Suede

I have a subject!

I have been remembering Suede, my favourite band when I was 15.

For some reason I have yet to examine, pregnancy agrees with Suede.

The main men in Suede were Brett the singer front man and Bernard the guitarist. (The songwriting team.) They were my initial exposure to what front men and guitarists were. And I think they were quite good examples.





And I am enjoying them very much in retrospect.

I cannot expect it to be easy for me to put across the special complex personal nostalgia and affection I feel in my head for Suede, in these drawings. But if I aim to do that, I might get somewhere.

If I aim to put across the special feelings, I'm doing more than fixating on shapes, lumps and cheekbone configurations.





Brett and Bernard have one of those slightly comical homo buddy creative tempestuous gatekeeper/keymaster dynamics, which is great fun.

I liked them at the same time as I liked skinny weird boys at school who also played guitars.





I will write more about Suede on my other blog, I can't say it all here.

It was about engaging with the sordid things of adulthood in a playful textured beautiful woozy way.





Although it's not a thing I usually like to do to proclaim the objective importance of things, I will dare to say that Suede are underrated. And I still love the first two albums a lot. They had hype in 1993 but always a certain amount of hostility for one reason and another. Their fame is kind of forgotten. It was all a bit British music press fame. From when Indie seemed important. Now indie doesn't feel like it has much validity as a distinct idea or genre. Not that Suede ever wanted to be indie anyway.

They're bigger than that for me.

It is music for on your own. Or at a Suede fan club concert in 1994. Not casual or sociable.

Things that you liked in formative years... go some way to forming you.





I had a massive personal backlash against Suede, loads of reasons to hate them all of a sudden. But I changed my mind. That's what makes it all the more interesting. It's good to have strong feelings, even if your allegiances can end up feeling arbitrary at any one time. And to revisit things from your past NOW, isn't just diving headfirst into stale feelings... it's a new thing with added layers.









Get a big kick out of this pic, skulking around Glastonbury as one unified beast.

NEW WEBSITE

This is a post to inform all of y'all that my website is back up, only the name now is chloepaintings.net, you see.

I am going to put some of the drawings I've done over the past year up for sale soon, so watch this space. A massive promotional price drop type thing on older work is also on the cards. And I'll be updating it with new work and a new frontpage and stuff very soon.

Wouldn't it be nice if you possessed a piece of my kinetic pencil thought? It would be nice for me if you did, I can tell ya.

Here are some of the nice thumbnails as they appear in the quaint little site wot's called Chloepaintings.net (remember this)... click little squares to see big things. Don't take too much notice if it says 'not for sale' this may very well change soon.

A tribute to my cats

I was going to post drawings, but I thought I'd stall and post some cats. I wouldn't want to get repetitive with all the wrestlers and the bats and all. Punctuate it a bit.

Maybe it's wet and soppy to talk about my cats. But they are a daily part of my life, for now they are my family in fact, and they are my only company during the day. I feel very close to them and I often worry about what might become of them if Bob and/or I have to move away. It's probably a silly worry. I worry, but I am working on it.

This is Joyce. She is the mother of the other two. She is very neurotic and possibly has cat obsessive compulsive disorder. She washes herself a lot. She's quite a tiny kitty. She likes eating person food, even if it makes little sense. She's upwardly mobile. Last night she chose to eat broccoli instead of corned beef.









Stephen is the favoured son, in that he gets wapped round the face by Joyce less often than his brother. Everyone loves Stephen. He is a massive, humungous barrel chested fat glossy bastard of a cat. He has the softest fur and ears in the world and he's so inky black that he's quite hard to photograph. He is extremely good natured and easy to get along with. He has emotional intelligence and therapeutically tactile stomach flab.









Then there is Hal, who is one of the most singular life-forms I have ever met. He was the runt of the litter, but he's not that much smaller than Stephen, he just has tiny ears and a skinny tail.





Hal spends all the time he can outside in the garden amongst nature, because he finds human things like doors and carpets scary and unpredictable. In the spring he sits and stares at a single flower for six hours at a time. He always knows when we're talking about him, even when we don't mention his name. He lets us know this by giving a unique squeaky staccato miaow. He has a exceptionally varied range of vocal expression, possibly because he doesn't really understand that he's a cat.

In fact, we had a theory at one point that he might not be a cat, he might be an owlbear.

he shakes his paws a lot and walks as though literally walking on eggshells. He has flaky skin and nipple crusts and scaly paws, and is technically a mutant, but may have the prettiest face of all the cats. You can see his soul knocking about inside.





Here's Hal on the left and Stephen on the right:





Here are Joyce and Stephen being affectionate on Bob's lap.

I think Stephen knows when he's being photographed and poses.





We were given the cats to look after when we lived in Brighton, city of posers and assymmetric hair decadence. It was originally going to be a temporary arrangement, so the names were only going to be temporary names. But they were the names that felt right.

I love them and value them a lot. It feels good for my soul to be friends with animals. They are a wonderful part of my life during this stretch of youthful semi-settledness.

Drawings and all that will follow.

P.S. Thank you Eddie for writing about me, and thank you the people who commented, that really made my day.

Escher Cheekbones and Heinous Seepage

I’ve kind of finished the infernal dragon. That’s that out the way.

(Click on any of today’s image for a larger version on Flickr. And you could even leave a comment there if you like. But if push comes to shove, I prefer comments here on blogger.)





In the last stages of this mixed media monstrosity, I used a lot of white lines with a thin brush and this stuff called liquid paper. I wrote a little note that said ‘white lines connected to my mind’. I could feel this an exciting little development that I will carry forward to the pictures wot I care about that have both grappling and nature in them.

I don’t normally do this, but here’s the photoshop mock-up that I used as the basis for the dragon painting, and liberties have been taken with perspective and picture fragments. It’s not much of thing in itself, but it kind of signals a little bit where I want to go with my next paintings, a more playful and hands-on approach to pictorial space.







I had been neglecting my other duties to do that. My last week’s wrestler mushes were sitting there begging to be more understood and stuff. Begging to be taken to the extremes of draftswomanship!





Biro frenzy! Unfortunately it seems that biro tends to seep through even the most opaque applications of acrylic paint. Bum bums! Does anyone know of some kind of biro-esque wonderpen that would refrain from such heinous seepage?





Now in the more recent two bottom drawings above, I used some of the information from the biro frenzy ones but tried to filter a bit of likeness back in. Particularly in Randy’s face I began to think about Escher, about getting some optical mischief in there with the wonky cheekbone adventures. I’ve seen some technically spectacular caricatures that are immaculately constructed, and look like Spitting Image puppets, but part of me thinks… why do it like that, when drawing on a 2D plane gives you so much more freedom, freedom to indulge in a play between illusionism and pure linear kicks. I think the bottom two would almost be more suited to being cleaned up like proper cartoon characters and have the shading and the scribbling beaten out of them. Also I would add that I was trying to make Randy a little bit more smug and bastardy, like he is, and that Kurt has got a bit crude and ugly here. He has features that lend themselves to just getting massive. So I still have work to do.

My latest grey blog is entitled birds do not require punk spirit to experience the urgency of life
, you could read it if you want to boogie some more with my thoughts.