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To be
confronted with a room full of John Constable’s oil sketches, as I was in
March last year, is to be at once exhilarated and intimidated. What
breathtaking freshness these have: nature crystallised in exuberant paint.
The exhibition was Constable: Impressions of Land, Sea and Sky at
the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra, which placed particular
emphasis on his outdoor sketches that I have loved for so long. I first
fell under the spell cast by Constable’s oil sketches as a graduate
printmaker in 1987. It was the cloud studies from Hampstead Heath painted
in 1821 and 1822 that interested me most. To a young artist interested in
nature, these paintings of clouds seemed exciting and of contemporary
relevance. Henceforth I abandoned the printing press and commenced this
new craft of illusion; painting.
Experiencing Constable after a 20 year interval reminded me of the power
of the sky, of the power it has to solicit emotional responses from us.
Clouds are possibly the most subjective of all ‘natural’ scenery: we
respond with spontaneous emotion to a threatening sky, with both rapture
and fear.
The
paintings in this exhibition are the product of 12 months ceaseless
searching for the fleeting moment when the sky swells with meaning. I have
found the flux of clouds to be frustrating; most of the time I look up to
see only chaos in the cloud forms - not meaningful enough to paint -
merely indicating the approaching weather. But when the clouds do ‘form
up’ in my eyes they become a field on which I can project concerns about
climate, nature and culture. Such portentous moments are naturally rare.
Aside from
these conceptual and compositional concerns, one of the challenges I
thought I would face was the limited scale imposed by the practicalities
of transport. Painting the sublime landscape three feet square is
demanding when you really want a six foot canvas to convey the magnitude
implied – size really is meaningful, I thought. In retrospect, I feel that
this limitation actually expanded my vision; I found I had to dig deeper
into my reserves of concentration and painterly skill than I ever had
before. I am still a little bemused with this unexpected discovery.
Somehow my intense concentration caused a distillation of the image, a
kind of dehydration of nature just awaiting the viewer’s imagination to
allow the image to swell up again.
Above all I
have sought to impart my feelings of uneasiness about the changing weather
in these paintings. I want to convey this latent anxiety, of anticipation
of something important about to happen. It is for the audience to
speculate on what that event might turn out to be.
Philip
Wolfhagen
April 2007 |