Come Together..

'Leeds Town Hall'
iPad painting
by
Glenn Marshall
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This iPad painting is based on an old black and white photograph. I have painted it in the style of John Atkinson Grimshaw. Regular followers will have gathered by now that I am a great fan. We both came from Leeds and I first discovered his beautiful work in the Leeds City Art Gallery (the very astute among you will have noticed that we had a 'Town' Hall but now we have a 'City' Art Gallery - this is called progress...I think!). Back to the story. It had been my very great honour to have had a painting selected for the Leeds Open Exhibition and we had gone to see my work hung in such a prestigious place. It did feel good, I admit, to have my painting on the wall in my hometown gallery. Of course while we there we had a look round and came across the paintings of one Mr Grimshaw. I was totally captivated from that moment on. I bought his biography there and then and have been inspired ever since..whenever I get stuck, I think..'nocturne'.

I'm sure that all painters have heard the comment, "Oh, I wouldn't know where to start!", so I thought it might be helpful if I showed step by step how this painting eventually did 'come together'.

Initial outline to establish scale and dimensions

Drawing some detail

"The devil is in the detail" - you're not kidding

First colour wash and immediate transformation

Starting to look like a painting now the sky's done 

Let there be lights...then just the figures to do

Hope you enjoyed the show.

For You Blue...

Midsummer Night's Dream
Original Watercolour
by
Glenn Marshall
Prints and Cards

From the moment I began to paint I was fascinated by the effects of moonlight..how it could transform the mundane into the magical. Over the years I have added people or animals to my paintings but I do think they work best without. This leaves the viewer free to wander through the painting and make his or her own focal point or points. I have always wanted to lead the viewer into a painting and this is a good example. You are naturally led to the white reflection in the distance and then, hopefully, beyond...enjoy your stroll - it's a lovely Summer night!

Tempus Fugit

'Road Home to Wharfedale'
iPad Painting
by
Glenn Marshall
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Well we survived the end of the world, Christmas and the New Year celebrations...and here we are three weeks into 2013 already!
It's a strange time. We are expected to be optimistic about our fresh start while still suffering the holiday hangover.
Years ago New Years Eve wasn't such a big thing - OK a good old booze up and  "Auld Lang Syne" at midnight - but that was it. Back to work the following morning unless you lived in Scotland that is. Now the whole country shuts down for about a month!
But that's not a bad thing and is a good example of people power. You see so many  of my generation (me included!) couldn't be bothered or were simply still too inebriated to be able to go to work on New Years Day that eventually the government caved in and decided they might as well make it a bank holiday. That's another reason to say thank you to the 'sixties' generation....I'm waiting.
I daresay that 'tempus fugit' for the Victorians.
It certainly did for John Atkinson Grimshaw my favourite artist. He had a large house, flats in Scarborough and London, coach and six horses, servants as well as a wife and children to provide for. That's why he started to paint moonlights or nocturnes as his friend Whistler later called them. Because he didn't have to put so much detail in, he could finish a painting quicker. This turned out to be great career move as he is now remembered as the greatest painter of moonlight and its effects ever!
Apparently there is a major exhibition of his work planned for one of the top London galleries sometime this year though I don't know the details yet. I shall definitely be there so 2013 is already shaping up as a special year.
Make the most of every single day because before you know it we will be celebrating 2014...yes tempus certainly does fugit!
Happy New Year everyone.

Seasons Greetings

"Stormy Sky over Bridlington"
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This painting was done on the iPad and is based on a recent photograph by my wife. There are times when we still can't believe that we actually live here. We see this view nearly every morning as we stroll together with Bonnie, our lovely little dog.

Merice and Bonnie on a 'nicer' day.

We would both like to take this opportunity to send you our best wishes at this time as we look forward to 2013.  

Things we said today.....

"Layby in the Snow"
Original watercolour
by
Glenn Marshall
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My mum will be 88 years old on the 1st January and when I'm with her we spend a lot of time reminiscing about the "good old days". Sadly, though inevitably, the vast majority of her peers are no longer with us. I am probably the last person alive who can provide her with a link to certain aspects of the past - these include precious memories of my father especially  the last ten very happy years they had together before he died.

