Tag Archives: sea paintings

Taking part in Landscape Artist of the Year 2023

Below – a speeded up video of the three paintings produced on the day

I swithered a bit on whether to post about my day on Landscape Artist of the Year 2023, mostly as I had no idea how the whole thing would come across. As it was, I think it was nicely edited – they edited out the fact that at one point, unbeknown to me I’d plastered half a tube of green paint across my face and hair!

If you’re selected to take part in the programme and if you’re anything like me, you’ll check out the participating artist’s blogs online to get an idea of how it feels to be there, painting in the most unlikely circumstances. I mean, you’d be hard-pressed to re-create a scenario less conducive to painting! So here’s my account of it all, and I hope it’s helpful…

I’d applied before to Laoty, but didn’t get selected. A friend had said ‘Rose, you’ve got to apply, do it, go on!” and I thought ‘why not?”. When I didn’t get selected the first time, I thought about it and realised that although it’s called landscape artist of the year, almost all views are urban. I can’t remember an episode, offhand, where there were no buildings or structures involved, so I painted Chancelot Mill for that reason. I was surprised to be accepted on the basis of the painting (described as ‘brutalist, painted in brutalist brushwork’ by the judges!) The work I produced on the day was a bit more characteristic of my style, though I’d never have selected that particular view to paint (I suspect few of the artists would).

Above; Chancelot Mill. Oil on 33×23 inch wood panel. Rose Strang 2022

When I heard I’d been selected I was excited, a bit trepiditious and immediately wanted to know where the artists would be painting. The first few days (and right up to the event itself) is a flurry of answering questions from the producers, who are very encouraging (one said they’d like to buy my submission if it wasn’t snapped up after the show aired).

When I found out it was going to be Blackpool, I imagined it would be a view of Blackpool Tower, or that we’d have a choice of view where we might choose to look away from the sea front to paint the tower, or paint a beach scene. I would definitely choose the latter if it came down to it, but just in case, I had a look at Blackpool Tower online and did a couple of rough sketches!

Because I’m perhaps a bit anal (or, as I prefer to think; prepared!) I had a good look at the surrounding views on Google Street View once I learned the subject was to be Blackpool’s North Pier. Then (similarly to some of the other participants) I checked tide times.

What a disappointment to learn that the tide was going to be all the way out most of the day. A shocker in fact, since sea is one of my most painted subjects. I supposed at this point that we’d be painting a view of the pier, so I realised I’d be painting out of my comfort zone and just decided to turn up on the day and authentically respond as best I could to whatever was in front of my eyes!

Really it’s entirely a matter of luck for participants, in that sense – of viewpoint. It’s frustrating to know that you’ll be stuck in your pod all day and can’t find the view that moves or inspires you.

Take note also that even if it’s ok to take a close up photo and focus in on that, you won’t be able to see the photo unless you’ve brought an ipad or something bigger. Bright light will mean you can’t actually see your photo unless you have some way of printing it out.

My mistake was that I’m quite short-sighted and didn’t have time to get a new pair of glasses. Should have gone to Specsavers, that’s my big tip of the day to artists selected to participate. I kick myself for not bringing along a pair of binoculars or perhaps opera glasses, though I’ve no idea if such a thing exists, outside of antique shops.

If you’ve been selected for Laoty, are a bit short-sighted, pressed for time (my Laoty day was sandwiched between two exhibitions), take time to avail yourself of a device by which you can clearly see what’s there, because it might be many many hundreds of yards away with nothing in the foreground to give depth/perspective.

That mostly covers what happened to my painting efforts on the day, so I’ll get on to what it’s like to take part …

It’s like a small pop-up village consisting of a whole host of runners, camera people, judges, presenters, producers, technicians and who knows what else. On our arrival in Blackpool it was fun to play a game of ‘spot the pods’ with my partner Adam.

We wandered along the north pier and read inscriptions on the benches. Most of them had a dedication to someone passed away who’d loved sitting there, taking in the sun and sea. The sun and sea is everything in Blackpool. Take away the slightly grotty buildings, rickety pier, numerous run-down cafes, pubs and restaurants, big brash lit up signs and that’s what you’re left with – huge west coast skies and a luminous billowing sea (oh to have painted the sea as I saw it when we arrived, when the tide was coming in!)

