The magic of reality
Within just half an hour or so, an extraordinary veil of mist had silently rolled in, rendering the town a mysterious enigma.
Fascinated, I was drawn to the window to gaze out at the scene of beautiful, unreal reality.
Just earlier in the day, I’d had an interesting conversation about the nature of what we perceive to be reality.
About how our senses can purportedly detect only a tiny chink within the spectrum of everything that may be ‘out there’.
And so, I wonder, perhaps the purpose of art is not so much about offering escapism, but about pulling back those veils of 'reality' and giving us a little glimpse into what could be lying beyond the concrete, material world around us.
The ‘real’ reality!
Dare to dream a little, and discover what’s really there.
Pearl
Magic of the monkey mind
The force has been strong with me this week.
The force that they call…. Procrastination.
I have watched myself with almost appalled admiration as I busted through all sorts of chores and tasks that needed doing – except for the one thing that I wanted to get sorted, which was to work through some plot problems on a story I am writing.
I even went so far as to go into town and buy a handheld vacuum cleaner for my drawing rubbings. (The ultimate extravagance – but also – TOTALLY AMAZING.)
My current favourite guru, Benjamin Hardy, says the skill of being able to focus on deep work, without distraction, is becoming increasingly rare. It’s been a revelation to notice how hyperactive my monkey mind really is.
So last night I sat myself down at my desk, with the intention of not getting up again until my task was done.
For fully three hours I scrambled for other stuff to keep busy with, until I realised that I was afraid I would not be able to solve my plot problems. So it wasn’t laziness – it was something else.
I then had the brainwave of drawing out the issues on a big piece of paper and working everything out visually, which is how I got myself to remember things for exams as a student.
And, after a few more hours, I found some answers. And it wasn’t painful at all.
I shall try to keep this in (my monkey) mind.
Pearl
New chapters
Standing at the top of a remote hill near my countryside childhood home, I was in my favourite place to see in the New Year.
The moon was not quite full, yet it shone with a bright, silvery brilliance that lit up the whole sky.
Gnarly, bare, wintry black branches were etched out against scudding white clouds and twinkling stars, while fireworks fizzed and popped in the distance.
The surrounding fields and hedgerows, drenched in the moonlight and buffeted in the lively wind, seemed to hum with some kind of intelligent, spirit presence.
And your presence has been so much appreciated during the year just gone, as I have typed out my little notes to you!
It’s been a gift – a project of personal development and exploration to share my trail of thoughts and observations with you, and to have received such lovely responses and feedback in return.
I will admit there were times when I was nervous to hit the send button, but after a while, I had the sense I that was writing to a friend – someone who would understand what I was getting at.
I’ve spent the past week or so doing nothing much productive at all, and I can feel the benefit. When you work for yourself, it’s easy to keep tinkering on with things seven days a week. But, however rewarding that work may be, I think it’s important to take time out to sharpen the axe.
And now I’m feeling ready to ‘crack on’, as one of my favourite art teachers used to say.
I’ve taken an appraisal of my working practice, my projects in hand, and I have set goals for the New Year. And with this in mind, I plan to change the way I maintain the Hunting Magic blog. I’m going to switch to a weekly update, and I’m thinking Thursdays will be the day. But let me know if you’d prefer Sundays – I couldn’t decide!
This will give me more time to focus on pushing forward with my art and writing projects. And for the blog, I’d like to experiment a little more with video and maybe also start doing some interviews. We’ll see how it goes.
But I’d love it if you chose to stick with me and meanwhile, I’m wishing you a 2018 that’s full of wonder, miracles and, of course, magic.
Pearl
Season's wishes
I know not everyone celebrates Christmas.
But nevertheless, I am still sending you all my best wishes for a beautiful mid-winter break. I hope your home and heart will be filled with love.
I'll see you on the other side!
Pearl
Heaven in London
I was at The London Graphic Centre today.
It’s a kind of heaven on Earth for stationery nerds.
Stacks of beautiful sketchbooks are artfully piled up alongside endless racks of pens, pencils and assorted, colour-coordinated drawing paraphernalia.
Students and the likes of me peruse the aisles with a kind of breathless, hushed reverence.
At the checkout, I noticed some pink postcards scattered about. It turns out they were promoting a project at the National Portrait Gallery- ‘young people’s guide to self portraiture’. I think ‘young people’ refers to those who are aged between 16 and 24, but I took a little look at the website and was quite impressed. Could be interesting even if you’re either side of 16 or 24...
