Posts Tagged ‘Patrick Heron’
A recent visit to Aberdeen meant I got chance to visit Aberdeen Art Gallery, an impressive space, with an impressive collection including some contemporary works and, my particular interest: abstract paintings. The John Copnall painting Green For Cathy, 1973, looks like it was a painted especially for this space, even though it was not actually a site specific work. (There’s a better photo of it here.)
According to the label it had been included in a solo show of Copnall’s paintings at Aberdeen Art Gallery in 1974 and was purchased later that year. Set amongst other more contemporary art works here, not necessarily paintings, I think it demonstrates something of the power of formalist painting, even now, long after its ‘moment’ has supposedly passed.
Seeing it from a distance the relationship between painting and place is what I am most aware of, the painting’s verticality echoing and perhaps also competing with the architecture, such that “architectural” is an adjective for the artwork that seems difficult to resist. Getting close up, no new information is revealed in terms of detail, brush strokes for example, yet the experience is different. From here it’s me and the colour that forms the primary relationship.
Absolutely not seeing a window on the world, just me and it, my awareness of the ‘here and now’ is heightened. Here in this place the ‘now’ continues on for a while, its content remaining unchanged, leading to this stretching out of the experience. Not eternal or timeless, this ‘now’, comprised of smaller ‘now’s, each one giving way to another, also contains multiple ‘then and there’s. For example, I am remembering my brother’s criterion for a good painting: that it will continue to get better even after repeated viewings, something I learned when we were looking at a painting in the Whitworth a few weeks ago. And now I am considering whether this painting would achieve his criterion. I also find myself making comparisons with other artists, clear influences of Copnall, like Barnett Newman and Morris Louis.
Then, as I break state by starting to move away I notice an after image, my own projection on the white wall, instead of an expanse of red I see an expanse of green with narrow red black and orange stripes at the edge.
And I also realize that since stepping into the gallery I have been dimly aware of a familiar sound, emphasizing not the extended ‘now’ but its opposite, the continual repetition of beginning and ending, and especially ending. If it wasn’t that I love the song Room to Roam by Mike Scott, from the 1990 Waterboys album of the same title, I might find the constant repetition of it annoying. The song, featured in an audio visual artwork by Jacques Coetzer, stresses the word “end” in the repeated line “ending in one end” but then when it’s played on a loop that emphasis is magnified. Even when you are not looking at the piece it can be heard all around the gallery. And it doesn’t end there, it continues to repeat in my head long after the gallery visit is over.
I do enjoy the video, and the associations it has for me, remembering that when that album was first released my friend bought a copy on the strength of hearing the Waterboys earlier Album This is the Sea, which includes the amazing song The Whole of the Moon. I had lent my copy to him and he liked it so much that he went out and bought the new Album, only to find that he hated it, so he gave it to me, (thanks Simon).
Painting is less intrusive, it can more easily be ignored, and recollecting a painting afterwards I tend to find more difficult than with a song. But despite the pleasure I gain from the audio/video, it is the paintings that really interest me, the Copnall on one side of the Coetzer, and Rumbold Vertical Four: Green in Green with Blue and Red, 1970 by Patrick Heron on the other side. (A better photo here.)
Like Green for Cathy its verticality seems particularly right for this place, almost like the venue requires a strong visual statement. The two paintings look good together, sharing similar themes: an expanse of colour bordered by stripes on the right hand edge, Copnall’s stripes being more ‘optical’ and Heron’s more wobbly. (Didn’t he once refer to his paintings as “Wobbly hard edge”?) In this informal series Heron combines the stripe with positive/negative circular motifs that look like cut outs. Figure ground relationships shift and colours that ‘should’ recede (e.g. blue) seem to project forward. He seems also play with the idea of ‘on’ versus ‘in’.
I visit the Hepworth, Wakefield quite often, usually a lightning tour towards the end of the day. This Sunday we were amongst the last people in there. It felt a bit like “last orders at the bar” and “time please!” The invigilators were kind in letting me take a quick look at Richard Long’s slate works, and magnificent clay ‘painting’, Waterfall – a site specific piece, before they closed the doors for the day.