We walked down to look at the pods, which was a strange moment of realising I’d be in one of those soon. I spotted someone taking in the view, looking thoughtful and guessed it would be one of the artists. It turned out to be Finn, and as I’d had a look at the see-through marquee where all the painting submissions were mounted up, I asked which was his (one of my favourites from the line-up as it happened!)

Finn, Adam and I chatted about the view, or lack of it – ‘we’re painting that?!’ – the selected view was now obvious given the position of the pods. We wished each other luck and as it was getting dark, headed off to get some sleep.

Earlier Adam and I had checked in to a hotel then headed out for dinner. I’d decided to have a big glass of wine despite the threat of hangover, as I felt it would help me drift off to sleep. It did, and I woke at 6am ready to face the day. Drawing back the curtains I looked out on a sea-front drenched in rain. That didn’t discourage me though, as a I like a bit of atmospheric weather to paint.

It was easy to spot the artists as I arrived with all my painting things at 7am, since they were the only ones chatting under a rain shelter (the crew were all running around setting up and we weren’t to go into our pods until much later when the film crew were ready to film us setting up our paints etc).

We were given a bag of breakfast things and snacks, tea or coffee, then we were all miked up, which meant whatever you said and did could be listened into, but that was the least of our worries. Anyway the focus is presumably capturing what’s filmable, not the mutterings between artists about the awful viewpoint or occassional expletive when a painting goes wrong!

The first bit of filming was the artists arriving (the bit where they say ‘such and such is a professional artist from wherever’. We were paired up, I was to walk down with Gregory, who was one of the friendliest, most calm people I’ve encountered, so he made that bit easy. All of this had to be repeated a few times while they sorted out levels and angles or whatever camera-people have to do in such circumstances!

We were shown to our pods and they filmed the artists setting up. I’d brought a range of acrylics and water-mixable oils (I don’t use the usual oils as solvents irritate me), a sketch pad, pencils, pens, numerous rags, all my brushes and palette knives and a large piece of flat wood which almost covered my little side table. I use that as a palette so there’s room on the palette to experiment, but a lot of artists prefer something they can have in their hand during painting. I also brought three buckets for plenty of water changing (the helpers or ‘runners’? are on hand to change water if you need it though).

As it was a chilly day at first, but would get warmer later I wore a thin shirt, a hoodie and an anorak. I’d meant to bring a couple of head scarves and regretted not remembering them as my hair got in the way at times.

At this point the judges and presenters were milling around and I was curious who’d come up to say hello. Kathleen Soriano came up first and we chatted about my submission. Tai popped up and asked if I’d be warm enough – ‘Is this going to keep you warm?’ he asked plucking the sleeve of my anorak, a nice gesture which made me feel cared about! I could see his keen artist’s eye checking out my pallete and painting set up.

Anorak checking (photo Adam Brewster)

Then Nicky Seare (the producer who’d first contacted me to let me know I’d been selected) came across for a chat – a very chatty and enthusiastic person, whose job it was to get the artists talking on camera. No easy task since the instinct is to shut off outside noise and to focus when you’re painting. (I’ve often shouted at the TV; ‘let them get on with it!’) We all knew the drill though, having seen the programme, and knew we’d have to describe to some extent what we were up to!

The thing that doesn’t come across when watching Laoty is the timing of the event. I’d been trying to ascertain when we’d be painting throughout the day, but that was hard to pin down because of filming everything. It’s four hours off and on throughout a twelve hour day, from start to finish. You arrive at about 7am, start at approximately 10am, paint for a couple of hours, have a lunch break, then continue for two more hours, but with quite a few interruptions. Then the artists are photographed with their submission painting and at that stage the judges are selecting the three finalists.

The part where Joan Bakewell says ‘Artists, your time starts now!’ is amusing since there were several takes of us starting – we were briefed about that though; ‘Just pretend to start!’. Then there’s the real start, which is a tense moment obviously. I’d already decided I’d paint a somewhat distant view of the pier since (as mentioned) I’d not had time to get new glasses so I wasn’t able to see details. And of course it’s impossible to see a small camera image of a close up when you’re outdoors in bright light so I couldn’t work from that either.

One artist was more savvy though and took their camera into the loo to have a look at details of their photo without all the bright sunlight, I wish I’d thought of that!