Between them mum and dad constructed a greenhouse. When he could no longer be bothered with the effort of getting ready to go out, they  extended it by adding a wooden "lean to" that eventually evolved into the "den" complete with lights, heating and an assortment of old chairs and wooden benches. He could pass away the hours listening to the radio and watching his beloved dahlias grow.

Then one by one, his former drinking companions began to appear. They too appreciated a place where they could spend a day undisturbed, safe and well away from their wives!

They  smoked and eventually it killed all of them. But they were born into a different age when smoking was actively encouraged to calm your nerves. By the time they became aware of the dangers they all decided it was too late to stop and that any damage was already done - they were right - it was. My mum says that when she opened the door to take them a cuppa she was assailed by a cloud of tobacco smoke so it was no wonder that the tomatoes never did too well...though the dahlias positively flourished!

One day the discussion centered on the granting of wishes. 

Finally it was Joe's turn. "Well Joe, if you could do anything at all in  the world tomorrow, what would it be?". 

There was a silence and then through the smoke Joe replied simply, "Wake up!".

Brilliant answer and definitely one to remember.

Here's another one that I've always liked.

My wife Merice worked for a life assurance company and she teamed up with a guy named Nigel. Merice was (and still is) a very beautiful woman. Nigel was (and still is, I hope) a pretty sharp guy who was very good at figures..

So Merice, in a shortish skirt and all made up, would provide the charm (or distraction!) to prepare the way before Nigel took over and closed the deal.

They were a very successful team nicknamed 'Dempsey and Makepeace' by their colleagues.

Now you might be wondering how I felt about my glamorous wife spending time with such a sharp guy. Well apart from the fact that I never doubted Merice's fidelity - Nigel was ...well... a Nigel.

But he had his moments.

Driving home from visiting clients at their home, a car pulled out in front of them without any warning. Nigel had to slam all on to avoid hitting it. He eventually caught up with the offending vehicle at some traffic lights. Pulling alongside he wound the passenger window down and when the female driver did the same he inquired gently, "Excuse me love , do you know your indicators aren't working?"

She thanked him and pressed the indicator switch. "Oh but they are." she replied.                                   "Well ******* well use them!" he yelled before pulling away....nice one Nigel.

Finally a classic. Leaving a restaurant a waiter asked an acquaintance of mine "Hey man, you got tip?"

"Yes" he replied "Come to my house and I'll show you how to cook ******* steak!"

Don't mess with a Meanwood lad.

Shampoos, Hospitals, and Uncle Rufus....

"Forest Light"

I had occasion to visit hospital today to see a consultant and this was not going to be as straightforward as I thought.
In the first place my wife insisted that not only did I have to have a shower - I could agree with that, but also I had to wash my hair - I couldn't quite see the point of that as the consultant would be looking at my knees not my head.
However as an experienced husband of over thirty years I knew better than to argue so there I was in the shower contemplating the range of shampoos. The old outside toilet has been converted into our shower room and unfortunately the central heating ends in the kitchen. This means that the shower room is  as cold as if still  outdoors - even on a good day you can see your breath - and this is the middle of November which is not a 'good' day.
We have a large range of shampoos from organic 'top of the range' to the highly toxic 'cheapies' that the grand-kids bring to use as they don't like Grandma's organics. I chose a 'mid range' combination of shampoo and conditioner following the simple formula that they were the only ones I could get the lid off. The snazzy looking container informed me that I was washing my hair in a gentle but exhilarating solution that contained apricots. Apparently apricots will leave me with a lasting shine....what more can I say.
We have a metal stopper that fits over the drain hole. It fits extremely tightly and does an excellent job of keeping the bugs out. Unfortunately it also does a very good job of keeping the water in and when the water level was somewhere round my knees, I realised that I had left the darned thing in.  Putting on my dressing gown, soaking wet, and with my hair plastered in apricot conditioner I  had to get Merice to rescue me. She gave me a knife that I used to prise the grate off and allow the water to run away.
The next hurdle to negotiate was what to wear to see a consultant. It seemed a moot point as I would be removing my trousers anyway but I was instructed to put on my 'best' ones. The last time I wore these was in January to visit the Royal Academy - now that was worth making a fuss of, but dutifully I demurred.
So dressed in my 'best' and with hair shining we finally made it to the hospital.The first thing is to find somewhere to park. This I eventually did but it was so far away from the entrance that I decided to wait for the hospital shuttle bus!
Remember I had an appointment with a consultant about my damaged knees. I don't suppose he just dealt with knees but probably all kind of arthritic ailments that made it very difficult for his patients to get about. That being the case you would have thought he would be given suitable rooms near the entrance to see his hapless patients - but no. His assigned rooms were right at the back of the hospital and this meant another long hike down endless corridors following the green line for me and other poor sods caught up in the treadmill.
The consultant though was very pleasant. He seemed to know what he was talking about and looked the kind of man you could trust to stick a knife into you....as if!
He asked me if I was happy - I said "yes"- "Good" he replied "come back and see me just before you get miserable and I'll sort your knees out then."
My kind of medical lingo, and my kind of consultant.
Uncle Rufus never went to hospital and he did not wash his hair for the last thirty years of his life. You wouldn't know it though for after a while his own scalp oils worked their magic and his hair was luxuriant and shining without the assistance of apricot or anything else. He died aged 94 after a long fulfilling life. He only gave up then because his beloved Mary had gone and he didn't want to live without her.
I hope I do as well.