Pearl
The disguised gardener
I was sorting through some old sketchbooks, and I found this drawing.
It's a sketch of Sandrina, the heroine from an opera called La Finta Giardiniera, which roughly translates as The Disguised Gardener. It's a complicated plot of love triangles and several disguises, so I won't go into the details here – suffice to say that I worked on this show a few years ago at Glyndebourne. This particular production was directed by Frederic Wake-Walker and designed by Antony Mcdonald. It was beautiful, like an elegant blue ghost edged in gold gilt.
The role of Sandrina was sung by a German soprano called Christiane Karg. Every night, she would don the cloud-like blue wig, the silvery-white make-up, and I would help her with corsets and the secret strings, pulleys and fastenings that made that dress appear to float so beautifully.
Early into the second half, Sandrina – who at this point has gone mad - would make an appearance by bursting through a wall, and proceed to reel about on stage with rolling eyes, wailing in insanity. I would watch Christiane standing behind the wall, which was made out of paper, waiting for her cue and readying herself. One, two, three – bam! She would take a running lunge and go for it.
Except one night, she landed on her hands and knees and even though she kept singing, she didn't get up. After a few moments the stage manager took a big decision and stopped the show. He walked out onto the stage and bent down to check in with Christiane, and she told him that she'd dislocated her knee.
The curtain came down.
It just so happened there was a doctor in the house, and he came backstage. The call was put out for a bag of frozen peas, which was duly delivered from one of the restaurant kitchens.
By this time, it was too late to summon Christiana's understudy, but Christiana said that she could go on and complete the show – from a chair. With a bag of peas on her knee. And this is what she did. Needless to say, she received huge applause at the end of the show.
Back in the dressing room, Christiana was on her phone. 'Mum,' she said, 'I've hurt my knee. But it's not that bad... really, I'm fine.'
The wall-burst was cut from the show, and Christiana went on to complete the rest of the run with a huge knee brace which, fortunately, was hidden by the dress.
This episode really went to underline that famous idiom, the show must go on. And now when I feel I may be having a crisis, I think of Christiana – calm, cool, collected, dignified – and I work to find a way forward.
Pearl
An open heart
I must be traveling a lot at the moment, because I have another train story for you today.
It was the last train out of Brighton on a Friday night.
It was packed with gently drunk people. Those who were standing swayed slightly with the movement of the train, yawning behind gloved hands.
To the side of me were two post-gig young men, their wrist-bands still intact, discussing Instagram accounts. In front of me were two women – one seated and the other standing - dissecting a mutual and absent friend. Across the aisle were a group of lads comparing shoes, and behind me was another woman who kept sneezing with the sound of a small, yelping dog.
And then I had a sudden, overwhelming feeling come through me. I can only describe it as compassion. I wanted to give all of these people a hug and wish them well.
Maybe it was just the mulled wine. But it made me think about living in a world where 'defensive' is the default mode, and how different things could be.
Pearl
The magic of mistakes
Jake Spicer ladled more mulled wine into a coffee mug for me.
I was at the Draw Christmas party – Draw being the Brighton-based drawing school that is Jake's creation.
'I've been doing a lot of teaching in London this year,' said Jake as he passed me the mug, 'but I'm thinking of cutting back a little so that I can get back to into studio.'
'Sounds great,' I said.
'Yeah,' continued Jake. 'I've really enjoyed everything I've been doing, but as an artist, it's really important to give yourself enough time to make mistakes.'
I nodded. 'Wow,' I said. 'That's such an important point.'
'Nothing's ever going to come out right the first time,' said Jake, 'and even when you've reached a certain standard, you're never going to plateau out and always create great, useable work. So you need that breathing space.'
So true, so true!
Pearl
The magic of weirdness
I'm a bit late to the Ed Sheeran party.
I'd heard his name, heard his music on the radio and knew him as the odd-looking singer-songwriter who was smashing it on a global scale.
But the other night, I chanced on a video about his life story.
The details are sketchy, but it appears that when an operation to remove a port wine mark was accidentally performed without anaesthetic, young Ed was left with a stutter. This speech impediment, coupled with gigantic NHS glasses and a goofy look, ensured that Ed was a target for bullying.