My approach was to quell my nerves by making some loose relaxed brushmarks to start – my thinking being that at this stage I could be experimental before I’d painted more detail. That worked well for me as it’s how I paint generally. In fact it’s the one thing that did work for me on the day as the pier was a hugely difficult subject to simplify. I think the judges were right in saying I could have taken the best part of the first painting (the sky) and created a different composition on the second one. The problem was that I didn’t have the option of a closer view of the pier, and sadly there was no sea to see!

My ideal view would have been from the actual pier itself and I’d imagined they’d set pods up there. I’m not convinced that the folks who set up the pods are thinking about the view from an artist’s perspective. Or probably where they set up is restricted by access and power supplies. Anyway, this is why, when you read comments by viewers, they’re often complaining that the artists don’t tackle the actual subject. The reason for that is (I think) that they have to be creative with composition in order to make a well-composed painting since they’ve not had any say in the composition that’s in front of them. That’s probably the main challenge in fact. And I think if you’re lucky enough to get to the finals, at which stage you get to choose your composition and show the judges something new, you have the best chance of showing what you’re capable of.

During painting Tai came over to ask about my new green-hair look! He also commented ‘that’s a beautiful sky’ which was encouraging. One of the producers, Nicky Seare commented, amusingly – ‘that’s like the Hollywood handshake!’. Kate was also very engaging. I found her warm, someone with natural camaraderie and, similar to Tai, I got the impression she did genuinely care about the contestants. I never got the chance to chat much with Joan Bakewell or Stephen Mangan, though at one point I caught his eye when we were both laughing at the repeated (‘let’s pretend’) ‘artists, begin now’ filming scenario!

I was also very amused at the stage where I started a new painting. Adam had been watching from the sidelines and he also noted that as soon as I decided to put a new piece of wood on the easel, a drove of cameras descended on me, with producer Nicky Seare asking ‘Why have you decided to start a new painting Rose?’ (When watching the programme it was described as a ‘drastic measure’ or something similar). When I change over to a new painting in reality it’s such a non event, and a normal part of my process, I found it amusing that it was even noticed. Everything has to be filmed though, and the camera people probably prefer it when artists work steadily and slowly throughout the day, so I had to be filmed again taking off one piece of wood and setting up another.

A drove of cameras. (photo Adam Brewster 2022)

Later on, I knew I was getting nowhere and decided to just have a sit on my stool to contemplate the changing scenery in front of me. That was apparently a cause for cameras to descend again, with one of the producers asking ‘Is it easy for you Rose? Is it not a challenge?’ They’d rightly observed that I was relaxing, maybe feeling a bit demotivated. I think the questions were designed to galvanise me and elicit a response. Understandable, but in fact that was a moment that might have allowed some new ideas to drift into mind, or maybe not. Drifting is not really something that comes naturally in those circumstances though, especially when you have a camera up on the right of the pod roof, click, click, clicking away every few seconds (which is how they capture the fascinating speeded up painting-process videos).

Chatting with some of the other artists after we’d stopped painting, it was clear many of us felt pretty drained. In real life painting scenarios, you get to sit back and contemplate in a more relaxed way, your rhythms are not disrupted, but during a day of being filmed the pressure feels fairly constant. I’d attempted to break the tension by chatting to some of the helpers, or going over to catch up on what was happening with Adam, but it’s tiring because of the constant focus over so many hours (and I say that as someone who can paint non-stop for hours quite happily in normal circumstances). I think producing anything approaching your normal level of painting is quite an achievement while being filmed for a programme, so to say it’s given me a whole new level of appreciation for all the artists taking part in Laoty and Paoty is an understatement.

I knew I was capable of much better, so it was a sad moment not being chosen as one of the final three, a feeling no doubt echoed by the other artists who weren’t selected. I also felt bad for Adam, who had faith I’d get selected too. In fact his words were ‘I feel a bit empty, I was just thinking you’d definitely be on to the next one and it feels weird we won’t be doing this again!’, that made my heart pang, and made me feel it was harder on him than me in many ways!

