrap of reality’ than a painstakingly painted portrait.
He has worked in oil, acrylic painting, photography, mezzotint printing, and other media. Always choosing the best medium for whatever he is working on, the method being ever variable but the intent constant, he is always investigating the same thing – how self-identity, like a photographic print, is a constructed composite and ultimately a complete fiction.
The parallels with Thompson’s use of photography are striking; both dealing with the surface of things, both using slick flat shiny surfaces and both investigating the construction and mutability of identity.
Yet they approach it in completely different, almost polar opposite, ways.
Raymond Pettibon – Black and White, b. 1957
Raymond emerged onto the 1980’s art scene courtesy of his brother, Greg Ginn, who owned SST Records and asked him to create posters and albums for his Southern Californian punk rock bands. Therefore, his launch was into a cultural niche, not gallery or high art, and not for ‘educated connoisseurs’ but for the general public. It had to be immediately understood by his audience… the ‘anti’ musical, in your face, punk supporters, who, one suspects, would be equally intolerant of any whiff of trained, establishment or traditional academic art.
Also, by its nature, punk was political… so I suspect his art will be more political than artistic… more high school Hogarth than Caravaggio.
The question is, how did Raymond get to that point? Was he just lucky, and in the same way that non musicians launched themselves on the musical scene he launched himself on the artistic scene? Was he the epitome of modern art, non beautiful, non crafted but meaningful?
Or was he an artistic high flyer who chose to draw/paint in this way, as similarly Chantel Joffe produces seemingly ugly images? Not that his images are ugly, just unskilled.
He uses images and text, not as the Cubists for artistic effect, but for cultural comment. So by his choice of medium he is foregrounding words, and as such… arguments. One assumes words took the place of artistic skill; nonetheless effective, and still art, and in the tradition of modern art where anything can be art as long as it has meaning.
The difference being that his meaning is transparent not opaque.
His biography says he is self-taught, but unlike most naive art which is hidden away and then discovered, usually on the artist’s death, his art was always in the public arena. He began by helping out his brother by designing album art for his brother’s band, Black Flag in the mid 70’s. This was his apprenticeship; as influences he cites William Blake (an obvious choice given his home-made drawings and use of words)… Blake’s sketches could have been poetic album covers? Edward Hopper… isolation?, Francisco Goya… madness and bold graphics? and John Sloan… Hopperish and portraying daily life and work – the world of his consumers?
But, as a young person with a brother in a band, it’s likely he consumed all the pop culture ephemera from comics to cartoons. Turning consumption into production is not an easy feat, but money and status might be a good driver? And given the success with his brother’s band, and then producing cover art for the hugely successful Foo Fighters, Sonic Youth and the Minutemen, it is not surprising that he had a career as an artist.
Having a huge reach and eager consumers it would be natural for him to evolve his art beyond the punk movement and into the mainstream youth/pop culture.
To do this he blends iconographical consumer culture, such as Elvis, with pithy comments on contemporary culture, to make cutting critiques of contemporary society (much like Hogarth) such as the nature of youth and fame.

As he says, [from: http://www.artnet.com/artists/raymond-pettibon/%5D… “I was making my work as transparent as possible, without equivocations, without calling attention to itself, without apology,” and, “There’s a lot of conventions in the art world that are not to be transgressed, but my economy of means doesn’t abide by those strictures.”
He could sell direct to the people; he didn’t need the blessing of the art world. The critics had no power over him.
Finally, I think he’s an artist not a cartoonist as he’s not employed by any publication and governed by its editorial standards, not ‘doing a job’ but producing one-off works of art with an argument, that sail off into contemporary culture and do what art does best… shine a light in dark corners.
Peter Doig – Colour and pattern, b. 1959
He may have been born in Scotland but before he went to Wimbledon Art School in 1979 he had lived in Trinidad and in Venada, California. Certainly, he would have picked up youth culture and attitudes from the different places he lived in and possibly felt rootless.
It seems likely that his childhood experiences affected his art.
In 1980, after Wimbledon, he went on to St Martin’s School of Art where he graduated with a BA. before attaining his MA from the Chelsea School of Art in 1990. Unusually he became a trustee of the Tate Gallery in London just five years after his MA indicating to me that he was conventionally acceptable within the academic art world.
He was critic friendly… and, judging by his later paintings (The Architect’s Home in the Ravine, sold for $12 million at a London auction) also artistically successful with gallery owners and collectors. This would suggest he managed to combine ‘meaning’ and ‘beauty’ onto his canvases.
