Brian Parker

Finding Beauty in the Perfect Line

The Artist — Mon, 23 Oct 2023 16:36:10 +0000

The Allure of the Perfect Line

There’s a captivating beauty in simplicity. For many, including myself, this allure is encapsulated in the search for the ‘perfect line.’ It’s a journey that isn’t just about drawing or painting, but about understanding the soul of a composition, the emotion behind an image, and the story the artist is trying to convey.

What Makes a Line ‘Perfect’?

Some might wonder: what distinguishes a line as ‘perfect’? Is it its straightness? Its fluidity? For me, it’s neither. It’s about how that line speaks to you, the viewer, how it resonates with an emotion, a memory, or a moment. The perfect line holds the power to stand alone yet convey a world of emotions and stories. And the experience can be quite different for each and every one of us.

Masters of the Line: Lessons from Legends

Historically, artists like Henri Matisse and Egon Schiele have showcased the undeniable power of the line. Matisse demonstrated that a single line could dance, twist, and turn, embodying the grace of a ballerina or the ebb and flow of water. His nude figures, especially the female form, used very expressive line gestures.

Schiele, on the other hand, showcased the raw emotional intensity that a line could portray, often accentuating the angles and edges of human forms to reflect emotional states. Unlike many of the great artists of his day, he was a keen advocate of using pencil on paper, and he used this medium to great effect, constantly searching for the perfect line.

Then there’s the minimalist art movement, where artists like Agnes Martin revelled in the beauty of subtle, almost meditative lines. Her works, often consisting of simplistic horizontal lines, invite viewers to pause, reflect, and find serenity in a noisy world.

Through such artists, I’ve been inspired and educated on the endless possibilities a single line can hold.

My Journey with the Line

From the picturesque landscapes of Hockley to the canvas in my studio, my transition from a scientist to an artist has been intertwined with my love for the perfect line. It’s a reflection of the minimalistic scientist in me. Every stroke I make, every edge I define, is an exploration – a quest to encapsulate my vision, my emotions, and my narrative into that one perfect line.

In my works, you might observe a fusion of my inspirations combined with my unique experiences. The lines might recall the precision of scientific diagrams or resonate with the rhythmic pulse of nature’s patterns. But at their core, they reflect my personal artistic journey.

The Line as a Language

Art, at its best, communicates and has the power to touch us. Lines, in their simplistic beauty, can often be the most eloquent of storytellers. They can whisper tales of distant lands, shout the chaos of inner turmoil, or serenade with the melodies of tranquil landscapes.

Come and join me on this visual journey to explore and understand the art, the science, and the emotion behind every line. Let’s appreciate the balance between minimalism and expression and find, in the midst of it all, the mesmerising beauty of the perfect line.

It’s in these lines, in these strokes and edges, that I pour my heart, my experiences, and my admiration for the art world’s greats. I encourage you to not just view them but to feel them, and in doing so, connect with the world of art and emotion that I strive to share.

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The Art of Seeing: Exploring Outlines and Edges

The Artist — Sun, 03 Sep 2023 17:23:12 +0000

What is the Use of Outline in Art?

Outlines are fundamental in art, providing a structure and foundation upon which the rest of the artwork rests. The world of art is vast, and every artist has a signature approach. For me, the allure lies in the beauty of outlines and edges. They not only define an object but also bring clarity, separating the foreground from the background and one entity from another.

Artists have long explored the interplay of light and shadow, form and void, trying to capture the essence of their subjects. Pablo Picasso once said, “There are painters who transform the sun into a yellow spot, but there are others who, thanks to their art and intelligence, transform a yellow spot into the sun.” My transformation journey revolves around capturing the world in its simplest forms – through the beauty of outlines and edges.

What are Edges in Drawing? The Power of Defining Spaces

The power of outlines and edges is profound. They define the shape of an object and its spatial relationship with its surroundings. It’s a view that stems from my deep-rooted love for patterns, shapes, and colours. In the vast spectrum of artistic expression, I’ve always felt that the way objects are outlined, and the way their edges interact with the space around them, creates a compelling narrative.

From Scientist to Artist: A Unique Perspective

Emerging from a scientific background, I naturally gravitate towards precision and detail. The scientist in me still finds wonder in categorisation and analysis. Yet, instead of complex chemical structures or meticulous equations, it’s the crisp, clean lines and vibrant blocks of colour that fascinate me now.

What can we learn from Egon Schiele?

The mesmerising works of artists like Egon Schiele and Charles Sheeler have been a source of inspiration. Their ability to delineate the edges of their subjects, be it a person or an industrial landscape, imparts raw energy and emotion into their creations. This is the realm where form and composition meld seamlessly, offering viewers a distinct, unforgettable experience.