I think though, that the fact I was just about to launch an exhibition at the Resipole Gallery and the Limetree Gallery soon after, and that there was loads to distract us afterwards helped a lot. About a day after Laoty finished, we were driving up north to the beautiful wilds of Ardnamurchan for an exhibition opening. The paintings I’d produced for that had been a dream of a process as it’s such a stunning landscape in May. Plus, we couldn’t feel down for long since just the month before we’d got engaged!

Once filming ended and I’d exchanged emails and social media contacts with some of the artists, it was suggested we all go for a drink, but I just felt exhausted, so we went back to our hotel to clean up (I had a tonne of green paint in my hair!) and went out to eat. We found an Italian restaurant and settled in there, not realising till we sat down that the entire panel of judges and presenters and a few producers were sitting right next to us! (it was dark in the restaurant compared to the bright light outside). I went over to say a quick hello, Tai and Kate were super-friendly, though I bet by this time they must also have felt a bit drained by the 12 hour day!

I thought Finn’s painting was a very worthy winner, he’d realised the restrictions of the view, and planned a strong composition. I loved the pier painting part of Suzon’s painting, but I think my personal favourite was Efua’s – it was so complex, truly painterly and had presence. I think it would have been no surprise if any of the other artist’s paintings had been selected for the final three, sometimes the judges maybe have a favourite, and the two other runners up are not so carefully thought through, possibly? It can’t be easy judging.

I hope if you’re selected to take part in next year’s Laoty you’ve found this blog post helpful. And don’t worry about how you’ll appear on camera (I was dreading it but was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t too cringeing!) It’s not in the producer’s interests to make you look bad and they’ll edit out any obvious clangers, plus I think maybe they use nice filters or whatever to balance out the colours so everyone looks healthy, not washed out by bright light etc! Some people have asked if I’d apply again. After seeing the programme and thinking about it all, yes I would consider it. This year is way too busy but maybe in 2024 if the programme’s still running. (one thing I’d say though, is that they should offer more in the way of expenses to participating artists. I think younger artists particularly might struggle with that, it’s not as if art brings in a big income, unless you’re really well-known or your work is in constant demand).

I really enjoyed meeting the artists and helpers in particular, and I was super impressed by the skills and talents of all who take part in making the programme which is quite the production number – really fascinating to observe. And thanks to Tai for being genuinely kind when they chatted to us after the selections, he said ‘bad luck, wrong subject on the day maybe?’. Maybe, but mostly I should have gone to Specsavers!

Above all, huge love and gratitude to Adam who was there with me all the way!

Adam, Blackpool, 2022. (photo Rose Strang)

From Iona to Staffa

Above Iona to Staffa 3. Oil on 12 x 12 inch wood.

This series is inspired by a trip to the islands of Iona and Staffa last year. Although I’ve been visiting Iona since about 1991, I’d never been to Staffa – surely one of the wonders of the world with its astonishing hexagonal basaltic columns and sea caves surging with green water.

At first I wanted to capture something of the feel of the journey, which was in fact quite wild – in a small boat on a tumultuous sea in dazzling sunshine – we even saw dolphins! It was the underlying sense of myth that stayed with me though.

Iona’s spiritual history is well-known – St Columba, an Irish prince said to be exiled because of a violent dispute, travelled to Iona and began a life of spiritual contemplation with a group of monks back in the 6th century. His journeys around Scotland are remembered in history, also in tales of miracles. He was no doubt a complicated human being who’d lived a violent life in Ireland, who changed during his time on Iona – devoting his life to religion.

The island itself was said to have a druidic past. This is part speculation as those times weren’t recorded in written language in the same way as  Christian history was. Place names around the island do suggest this pre-Christian history though. It’s suggested that the Book of Kells was written by monks on Iona some time in the 9th century, but the book is now at Trinity College Dublin. Some believe the book was created in Kells, Ireland, but if you consider the fact that part of north-east Ireland and the west coast of Scotland were essentially one nation at the time, called Dalriada or Dál Riata, then it could make sense that the book might be written in the peace of Iona and taken to Kells when Iona was later attacked by Vikings.

Monks were drawn to such places at this time in the past, in the spirit of the ‘Desert Fathers and Mothers’ – a tradition inspired by Jesus’s contemplation in the desert. Basically, anywhere remote and removed from society was seen as ‘desert’ – a place to contemplate God.

