Some people can paint standing up. I’m not one of them. Despite the recent gift of one of those water-pen thingies – an empty plastic tube with a smallish brush tip, which you can squeeze to fill with water and then dip into your colour – I can never quite get the hang of where I’m supposed to put all the stuff. The palette slides off the book, usually leaving a trail of unwanted pigment on the page as it goes; then pen must be held in my mouth, my left hand keeping the pages open, and then the process just doesn’t seem that much fun anymore.
I’ve known clients paint from the car, a train and even a plane. Yes, they’re dedicated! On Mists of Time we paint from a moving ferry; on Land of Smiles we try to capture the essence of a disappearing elephant from a safari vehicle. But all these admirable activities are done while seated, which is definitely the only way, as far as I’m concerned.
Exactly where I sit, however, is not so important. I advise clients upon booking that they may like to bring a camping stool or a blow-up cushion, though in reality these are not always practical for some of the places we go. You wouldn’t want to do a four-hour, rugged hike carrying a chair, and you wouldn’t be too happy placing your inflatable seat on a pile of volcanic rock or in a cactus grove. Sometimes, the only available shade (which we need, in the warmer countries) is on a slope. So you really do need to be able to perch anywhere, as the need arises.
We plonk ourselves on stone walls and on gravel paths. We sink into soft sand or pillows of heather; in grassy meadows, on piles of logs. We dangle delicately between tree roots; beneath an umbrella if we’re caught in a shower. It’s sometimes damp, occasionally uncomfortable. I’ve found myself atop a nest of angry ants on more than one occasion. Make no mistake, these holidays are not luxury travel, but they are authentic! When I look back over my sketches I know which ones were completed on the ants’ nest. Not because there are visual clues, but because a sketch, executed on location, evokes all the senses in a way a photograph never can. I simply remember the sensation, and vow not to make the same mistake again…until I do.
Currently travelling in Australia, I was recently privileged to visit Kalbarri National Park, a few hundred kilometers north of Perth. It has the most incredible rockscapes, deep gorges, fragrant gum trees, unique plant-life and some very noisy birds! I have a small journal with me and was so taken with a particular spot I simply had to make a quick sketch. As it was at a viewpoint reached by a thirty-minute hike in exceptionally hot weather, I could not justify blocking the view which the steady trickle of visitors wished to photograph, so I scrambled down from the viewing platform and tucked myself in beneath a scrubby tree on a comfortable flat rock. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, whilst still being able to see the steep-sided, orange-red gorge below me. I knew I’d done my job successfully when my companion couldn’t find me and was worried I’d fallen over the edge. The sketch wasn’t very good, but I shall always remember the circumstances in which it was produced.
The prize for inventive placement, however, must go to Zsuzsanna, who somehow managed to haul herself onto some huge, plastic-wrapped hay-bales – without damaging them, or herself – in order to paint a wide panorama of Loch Fleet (‘Around the Blooming Heather’). When I saw the result, I had to admit her struggles were worth it. Sometimes, just a little extra effort can make all the difference!
