Greengates is the fourth in a series of recent paintings exploring a more fluid approach utilising both oil and acrylic. The starting point for Greengates was an unloved oil landscape partially sanded back which provided an almost abstract texture to work on. Atmosphere and composition was then created quickly utilising acrylic and ink and finally enhanced by oil. The painting was finished with satin varnish.
The painting is framed and available for purchase at Enjoy Art Gallery based in Marsden. Other works in the series include: Pennine Sunset, Neighbour and Holiday Home all of which are currently available through my Artfinder shop.
And finally, inspiration this month comes from The Lumineers who recently played an amazing sold out show at the very excellent Albert Hall in Manchester (not to be confused with the Royal version).
A number of original paintings are now available on Artfinder. For a limited time each painting will be delivered with a special selection of free gifts (prints and cards – by me). Please follow this link – Artfinder – for more information.
And to celebrate here’s the fabulous Richard Hawley. What’s not to like.
I was disappointed that the anesthetist didn’t ask me to count to ten so that I could try to beat the drugs so instead I focused on the clock directly in front of me as I felt the familiar sharp scratch on the back of my hand. It was ten past nine exactly as I began to count the seconds. I think I got to seven before they pulled the tube from my throat and offered some more oxygen. It was ten to ten. A heavily bandaged knee gave the game away – the operation was done and so, hopefully, was two years of increasing pain and decreasing miles.
It turns out a pesky little bit of bone (now gone) and a twangy little Plica – no neither had I – (also now gone) had been the root cause of my ever increasing vicarious lifestyle over the past couple of years.
Whilst I don’t often blog bout walks and adventures – there are far more better blogs out there already, see Mark Kelly’s excellent halfwayhike for instance – they do remain the backbone of this blog (title, clue) and the source of inspiration for much of my creative work. So it’s fair to say that I’ve been getting a little grumpy and not being that productive.
Hopefully a course of physiotherapy should deliver me back on to the hills by late autumn. In the mean time I’m using the time to finally get to grips with Lightroom – I still miss the old darkroom techniques – and for the first time in over twenty years I’m exhibiting photographic work alongside some excellent photographers from the Marsden Photographic Group. The exhibition runs throughout July at Marsden Mechanics Hall. For those unable to make the show both my prints, Power Lines and Crosby Sands are also available through the excellent photo4me.com site where you can purchase the images as canvas and framed prints.
I’m also delighted to be part of holmfirthartweek which runs from the 5th to the 11th of July by exhibiting two brand new paintings in the main exhibition. This is the first time I’ve exhibited in the main hall during art week so apart from not being able to walk, the last couple of weeks have been very exciting. News of the paintings which I’m displaying are on my Facebook page here, facebook.com/davidcoldwellart.
Whilst I usually like to finish by pointing towards some music that I think all the world should hear, this post is a little different. In the wake of Kanye’s performence at Glanstonbury I couldn’t help thinking that, from an armchair point of view, this year’s festival was missing something. I then came across this video which somehow seemed to fill the gap.
Say the names Cuckoo, Moonraker, Leadboiler and Lily anywhere outside of the Colne Valley and people might just nod their heads slightly, smile politely and step aside. But any mention of these names along the banks of the river Colne and locals will be more than happy to recount stories of wilful birds, contraband, boiling water and persecuted Huguenots. These are, of course, the stuff of legends and each of the legends proudly belong to one of the four villages along the valley. So for those not in the know: Marsden is Cuckoo, the Lilies belong to Golcar, Linthwaite lead boils and Slaithwaite proudly rakes the moon. If you want to find out more about each of these stories and see some wonderful paintings that illustrate the tales follow this link:
The legends are celebrated in various ways: Marsden goes Cuckoo for a day in April (which is slowly becoming Cuckoo weekend), Golcar enjoys Golcar Lily Day in May (which is still just a day) and every two years in February Slaithwaite steals the show with the Moonraking Festival (which now lasts for a whole seven days).
It’s now thirty years since the people of Slaithwaite first paraded the streets of their village with hand-made lanterns towards the canal where a paper moon was raked out to the delight of the waiting crowd. Each of the proceeding festivals have had a theme and to celebrate this landmark year the theme for 2015 is, coincidentally, ‘Landmarks’. In recent years competition to build the biggest and best lantern has become fierce and the themes have led to inspiring paper lights in the shape of Dr Who’s Tardis (time), a mouse and clock (nursery rhymes) and our very own star (which managed to hold its own against any number of themes until it finally disintegrated in a snow storm in 2013).
This year the festival runs from the 15 – 21 February and includes lantern making, music, story-telling arts and crafts and culminates in the unique finale on the Saturday evening when thousands of people will line the streets of Slaithwaite with their lanterns to watch the moon raking. Don’t miss out – Slaithwaite Moonraking has quietly turned into one of the best local arts festivals and is great fun for all the family.
To celebrate this year’s Landmark festival the painting, Where We Start which features Marsden and Slaithwaite’s very own famous landmark, Shooter’s Nab, is now available to purchase. The painting was completed in response to the poem, Tuesday Afternoon which was written specially for the now legendary Write Out Loud Poetry Jam at last year’s Marsden Jazz Festival. It was really heart warming to get so many requests for copies of the poem following my reading so in lieu of publication I’ve decided to make the poem available below. As a special treat – a handwritten version will accompany the painting when it is sold.