What are the 7 Ways of Seeing?

While there are numerous ways of perceiving art, my journey has been a testament to evolving perspectives. My pieces often present a marriage of science and art, reflecting my transformation from a scientist to a passionate visual artist. Every line in my paintings is meticulously drawn, every edge carefully defined, all to produce art that stimulates the visual senses and leaves viewers with a sense of pleasure and fulfilment.

Embracing Minimalism in a Complex World: The Art of Contour Drawing

In a world brimming with details and, I aim to strip away the noise and present a reduced palette, capturing my view of compositions. As David Hockney once said, “Art has to move you and design does not, unless it’s a good design for a bus!” In this spirit, my work, firmly grounded in the art of seeing outlines and edges, aspires to move, inspire, and resonate.

If you’re intrigued by a unique style that pivots around outlines, edges, and patterns, take a closer look at my collection of work. Here, you’ll find the precision of science and the liberating essence of art unite, producing creations that echo the influences of iconic artists and resonate with my own personal experiences.

The beauty of art lies in its myriad of interpretations, and through my paintings, I hope to share my distinct perspective with you. A perspective where the world is seen not in volumes but in the spellbinding magic of outlines and edges.

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The Power of Minimalism in Art

The Artist — Wed, 26 Jul 2023 09:07:40 +0000

Today I want to talk about an essential part of my artistic journey – the power of minimalism in my work.

If you’ve already encountered my paintings, you might have noticed that my pieces have an inherent simplicity. That’s because I’m a firm believer in the beauty and power of minimalism. Inspired by my scientific background, my art seeks to evoke emotions and connections through the simplest forms possible.

“It takes a long time to make it simple.” – David Hockney

In art, minimalism isn’t about lack of detail or effort. On the contrary, it’s about intentional reduction. It’s about stripping away the non-essential elements to reveal the essential. This minimalist approach is reflected in my choice of colours, lines, shapes, and even my tools. For example, the use of Fabriano Artistico paper to Da Vinci acrylic brushes, each item I use is carefully chosen to aid in the creation of clean, crisp lines – a defining characteristic of my work.

Minimalism is an outcome of my relentless pursuit of simplicity. It’s about saying more by using less. It’s not the absence of something but rather the perfect amount of something. When I paint, my focus is on outlines, edges, and patterns rather than volumes. It’s the idea of capturing the essence of an object or a scene with the minimum of distraction. A reduced palette of flat colours and defined lines helps me to convey my vision of the composition.

Now, you might wonder, “why minimalism?” I’d have to say that the answer lies back in my early years in the 60’s when I became aware of the screen prints that were prevalent then. At that time screen prints weren’t produced using photographic method, screens were hand cut or painted. This meant you had to keep it simple; simple shapes and few colours because every extra colour meant an extra screen had to be produced. Also all the colours were usually opaque inks and that meant all the colours were flat and even. This style of work had enormous appeal for me and this is reflected in my paintings, although I have a much greater freedom in use of colour. In 1969, I was the art director for the Bradford Arts Festival and one of the exhibitions I organised was a poster art show. I became immersed in this style as I selected posters for the exhibition and again this pushed my artistic taste towards the simple. In addition, in my previous career, I was a scientist. In the world of science, we constantly look for patterns and structures, and we often boil down complex entities to their most basic, comprehensible forms. Similarly, I use minimalistic elements to bring order and clarity to my art, unconsciously mirroring my scientific training.

Minimalistic art can be potent, sparking introspection and making viewers engage in a dialogue with the piece. Each line, each block of colour, and each form in my work is an invitation for viewers to interpret and assign their own meanings. It’s not just about viewing a piece of art but experiencing it. The beauty of minimalism lives in this interaction, where the viewer becomes a part of the art.

“Stop thinking about art works as objects,

and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences.” – Brian Eno

Minimalism is not a limitation but a liberation, challenging me to find that ‘perfect’ line or the ‘perfect’ colour that can carry the essence of an idea. It nudges me to look for beauty in the simplest, most banal things. Perhaps it also helps you, the viewer, to find beauty in that simplicity.

If my artistic journey has taught me anything, it’s that less is more. That’s the fascinating thing about minimalism. It doesn’t seek to overwhelm but rather to touch upon the senses delicately, leaving a lasting impression.

This fusion of clarity and depth is what I strive for in my work: the collision of precision and freedom, resulting in something uniquely beautiful.

