Learning and discovery are what drive me to get up in the morning. Once life gets down to mundane routine, I start to feel very uncomfortable. Art is playing an increasingly significant part in (almost) day-to-day life now – in part thanks to the Pet Portraits, etc. – so I thought it was time to explore other aspects of artistic work. ---- All rights reserved. nd.com Read on...

I have always wanted to explore more abstract works, and having not made it to art college – I aimed myself firmly in the direction of the graphic arts at the time – I have never really got around to experimenting.

Thanks to the book Abstract Painting by Rolina van Vliet, we now have many weeks of unique projects to work through. The book walks through abstract principles of composition and colour – and breaking such forms – through a series of guided exercises. Each exercise aimed at  experimenting with one particular technique, be it paint or drawing medium, colour, composition, texture, etc.

The initial project was so rewarding to the two of us, we decided to create a little website to document each project and post up our works side by side for all to see and comment. The site at Doing Stuff, presents our personal experiences and thoughts about each work, but does not say which of us produced which piece. We thought it might be fun to have visitors guess who did what, and already the results are intriguing. I hope friends and all will continue to follow the site and comment/guess each week.

I don’t like rules

That is perhaps the main realisation I have stumbled on now that I have worked the sixth project this weekend. Most so far have developed along the lines of:

1. Follow the directions while feeling increasing animosity towards the developing image
2. Try to beat back the urge to release whatever is bubbling to the surface
3. Plod along, following the instructions until something snaps
4. Respond to the urge, let out a surge of energy, and create something that is bordering on satisfactory

(One such surge-release ended up in a dead canvas, ripped and splattered with black paint!)

What I am learning is that there is something instinctive that gets released when painting like this. I’m not saying these surges of energy produce masterpieces, but they do reflect elements of what I am feeling and how I am reacting to the creative process. It’s uncomfortable, disconcerting, exhausting, but fascinating, and I am intrigued to see where it will eventually lead.

I don’t know how to handle acrylics

That’s the second realisation. I do have an excuse, having not touched acrylic paint since I was in school; I’m just a tad rusty! How artists cope with working wet-on-wet on large canvasses, I’ll never know. There are drying retarders and other techniques, but the paint still requires very different, and more spontaneous working style compared to oils.

That goes a little against my inclination to consider a painting’s development. It means that the work must generally be completed in a single sitting – at least if I want paint to mix with other paint on the canvas itself.

Oils, for example, allow time to sit and ponder the next stroke, to examine the work as it progresses and direct it based on developing ideas. Acrylics bring out the spontaneous in me, which though bursting with far greater energy, does leave me rather deflated afterwards.

The result perhaps is that I will ultimately select the medium based on the image I want to create. If that is what I learn from these exercises, then it is a valuable and ultimately productive lesson.

Go make a guess

The first project is up on the site, and a few guesses as to who produced which piece have already been left. No clues, but it is fascinating to read why a particular individual matched which piece with which artist. Above all, it is fun, so if you have not commented already, get yourself over there and make your guess!

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I regularly read about the danger of too frequent use of passive language in writing. We use passive language extensively in everyday speech as it dampens the danger of sounding aggressive. In dramatic prose, this style is fatal. ---- All rights reserved. nd.com Read on...

During those moments of full flow, instinctive writing, I tend to get overly passive, even in the heat of the action. That is just fine, as the writing is in the editing. Returning to the text months later, I discovered a copious splattering of passive verbs; time to dust off the scythe and and scrub the text into

Some examples

Spotting active and passive verbs is relatively straightforward. Here is an couple of examples:

• Brian was offering his hand in greeting. [passive]
• Brian offered his hand in greeting. [active]

The key to spotting the passive verb is, in most cases, the use of “was”. This led me to a straightforward method of activating my passive texts.

Kill the was

I searched for every instance of “was” throughout my text, each time reworking the sentence to remove it. Sometimes a simple matter of removing the “was” and changing its associated verb, other times a more colourful word replaced it.

Is it really that simple? Yes. Though some sentences will be tougher than others to adjust, I managed to remove the majority of “wases” which resulted in a far snappier and active form of writing.

Here are some genuine examples from my texts (I really don’t need to tell you which are passive, do I?):

• The opportunity to move was approaching
• The opportunity to move approached

• The sound was echoing as though behind it there was a vast, empty cavern
• The sound echoed as though behind it stretched a vast, empty cavern

• Jack was beaming from ear to ear
• Jack beamed from ear to ear

It seems obvious, doesn’t it? But when wrapped up in the editing process, trying to remember all the advice on what one should and should not do, simple, straightforward techniques such as this cut through the waffle and achieve marked improvements.

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TableRappers is set in the Edwardian period, starting in 1903. Even during early development I found adding a little Edwardian flourish to the text helped the general ambiance of the story. My confidence in this grew after reading G.W. Dahlquist’s The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters – a novel set in a pseudo-Victorian age, with a narrative very much styled in the colourful language of the time. When reading that book, I realised writing style and setting can be made to enhance one another.

After over 80,000 words of my first novel now complete, this colourful, style has become almost second nature and has made the process of writing the story much easier. Long, run-on sentences, indulgent metaphors, and often less than concise descriptions help to solidify the setting, while sending the more modern, tightened rules of concise writing off on a long deserved holiday in the sun. It is a fun way to write and offers a playground with few boundaries.

Here comes the ‘but’… I am far too accustomed to it.

I have other books I want to write that are most certainly not set in the same period. The available time aside, the one psychological obstacle I have in preventing me making a solid start on one of those projects is the difficulty in switching to a more modern and concise writing style. I’ve tried it, and it’s downright painful.

Here’s hoping I can un-learn the Edwardian flourish so I’ll not have to set everything in 1903!

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