In other arts and poetry news, a small selection of my work will feature in the Hand Made Trail as part of the Moonraking festival – this will be in the form of a pop up gallery created by the excellent Enjoy Art gallery from Marsden where a more permanent collection of my work is still available to view. The Art Finder shop is slowly coming to life – you can follow my exploits by pressing the big button on the left hand side of this post.
In poetry news, I’m very excited to be reading alongside Tom Clearly and Steve Anderson at the Square Chapel, Halifax on Thursday 12 February. Wordplay has become a popular monthly event that also includes five open mic spots. The nights are hosted by the fabulous Keith Hutson so please come along if you are in the area.
I’m also really please to see that the Little Book of Poems has finally made it to publication. This was an idea dreamed up by local resident Jennifer Smith-Wignall to help raise funds for our local hospice, Kirkwood. The anthology features my poem Clocks which some may already be familiar with and a brand new poem, Bradley Woods inspired by the artist, Peter Brook. You can find out more about the project here:
From the halls this week we celebrate local duo O’Hooley and Tidow who launched their amazing album, The Hum last year in Marsden and have just been nominated for Best Duo in this year’s Radio 2 Folk Awards. The duo will also play a sold out show at The Watershed, Slaithwaite on Thursday 19 February as part of the Moonraking festival.
They are twelve, just. It is May
and the sky seems restless; the sun
rooting out the last of winter beyond
the dry stone walls and farm gates.
It gets their necks, warms their backs,
delivers a thirst that’s like nothing
else. The puddles they walk through
sparkle in the sun, a dizzying collection
of stars and clouds and sky.
They are heading to the mountain,
or Shooters Nab as one day they might know it,
climbing the fence that holds back the moor
letting their shadows stray beyond reach
over bog cotton and peat. Here they turn right,
follow a path and let the village drift from sight.
Red flags hang motionless in the distance;
they signal the firing-range; something they’ve
only heard about. There is no sound, no distant
echo of gunshot; just laboured breaths,
footsteps and the birds, still unknown, that cry out.
From a distant window the quarry beckoned;
a last frontier; a no-man’s land beyond
the snow line. Up close it looks like teeth.
They are out of bounds, beyond their limits,
amongst cathedrals of stone abandoned
to the moor. A ghost of a road
leads them to shadows where names and dates
exist between man-made scars.
There is nothing here: secretly one had dreamed that
beyond this place he would see the ocean;
a new land from which to escape. The other considers talk
of radio signals and strange night-sky activity but says nothing.
They both listen to the sound of their own breathing
and search the wind for the hum of the village.
There is nothing. The cold sets in as they search
the furthest corners where, in the darkness, they find snow;
just a tiled piece of earth no bigger than a child’s
blanket discarded by winter; alien ice
that they now dare each other to touch
to fill their pockets, scratching at the stuff as though it
might burn before they give in and run
from the place, downhill, criss-crossing
the path were invisible sheep bleat and
where ice mixed with dirt is launched to the sky
so that they blind themselves just to see where it falls
before shaking the cold from their fingertips and scraping
mud from their nails. The red flags begin to snap in the wind.
Beyond the wind sounds rush in: friends playing in the street,
neighbours shouting, cars, buses, the mill turning out
or the Earth turning, skipping a beat.
They are twelve, just. Out of time
as they run, letting the weight
of their own bodies carry them, letting the wind
rush over them as they jump the fence, jump
into light above a valley that twitches to realign
To help celebrate the launch of my Artfinder shop I’ve decided to release the original painting, Boat House, Scalpay from my private collection. This is the first time that this painting has been available to purchase.
Scalpay is a small island just across the water from the Isle of Skye off the west coast of Scotland. The painting was completed following an autumn break towards the end of 2009 when the first snows where just beginning to appear on the mountain tops.
The work is framed in solid oak and ready to hang. Keen eyed observers visiting the shop might just spot the picture on the wall of my studio in the photograph on my storefront.
Good Fences – oil on board – 20 x 20cm (ex frame). The final image from the ‘Storm’ series which is now available to purchase from Enjoy Art, a wonderful independent gallery based in the village of Marsden near Huddersfield.
The landscape is the Yorkshire Dales looking towards Ingleborough. The title was inspired by the Robert Frost poem, Mending Wall.
For a musical interlude here’s the sublime, and appropriately titled, After The Storm by Mumford and Sons filmed live at the 2010 Eden sessions (just in case you were missing the sunshine).
I’m very pleased to announce that November 2014 will see the release of a very limited number of original landscape oil paintings featuring the Yorkshire Pennines. Taking inspiration from the moors, the farms and, of course, the weather, each painting corresponds to a day of the week and considers themes of absence and loss.
In the Studio: Wednesday (sneak preview)
So as not to have to always listen to the wind and rain hitting the newly installed patio doors, I’ve been re-discovering the instrumental part to David Sylvian’s 1986 masterpiece Gone to Earth. Perfect studio music.