Painting Sydney Harbour in the footsteps of Turner

All this winter I've felt something's been lacking.

Vivid.

Due to Covid-19 it couldn't be held this year, and for all I know New Year's Eve and Australia Day celebrations may not be held in the foreseeable future either.

I've often mocked Sydney for valuing style over substance, but I have to confess that I like a mindlessly pretty display of fairy lights against a harbour view as much as anyone.

So for anyone getting withdrawal symptoms, here's one on the easel of my deck gallery.

U118 Fireship under the Bridge
oil on canvas 2003 61 x 91cm
Available for sale
This canvas of the burning ship against a backdrop of fireworks illuminating the Sydney Harbour Bridge was painted in the studio from a series of quick gouache studies that I did on New Year's Eve 2003, well over a decade before Vivid was ever thought of. I regard this as a sort of 'proto-Vivid'.
It added a new dimension to the usual fireworks and was a startling sight if you weren't aware that it was in fact a special effect, and not a tragic fire on board the 'James Craig'.
The first time I saw it, like hundreds, possibly thousands of others, I rang 000 in a panic to report it. You could almost hear the person from Emergency Services rolling their eyes, as they assured me that it was just a special effect, that , no, the James Craig was just fine, and thanked me for my misplaced concern.
The Fireship apparently commemorated an early 19th century convict ship that had caught fire, and in the weeks after, during the Sydney Festival, there was a 'son et lumiere' show every night for a couple of weeks. I forget the details and the story, and frankly I think everyone else did as well. The images of the fire reflected in the water were all the spectators really were interested in, and the story seemed just a flimsy excuse.
As I painted some quick sketches in gouache and watercolour, I was glad that i'd spent so much of my 1996 Marten Bequest Traveling Art Scholarship holed up in the Print and Drawing Room of the Clore Gallery (the section of the Tate Gallery devoted to the work of Turner, obsessively painting studies of the many fabulous Turner watercolours in their collection. The Petworth series and the burning of the Houses of Parliament were my favourites. I became so good at painting them that the staff became slightly alarmed, and demanded that I sign my studies on the back so that I wouldn't be able to do a bit of a 'switcheroo' while their backs were turned! I took this as a sort of a backhanded compliment, but my goal wasn't to just mindlessly copy, but to try to conquer the mystery of painting sea,sky, storm, night and fire. How to make the intangible, tangible.
When I returned from my Traveling Art Scholarship, I actually exhibited some of these in a couple of exhibitions "The Grand Tour" and "In the Footsteps of the Masters" that acted like a sort of debriefing - a transition phase from the scholarship to the routine of regular commercial exhibitions.
I'd seen a lot of amazing art, and learnt a lot, but how was I going to incorporate this into what I would paint on my return?

U118 Fireship under the Bridge
oil on canvas 2003 61 x 91cm
Available for sale
Painting the Fireship was a chance to give a virtuoso display of layers of translucent glazes of breathtakingly expensive and exotic colours such as Aureolin, Rose Madder and Alizarin Crimson. These aren't the sort of colours that usually get a work out during plein air painting.
However, as I started to paint lost trades and dying industries, I would get more and more frequent opportunities to use them. Subjects like the Oxycutter at William Wallbank and Sons, or the Blacksmiths at the Eveleigh Railway Workshops provided further connections to the lost world of the Early Industrial Revolution that Turner and his predecessors de Loutherbourg and Joseph Wright of Derby immortalized. The major difference is that these artists were painting the founding of this era - I'm painting its demise.

Related Posts


Vivid

Meltdown, Oxycutting at William Wallbank and Sons

Irons in the fire

"Lashed to the Mast" - Plein Air painting as extreme sport

I wanted to try painting a large canvas of the spectacular view of Goat Island from Moore's Wharf for my solo exhibition "From the Hungry Mile to Barangaroo" which is now on display at the Frances Keevil Gallery.

I never do anything by halves, so I got the biggest canvas that would fit inside my station wagon - 122 x 183cm!

My Artist's Studio in a suitcase

I always pack my paint, brushes and other necessary items such as lunch into trolley luggage, as it is less of a strain on my back than carrying a bag. When I use a small easel, such as a French box easel, I also pack it into trolley luggage so I can roll or drag it rather than have to carry it.
I was worried about the canvas going hang-gliding over Sydney Harbour, or even snapping in two which happened while I was painting the Sydney Heritage Fleet from Blackwattle Bay.
The solution was to take a studio easel as well as a French box easel, and to use cable ties to secure the canvas to the studio easel, and the easel to a large chunk of timber.
The most important thing is not to forget to bring a good sharp pair of scissors to remove the cable ties!
The studio easel had casters so I could move it around without too much trouble. I used the French box easel to store my paint, medium and brushes.