But when he sang, Ed's stutter vanished. Music gave him a sense of escape and control, and at sixteen, he dropped out of school and moved to London to focus on his music career.
But things didn't quite turn out to plan.
He says, 'I didn’t have anywhere to live for much of 2008 and the whole of 2009 and 2010, but somehow I made it work. I knew where I could get a bed at a certain time of night and I knew who I could call at any time to get a floor to sleep on. Being sociable helped. Drinking helped.
I spent a week catching up on sleep on Circle Line trains. I’d go out and play a gig, wait until 5am when the Underground opened, sleep on the Circle Line until 12, go to a session – and then repeat. It wasn’t that bad. It’s not like I was sleeping rough on the cold streets.'
During this time, Ed was gigging around twelve times a week, until finally his big break came when his music began to garner attention online.
'You don't have to have the best talent in the world. You just have to keep working hard and keep going for it.'
The rest is history.
'If you try to be the cool kid, you'll end up being very boring. Embrace your quirks. Being weird is a wonderful thing.'
Ed Sheeran
Pearl
Photo by Helene Pambrun
Taking flight
It's late and I'm tired, so there is not much to report today.
But I have been working on translating the Pegasus sketch onto its canvas.
I have just emailed a photo of the drawing to the clients to check they are happy with it before I start daubing on the paint.
I'll share some more images once the piece starts to take shape.
Pearl
Booted, if not suited
I spent two hours today drawing a kid's wellington boots.
I thought I'd have them down in ten minutes, but they were like jelly beans – no hard edges, buckles or features to use as an anchor.
It's so hard to describe the angle and flex of someone's feet when they're in jellybean boots!
Hopefully, fingers crossed – they are all done. The drawing is part of a commission that I can't tell you much about at the moment, but meanwhile... give me stilettos any day.
Pearl
Horse play
'What were the chances she picked the same one as him? He is killing himself laughing.'
I smiled when this message from my client pinged into my phone. With her sunny curls and cornflower blue eyes, Georgina likes things calm, peaceful and serene. Which may explain her attraction to her husband Pablo – dark, with flashing fiery eyes and a bold, Columbian spirit.
Georgina and Pablo have commissioned me to paint a Pegasus for their family, and so once we had decided on the size and orientation of the canvas, I sent them some rough sketches to choose from, which would help me to start building the composition.
'My daughter is so like my husband,' says Georgina, 'I just knew they would both go for the 'wild' one whereas I picked the more free and relaxed pose.'
'Well,' I said, 'maybe a person's preferences in art open up a little window into their soul.'
Georgina has relented – this Pegasus is going to be a wild one.
Pearl
Party trick
I took a sketchbook to a post-wedding party this weekend.
With cocktail in hand, I perused the room and sought out little moments to capture.
I didn't get down everything I wanted to, but hopefully enough.
I tied the sketchbook up in a white ribbon and left it on the gift table.
Pearl
Dazzling footlights
The train is hurtling through the night, its wheels clacketing over the rails.
I’m traveling home from London, after a breathtaking evening filled with fishnet stockings, glittery eyeshadow and wigs.
I was at La Soirée, a fabulous new cabaret show at London’s Aldwych Theatre, which a friend of mine has produced.
Afterwards, backstage, I met some of the cast. All of them were lean, bright-eyed and surprisingly gentle and humble compared to their larger-than-life stage personas. They seemed genuinely thrilled that I had enjoyed the show, despite their assorted niggles of sore throats, tiredness or dodgy knees. But for me, their performances had been full of magic.
I watched them head out of the stage door and disappear into the night in search of a pub.
And I thought to myself, the best that any of us can do is to work on shining our magic, and do our best to spread a little inspiration, despite our sore throats, tiredness or dodgy knees...
Pearl
The fine print
A friend of mine had all her Christmas shopping done and wrapped by the end of October.
I'm not such a seasonal Speedy Gonzales.
I have a few gifts in the bag, so to speak, but truth be told, I'm still looking for ways to try and get into the festive spirit. I think it's OK to take your time with things like this though. You can gracefully saunter into it all on Christmas Eve, sherry in hand, and you won't have missed anything important.
If you're looking for unusual and unique gift ideas though, maybe I can take this opportunity to point you in the direction of my print store – there's a link at the bottom of this message. I'll be reviewing all my prices in the new year, so if you like my work, this could be a good time to pick something up.
