Tag Archives: Christopher Lehmpfuhl

Disappearing palaces, tempestuous landscapes and lemon squeezers

image showing three books

two Christopher Lehmpfuhl painting catalogues and a book about Emil Nolde’s watercolour landscapes

It might be cold outside but there has been a simmering of wild colours and stormy brushstrokes within. More late birthday gifts arrived in the form of two new catalogues of Christopher Lehmpfuhl’s bold and dazzling work and a small but sumptuous book filled with Emil Nolde watercolour landscapes. Both German painters, but separated by time.

image showing colourful watercolour

wild watercolour number 1, 10 inches square on Arches paper

The Nolde book is very inspiring and propelled me towards my watercolour tubes and pans, resulting in some enthusiastic and richly-hued daubs. I still can’t work out how Nolde achieved such dense, strong colour. Maybe it was the particular shades he chose to work with and maybe he created numerous layers. The more ‘stainy’ colours I used held up relatively well but the others did what watercolours often do – looked vivid while wet but faded to a whitish glow on drying.

watercolour, 10x10 inches on Arches paper

watercolour attempt number 2, 10 inches square on Arches paper

I have done some more work on the Crosdale large painting and, while I’m pleased with the colours, it’s still not quite there yet.

oil painting of Crosdale, work in progress

large Crosdale painting, work progressing slowly, oil on canvas

At the opposite end of the brightness scale, my odd dark painting is still progressing towards its rather spooky finished state.

A2 oil painting on canvas, Whitewell painting

seems it’s always dark near Whitewell, work in progress, oil on canvas, A2

Lehmpfuhl catalogue showing still life paintings and window views

the joy of small scenes in the Lehmpfuhl catalogue

One of my Christopher Lehmpfuhl catalogues is full of intimate still lifes: views through windows and portraits of tables loaded with glasses, crockery and other small items. It gave me an idea to have a go at capturing a ‘family’ of glassware grouped on a table top.

6x8 inches still life of glassware, oil on canvas

still life glassware family group, two tumblers and a lemon squeezer, 6×8 inches, oil on canvas

As the evenings have been getting longer I also managed to paint a very quick view out of the kitchen window as the light was beginning to fade. It was a real rush to get it done, especially as a stray dog appeared wandering through the gardens below while I painted, leading me to break off and check that it had not been abandoned, but it could lead to further paintings as I enjoy the odd shapes of the hills and the trees and their associated shadows.

oil painting on canvas, 9×12 inches, window view

extreme painting, through the window in record time, oil on canvas, 9×12 inches

Christopher Lehmpfuhl catalogue: Die Neue Mitte

Die Neue Mitte exhibition catalogue, brimming with energetic paintings

The larger of the two Lehmpfuhl catalogues is full of thrilling, swirling, huge plein air paintings from an exhibition called ‘Die Neue Mitte’. The series of paintings was created to document the controversial, politically-motivated demolition of an East German landmark building in Berlin, the Palast der Republik, which was open to the public as well as being the home of the DDR parliament and the people’s chamber, or Volkskammer.

It was a place where cultural events took place, with a theatre and art galleries as well as a disco, restaurants and even a post office. As the Palast was gradually torn down Lehmpfuhl kept finding new angles to paint it from and the whole extraordinary process was documented in a film which can be found halfway down this page, entitled ‘Die Neue Mitte’.

I saw the Palast der Republik on my first visit to Berlin in 2001 and it had a real 70s look to it, with its bronze mirrored exterior reminding me of glittery disco interiors and dark smoked coffee tables made of glass. Another short film, about the opening of the Palast in 1976, can be found here.

Paintings are painted with paint, not with ideas

This isn’t so much a blog post but more personal musings about just where my painting is going.

oil painting of Duirinish coast

Duirinish coast, Skye, oil on 16″x20″ board, image itself around 13″x19″

Some paintings have more or less drawing in them than others. Sometimes, as in the picture above, mine are mainly drawn.

I’ve been thinking about the kind of painting I want to do, about the way my work is developing, and looking at the artists I admire such as Bomberg, Nolde and – a new favourite of mine – the Berlin plein air painter Christopher Lehmpfuhl. Another painter I like is the British plein air artist George Rowlett, whose pictures I saw being exhibited at Brantwood, Ruskin’s house on the shores of Coniston, in 2012.

There are big differences between these artists in the ways that they approach painting. Bomberg and Lehmpfuhl prioritise drawing in their paintings it seems to me, with Lehmpfuhl (examples of whose work can be found here) using colour quite sparingly, while Bomberg glories in wonderfully rich colours in his later work, using colour to make painterly marks as well as to draw the lines that tie the picture together. Many of his works are now on the BBC’s “Your Paintings” website.

Another one of my paintings which contains a lot of drawing is this one, of a view from the fells:

oil painting of Settlebeck Gill

looking down Settlebeck Gill, oil on board, 14″x18″

Rowlett doesn’t seem to draw so much in his paintings but he appears to see incredibly clearly the tones and colours in front of him and recreate them in accurately yet freely realised shapes so that everything is just where it should be and glowing with wonderful hues. I’m about to order a catalogue of his paintings from the gallery which represents him in London, with pictures from London, Kent and the Lakes.

My own paintings aren’t consistent in that some have relatively little drawing in them:

oil painting of clouds

cloud study, oil on canvas, 6″x8″

Nolde is at a distance from the others really, although elements of his style, such as frantically applied strokes building wind and waves, I think I can see in Lehmpfuhl’s work. I recently bought the catalogue that goes along with this exhibition and the pictures show Nolde revelling in colour and seeming to throw caution to the winds, allowing his paintings to form imaginary scenes that should be far too crude to work but somehow seem powerful and exotic instead.

He is the most difficult one to get to grips with of all of the painters I admire – it seems impossible to understand how he gets away with it. All I have worked out so far is that the compositions tend to be arresting to begin with and he manages to make his colours appear extremely vivid without cancelling one another out, using some kind of magic I can’t follow.

I have tried to add my own memories, mystery and feelings to my work and this painting is one which had a slightly mystical atmosphere, I thought:

oil painting of Neist Point lighthouse

Neist Point lighthouse, Skye, oil on card, image approx. 10″x12″, card around 13.5″ wide.

Being able to paint from the imagination and succeed in creating powerful work is something I can’t do, although I know every painting is really partly “made up” even when it’s a plein air or still life. There will always be some of it that comes purely from the artist’s mind. You could also say that all paintings are made from memories as well, even if that memory is only a fraction of a second old as you look from subject to canvas.

So, in paintings there are drawing and colour, imagination and memory. All of these can be prioritised to greater or lesser extents. I know I love the depth that drawing can add to a painting – that solid, three-dimensional, spatial quality that allows you to feel you could fall into the picture – so I don’t think I want to give up drawing in my work. Getting drunk on colour is also something I relish and I’m constantly attempting to increase the use of colour in my work.

Imagination and memory haven’t been major considerations for me so far but I’ve found that filtering work through more than one medium (painting a watercolour on the spot then translating it into an oil of a different size later) can allow unexpected qualities to creep in to a picture. Returning to the same subject and making many studies, and having a strong emotional pull towards it in the first place, can skew a finished painting so that it becomes more interesting, with more of the mind in it and less sterile objectivity.

In the wake of these artists I admire, all of whom have painted en plein air, I will flounder joyfully and veer between drawing, colour and imagination …