Staffa, which is about 7 miles from Iona, has a mythical history stretching far back into the mists of time! It’s other name is Fingal’s Cave – inspired the myth of Fingal (Fin means light and forms part of the name of the port on Mull from where you travel to Iona – Fionphort) from ancient celtic stories. This can be a confusing subject because there was in fact a series of poems called ‘Ossian’s Tale’, created by author James MacPherson, about Fingal, but this series of poems was discovered to be ‘fake’ – not the work of a real person called Fingal from the ancient Celtic past. The stories were gathered from ancient Celtic poems though, and so it is a fascinating work.

I won’t get too detailed here about the confusion of myth, and translations from original Scottish Gaelic myths and stories by McPherson – Ossian’s Tale does mention numerous place names that still exist, and which made up Dalriada in Scotland and north-east Ireland in the third century. The myths probably refer to an ancient warrior, said to be a giant, who created Staffa as a stepping stone from Ireland to Scotland. This refers to ‘The Giant’s Causeway’ on the coast of northern Ireland which shares the same hexagonal basaltic stone features as Staffa.

Well, that’s a lot of info, which may give an idea of why I wanted to capture a sense of myth from my trip to Staffa from Iona! It doesn’t really explain the way I feel about such an experience though. Suffice to say, it stimulates my imagination and despite the numerous tourists that throng the islands these days, I still feel the spiritual pull of these places.

I used to visualise lying in a wooden boat in the crystal clear green water of the Sound of Iona, rocking gently on the waves in the sun. Where Iona feels gentle, Staffa feels almost overwhelmingly dramatic –  you feel you’ve taken part in a real life myth when you travel there.

I’ll end this post with some of my photos of Staffa …

Sold. 'Pisces Moon, Isle of Iona'. Mixed media on 10x10" wood panel. Rose Strang 2018

Themes – Sea

Above: Pisces Moon, Isle of Iona. Mixed media on 10×10″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2018.

As I’m currently painting a private commission which must remain secret until October 2021, I thought I’d post themed blogs in the meantime. Today’s theme is Sea.

In the next few weeks I’ll also share my paintings on the themes of trees, mountains, portraits, winter, abstraction, imagination and collaborations

Our emotional and physiological response to the ocean means that it’s one of the most painted themes in fine art. Capturing a visceral sense of its translucence, movement, moods and light is challenging and there are limitless approaches. To enhance your viewing pleasure, here are a couple of music pieces that conjure moods of the sea! A beautiful song by Ishbel MacAskill:  An Ataireachd Ard  and a timeless sound from the Hebrides: Lewisian Psalm Singing

I’ve headed each set below with these terms: Movement, turbulence.   Light, sun.   Night, dark moods.   Colour, translucence.

Movement, turbulence

Painting movement is best achieved by making a mess I find! I try to keep the paint loose – as soon as I lose that freeness of brushstrokes it disappears. I’ve noticed that if anyone’s watching this process it looks stressful – just as it seems I’ve carefully captured a moving wave it’s time to mess that up and recreate it in looser strokes. This is one of the advantages of working in oils or acrylics, with watercolour you have to strategise more carefully. In the process of messing it up several times though, texture and interest is created.

One of the best compliments I ever recieved as an artist was when the curator of French fine art from Scotland’s National Gallery bought two of my paintings and compared them to Courbet, Encouraging praise indeed – Courbet was an Impressionist known for his wild waves. An example of Courbet’s waves on this link; Courbet

 

Light, sun

Every landscape artist is obsessed with the way light creates landscape. Capturing the essentials of light on sea is a constant challenge. Some artists simply make a precise copy from a photo, but that usually just creates a flatness and lack of energy and there seems not much point in recreating a photo, except for practice. The artists I most admire are those who can say everything about light with very little – something I still struggle with. One of my favourites in that regard is Alex Katz. His paintings appear simple until you realise how much he expresses with minimal marks. Alex Katz painting here – Katz

 

Night, dark moods

Probably the least commercial works are those that explore a more sombre mood. That doesn’t change my fascination with the subject though – it’s poetic and inspiring. We see landscape by light, so when there’s minimal light it has an emotional effect – we seek the light in the painting with a heightened focus. When painting in the introspective winter months, it’s instinctive to paint in a darker or more monochrome pallete. (subtleties of colour can be really difficult in the dark light of a Scottish winter). Tacita Dean, a hugely talented artist, captures an ominous mood in her chalk on blackboard works, yet there’s a romance to them that speaks of our long history of sea tales. Tacita Dean