A quote from his Wikipedia entry supports this idea: Art critic Jonathan Jones said about him: “Amid all the nonsense, impostors, rhetorical bullshit and sheer trash that pass for art in the 21st century, Doig is a jewel of genuine imagination, sincere work and humble creativity.”
Denis Castellas – Messy, b. 1951 (born France now lives and works in Nice and New York)
He is primarily a painter but draws his techniques from many media, which is interesting given this course is all about different media. My presumption is that he uses different techniques as tools in his artistic toolbox… picking the best one for his purpose but that the finished painting primarily falls in the ‘painting box’ – rather than drawing, photography, film or even installation art box.
Another presumption is that he uses his different techniques with different media and surfaces.
He takes his original images from comics, cinema and sport. These are all mass media enjoyed by the general public. I wonder whether he transforms them into something their original audiences can ‘read’ or whether his reworking renders them opaque?
Sans Titre n°2, 2014
Graphite, pigment, medium and acrylic on canvas, 27 x 22cm / 10.63 x 8.66 in

My answer is that he renders these images opaque and destroys any obvious link to his source of inspiration. I can see nothing in this that refers back to cinema, sport or comics.
It would be interesting to know his background and how his painting style evolved.
He works by rubbing out, destroying an image, reclaiming it and then saturating it. His interventions in the form of partly rubbed out images are visible… but become new marks divorced from their original context. The negatives become positives as they build up a new image. And so the painting is built up, if it’s not an oxymoron, of ‘rubbings out’ and addition, and progresses by a series of accidents, which he builds on, or again rubs out, to reach his final meaning.
Of his painting process Castellas says it is like a game of poker; he is one player and the canvas is his opponent, each trying to outbid the other in meaning while simultaneously hiding their hand from the other. For him the painting game is over when one player covers the other’s hand and wins. Then he itches to start a new game with a new canvas. Painting is not, for him, a matter of working towards a meaning, but the record of a game over, including all the bids and raises, and the final cards lying on the table.
It is, presumably, for the viewer to pick over the bones of his work and take what meanings they will.
A quote from: PHAIDON NEW PERSPECTIVES ON PAINTINGS FIRST EDITION : https://translate.google.com/translate?hl=en&sl=fr&u=http://www.deniscastellas.com/root/textspress/&prev=search says of his work…
“Secret symbolism, lost love, the cruelties of sexual desire. Working like an abstract painter, which he is not, is his method. Lackadaisical humour is the bearer of the tragic in his work, with a hint of irony or cynicism.”
I couldn’t find any biography on his life and training so it’s difficult to understand why or how he developed his painting style.
For me his work is utterly unreadable and meaningless and the critical analysis of his exhibitions so dense as to also be equally unreadable and meaningless. That said, he must exist in a market and sell to somebody.
That I have drawn a dead-end in trying to research his life is interesting in itself. All that I have found are echoes, ghostly footsteps of his passage through the art world, and none through his life. And the write ups of his few exhibitions, which are written to sell his work, are biased, so I found no independent critical analysis of his work.
Paintings that I love
I toyed with the idea of Cecily Brown, but can’t see me painting in that style. And though I like looking at it, it doesn’t excite me as an artist. I also enjoyed Raymond Pettibon in a cult comic cartoon sort of way, but would never want to do anything like that.
So, I am going to pick the two paintings that made my hair stand on end, and I would love to paint: White Canoe, 1991 by Peter Doig and Breakfast at Villerville, 1910 by Eduard Vuillard.
White Canoe, 1991, by Peter Doig

How does it make you feel?
It makes me feel contemplative, and excited and tingly and mysterious. I feel lost and at home, like I’m on an adventure. I feel like I want to soak it all in but there’s danger close by and I can’t relax. It makes me feel alive.
I think it makes me feel like this because it places me in a magical world. I’m standing on the edge of a mysterious lake, the dark palette makes it hard to see. I don’t know what’s hidden in the blackness… if it was a film I’d feel distant, part of me would know I’m watching and safe… if it was photo realist, however dark, I would register it as something I was looking at… but when I look at this painting I am in the world.
I am standing in the water looking at the canoe.
The white canoe draws me to it like a magic talisman, strange ‘snowflakes’ drift through the air.
Do you like the work?
I love it.
What does it remind you of?
It reminds me of the worlds and adventures I made up when I was a child.
