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

Mercurial light in winter …

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Abstract workbook collage inspired by saltmarshes and creeks, by Mari French Contemporary Artist, 2023.
Workbook collage with gelli plate printed papers. © Mari French 2023.

It’s been a year of ups and downs, stresses and a few successes, plus a lovely new studio which has been a lifeline for my work. So, apologies to my readers for such a gap in posts, but I’m back now and progressing a ‘new’ series of work (and a few exhibitions to work towards next year). I qualify ‘new’ because while this work is still related to my ongoing obsession with the saltmarsh coast, it feels different, deeper.

Saltmarsh and creek near Boston, Lincolnshire. Photo by Mari French 2023.

The emphasis in this current work is on tidal creeks, snaking through the marsh, mercurial light reflecting the huge overhead skies; the dark mudflats around them. I recently visited the saltmarshes near Leiston Shore on the East Lincolnshire coast, across the wide expanse of the Wash from North Norfolk. The visit gave me a different perspective, and I also learned a bit more about this unique landscape habitat through the work of photographer Steve Thornton. His project ‘Invisible Carbon’ has produced many sublime dramatic photographs of the Lincolnshire saltmarshes and the accompanying text reveals much about the worth of these unique landscapes as a hugely valuable ecosystem in the fight against global warming. You can read more on his work here.

Detail of monochrome abstract landscape in acrylic on cradled panel. Mari French Contemporary Artist 2023.
Detail from new series of work in progress on cradled panel.
© Mari French 2023.

In developing this series of work my palette has become more subdued: warm umbers, soft blue-greys, indigo, a touch of pinkish siennas. I love the subtlety and it works well with the subject matter. I’m enjoying working on smooth cradled wood panels, altering them with brushed gesso before painting on them. The resulting texture and subsequent application and removal of paint is producing interesting atmospheric effects.

Abstract acrylic painting on cradled panel, by artist Mari French 2023.
Detail from new series of work on cradled panel. © Mari French 2023.

It has been productive spending time exploring the subject of tidal creeks and saltmarsh in my studio workbook, by creating collage papers with a gelli plate and assembling them; allowing experimentation with combinations of pattern, line and space and possible ways of referencing my experience of the subject. A few are included in this post.

Workbook collage with gelli printed papers. © Mari French 2023.
Workbook collage with gelli printed papers. © Mari French 2023.
Abstract paintings on the wall of the studio of artist Mari French, inspired by saltmarsh and creeks. © Mari French 2023
Abstract work on the studio wall, prompted by creeks and saltmarsh.
© Mari French 2023.

I’m really enjoying pursuing this work and to seeing how it develops. I hope you’ve enjoyed the read and the images.

Saltmarsh and creek near Boston, Lincolnshire. Photo by Mari French 2023.

Confinement & cul-de-sacs…

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”A time of gifts’ © Mari French 2020

I’ve never left my blog unwritten for such a long time before. It’s good to be back. In the past few months of the Covid crisis, I just haven’t been able to summon up the will or the words to write about my art. As for the art itself, like many artists in these strange times, I’ve been floundering around a little lost for a while. With 3 exhibitions cancelled/moved online, Open Studios also cancelled, galleries closed etc, it’s hardly surprising I suppose. It’s not that I haven’t been painting, and I’ve made myself go to the studio to do something a few times a week at least, it’s just that each spurt of creative activity – sketching, collage, painting – has seemed to fizzle out after a short time. Cul-de-sacs I’ve started to call them.

However, each little cul-de-sac has produced some interesting results, so perhaps they hold some promise for a future way forward; like one of those narrow hidden footpaths you can often use for access to the area beyond the cul-de-sac, the one cars can’t take.

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Ploughed fields & tree belt, near Anmer. Sketchbook. © Mari French 2020

With anything more than a long walk forbidden here in the UK, in the last few months, coastal visits weren’t an option (I live 20 minutes drive from the beautiful North Norfolk coastline, where the reedbeds and saltmarshes are a great source of inspiration), I’ve been out sketching the local fields and farmland – something I haven’t really done since moving to Norfolk 10 years ago.

I loved the way the early spring sunshine caught the ploughed fields, exaggerating the russet and ochres of the sand and chalk soil. And the hares were out in force chasing each other in large groups. I haven’t taken these any further though, hopefully at some future point…

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Ploughed field, Anmer Road, with flint. © Mari French 2020

Meanwhile, at the airbase, outside my studio, is a large cherry tree which was covered in deep pink blossom back in March. It was only when a glorious deep pink started to appear in a series of small experimental works on paper, that I realised how the blossom had entered my subconscious. These works look great on some lovely small white cradled wooden panels I’ve bought. I really enjoyed these but as I said, it wasn’t long before I started to flounder. I keep going back to them, so they’re going to get picked up again at some point.

Later in spring, mostly confined to my garden (I know, I’m lucky compared to many) and with almost a month of warm sunshine, my glorious tulips, ‘La belle époque’, just had to be sketched. Then in the studio, I set about abstracting them, in both mixed media and collage, which I enjoyed, before (yes you guessed it) I once again hit a cul-de-sac. Still, I’m excited by the potential of these small works so who knows.

Below is the mixed media collage I produced as part of this abstract tulip work  (all the papers using in it were created by myself, including the calligraphy). Which reminds me I haven’t posted the experimental collage I was developing back in February before the virus hit, so I’ll add them to the next post (it won’t take as long as this one post did I promise!).

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‘Palimpsest’, mixed media collage © Mari French 2020