 

Colour, translucence

Nothing expresses the unique quality of a particular sea more than colour and transclucency. The sea on Iona on Scotland’s west coast is transparent, impossibly turquoise and clear, whereas on the east coast it’s more opaque and grey-toned, even in bright sunlight. This is down to light (sun rise and sunset in east or west) pollution and geology – the sand on Iona is pinkish white, in North Berwick it’s warm brownish yellow. Go farther south to Cornwall and the sea is still magically green or turquoise but with less gem-like clarity because of a warmer-toned sun. Capturing clarity in paint is a case of clean contrasts and layers of colour. Also I find that a well-placed blob of seaweed in the shallows with just a hint of sunlit white froth on top can work well! Basically though it’s a challenge, and again I wish I could say more with less.  Hockney’s paintings come to mind, view more here Hockney

Joan Eardley’s paintings of the sea have beautiful subtlety of colour and texture, to my mind, unmatched. One of her paintings on this link Eardley

Lastly, the Scottish Colourists are the yardstick by which artists are measured in terms of understanding sea and colour! Colourists

In a few days I’ll share images and links to artworks on the theme of trees.

 

'Road. Kintail' Oil on 7x5" wood. Rose Strang 2020

Applecross Series day 4

'Ardban. Green Sea'. Oil on 17x11" wood. Rose Strang 2020

‘Ardban. Green Sea’. Oil on 17×11″ wood. Rose Strang 2020

Above, today’s paintings for the Applecross Series which launches at the Limetree Gallery, Bristol on 31st October. The featured painting at the top is ‘Road. Kintail’. Oil on 7×5″ wood.

I’m quite excited about ‘Road. Kintail’ as I love taking photos and sketching while in the car (as a passenger of course!) The road itself provides great perspective and it’s fun trying to sketch or photograph in a moving car. This has that optimistic holiday feel – going somewhere. I wonder if it will appeal to others the same way it does me.

I’m persevering with the oil paints. I love the effects but it’s so messy – I spend half my energy cleaning up at the end of the day!

That’s it for the week. My partner and I are designing a dress this weekend – our new creative adventure – oil-paint-covered hands and expensive fabric do not mix!

More paintings on Tuesday …

'Aberlady Dunes'. Mixed media on 30x30 inch wood panel. Rose Strang April 2020. (Private Commission, NFS).

Art Commissions

Above, Aberlady Dunes. Mixed media on 30×30 inch wood panel. Rose Strang April 2020. (Private Commission).

Lockdown has been a good time to focus on private commissions. I’ve found it grounding and uplifting to focus on painting, and I think most people find art uplifting – a solace in strange and anxious times.

I accept most landscape commissions, even if it’s from a photo of someone’s favourite landscape, as long as I’ve been there and experienced that particular light, I’m able to paint it. I don’t aim for photo-realism. I deliberately keep brushwork as loose and expressive as possible and paint quickly for the sense of energy I’d feel if I was in situ. Painting En plein air is ideal of course, but with experience you can bring that same energy to painting in the studio.

The first commission this year – Aberlady Dunes – (above) was commissioned by a friend of the family who liked one of my previous smaller paintings of Aberlady. He’d lived on Lindisfarne some years ago and loved the sense of space  -stretching to the horizon across the marram grass to the sea and sand beyond.

North Berwick, Summer was commissioned by a doctor who lives in England who’d seen Aberlady Dunes and wondered if I could capture a stretch of his favourite coast near North Berwick, but on a smaller scale. I chose a spot that’s very familiar to me, just past the headland south of the town. It has many happy associations since I’ve been going there with family and friends since childhood, so it was a pleasure to paint.

'North Berwick, Summer'. Mixed media on 18x18" wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (NFS, Private Commission).