I've had to cable tie the large canvas to my studio easel

The renowned 19th century marine painter J.M.W.Turner used to boast that he was once "lashed to the mast" to witness a storm at sea as inspiration.

I've had to cable tie the large canvas

to my studio easel- and then cable tie

the easel to a timber block!

I've always loved Turner's paintings and now I feel that I am literally following in his footsteps!

Timber block and easel

Quite literally.

Like Turner,who also had a predilection for painting enormous canvases, I'm also very short, so I had to stand on this useful block of wood so I could reach up to paint the sky!

Timber block and easel used by
plein air painter Jane Bennett

It felt like a long way down!

Starting a large plein air painting

of Goat Island from Moore's Wharf

about 7.30am.

I like to prime the canvas with a coloured ground before I paint. This technique is called "imprimatura" and it helps to reduce the glare reflected by a white canvas outdoors, as well as giving more depth to the tones.

Usually I prime a canvas blue when I'm about to paint Sydney Harbour, but this black primed canvas was originally intended for an interior of the Eveleigh Railway workshops.
Another essential ingredient is really good coffee, as you can see from the plunger on the chair. I always pack a non-leaking thermos of hot water in my trolley luggage. Unfortunately the milk has to be longlife UHT milk, as fresh milk will go off in the sun by the afternoon, and there isn't always any shade where I paint, as I mostly paint on wharves or industrial sites.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about 8am

Black actually turned out to be a good choice. 
The day started bright and sunny, but the clouds gathered quickly. 
The calm morning Sydney Harbour seascape I had originally intended to paint was soon transformed into a brooding study of an impending storm.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about 9am

 Plein air painting is full of abrupt changes of mood and direction, which is why I enjoy it so much.
It feels almost as much like a sport as art.
The amount of physical strength involved in just being able to handle a canvas of this size out in the open air is surprising. I have to work out just so I can keep lugging my easels up and down stairs.
The other thing that is underestimated by the people who view the finished canvas in a pristine white-walled gallery, is the amount of concentration required to sustain the atmosphere over the hours required to finish a work of this size.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about 9.30am

 Light, shadow and colours of the sea and sky change constantly, and it takes the reflexes of an elite tennis player to even attempt to capture these fleeting effects.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about 10am

Apart from the skill needed to paint these fleeting effects, it also takes a great deal of experience and judgement to decide which are worth capturing.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about 11am

 By noon, I had most of the canvas painted,and it was looking very promising, but an hour later the weather had changed dramatically.
Dark clouds started to cover the sky and the sea changed colour from turquoise to prussian blue, then to slate grey.
The wind whipped up, and I had to decide whether it was too risky to continue.

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about noon

If I decided to continue the painting on another day with similar weather conditions, there was the risk of not being able to complete it in time for my exhibition. On the other hand, if I pressed on, it might get so windy that it would be physically dangerous to keep on painting.
I had almost as much canvas to cope with as some of the smaller yachts out on the harbour, who were starting to have trouble.
And if I wasn't careful, my canvas would have travelled just as fast in the wrong direction!

My large plein air painting of
Goat Island from Moore's Wharf
at about noon

 Also, the colour, mood and light conditions were so different from when I started that it would mean repainting almost everything!
The sensible choice probably would have been to put the canvas away and start a small study of the stormy conditions.
But I liked the dramatic light effects so much that I took a calculated risk and quickly repainted the canvas to reflect the changed conditions.

The completed canvas

'Storm, Goat Island' 2013
oil on canvas 122 x 183cm

Enquiries about this painting

I had to work very quickly. I didn't dare take a break for lunch in case my canvas wouldn't be there when I got back.
But I'm glad that I took the risk, as the canvas has really captured the colour and mood.
The brilliant yellow buoys surrounding the excavation of the North Barangaroo Headland Park contrast strongly with the ominous sky and dark, choppy sea.

'Storm, Goat Island' 2013
oil on canvas 122 x 183cm

Enquiries about this painting

 Art vs. life!

'Storm, Goat Island' 2013
oil on canvas 122 x 183cm

Enquiries about this painting

This photo best shows the painting in context with the landscape.

However large the canvas actually is, it will always look like a postage stamp compared with the real thing. I can assure you that this canvas is a lot bigger than I am!(I am 5' 1" which is fairly short even for a girl.)
By the time I took these photos, I was so worried about the canvas blowing away that I had to cable tie it to the container - I didn't dare risk putting it on the easel!

'Storm, Goat Island' 2013
oil on canvas 122 x 183cm

Enquiries about this painting

And finally a few days later, here it is hanging in my solo exhibition "From the Hungry Mile to Barangaroo" at the Frances Keevil Gallery. 

 

Related posts

Artist in Residence-Sydney Heritage Fleet Part 4

From the Hungry Mile to Barangaroo

Painting the 'Poolya' at Glebe Island