Fellpainter, dogsketcher, portraitdauber, wordmangler??

sketch of a dog, biro on paper

biro sketch of Tilly

This blog, and my work, used to live on a website called ‘fellpainter’, but I recently made a decision to transfer everything to a new domain, using my own name, to make things simpler

This also has the advantage of freeing me from a name that’s associated with a specific subject matter. I think painters just paint – not all that many confine themselves rigidly to only painting certain types of things. It’s more that a growing fascination with a subject beckons them down particular paths, but there’s always the possibility that another path might look just as enticing at a different time.

Using the same logic that led to the moniker fellpainter, a move to the city could mean that I would have to become ‘buildingpainter’, or the seaside, ‘wavepainter’, it could become quite costly and fiddly having to swap domains with every life change.

Return to the Valley of Bad Paintings

Several return trips to the dreaded but beautiful valley have been made. Small oil sketches only capture aspects of the scenery so I’ve been assembling a set of painting gear that can cope with large canvases. In the meantime, this is my small-scale set-up. You should be able to click on the pictures to get a larger version.

view of Crosdale with pochade in foreground

The painter's pochade box

dog sitting beside painter's box

The real fellpainter ... or is it?

The last light of the sun can appear incredibly red at times. This evening’s attempt was not an exaggeration of the hue, although toning it down would have made it look more believable I suppose, and the foreground didn’t quite work, but I was pleased that the hills had a bit of form at least. When the light does this it’s so exciting if you’re actually there in the valley. The hills are thrown into colossal, solid forms that do resemble the famous Wainwright ‘elephant’ quote.

Crosdale hills, basking elephants appearance

elephantine hills basking in late red sun

On a different evening I tried to catch the earlier evening light with its violet and gold hues and had some small success. The foreground, in particular, continues to elude me, although the white brightness may be more true to life than most of my previous efforts.

Because I am trying to catch how the scene looks and feels in what may only be a matter of minutes the paintings are really hit-and-miss affairs. Most of them are complete disasters and one or two, like these, have just one aspect that captured something I was aiming for.

evening light on Crosdale

evening colours fall on Crosdale

Some of the best views and lighting effects always seem to happen when I’m trudging down the lane. If only it was possible to paint in the middle of the road. Not that I’d be happy with a middle-of-the-road painting. Disasters along the way don’t seem as bad. As Thomas Edison said: “I haven’t failed; I’ve found 10,000 ways that don’t work.”

a view down the lane

The lane