‘North Berwick, Summer’. Mixed media on 18×18″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (Private Commission).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The most recent – Sunrise, Ruby Bay, Fife  captures sunrise on Ruby Bay on the east coast of Scotland. It’s very large and I decided to experiment with acrylics and oils together with this one. I think I’m onto something as it came together in a very atmospheric way in the end. You can read more about painting it Here

'Sunrise, Ruby Bay. Fife. Acrylic and oil on 36x36" wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (private commission)

‘Sunrise, Ruby Bay. Fife. Acrylic and oil on 36×36″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (private commission)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To me, the difference in light between the east and west coast of Scotland is very clear – especially at dawn or sunrise. This painting below shows dawn on the west coast – far more diffused, since the sun, rising from the east, doesn’t touch the sea till later – you see the sun’s warmth more in the under-lit clouds.

‘Dawn, Ardtoe’. Mixed media on 14×11″ wood panel. Rose Strang, 2019. £495

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you like the look of these paintings and are interested in commissioning me, you can contact me at rose.strang@gmail.com

I’ll be happy to discuss price with you (the painting price varies according to size of course) and what mood or atmosphere you’re looking for. Below are a few more of my paintings showing a myriad of moods and atmosphere! …

 

 

'Sunrise, Ruby Bay. Fife. Acrylic and oil on 36x36" wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (private commission)

Sunrise, Ruby Bay.

Above: Sunrise, Ruby Bay. Fife. Acrylic and oil on 36×36″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2020.

Below, some details from the painting …

 

This latest private painting commission is of Ruby Bay in Fife, on the east coast of Scotland. It’s so-called because if you sift through the small pebbles in the bay you can find tiny little garnets, not rubies as such but very like them!

Ruby Bay is on the Fife coastal path, near Elie Bay. It’s a beautiful stretch of coast-  the most famous beach on that stretch being St Andrews (of Chariots of Fire fame). The tower, built in 1779, is called Lady’s Tower as it was used by Lady Janet Anstruther (Janet Fall) as a bathing tower – a rich person’s beach hut if you like!

I wanted to capture the classic cool tones of an east coast sunrise – clear, cool and only slightly hazy. Looking at this painting in real life (it’s bigger than it seems form the photo at thirty six by thirty six inches) you sense movement from a calm tide about to recede from its high point. The lilac tones of pre-dawn are just about disappearing, replaced by clear turquoise. Lemon-yellow sunlight is just kissing the tips of the rocks, tower and grass.

The painting took about six days. It was started with gesso to lay down composition and background texture, then acrylics to get contrasts, the acid tones of lichen and the built up layers of rough-textured rock. Lastly I used oils for the sea and sky, and the cool light blue in the shadows.

It’s been a pleasure to paint  – complicated and with varying textures, but I think I’ve captured the calm and the pure light of sunrise in the east. I’m quite keen now to have another go on smaller wood panel to create a more abstract version.

The photos below show most stages of the painting …

 

 

'Traigh Bhan. Early Evening. Iona'. Mixed media on 12x12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

Traigh Ban Series

'Traigh Bhan. Waves. Iona'. Mixed media on 12x12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

‘Traigh Bhan. Waves. Iona’. Mixed media on 12×12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

'Traigh Bhan, Turquoise. Iona'. Mixed media on 12x12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

‘Traigh Bhan. Turquoise Sea. Iona’. Mixed media on 12×12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

Above, the completed series of ‘Traigh Ban, Iona’. Traigh Ban is Scottish Gaelic for ‘white strand’ and is pronounced ‘try ban’. It’s the stretch of beach at the north-east end of the Isle of Iona, off the west coast of Scotland. (Set as featured image at the top is Traigh Ban, Early Evening. Iona.)

I’ve painted Iona many times in the past few years, most recently during a winter artist’s residency in 2018. It’s an island famed for its religious history and its particular beauty. That’s a somewhat anodyne sounding statement, so to be more expressive – when I’m there I often feel that the colours are too luminous to be real – everything looks like a ridiculously beautiful  painting – it feels in a way superfluous to paint it, until you realise photography doesn’t capture it.

When the Limetree Gallery asked me for paintings for their summer exhibition, Iona was my first choice. I can’t be there this year as planned due to lockdown, but you can be sure it’s the first place I’ll visit when it’s possible. I had planned an arts project there this year with my partner (an animator, watercolourist and musician) and Devo, a filmmaker from New York, so these paintings are a bit of therapy for me in the meantime! We’d hoped to respond to the island’s beauty, atmosphere and history in numerous ways, so I hope that will go ahead in the not too distant future.