As you dive into the world of minimalism, remember that it’s not about what’s taken away but what’s left behind – a world of untold stories and emotions ready to be unravelled. Welcome to my world, where the power of minimalism in art is always in full display.

Let the simplicity inspire you, the colours move you, and the lines tell their story. Minimalism may surprise you and draw you into a world you may never want to leave!

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About the Artist Brian Parker

The Artist — Thu, 22 Jun 2023 09:29:43 +0000

A Scientist’s Brush: How Brian Parker Transformed from Chemical Engineer to Acclaimed Artist.

As A Visual Artist

hailing from the picturesque, English wooded landscapes of Hockley, Essex, my journey in the arts has been anything but conventional. Long before my paintings came to life, my pursuits were grounded in the empirical world of chemical engineering, earning me a PhD from the University of Bradford. My love for patterns, shapes and colours that once propelled me through a science career, eventually lead me on a path less travelled – into the world of art.

As a Scientist

my gaze was drawn to detail and precision, a perspective that has evolved into a unique artistic style. When I hold a brush, I see outlines, edges and patterns, rather than volumes. It’s as if the scientist in me is still analysing and categorising, but now, it’s through a prism of colours and textures. My work embodies a powerful sense of colour and a relentless pursuit of simplicity. It is in this simplicity that the beauty of the ‘perfect’ line is born.

Some Inspiration

If you’ve seen my work, it may not surprise you to learn that I’m an admirer of the works of great artists such as David Hockney, Patrick Caulfield, Egon Schiele, Charles Sheeler, and Charles Demuth. My art also carries subconscious echoes of their influence. My pieces range from figurative to abstract, but the thread that binds them all together is the aesthetic feeling they leave the viewer with, rather than specific thematic content.

Expressing My Own View

Being an artist isn’t just about creating; it’s about expressing a personal view. The goal of my work is to stimulate your visual senses and leave you with a sense of pleasure and fulfilment. I aim to paint with the minimum of distraction and with a reduced palette of flat colours that are just enough to convey my view of the composition. It’s a reflection of the minimalistic scientist in me. From the deckle edged, Fabriano Artistico paper to the Da Vinci acrylic brushes, I carefully choose the tools that will help me create the clean, crisp lines that have become such a characteristic of my work.

Back in 2008, I had a real turning point when I enrolled in an Access to Art and Design course. I discovered a deep-seated need to paint, and I began to redefine my view of the world. I switched lenses from the factual to the abstract, in a palette of colours, lines and shapes. That transformative journey, from a scientific world to an artistic one, has been challenging but infinitely rewarding.

Today, as an artist with over 30 years of experience in visual arts, my work can be found online, reflecting the marriage of science and art; evidence of my transformation from scientist into passionate visual artist. Despite my love for the simplicity of lines and colours, my style is anything but simple. It’s the sum of my life experiences, my scientific background, my love for patterns and my admiration for great artists. It’s a style that’s truly my own, one that I am proud to share with you and many art lovers across the world.

If you’re looking to buy art online, particularly from an English artist, I’d like to welcome you to my world. Here you’ll see the precision of science and the freedom of art collide to create something uniquely beautiful.

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Japanese Art and How It Inspires Me

BPA — Tue, 10 May 2022 07:29:05 +0000

Every artist, no matter their medium, is influenced by something: music, architecture, contemporaries or long-dead masters. As a visual artist, I’m intrigued, inspired and influenced by what I see, and Japanese art is among the styles that can really get my juices flowing.

With roots dating back to 3,000 years BC, Japanese arts cover every possible creative facet, from exquisite woodblock prints, ceramics and textiles to the ancient art of origami and the in-your-face world of manga.

In this blog, I’ll take a closer look at this fascinating country’s art, showcase some of the creators that interest me, and explore which of my works have been inspired or influenced by Japanese art.

The ancient Japanese culture

In around 10,500 BC, the Jomon people first settled the country we know today as Japan. They may have been simple hunter-gatherers but they created lavishly decorated ceramics and pots, regarded as some of the world’s oldest.

Like many countries, each successive wave of immigrants to Japan brought with them their own art and influences. In the 8th and 9th centuries, the introduction of Buddhism and the integration of Chinese culture made their mark.

As the centuries passed, rulers such as the Fujiwara family put their stamp on the country through iconic architecture and sculpture – just look at the Unkei’s dynamic supra-realistic style.

From shifting sands to a modern and contemporary art leader

Religion, the military, the shifting sands of power and government all had a role to play in the development and evolution of Japanese art.

