The X Factor

I’m driving down Regent’s Street, London and traffic is very slow. The blue flashing lights ahead indicate some emergency has taken precedence and we must wait. Above me, the Christmas lights display, splendiferous in brilliance sparkle along with the blinking and shimmering festive colours from the shop fronts and people rush around going about their business. The air is cold and crisp and I am reminded, this is my most favourite time of the year.
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But this evening, this is all peripheral, I am impatient to get home, my mind is in turmoil as I think of the past 6 or so hours. I’ve been at the Royal Institute of Oil Painters Paint Live event, and I want to dump my thoughts in writing before they fly clean out of my head, 

Earlier in the day as I walked round the show the thought had crossed my mind (and not for the first time) if I shouldn’t just grab my coat and shut the door on my art career gently behind me; no wonder I’ve received rejection upon rejection each time I apply to their open exhibition! I say to fellow painters, if you want to know why you didn’t get in,  seriously, go and see the show. The bar is set high!

The Paint Live day has become something of a tradition during the ROI’s annual open exhibition where artists are invited to create a painting within a half mile radius of the Mall Galleries and submit it to the competition at the end of the day. It’s a fun way to meet up with the many friends and acquaintances that have been thrown together through social media and for me another opportunity to practice painting outdoors.

I picked my spot on The Mall looking towards Buckingham Palace. My attraction was the flags which were on display all the way down the length of the mall, apparently a certain President would be dining with Her Majesty later in the week. The perfect spot would of course have been right in the middle of the road on a traffic island but with the level of police around, I thought that probably would not have been a good idea not to mention the chaos that would probably ensue as traffic whizzed past either side of me. 

Anyway, near disaster was averted when I discovered the quick release plate that connects my pochade box to my tripod was missing, Luckily,  I had a spare one in my bag (long story), which didn’t quite fit but kind of did the job. (Note to self, be sure to check and double check your plein air equipment before you leave home). 

Every year after the winning paintings have been chosen, prizes given, hands clapped, backs patted and congratulations rendered,  painters are given the opportunity to get a critique from the judges who this year were Ian Cryer. Past president of the ROI, June Mendoza OBE who’s portrait work I really admire and Haidee-Jo Summers who is arguably my most favourite living artist.

June pointed out the compositional aspects, the vertical this and the diagonal that pointing to the horizontal base line which gave it a solid grounding, “Thank you”,  I said, “now where is is weak?” “Your drawing...”,  she  came back immediately, “Buckingham Palace looks like a lump of jelly”, I laughed and thanked her. Ian had pretty much the same view about the drawing, “...if your shapes are too generic, they can look like they were just dumped there...” he told me. He was referring the the taxi in my painting.  “Also don’t forget to check where your light is coming from”. Yikes! Classic schoolgirl error! Isn’t that the first thing they teach you at art school?

Painting outdoors is so different to studio painting and I so want to get better at it and realise it takes time and practice neither of which have easy shortcuts. Painting outdoors teaches you to observe and can bring a certain freshness and spontaneity to paintings which I so admire and want to emulate. Increasingly though I feel it’s not just about being able to paint, it’s about finding and adding all those little nuances, the sprinkling of a certain magic dust that takes your painting from ordinary to extraordinary. 

I feel frustration and pleasure in unequal and varying measure as I wonder if I will ever reach my painting nirvana; frustration when once again perfection eludes me and pleasure because above all else it’s what I love to do. 

What do fellow artists think? What extremes of emotion do you feel when you paint?

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