They’ll be available from the Limetree Gallery soon, but if you’re interested in reserving one, you can contact them from their website on this link – Limetree Gallery.

The gallery (and its partner gallery in Long Melford Suffolk) is owned and run by Sue and Stephen – I’ve thoroughly enjoyed working with them over the years. We’ve had fun times and interesting conversations whenever there’s been a chance to meet in person, so as I’m currently enjoying an early evening gin and tonic I’ll raise a glass to Sue and Stephen –  long may your galleries continue to show and sell great work!

'Traigh Bhan Nam Monach. Iona'. Mixed media on 12x12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

New paintings for the Limetree Gallery

'Sanna Sundown'. Mixed media on 12x12 inch wood board. Rose Strang 2020

In progress. ‘Sanna Sundown’ and at  top – Traigh Bhan Nam Monach, Iona

Today’s paintings in progress for the Limetree Gallery, Bristol. Traigh Bhan Nam Monach, Iona is complete. Sanna Sundown needs a bit more work. ‘Traigh Bhan Nam Monach’ means ‘white strand of the monks’.

How much would I like to be on that beach on Iona right now! I’d planned an arts project with my partner and a filmmaker from New York which would have been happening this month. (Sigh). Painting that crystal-clear turquoise sea was therapy anyway!

I went very loose and ‘painterly’ with these as I think that will work well for the Limetree Gallery. The brushwork is very spontaneous with just a few areas of detailed focus – it makes the eye work more and Limetree art buyers seem to enjoy this painterly approach that lets the viewer see more of the artist’s hand in the brushwork.

Needless to say, I enjoyed painting them and I’m happy with Iona, once I had that little sun-lit ripple at the bottom I was pretty much finished. I like the freshness of these and look forward to completing Sanna and another painting, tomorrow.

'North Berwick, Summer'. Mixed media on 18x18" wood panel. Rose Strang 2020. (NFS, Private Commission).

Finished Commission – North Berwick

Above: North Berwick, Summer. Mixed media on 18×18″ wood. Rose Strang 2020 (NFS, private commission).

I finally completed this private commission today and it will be winging its way to a new home soon!

The painting shows part of the headland past the town of North Berwick on the east coast of Scotland on a summer’s day in August.

This is one of my (and my family’s) favourite places to be. Though it’s just about thirty miles from Edinburgh, it always feels quite ‘away from it all’, the rocks are beautiful and as a kid it was heaven to play here, as an adult too!

The person who commissioned me works in a hospital, so I hope this painting is uplifting during a stressful time for folks in the NHS. Having said that, I hear that the non-Covid wards are not busy since everyone’s too scared to go into hospital for fear of either catching Covid or placing more strain on the NHS.

Below – a few photos showing some of the development of the painting. The challenge was capturing that lovely curve where sea meets land, also the dry August grass. The sea was not so much of a challenge once I’d toned down the rather too bright turquoise. You’d see bright turquoise on the west coast of Scotland but not the east coast!

The final touch was a lot of gesso splashed – it gives a sense of atmosphere and messing up a postcard-like view makes it more real – the way the eye sees in real life with peripheral vision and sun in our eyes, changing weather and so on.

It was both a challenge and a delight to paint, a big thank you to the person who commissioned this for giving me a really nice project during lockdown!

 

Ardban Series completed!

‘Stormy Sky. Ardban’. Mixed media on 31×22″ paper. Rose Strang 2019

‘Sea Pools. Ardban’. Mixed media on 31×22″ paper. Rose Strang 2019

‘Morning. Ardban’. Mixed media on 31×22″ paper. Rose Strang 2019

The three paintings above complete the series for an upcoming exhibition at Limetree An Ealhain Gallery, in Fortwilliam, opening on the 18th October.

The full series can be viewed Here. If you’d like to reserve a painting, please contact the Limetree Gallery Fortwilliam at info@limetreefortwilliam.co.uk

I’ve been fighting off a cold as well as painting all week so I’m too puggled (old Scots word for tired) to write more today, but here are two more videos (by Adam Brewster, thanks Adam!) of painting on the beautiful beach of Ardban (one showing that it can be sunny, the other showing that sometimes you can dispense with brushes). Thanks again to Donald Ferguson for arranging this amazing holiday – I look forward to going back there again!