Between about 6 to 11 and I used to escape into my own fantasy in the woods around my house, or into our garden.
It also reminds me of acting, where I take on a different reality with different rules, create another character inside me who isn’t bound by my history or drives, and when the director says action… turn ‘me’ off.
Not a dream, not role play, but an alternative reality which is, for the moments you’re in it, real.
What about the composition?
It’s not an all over painting as it has a horizon which delineates dry from wet, and the focus of the white boat, which is sitting dead centre of the canvas. But it has elements of an all over painting.
I don’t feel my gaze is being controlled and directed; the woods and water are there for me to explore, seeking out meaning and possible danger… the open composition of these areas draws me into a dialogue with them, as if I was encountering/exploring a real environment.
White unifies the painting… on the boat, the silver birch (both the stumps in the water and the whole trees in the wood), reflections in the water and the snowflakes. We also have some white rocks, a sort of landlocked canoe just above the real canoe.
The snowflakes both give it a magical stillness and also create a plane through which we see – planes are always interesting. But this is especially effective as it is physically and visually transparent. Glass puts us in a room, separate and observing, but snow is like a mystical curtain… we are in it as well as seeing through it. And it engages our senses of touch, taste and hearing. We listen to the stillness, taste the coldness on our tongue and feel it melt on our face.
In the snow we have the more distinct flakes near us and the thinner flakes in the distance which gives the painting a sense of depth, and limited vision.
I love the very vague echo of the red and green in the landlocked trees, and the mixture of images on the surface, surfaces and boundaries are always captivating. We have the scum on the water, the weeds under the water, the shadows and the reflections. So there’s a very complex mixing as we look at the water, then up to the more one-dimensional forest and its hidden dangers.
In having whole trees on land and stumps on the water he both connects and separates the two picture areas… and raises the question as to why or what has cut the foreground tree trunks, adding tension to the mystery.
Having just read a fantastic article in the Guardian
https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2012/sep/05/peter-doig-outsider-comes-home
I would add that having a canoe as a central focus also adds vertical depth as it begs the question as to what’s underneath the water. What is hiding in the inky depths? As a compositional trope this is very effective because we now have depth in all directions.
Also, and I hadn’t thought of this, a canoe carries, for Western audiences at least, the hidden meaning of a ferry to the underworld. A large part of his audience, though like me they may not bring it to mind, will have this image/association hidden deep in their cultural subconscious.
What style is the work in?
Magical realism… which I’d not heard of before I started this unit but perfectly describes the style for me which is realist, but of a magical world with different rules to ours.
What colour palette has the artist used?
His colour palette is energised opposites, white/black and red/green. These are both subtle yet powerful and add a throbbing energy about to explode. Hidden magical powers resting in the wood and hidden under the seeming still of the lake. Monsters in the deep tugging at our primal memories.
What is the subject?
Difficult… the subjects, I suspect there may be three or more.
As a naive viewer, I think the subject is the canoe.
Though, it’s also my identity, subconsciousness, questions of reality and a host of other philosophical questions that tag along in the wake of this silent white canoe.
What’s the significance of the title?
I wouldn’t attach too much significance to the title because Doig often has many associations and connections in his paintings. He sees his paintings as a living things embodying a diary of their creation and, like a living thing, holding a multiplicity of meanings and contradictions.
Indeed, some of his works are untitled, and some are given titles right at the end after huge last-minute alterations.
So, I think the significance of the title is that it is a starting point and reflects the painting, where the canoe is the visual focus. But the meaning and experience of the painting are not confined or directed by the title.
What’s the date?
1991
Doig was living in London having just finished his MA Chelsea Art College.
There were significant world events such the Gulf War, in which the UK was involved… the first democratic elections in Russia and the Indian Prime Minister was blown up. Closer to home Thatcher retired from parliament, the end of an era, The Birmingham Six were released, the IRA fired a mortar at No 10, Terry Waite was released (I remember this as a big national event) and Robert Maxwell died.
However, for Doig, without knowing anything about his personal or political life, I suspect a bigger influence on his painting was the year he’d just spent at Chelsea College of Art studying for his MA.
Why did he, age 31, ten years after his BA from St Martin’s in London choose to go back to full-time Art School? Is this what all artists do? Was he stuck? Was his work not selling? Did he want to go in a new artistic direction? Why didn’t he do it straight after he finished his BA?
Anyway, having had a year studying art full-time (without having to do a day job or earn a living selling his paintings, being able to explore and grow in a stimulating and academically challenging environment) I think he probably funnelled that experience into his painting.
