Chalk, cliffs & coves …

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Flamborough cliffs & foreshore impression. Collage, gouache & pencil.
© Mari French 2024

Determined to get away on a much-needed sketching break for new inspiration, I recently headed to the dramatic Flamborough Head on the East Yorkshire coast. I’d only visited once before for a day on a school field trip in the early 1970s, but it left a big impression on me and casting around for new sketching locations this year (it’s a couple of years since I’ve been able to have a solo break just for sketching) and wanting an area within a few hours drive, I decided on Flamborough’s unusual limestone cliffs, caves and geology as a change from my gentler local haunts on Norfolk’s saltmarsh coast.

Flamborough. Making the most of the wet and windy May weather.
North Landing, Flamborough Head, East Yorkshire. © Mari French 2024

First impressions …

Chalk cliff, dark sea. Monoprint. Acrylic on tissue. © Mari French 2024

Due to ongoing family health issues I had to cut my time away short, only managing to get away for two full days. So I was determined to make as much use of the time as possible.

Accessing the many coves far below the cliffs was pretty strenuous, one involved 182 steep steps, but was well worth the effort. Views from the cliff tops are impressive but you need to get down to sea level if you can, to really appreciate the variety of limestone rock formations, multi-coloured sea-worn stones and deep caves; to experience the essence of the place.

Sketching shelter, limestone ‘grotto’, Selwicks Bay, Flamborough Head.
© Mari French 2024

The weather was unseasonably cold and wet for May, with fog followed by sideways rain on the first day, although by the second day it was more changeable. I’d decided beforehand that I wanted to take gouache and collage with me, instead of my usual watercolour or acrylic ink. This soon proved to be a mistake, particularly perched awkwardly sketching in the rain, although a limestone ‘seat’ set back under an overhang was a very useful find. I’d enjoyed practising with the materials in the studio before I went away, and at the kitchen table in the holiday cottage in the evening, but outdoors they were an overworked mess.

Selwicks Bay with sea stack, Flamborough Head. © Mari French 2024

However, as I’ve come to realise over the years, location sketches don’t have to be perfect as they will still capture valuable information and impressions that will feed into your memories when you want to take the subject further back in the studio.

For me, nothing beats the act of sketching outdoors on location to make me observe a subject more thoroughly, even when it turns out like the one below!

Tide coming in, Selwicks Bay. Gouache, ink block and newsprint, sketchbook.
© Mari French 2024

Observation & exploration …

Pebbles, smooth stones and boulders, simple pale colours with veins of quartz and other minerals, strung like jewels in the fissures of rock.

My initial sketches/collages kept emerging as abstracted versions of the coves, bays and cliffs, which I suppose is understandable given their scale and drama and freshness to me. But I can see later work perhaps developing into explorations of the micro landscape that lay beneath my feet: pebbles, smooth stones and boulders, simple pale colours with veins of quartz and other minerals, strung like jewels in the fissures of rock.
Striations and fractures in rock faces and on the foreshore limestone ‘pavements’ meanwhile, will lend themselves to some interesting markmaking.

Collage with torn monoprint & calligraphy. Mari French 2024
Collage with torn monoprint & calligraphy. Mari French 2024

Taking it forward …

North Landing, Flamborough. Acrylic on Dura-lar. Mari French 2024

Back home in the studio I’m spending time working on those many impressions. Just now I’m trying out different media and methods till I find a combination that gives the results I want (not sure what they are, but I’ll know it when I see it).

Above, in acrylic paint on Dura-lar, a painting that recalls the moody light and weather of North Landing, Flamborough Head; Dura-lar is similar to drafting film and I love the way acrylic paint behaves on it; the way I can move and blend the paint, and scratch into it. Below, a monoprint in acrylic on tissue, created using a gelli plate.

I just wanted to share a few impressions of the many coves and cliffs around Flamborough Head that I’ve been working on since I returned. I’ll be posting more as I develop the series, on Instagram @marifrench and in a future post in this blog.

Thornwick Bay, Flamborough. Acrylic monoprint on tissue. © Mari French 2024
Limestone cliffs at Selwicks Bay, Flamborough Head. © Mari French 2024

Revelations in the reedbeds …

For the first time in months I went out sketching last week on the north Norfolk coast at Thornham, with its salt marsh, tidal creeks and reedbeds. It was a gloriously sunny day for November and (thankfully) I decided I couldn’t face the shady studio or staying indoors in my north-facing house on such a day.

