Painting seems Sisyphean at times; both an action and duty, yet cumbersome and heavy.

Originally I trained as a sculptor; I worried Art College might simply be an opportunity without instruction. The processes of sculpture seemed to have more weight, believing then that the words of Michelangelo contained the truth that Leonardo failed to find.

I remember two tutors with fondness now. One, Romanesque in profile; he would look with intensity, tongue protruding through gritted teeth, a permanent squint it was said from years of paraffin wax and anthropomorphic landscapes. The other, abstract and bronze casting; he liked to drink. In the casting studio young sculptors would tremble as he called, ‘get me the dogs’ (dogs were metal staples used to pin a plaster mould together). Days, if not weeks of work could be destroyed if used with too much vigour, thus cracking mould. Older students would always come to watch. Smirking in anticipation.

I learnt casting and welding and carving, built armatures and came to understand Moore’s creed of truth to materials. My time was not wasted, yet still I found myself beckoned by the painting studios; the bouquet of turpentine and linseed drawing me from grimy dust of plaster, clay and stone.

And now I mostly paint.

And draw. The primacy of drawing (I borrow the phrase from Deanna Petherbridge) has stayed with me in a world where, sometimes, it seems that form and proportion have been eclipsed by mark and effect. The life room becomes a death room and skill is surpassed by concept, concept by an idea (any idea)…..and an idea frequently devoid of skill, concept or meaning…..perhaps not even an idea but merely a fancy. Alas, throughout art’s rich history there have always been dandies with large ruffles.

But I digress. There are still so many who inspire, creating spells with the alchemy of paint. Auerbach and Freud, Jodion, Kanevsky and Kelly, Mortimer and Saville, Schirenberg, Howard, Cuming, Brown and many more. I salute you.

Yes, I readily admit that making sense of the world on canvas or paper is hard. Frequently intuition surpasses understanding and emotions tend to run ahead of reason. But one pushes on nevertheless, putting one’s shoulder to that ever present boulder. 

Simon Roderick