More Paintings by Glenn Marshall

Of Baths, Barbers and Beatle Cuts....

"The Enigmatic Eleanor Rigby

I was born in 1950 which means that I was a teenager in the so called "swinging sixties".
This was not quite as glamorous as it may sound.
Indeed it wasn't until 1961 that we moved to a house that actually had electricity!
Previous  to that my family lived in an old semi detached farmhouse labourer's house. As I said there was no electricity and lighting was provided by gas. We had the old gas mantles and they were very delicate so lighting them with a taper was a very difficult operation best left to grown ups. There was no running hot water and it goes without saying that the toilet was outside about a hundred yards away with hardly any roof left.  Can you imagine having to use that on a cold winter's night...no we didn't either! Bath night was a once a week family occasion in the old tin tub. The house was certainly semi detached - the end wall of the other house had literally fallen down. We were evacuated twice by the fire brigade who immediately condemned the property. However despite it's obvious shortcomings I remember being very happy there and though dark, the house always seemed warm and friendly. We lived next door to a timber yard and as my dad sometimes worked for 'Chippy' Schofield, we were never short of wood to burn. Incidentally bread toasted on a fork over an open fire is quite simply the best toast there is.
However the council had to provide us with accommodation so they pulled out all the stops to make one property habitable on a new building site and we duly moved in - the only inhabitants of Moorland Avenue.
This is not quite accurate as there already existed an old Moorland Avenue but this was always known locally as "Hollywood" because of the number of "stars" who lived there. That is another story for another day!
When we moved in we had no carpets but at least we had electricity and I remember my sister and me being enthralled by the light switches, switching them on and off to our amusement and annoyance of mam and dad.
Over the next few years our lot improved - carpets, nice furniture and eventually a telly.
And then in 1963 the Beatles appeared and so began the "Swinging Sixties".
Now to say that my village Gildersome was caught up in this new phenomenon would be a slight exaggeration to say the least. But we did have the most wonderful music of any era before or since and we had the Beatles which meant we had to have the Beatle Cut!
Our village, as every other small village in the old West Riding of Yorkshire, was self sufficient so we had our own barber's shop and incumbent barber - one Clifford Pitts. Clifford or 'The Barber' as he was universally called had a small shop attached to the local village pub (another story or stories some day!) and of course he cut men's hair only - unisex had not yet been invented. He opened on Saturdays only.  He was a cloth cutter at one of the mills in his day job and this constant practise with the sharp shears ensured he was well qualified to cut the hair of the men of Gildersome.
So off we went as thirteen year olds, down to the barbers.
The barber was well used to generations of teenagers asking for different styles through the decades from the teddy boy quiff to a D.A. (ask your dad!) so he was certainly not phased by a request for a "Beatle Cut please barber". "Reet lad" he'd reply and set to work pausing only to dispense 'something for the weekend' and  tips for the next race to passing males.
The trouble was that no matter what you (or anyone else for that matter) asked for, he always cut your hair exactly the same - short back and sides.
"That doesn't look like the Beatle Cut barber " you might dare to suggest....."It would if they came in here lad!" was the succinct reply!
Happy days indeed and we still have that glorious music to bring it all back to life.

Click for more paintings by Glenn Marshall