OK – so is it still too soon to crack open the stilton?
Pearl
Daydream believers
'Stop daydreaming and pay attention!'
My school-teachers' refrain still elicits a dark brew of rage when I think about it.
'Daydreamers' are often shamed. They are painted as lazy time-wasters who sit 'catching flies' instead of charging around in a storm of busyness, pretending to be important like any decent person should.
However, inch by inch, I feel the dreamers among us are finally beginning to get recognition for having the upper hand after all.
You only have to look at the blue-sky thinking rooms that some companies have set up, where employees go to furiously try and daydream, to see that a well-developed imagination is something to be prized.
In my opinion, daydreaming classes should definitely be added to the National curriculum.
Pearl
The reindeer keeper
This is the hat I was wearing when I threw up the sash window last night, and leaned out.
The December air was fresh on my face. It nipped at my nose and stole my breath, but with my cosy hat on, I was fine.
I carefully clambered out of the window, grabbed hold of the tree trunk that stands outside, and began to slowly shimmy down it.
The bark glittered in the moonlight with a delicate dusting of frost, and when I glanced up, I could see the odd squirrel peeking down at me from their sleeping quarters.
As I approached the bottom of the tree, I jumped from the trunk and landed slightly inelegantly on the hard, frozen ground.
The reindeer looked up from their grazing, turning their heads towards me. Their antlers were huge – like great, tangled sculptures that were all caught up in the stars. Standing as still as statues, the reindeer watched me, with their breath hanging around them in the air like pensive ghosts.
'Right,' I said, dusting myself off. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a well-worn, crumpled, yellowed piece of paper. It crinkled and crackled as unfolded it and smoothed it flat against the tree trunk.
Written across the top of the page in swirling, ink spattered handwriting, was the heading: flying instructions.
Wait – what do you mean, you don't believe me?
Pearl
A fair affair
I have been offered representation by a brand new art gallery, which is very exciting.
They don't have a physical space yet, but are currently making applications to have a stand at some of the major art fairs in London next year.
Something that could help the gallery to win a spot is if they can supply enough names of people who would come to visit their stand at the shows.
I don't want to forward your details without your permission SO! If you think you would like to potentially be offered VIP tickets to some art fairs in London next year, either reply to this message or email me at info@pearlbates.com, and I'll send on your name.
Fingers crossed!
Pearl
Burning bright
Yesterday I read an obituary for the incredible theatre designer, Paul Brown.
I worked on four of the six productions he designed for Glyndebourne – Hippolyte et Ariace (partly set inside a giant refrigerator), The Fairy Queen, Don Giovanni and A Midsummer Night's Dream.
All of these shows were visually spectacular – and I really mean it – I'm talking totally breathtaking.
It was such an inspiration to hang about in the wings and catch a glimpse of the mind-bending magic unfolding onstage, and to be a part of the backstage mechanics.
Brown passed away suddenly at his home in Wales, having been diagnosed with cancer, at the age of 57.
Well. You know what they say about the light that burned twice as bright.
With gratitude to Paul, for the magic and the genius.
(Link for the article: http://bit.ly/2Albjul)
Pearl
A trip with paint
A trip with paint
Fuelled by cheesy but heartfelt 80's pop ballads, I reach for the crimson red.
I have no plan in mind as I begin to swirl it into the Prussian Blue corners and edges of my canvas. Easing away the flatness of the blue. Building up layers of depth, veils of light and dark.
As I work further up the height of the canvas, I make sure the coverage is lighter – a rougher brush, drier spots of paint on the bristles.
Something about forging together different realms, perhaps – capturing a a moment where deep imagination and dreaming meets with raw day, concrete, noise.
I add in some purple at the lower levels of the painting, bringing that red back down in line with the blue again, but this time a little more... how to put it... lyrical? Vivacious? Not really sure, but the purple comes out brighter than I had expected. It inspires something new I hadn't thought of – a blazing line of fiery orange across the width of the canvas, lighting up like a fizzing lit fuse behind my figure's ankles.
The orange quickly seeps into the blue and purple though, so I work to spark it up again with lemon yellow. This particular tube has a chalky, uncompromising character to it. But again, the orange is behaving heavy and sluggish, so I'm going to stop here and let it dry. It'll be easier to boss around when its no longer fluid and sliding.
Time to write.
Pearl