I love the Hepworth. The quality of light in there is wonderful, perhaps the best lit art space I know, so you get all this wonderful natural light in many rooms, just great for seeing the work. And they always have a few really good paintings to look at (there’s lots of sculpture as you would expect, and whilst I like that, it is always the painting to which I am drawn). This time it was the fantastic Patrick Heron they have on show in the “St Ives” room. Sorry, “no photos allowed”. Does anyone know where I can find one to link to?
P.S. I say THE Patrick Heron as if you know that I only really cared for one of them. It had a landscape referring title, though needed no such referent. (The others were a figure and a churchyard scene that I thought were only OK.)
P.P.S. I found a link here (it gives an idea of it). The painting is titled June Horizon and was painted in 1957.
At the moment the modern collection at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery is in gallery 21. The Patrick Heron painting seems to dominate the room, as if it has a different aesthetic to all the other works on view. His use of colour in his “wobbly hard edge” paintings (his term) makes everything else in here look dull.
Having said that, the little Winifred Nicholson painting of flowers at a window is lovely and there is at least one good Ben Nicholson painting on show.
The two abstract paintings seem to present two quite different versions of modernist abstraction don’t they?
P.S. Sam Cornish on Twitter pointed out that these two are in fact quite similar, and he’s right isn’t he? both are stacked rectangles holding circles. My response was that as an identical twin I see differences where others see similarity. A bad excuse if ever I heard one. I guess what I really have in mind is to do with the colour. When I walked into this space the Patrick Heron painting dominated in a way that the Nicholson collage didn’t. The strong flat colours in the Heron made it the only one in the room that was absolutely other than a window on the world. Actually, it seemed totally out of place. I love the Nicholsons, but they didn’t seem different to all the others in quite the same way as the Heron. Both abstract, both circles and rectangles, maybe we could say the drawing is similar, yet they seem to be different versions of abstraction in that the Nicholson seems to be about line whereas the Heron seems to be about colour.
The Heroism of Patrick Heron.Thank you David for sharing this wonderful photo.
Originally posted on David Manley - Artist:
Who knows why such days come along from time to time… It was the writer Peter Redgrove that coined this term when I was one of his students in Cornwall many years back. He swore blind that when you entered Cornwall over the Tamar a black dog jumped on your shoulder and sat there until you left the county! Quite what he had against the place I never did find out. It reminded me of another recollection of my student days…
My online friend Andy Parkinson recently mentioned a previous blog of mine in which I checked some Patrick Heron pictures…I reckon this might be one of them…
And when I think of him battling away across this surface with the No.2 watercolour brush swishing oil colour onto a canvas over two metres long I realise that I haven’t got so much to complain about…though in my defence the shapes…
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If orange and lemon are colours, white could be a fruit. Well that’s how it seemed when viewing a painting at Warwick University by the great Patrick Heron entitled Orange and Lemon with White, 1965.
I know I said something similar the other day about ultramarine in a painting by him. It’s been a Patrick Heron week for me. It started with Terry Greene’s post and then later another and then this by Rhetoricalpens.
David Manley commented with this lovely story about Heron:
… I …recall Heron coming to my art school in 1973 and proudly telling us how he had covered a twelve by eight foot canvas with a dazzling vermillion with a number two watercolour brush…
…and the reference to Vermillion also reminded me of a this painting at Warwick: Four Vermillions
David, could this have been the one?
It was Terry Greene’s blog post the day before yesterday that got me thinking about Patrick Heron saying that the flavour of words is anti-visual, and recalling that I saw a good gouache on paper by him recently, entitled Ultramarine With Lime, almost as if ultramarine were fruit you could eat. The flavour of colour, however, is entirely visual.
unfortunately, the dim lighting and the reflection on the glass lean towards the anti-visual.
…and in this collection, dispersed as it is throughout the university and right there where work is being done, as well as open for public viewing, it may well get seen by ‘the millions’. However, I mis-heard her. The title is Four Vermillions. Four reds near enough in value, tone and hue to be called “vermillion” yet different enough for there to be four very distinct colours.
I recently heard David Batchelor (there is a marvelous piece by him in the same building entitled Against Nature, photo below) say that he does not use the names of colours, as you cannot know what kind of the named colour it is without actually seeing it. He said something like that anyway, unless I mis-heard him.
Thanks Liz, for the tours, they were excellent.