Buddhist art, the cultural expression of the Samurai class, the ink painting of the Muromachi period, the seismic changes of the Ashikaga period, imports of Chinese paintings and the relative stability of the Azuchi-Momoyama period all led to the golden years of the Edo period, which ran from 1603 to 1867.

It produced hugely popular ukiyo-e paintings and woodblock prints, as well as the boom in Japanese porcelain and lacquered furniture.

As the 19th century rolled on, the influence of Western cultural values permeated the Japanese art world, particularly after World War II, fuelling artistic innovation across art forms that continues to this day.

Popular Japanese Artists

Having such a rich artistic heritage means art has become a core part of Japanese history and its culture, a deep well to draw on and be inspired by.

It has produced several major Japanese artists across many disciplines who have embraced Western styles and created something new, or reached back into their country’s past and put their own twist on it.

The Japanese art world is among the most exciting, thought-provoking and interesting, so it’s no surprise that it forms the basis for so many international exhibitions. Here are just a few names I think you should watch out for.

Chiharu Shiota

As a dancer and someone who is fascinated by the forms our bodies take when in motion, performance and installation artist Chiharu Shiota’s works are of particular interest to me.

She fills spaces with thousands of black, white or red threads, carefully tied together and sometimes with personal objects embedded within them.

They evoke my work Dancing the Nexi, which was taken from a still from a video of me dancing while suspended in a network of string.

Yayoi Kusama

This avant-garde artist may have made a name for herself with her Infinity Mirror Rooms, but I’m drawn by her use of psychedelic colours, pattern and repetition.

You can find echoes of her ‘Infinity Nets’, paintings of loops and dots, in my geometric works, particularly the Bubble and Squeak series.

Masanari Murai

Bold geometric patterns, vivid colour and arresting slashes of black are often seen in contemporary painter Masanari Murai’s works, which once seen are rarely forgotten.

I’m irresistibly drawn to the order within the chaos of his paintings, which put me in mind of my Redblackbeige series.

Fuji and famous art prints

No exploration of Japanese art would be complete without examining the role of nature and the country’s iconic Mount Fuji, which has been painted endlessly by artists from across the globe – myself included!

Hokusai, the man behind arguably the most famous Japanese artwork of all time, The Great Wave off Kanagawa, was active during the Edo period.

The artist, ukiyo-e painter and printmaker also created the woodblock print series Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji, which depicted the landmark from several angles, in different weathers and seasons

Japanese painting and culture

Since he put ink-covered block to paper between 1830 and 1832, artists the world over have done their best to produce their own views of Mount Fuji, as well as capture the delicate beauty of Japan’s natural world and everyday life.

Anyone who has ever visited Japan will understand it is a rare place, one where the ancient can be a hair’s breadth from the present day, and yet somehow remain separate.

Startling commute

I captured such a moment when I saw a young Buddhist monk rushing to start his day at the temple, while passing an avenue of lamps.

It brought home just how old Japanese culture is, and how the very different can exist, cheek-by-jowl with the modern.

The influence of Japanese art on me

My time in Japan had quite the impact on my art, and the more I look the more I see it. For example, the elegant lines of Japanese architecture have informed paintings beyond the series inspired by my visit.

It’s easy to look at Temple of Light and know where I am in the world, but the sharp, clean lines of my works Beach Shelter or Rhapsodic, although they are thousands of miles away, also echo the simplicity of Japanese buildings.

Colourful echoes and new Japanese artists

The repeated patterns of sombre colours of Kyoto Joy juxtapose with the unexpected burst of purple from the bride’s umbrella, is somewhat reminiscent of Murai’s work, while the cartoon colours of my contemporary paintings carry a hint of Takashi Murakami.

Of course there are other influences firing my artistic synapses every day, but Japanese art will always occupy a corner of my heart like no other.

I’ll always be glad I visited the country to experience it for myself and perhaps I’ll go back one day. Until then, I’ll continue to be inspired and delighted by this truly fascinating country.

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Finding beauty in the banal: Making art out of everyday objects

BPA — Wed, 30 Mar 2022 09:54:59 +0000

A teapot. A staircase. A partly obscured door. They’re all common-or-garden items with little inherent value or meaning. But to me, they’re a pathway to inspiration. I love making art with everyday objects: and I’m not the only one.

For centuries, artists and sculptors have turned the banal into works of art ranging from the divine to the preposterous.

You’ll see them in any gallery: an image, drawing or site-specific installation, capturing the most humble or humdrum items and turning them into works of art, given a twist or a new direction by the artist or artists who created them.

Observation = creation for the artist

As an acute observer of the world around me, I’m well aware that anything from everyday life can ignite the creative spark and, no matter how hard I resist, can compel me to pick up a brush.

