My solo exhibition at Oriel Davies Gallery has allowed 2 years of uninterrupted making. Steffan Jones Hughes, the curator of the incredible gallery in the heart of Powys, Wales, offered me the show during the Covid lockdown, and I've been working hard to produce 40 new paintings and various digital films for the exhibition.
One of the most creatively rewarding has been the opportunity to work on a large scale. Steffan was keen for me to explore different dimensions within the new work, and I'm so glad that his suggestions have helped me to become a better and more confident artist. The beautiful gallery has high walls and a peaceful atmosphere, perfect for showing my work.
However, working at scale presents its own challenges. My studio space is in an old woollen mill with high-enough walls, but access is restricted by standard-size doors. So my partner built me a wonderful painting frame in the garden, the exact size of the internal walls in the gallery, which allowed me to create temporary stretchers to scale and to make a mess and build up the initial layers without worrying too much about the practicalities.
Most of the works were painted outside at 38 degrees last summer, and for someone who loves the cold - it was pretty hot!
I am really pleased with the 8 very large works I have in the exhibition, and I've become obsessed with working without the restraints of the solid walls in my studio space.
I love visiting exhibitions where scale is fundamental to the hang - it creates a different kind of conversation between the works and offers rhythm and punctuation in the show. One of my favourites, was the Hilma af Klint show at The Serpentine. I still remember her vast colourful canvases singing in the main gallery space, with the smaller esoteric works basking in the refracted light of the gallery.
A real gem of an exhibition.
About four weeks ago, as the deadline for the exhibition approached, I realised that the smaller paintings I had started just after Christmas needed full-time attention in my studio. But the large-scale gestural marks on the outdoor paintings I loved making, had to be tamed somewhat without compromising the more intimate dimensions; the presence of the smaller works have to captivate and fight for attention in the exhibition, and not be wall flowers! The large brush strokes and throwing paint on the bigger canvases wouldn't work on the smaller surfaces, so I have had to push to find a different, more sympathetic language.
The attention to detail has become paramount. Material and application, the focus. Adding collage, breaking the surface, weaving fabrics, and using varnishes and wax became the mirror of the larger, gestural marks on the bigger works.
I went to The Hay Book Festival last week and listened to Tracy Emin talk about her bladder cancer diagnosis and her zest for life after her horrific cancer treatment. She was an inspiration; she was brave, funny, tragic, honest, and empowering.
After my hysterectomy, I felt like I'd been given my life back again. I could relate to what she was talking about on so many levels, and it was wonderful for her to be so candid about her experience and facing death head-on.
Being a woman of 55 is challenging; my hormones and my physicality are constantly fighting me. Studio time is interrupted by inflammation, fog and tiredness - my brain desperately wants to run and get on, with a body that needs rest and time to recover.
The menopause is a hard, emotional rollercoaster.
Putting together a solo exhibition is demanding, even with the support of the gallery, the curator, my mentor, my partner, my two daughters and the funding I have received. But my passion for painting keeps me buoyant. Tracy Emin made me realise how lucky I am to still make work and spend my life doing what I love to do.
The exhibition leaves my space in a month to be hung at the gallery, and after this exodus, I will be stretching more large-scale canvases and working en plein air in the garden. I can't wait!