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

Type cast…

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Detail of ‘Clearing’, mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023
Detail of ‘Clearing’, mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023

Thinking about the use of typography in my abstract landscape painting…

Portions of newsprint and large fonts, calligraphy and scratched lettering – I’m finding it increasingly satisfying to use these in mixed media work. Lately the challenge has been to source larger found type for recent bigger works on canvas, as the contrast in scale is important. Smaller newsprint still works as texture, but large bold lettering adds the impact I need, adding an exciting graphic element, supporting and strengthening the composition and tonal contrast. Fortunately I recently found a suitable source and swooped on it and my work table is now awash with torn out bits of newsprint.

Studio workbook with newsprint and collage. Photo © Mari French 2023.
Studio workbook with newsprint and collage. Photo © Mari French 2023.

I’ve been drawn to typography since I was a design student at Stockport College in the 1980s. I seemed to have a facility for it and loved using it as a design element in its own right.

However, recently I’ve been considering other possible roles the use of typography might be playing in my recent works; what it may be subliminally evoking:

The dialogue in my head, inner thoughts as I explore the landscape on location, and also as I conjure up my experience and impressions in the studio.

Overheard speech from other people moving through and using the same landscape – walkers, photographers, nature wardens, fishermen, shellfish farmers, etc.

The apparently wild, natural landscapes are corralled by mostly unseen by-laws, ownership and tenancy agreements, environmental legislation governing its use, and more.

The invisible incessant dialogue of phone signals, radio waves, digital information, criss-crossing the air over most landscapes, whether wireless or via masts and telegraph wires.

New work, mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023
Untitled new work, mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023

Of course I’m not suggesting the content of the lettering that I use is relevant (apart from calligraphy, the content of which comes direct from my sketchbooks). The choice is random, although I suspect certain portions of text may ring a subtle bell with me, or just intrigue me, when I select it.

The train of thought I wanted to pursue in this post though, is that almost all landscape is affected in this manner by human language and numbers of some kind; a pervasive element in some ways as worth acknowledging as weather and light. The realisation intrigues me and in some ways will continue to inform my work into the future. I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on the subject.

‘Clearing’, abstract woodland landscape in mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023
‘Clearing’, abstract woodland landscape in mixed media on canvas. © Mari French 2023

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.