It will be full of, maybe unseen or unstated, artistic and cultural influences.
In 1991 Saatchi was buying large quantities of speculative art from promising Graduates… he had a warehouse full… he saw a spark in Doig’s work and later, in 2007, sold it for £5.7 million pounds. It briefly made Doig the most expensive living European painter and overnight changed the price of his paintings. He had happily been selling his work for around £8000, suddenly they were going for millions.
As he said, I paraphrase, he was nauseated, not because he didn’t see any of the money, but because it was a symptom of the art market gone nuts.
Which is a whole other discussion.
What medium has the artist used?
Oil paint.
Oil is the traditional classical medium often used to show subtle colour transitions, and ideal for beautiful and illusionistic art. It suggests he might want his paintings to be viewed in a traditional manner.
What about the support?
Canvas.
The right way up, not ripped, to be viewed in a conventional manner. This might suggest a connection with the historical thread of painting? Referring back to pre mid 20th century when the painting was a beautiful object, which enfranchised the viewer and let meaning into his soul.
Where is the work exhibited?
I can’t find who bought it in 2007, who owns it now or where it is exhibited. As I think it would come up in Google if it was hanging in a public gallery, I assume it was bought by a private buyer and is not on public display.
Breakfast at Villerville, 1910 by Eduard Vuillard, oil on board, 57.47 x 77.47 cm

How does it make you feel?
It makes me feel happy.
I think this is because of his use of sumptuous colours that all blend together like a bank of summer flowers, and because of his blurry edges and indistinct forms which make me feel like I am in the room. The room looks like I feel when I’m having fun with friends.
It makes me feel like I’m safe, like I’m part of a group and like a loved child, adored and indulged.
Do you like the work?
I love this piece of work.
What does it remind you of?
It reminds me of Pierre Bonnard because of his colours and brushstrokes.
In life, it reminds me of one of the happiest times in my life when I was on an acting tour after drama school and we all, about 20 of us, spent the summer touring round Devon. We were all living together, helping each other, and having fun.
What about the composition?
It’s a bit of a weird composition as it’s boxed in by the room, and almost symmetrical being split by the two windows either side of the central table. So, it’s almost broken up into rectangular boxes.
The space is also flattened by the heavy ‘patterning’, but the shapes and colours bleed into one another destroying the pattern and, a bit like Doig’s painting, it almost becomes an all over painting. However, the windows give it a depth and create an ‘out there’, separate from the intimate, ‘in here’.
My eye is drawn to the clock, top middle, which makes me think of time. And that like my glorious Summer, these moments are fleeting.
Against this patterned, chopped up claustrophobic interior, the people, who both blend into and stand out of the background, make a harmonious whole so the composition makes all the separate people into one collective person.
What style is the work in?
I think the style is magical realism. Magical because it’s trying to capture a feeling and a transient dreamlike present, which is, at the same time, very real when you’re in it. As if all your senses, like the colours, have been heightened.
Realism, not in the sense of photo realism, but experientially.
What colour palette has the artist used?
Bright, lively, harmonious.
This matches the psychology of the moment and the people… these are privileged, leisured, bright, lively people who are all blending together into one group, just as his colour palette.
What is the subject?
His subject is the moment. The will-o’-the-wisp of a glorious summer morning on holiday with friends.
Has he painted this before?
I’ve just looked through nearly 400 of his paintings and none of them paint this subject. Which is very interesting as it makes me think this may have been a particular moment he wanted to capture, and that it was painted soon after the event. But that’s pure speculation.
Other artists?
I don’t know but I suspect, in as far as everything has been painted before, the answer must be yes. However, I don’t know of anybody who has regularly painted it, nor can I remember a painting that captures it.
The Impressionists painted bars full of people socializing, but that’s not the same magic as a small intimate group.
What’s the significance of the title?
I feel sure it is significant as it’s so specific and suggests an event, a particular morning after a particular night, that he wanted to record. Maybe it’s mentioned in his diaries, or by one of the people in the painting? However, I can’t find any mention on Google.
Breakfast places it in the morning after the night before, they are close and intimate, so I think ‘Breakfast’ is important. It positions the viewer. The people in the painting spent the evening together, maybe drinking, having fun and are now having a leisurely breakfast… easy in each other’s company.
Villerville is important as it’s a small seaside town on the channel coast of France. It was a fashionable place for the rich Parisians to spend their Summer. Even if you don’t know where it is, and I suspect most Parisians would, it has a capital letter and ties the painting to a place.
