Friday 7th February began with a 7am alarm. This may not seem all that exceptional, but as my alarm for work is usually some time after that hour, it felt damn early to me. It was set at this ungodly hour as I had a train to catch. I was heading down South, to the big smoke, to that there London. I had signed up for my first study event and, apart from feeling a little light in the pocket after being fleeced by the good people at East Coast Mainline, I was looking forward to an interesting and inspiring day. Setting off from Barnsley I just about managed to make my connection at Wakefield. Delays meant I had to do a mild, slightly crazed sprint to the platform —there’s a reason Northern Rail is being re-nationalised. I’d made the decision that the hours spent traveling wouldn’t be wasted and I’d brought with me a friend — yet to be named (suggestions welcome) my miniature skull is one of the weirdest and most wonderful things I’ve bought since embarking on some serious drawing study.
Let’s be honest, setting yourself up an a train with a tiny skull isn’t normal. He drew considerable strange looks from my fellow passengers as we trundled south. I did a couple of drawings of the lad on the way down, one in pencil and one in ink.
Everything was going swimmingly until we reached King Cross. Just outside the station, we stopped. My fellow passengers started to collate their belongings, the woman opposite me cracked out the make up kit (eyelash curling thingys and everything), and we waited. Then we waited some more. 10 mins latter a rather muffled announcement chimed over the tannoy.
“errrr........static.......errr.......Ladies and....errr...... gentlemen please bear with us we’ve gone the wrong......err....... way.........errrr.......static........sorry. Due to a signalling error we’re on the wrong line. We’re not allowed into the station on this line. We now have to wait for a......errrrr.......platform......errrr......static......to become free. We should have you sorted in 8 to 10 minutes.”
I had plenty of time so this minor hiccup washed over me like custard over a sticky toffee pudding, silky, smooth and covered in gooey loveliness, no problem what-so-ever. But did I have fun watching the folks who had meetings to get too. It was like meerkats with a hawk in the area. Eventually we arrived and I made my way over to the London College of Communication. I knew I was back in the land of the art student when a young lady walked past me with a Dr Marten boot on one foot and a pristine white Adidas superstar on the other. Brilliant!
After an emergency sandwich and a cup of coffee, I sought out some fellow students and we waited to enter the archive. Hidden behind some high tech frosted glass was the archive. After being greeted by one of the archivists and removing coats and bags our session began. Initially I had a pang of disappointment as the room was small and the items on display limited, but that feeling didn’t last long as we were talked through the items on display. Some highlights for me where a couple of scripts (2001 and very early clockwork orange) and the original stack of paper typed with the infamous “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy” from the Shining. I was well aware that this study visit wasn’t going to really teach me much about drawing but as a massive fan of Stanley Kubrick’s work, it was an opportunity to geek out that I couldn’t pass up. I was expecting to come away with some insight into the mind and creative process of the great director. What I wasn’t expecting where the things I learned in the discussion that followed the tour.
So what did I take away from the visit? The work before the work begins is often much larger than the finished piece. Like an iceberg the final product is just the tip of the creative journey. Kubrick’s vast amount of research leading up to any project was prolific and would often take years. This has taught me that research and planning are not just boxes to be ticked, but a vital part of the creative process — work will be better when many avenues have been explored. The evolution of ideas is a good thing, ideas can change and be shaped by exploring and researching around the idea. This leads on to the idea of collaboration or at least not working in isolation. Work will inevitably be better if you can get some honest feedback from trusted sources. Reflecting on other people’s impressions can only help whether they are positive or negative about the work. Finally the last thing I’ve learned from Kubrick is that obsession can be a good thing. Hammering obsessively on an idea like a piece of iron on an anvil can lead to great things. It isn’t always fun but putting the work in will bear fruit. I really enjoyed the discussion. It was great to sit with other creative people to talk about creating. The fact that the group came from differing disciplines was fascinating. The realisation that no matter what medium we work in, the struggles to create something worthwhile are the same.
Once we had finished our discussion and I found my way out of the maze that is the Tower at LCC (cracking view of London from the 11th floor by the way), I checked the time. My train North wasn’t until 6pm so I had a few hours to kill. I decided to take a walk around the contemporary collection at the National Portrait Gallery. I love that place. If I lived closer I would be semi permanent resident. I was so jealous of the folks sat around with sketchbooks and time to burn. There were a few pictures that I’d hadn’t seen before that really got me excited.
Sid James
by Ruskin Spear 1962
This is just brilliant, I love the colour palette. It reminds me of my Grandparent’s living room when I was small. The smell of the ashtray mixed with boiling cabbage in the background. The way the TV screen has been depicted is just a fabulous bit of work. This portrait says so much about the time it’s depicting while making clever use of a cubist-like ascetic.
Doris Lessing
by Leonard McComb 1999
I’ve seen other work by this artist and haven’t really been enamoured but this image leapt off the canvas at me. The work has been done in oil but to me it looks like coloured pencil. The treatment of the hands and face up close are just incredible, abstractly done but so real.
Self portrait with Esme
by Chantel Joffe 2008
It was the sheer scale of this work that first drew me in — its massive. Once up close, the size of the brushes used becomes apparent, the huge amount of paint applied gives the picture an impasto that is reminiscent of the Alps. But looking at the picture as a whole, the sensitivity of this Mother and child is undeniable. A beautiful image, full of a mother’s love.
I would have loved to spend so much more time in the NPG but time was marching, and the station was beckoning. St Pancras provided a well earned sausage roll and a pint before I boarded the train for the journey back up North. The journey was uneventful, thankfully, and I arrived home bouncing, full of info and inspiration. A day well spent.
Happy scribbling
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