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Questions by Julie Cole, 2003.
How did you discover your interest in painting?
A perceptual, figurative base. I completed my degree a number of years later in Bristol, again with an emphasis on a figurative, narrative style. Looking back at this time, I realize that my generation represented the first group of artists brought up with a
training background focused almost entirely on abstract and conceptual work, and that we saw these movements
as an established normal approach. I certainly sought to define my direction as a painter as a backlash to this
training. My own solution and evolution has lead me back to plein-air landscape painting as a solid perceptual
foundation to try and gage a future for painting.
Moving to New York in 1994 to fulfill a Fulbright Scholarship in Figurative Studies at the New York Academy of Art, I tentatively set out to record some of the scenes along the docks of the Cumberland Basin in my adopted city of Bristol, England. I have no real idea as to why I should have started on this small series of cityscapes, but I felt compelled to do so. In New York those first few Bristol paintings found a backdrop for substantial development. I spent most of my spare time perched on the corner of busy New York streets fascinated by the compositional difficulties before me. One thing I found, in keeping with my earlier portrait and figure work, was my ability to switch off completely to the environment around me. Once I had started to paint, despite the hundreds of people walking by, often stopping to
consider my work, I would almost fall into a state of trance, awaking to add the final brush strokes to the then finished painting.
physicality. I can sit down with many ideas about what I want to paint, what colours I would like to use and how I would like to shape the composition before me. But when I start working, the landscape before me interrupts my line of thought, almost starts to talk back. I think the resolution of this process separates the professional from amateur painter. The novice will argue back, stating the rules of composition and colour theory as a convincing defense to the disorder before them. The trouble with this approach is that you start painting an ideal landscape based on a limited amount of experience. At this early stage of a painting you should listen to the landscape and paint what it tells you! For me I find the simple act of looking to be the most beautiful aspect of plein-air work. I can sit in front of one particular scene and paint that one
view many times, each time looking a little deeper. The interpretation of the picture composition comes much later when you have learnt to understand what is before you. Tell me about your Fulbright Scholarship. My initial interest in landscape painting started when I moved to New York for study as a Fulbright Scholar at the New York Academy of Art. The Academy school, with its roots firmly embedded in a classical style of
training, represented the only opportunity I could find to study representational painting at an MFA level. I found this style of education useful, but too formal for my style of work that was increasingly becoming more gestural, about paint and surface texture. To this end I spent most of my spare time on the streets of New York painting plein„air cityscapes. The second year I spent in New York, supported by my first Elizabeth Greenshields award,
was almost exclusively dedicated to cityscape painting as a new and fresh outlet for my work to develop. The Fulbright scholarship represented an important time for me, I think the opportunity to travel, and study in a different culture is important, not so much for the usual cultural reasons, but because you become aware of
your own cultural idiosyncrasy when exposed to differing value systems. You become aware that ideas and concepts that you held as fundamental and universal are deeply culturally biased, and the awareness of this can give you an independence of thought.
I have spent my painting career as a tonalist, trying to understand the subtle undercurrent of the tonal composition in relation to a limited use of colour. For this reason most of my earlier influences are tonalist painters. I admire the works of Corot and Cezanne who both fought hard for their own vision of the world. Cezanne,
one of those rare painters who, to slightly misquote my fellow painter George Thurmond, ‘managed to unite a considerable intellect with the emotional intelligence of a painter’. Cezanne also managed to successfully make the transition from tone to colour, an occurrence in my eyes reserved for only a few painters in history. Moving up to the present day and returning to South, I was struck by the long history of the plein-air tradition and present vitality of the movement. I had many long conversations with George Thurmond, a plein-air painter from Starkville, Mississippi, and was impressed by his complete dedication to landscape painting and huge, large„hearted grasp of his subject. I must admit to feeling let down by a European comparison. It would be
fair to say that the plein-air movement is deeply unfashionable over here. The art market seems to be stagnating within an over intellectualized and outdated conceptual genre, and seems completely stuck in a rut. I can’t help but think of the deeply transitional time faced by artists at the end of the last century. Figures like Matisse and Cezanne were working plein-air as a means to establish the foundations of painting again against backdrop of frozen academia. These artists were working not for great rewards or academic respect, but for their own love of painting. It seems to me that there is a ferment of energy, bubbling up in the South, which might prove the beginning of a renaissance in plein-air work, and the emergence of a new way forward for this tradition.
information brought together to justify maybe a few moments of a seen reality that inspired me to start the picture. To be placed in such a large environment, just watching the movement of the world, can be a very grounding experience. I think the artist’s personality can all too often get in the way of the art, producing work that is limited and supporting of the person. The role of the artist should be to push beyond the boundaries of self, and
what better place to lose yourself than the vast ocean expanse?
Before arriving in the American South, I had little idea of what to expect from the landscape. From past experience I knew that the stimulus of a new environment and visual impact of seeing a landscape for the first time would almost certainly inspire my painting, so I arrived with a sense of anticipation. I arrived in Mississippi at the height of the summer and from my experience of Italy at this time, expected to be confronted by a rich array of burnt reds and ochre’s of a dry and parched land. To my amazement the land was green and alive and very similar to the English landscape I had just left. The comparison to my home country was, however, limited. The verdure of the Mississippi landscape was completely transformed by the intensity of light and filtration effect of the dense moisture in the atmosphere. The shadows were deep and barbaric, and the light, lensed by the atmosphere, created a depth of colour I had not previously experienced. The composition of the landscape also challenge my expectations; I have been used to a formalized landscape. The European landscape has been modified by centuries of land management, every part of the scene before
you has an historical implication. The landscape is subservient to the human need and possesses quietude. The Southern landscape is surly in comparison. I felt not so much a distance, but a mutual respect between the people and the land, almost a stand off between the natural world and the inroads made by civilization.
Of course, as a painter I hope that the emotion I experienced is more purely represented in my work, and am constantly surprised when I look back at the work, how meaning bypasses the intellectual process, becoming imbedded in the work only to be gleaned on a rational level months or years later.
Through my time in Mississippi I was fortunate enough to be offered an exhibition at Mississippi State University towards the end of my three month stay. Usually the exhibition schedule is worked out a year or two in advance, but I was given a cancellation space, providing an unexpected focus to the series of paintings I was then completing.
I remember seeing my first Mississippi Fox scurrying into the bushes as my fiancée briefly flipped me into consciousness, on our way back from one of the numerous Juke Joint bars we had encountered. This particular bar, for all the outward display, could have been mistaken for a factory warehouse if not for the small group of youths leaning on the entrance balustrade. On talking to the proprietor I learned that he had been stationed in England when in the services, and insisted on buying me a Crown Royal whisky to celebrate our cross-cultural ties. Little did I realize that this meant a half pint bottle, and of course it would have been rude not to finish the bottle. I will never drink Crown Royal again!
I will be returning to the South in May this year for a solo show at the Sylvia Schmidt Gallery on Julia St. in New Orleans. I was also lucky enough to receive a third Elizabeth Greenshields award this year, so will be spending the summer months in Mississippi, New Mexico and the Baja Peninsula, Mexican California, to complete a new series of paintings for a December show at Delta State University.
© C W Pates/Julie Cole (property of Time Inc.)