So the title, even without the details, is important in its specificity in positioning the viewers gaze on the painting.
What’s the date?
1910 – France
I’m sure the papers were filled with news but looking back as a non-historian, and not knowing Vuillard, it’s difficult to know what was significant for him. Nothing major like a world war or stock market crash… however, there was a big flood in Paris in January, when all the Metro stations bar one were flooded, which he would have experienced.
Artistically, it reminds me of Impressionism, which was at its height 1870-1880 but would have still been very influential in 1910. Even though he was a member of the Nabis… this still seems impressionistically based, maybe just a bit flatter.
The main point being that he was swept along with the artistic movements of Paris in the early 20th century.
What medium has the artist used?
Oil
Oil was the main painting medium for large paintings for professional artists, so I think the choice is less significant than it would be today.
What about the support?
Board
It’s interesting he chose board rather than canvas.
I wonder if it was because of cost… was board cheaper? Or because he liked the surface qualities, maybe it was smoother than canvas, more like paper, and was easier to push the paint around for his style of painting? Or perhaps there was a political or social association which are now lost to us?
Where is the work exhibited?
Private collection.
It’s now a classic painting by a famous and very collectible historical painter, so is as likely to be in a private as a public collection. Though I suspect it was always painted as an object of beauty to hang in a rich man’s house rather than as a public work of art… I don’t think the concept of public/political art, or the museum market existed then as it does now.
So, it’s hanging in somebody’s house like it was always intended to. Unless it’s in a vault, of course, as a financial investment.
Visual responses:
The White Canoe: Mixed media; compressed charcoal, oil pastel and gouache on drawing paper; 29.7 x 42 cm

This was great fun to do and visually it all started to make sense. As I worked (I set myself a time limit of two hours) I unravelled more and more colours, echoes, bounces… it was a thrill to do this.
I think the choice of mediums was good for the subject as the colours blended but kept fresh… I used the compressed charcoal to darken my colours as I didn’t have any black oil pastel, and couldn’t mix the oil pastels on the paper to make black, and that worked well. I used a little white gouache to whiten some of the whites that had got dirty, add snowflakes and paint a few of the silver birch stumps.
I’m pleased, I think it’s very effective and I could see myself working towards painting in this style.
Breakfast at Villerville:
Pastel on drawing paper, 29.7 x 42 cm

Am not happy with this but learned a lot.
I think it was a mistake to choose pastel, the colours got dirty and the medium was wrong as it had no bite and the colours wouldn’t ‘take’. Dust blew over the whole painting and even though I tried to brush/blow it off it didn’t work and muddied all the colours. I wanted to build up layers of colour but this medium, or at least the way I used it, wouldn’t let me.
However there are small areas that are working and surprised me, such as the artist, sofa and some of the figures. It was more effective before I ‘cleaned it’… as this took the pastel back to my first application and destroyed a lot of my work.
Very interestingly, this was much more difficult to copy than the White Canoe as it was much more patterned. When I started to try and copy it I found there was very little representational meat on the bone, it was on the very edge of abstraction and pure pattern (though when I’d looked at it as a viewer it had made complete sense) on so I found myself decoding it and imagining the room. So my ‘copy’ is much more representational than the original.
A seemingly random pattern that’s not random is very hard to copy, you have to understand it. Also, Vuillard has a particular style of working… flattening, pattern making, quick expressive marks that you have to master before you can capture his style.
I suspect, that Doig works in a way that is an extension of what I’m already starting to do so is easier for me to match, whereas Vuillard is speaking a different language that I haven’t started to learn yet.
Reflect on your own work in relation to theirs.
My work is much simpler and more visually realistic than either Doig or Vuillard. My work is clinging to a visual reality rather than offering a magical other. The other being an imagined magical world, like Doig or a ‘magical’ present like Vuillard.
This is how I would like to paint.
I would like to be free from the photographic distance that sharp accurate, tight painting brings. I would like to put my viewer inside my paintings, not for them to stand outside as observers. I would like them to lose themselves in my magical kingdoms, and would be equally happy for that to be an imagined world, as in Doig, or a magical personal experience as in Vuillard.
Also, unbidden, I sometimes see paintings in everyday life, the colours change, the shapes change, and the framing changes… I would also like to be able to paint that.
That I don’t know where to start is somewhat daunting, but that I know where I want to go is very exciting.