There are many reasons I’ve left it so long – I used to go out sketching each week and it was (is) an important part of my practice – but the truth is I just got out of the habit. Yet I felt so much clearer-headed and brighter once I was treading the familiar sea defences looking out to the horizon and down over the winter reeds.

Despite the cold wind I found a little shelter in the sunlight next to a pool almost hidden in the reedbed, below the path. While a late dragonfly hovered in the sun and a large fish leapt out of the still water, I precariously balanced my sketchbook on a fence rail and set to work…

…and it is this point I’ve been thinking about since. I always tell myself and others that it’s the light and the landscape that compels me to paint; that I’m trying to instil in my mind what interests me in the scene, so that later I can retrieve and distil the impressions into a piece of studio work.

I still believe this, but now I realise it’s too simple an explanation – it doesn’t tell the whole story. There’s the pleasure I take in pausing to contemplate how I’m going to ‘interpret’ the scene whether with watercolour or acrylic ink; the joy of brushing water across the white page, into which I’m going to just touch the black ink block and watch it bleed out swiftly into the wet, or trail a loaded ink dropper through it and see the colour bloom swiftly outwards; the experience that, after years of trial and error, I now know that by moving a purple-grey ink into the wet area further down it will bleed upwards into the black, where I watch it pool and spread or run off wildly in a different direction; how colours will mix and back run.

This also happens whatever medium I’m using in the studio. There comes a point quite early in the process where I forget the original inspiration and an all-consuming pleasure in the media takes over; whether it’s dragging acrylic paint across a prepared canvas with a big brush, pasting selected newsprint onto the work, scratching marks into wet paint, or scraping colour away to reveal stained texture below.

Of course, like all artists, there are times the process doesn’t work for me and pleasure turns to frustration, but when it does work there’s nothing like it.

black rocks… green sea…

Back in April I had a week’s break in St Ives, Cornwall. I’d booked an arts workshop last autumn at the St Ives School of Painting, but due to further lockdowns, all workshops before the end of April 2021 were cancelled. But I’d paid for the cottage so we turned it into a week’s sketching holiday. The far west of Cornwall is one of my very favourite places (if you want to see other posts I’ve written about the area, along with sketchbook images etc, just type Cornwall into the Search area at the top of this page).

Outgoing tide, The Island, St Ives, Cornwall. Sketchbook spread. © Mari French 2021

It was cold (it had been such a chilly start to spring) but we had wall-to-wall sunshine. Cliched though it is, the light in Cornwall IS amazing! St Ives actually has 5 beaches and I found myself a bit obsessed with the coastal rocks – so many shapes, sizes and types. (We don’t get many rocky coves on the East Anglian coastline.) I particularly spent time observing and sketching the rocky coastline just below the far side of ‘The Island’, St Ives.

Beach & jetty, St Ives, Cornwall. Sketchbook. © Mari French 2021

I’ve since been invited to supply a few coastal paintings for an exhibition coming up at Gallery East, Woodbridge, Suffolk, where I’ve been fortunate enough to have shown work since they opened a couple of years ago. The theme of the exhibition is ‘Restless coast’ – a group show featuring artists from the west and east coasts of the UK, exploring what it is that draws them to a coastline – and they thought some of my newly inspired Cornwall work would fit the bill. For me, it’s also been interesting to contrast the energy and colours of this coastal work with that of Salthouse, North Norfolk which I was developing earlier in the Spring.

At the moment the crashing turquoise sea, white spray and the dark unyielding rocks, spotted with bright lichen are what seems to be emerging in the pieces I’m working on. But I want to keep pushing the process, abstracting it further in the search for the essence of the subject.

Below are a couple of the resulting small experimental workbook pages from the studio; acrylic, collage, mono print. Here I’m channeling the idea of that rocky coastline and lively sea, bright sunlight and turquoise waters; inspired by the fabulous jade sea crashing into rocky coves. I like the simplicity of these small playful works, but translating that to larger pieces is usually a challenge for me.

Sun and rocks, workbook image. © Mari French 2021.
Across Porthgwidden beach, workbook image. © Mari French 2021.

And here are some of the resulting works, currently at the framers, that will soon be on their way to Gallery East for the ‘Restless Sea’ exhibition, which starts on 1st July.

The sea shapes the land, the black rocks resist the sea. Meanwhile the ochre lichen clings on.

‘Every seventh wave’, mixed media on paper, 30x30cm. © Mari French 2021
‘Rising tide’, mixed media on paper, 45x60cm. © Mari French 2021
‘Energy and light’, mixed media on paper, 46x58cm. © Mari French 2021