Slow Painting

I think, for Judith, the concentration on a theme, the most recent being the Fitties which, in its latest iteration ‘Hideaway,’ was conducted alongside the Dark Marsh series responding to the adjacent salt marsh – inevitably slowed down the process of painting pictures in a way that suited her. It drew in other collaborators (apart from her ongoing partnership with Harriet), such as the inhabitants of the Fitties with their stories and then environmental expertise and the broader context of climate and social change; expanding from the particularities of place into the global. Her paintings too, the way that the rectangles of light shining at the windows appear suspended within the picture, give the spectator a moment of stillness and identification that leans towards a suspension not only within space but also within time. And when we get to the salt marsh series the matted tangled web of plants catches the eye within the network that she creates and prevents the eye from escaping. Given the role of the plants in preventing coastal erosion by reducing  the energy of the water as it flows through and around them,  this entanglement of consciousness becomes a political metaphor. Slowing things down, not only externally but also internally –  as a way of addressing climate change

I remember talking to the abstract painter Henry Mundy about the juxtaposition of flat and patterned areas of colour; how the patterned areas slowed down the eye in comparison with the broader shapes of pure colour, which could be taken in almost instantaneously. Oddly enough, the way in which Judith juxtaposed areas of space with areas of detail reminded me of this kind of thinking.  

Another painting in the show by Stuart Edmundson has a similar dynamic. Fast shapes and lines slowed down by twists in the structure and dots. Henry Mundy, like many abstract painters of his generation, was painting in response to the American legacy of colour field painters. When Kenneth Noland stated that he was aiming for ‘one shot’ paintings he was talking about a speed of production as well as the distaste for revision. And the normal process by which the spectator is coerced into putting together the separate parts of the painting to construct a unified whole was attacked via paintings such as the target series where Noland wanted the whole painting to be apprehended instantaneously.

In one of the paintings on show, ‘Frankfurter’ by Geraint Evans, which depicts an American fast food van in front of an American wilderness, this love of speed is referenced but set against the older tradition of American sublime. The comedy created by the giant phallic model frankfurters is complex. In the context of a show about slow painting the juxtaposition of the man-made and the natural feels less like a joke and more like an invitation to collude in the artifice of the painting – collaborate in a slow build-up of layers of meaning; sexual, historical and environmental.

I would be surprised if much of the work on show has been directly created in response to the theme but I would guess that most found it easy enough to select existing work that was relevant. Paula MacArthur’s careful depictions of crystals suspended in space feel as if they have grown as slowly as the crystals themselves. It’s hung by a picture of a fence by Narbi Price, and a diptych of a tortoise by Ruth Murray – all three paintings done with the kind of care and use of repetitive pattern that invite contemplation.

Other paintings are slow in the sense that they have been built over a long period of time. Bill Stewart has been drawing on experiences hitchhiking in America for many years – digging deeper into the memories which, by now, are layered with painted imagery and change with each fresh iteration. They may look as if they are painted very quickly but the foundations on which they are built are deep. 

One of the most enjoyable aspects of the show was the day when participating artists spoke briefly about their work at The Plough. I know that in general, opportunities for painters to come together to talk about their work are rare but in rural North Devon especially so! And looking at the work of a cross section of contemporary painters usually involves travelling to a city. With a bit of luck, Studio KIND. can play a part in establishing a permanent contemporary art space in Barnstaple where such gatherings can take place more often.

For my part, my painting in the show is of a rock, begun over 35 years ago when I took time out from The Slade to come down to North Devon for a few months in the winter of ‘79. As I painted my rock I remember thinking that in another couple of years I would be really good painter. At the end of a productive day I can see that good painting in the distance and it doesn’t look very far away – just a couple more years of slow painting. I’m bound to reach it at some point, aren’t I?

Peter Stiles