I understand how enticing the everyday can be, whether it’s the kitchen I cook and eat in every day, or a building I pass on my way somewhere, or a place, frozen in time in a photograph.

Let’s take a closer look at a few commonplace objects and how I’ve transformed them into works of art, as well as a handful of artworks that have dazzled and delighted audiences.

When everyday objects become art

Artists can’t help but pay attention to what’s going on around them, whether they’re long since gone or are part of the contemporary world. Noticing and absorbing their surroundings is in our blood.

It started the moment a caveman picked up a charred stick and drew an animal on a cave roof: a relatively mundane image at the time that changed the world forever.

Ever since, people have been painting and sculpting the things they see, filling museums, galleries and private collections the world over with art that made the familiar beautiful and fascinating.

What do artists see in everyday objects?

It’s a very good question and, and many artists will have a different answer. Pop artists might see a chance to poke fun, sculptors may want to create large-scale sculptures of something little and mundane.

For me, it depends on what I observe and, sometimes, how long I look at an object.

My limited-edition screenprints of a blue and red teapot are perfect examples of how a simple, everyday object can take on an entirely new form when painted.

My aim was to capture the beauty of the teapot’s curves and colour: draw the viewer in enough for them to want to reach out, cup its shapes in their hands and feel its warmth.

When ordinary objects demand to be painted

Sometimes it’s an arresting clash of colours that almost screams “paint me!”, as was the case with Old & Tired, other times it’s the way the light hits a particular surface or object.

The Clore Gallery – Tate Britain is a perfect example. The colour palette and wonderful patterns in this space just demanded to be painted, I ended up with a series of five!

It’s not just ordinary objects that can bring on a rush of creativity. Contemporary living can also be a deep well to draw upon.

The moment I clapped eyes on the composition for Niki, I knew I had to paint it. The romantic image reminds me of the pre-Raphaelites in the staging of a wistful, solo woman, and is among my most satisfying works.

Art inspired by contemporary life

Throw a metaphorical stone in any direction in the art world and you’ll come across pieces that have turned the humdrum into something curious and even desirable.

Vincent Van Gogh’s 1888 painting of a rustic chair has to be among the most famous. It’s placed in a corner of a room, an onion box behind it, and a decorated pipe and a pouch of pipe tobacco on the chair’s seat.

It’s the simplest composition, and yet Van Gogh’s cataloguer Jan Hulsker later said “there are few pictures of Vincent’s about which so much was written in later years.”

A window into my world

Perhaps that ordinary, random order of apparently everyday items spoke to Van Gogh in a way that others didn’t? I can certainly empathise if that’s the case.

I spent years looking at the gorgeous cheeseplant in my bathroom, a composition I thoroughly enjoyed and finally got it down on canvas for Still Life with Sink.

It was a similar story with Still Life with Mantelpiece. This seemingly random collection of beautiful objects adorning my mantelpiece became a snapshot of my life – much like Vincent’s pipe and tobacco on his chair.

Creating fantasy from the banal

If still-life painting tried to elevate the everyday into something else, pop artist Andy Warhol took it to another level with his iconic can of soup.

He proved you can put your own twist on even the humblest object and bring new and surprising elements into the composition.

My work Room with a View is a great example of blurring the lines between my own reality and fantasy.

It brings together the wooden toy I painted in Christmas with a plain side table and places it in front of a window looking out onto a real landscape from Tossa del Mar in Spain, a small fishing village where Marc Chagall once lived.

Can anything from everyday life be inspiring for an artist?

Absolutely, and that’s the real beauty of art: there are no rules. Morning View represents what I see every day when the sun shines in the summer.

As well as giving me the chance to play with elements of light and shade, there’s an air of expectancy about it, as though any moment now, an arm is about to come in and lift a shirt off the rail. How will the shirts move in the light, what forms will the shadows create?

What amounts to a collection of commonplace objects, from toys to rags, for one person could, be the springboard to something creative, or prompt a buyer to start seriously collecting.

Galleries are full of artworks made from a range of materials, with contemporary life represented alongside the natural world, politics cheek-by-jowl with satire, fantasy and frivolity all sharing the same room.

Leave room for the creator

Behind every work based on the most trifling of objects is an artist, a painter, a collaboration, all looking for some sign that their work has stirred interest in their audience, started a conversation or even just raised a wry smile.

That, of course, is among the biggest challenges for every artist.

Using the medium of art to create a drawing or a sculpture that moves someone enough to want to put it in a room, look at it every day and always be affected by it.

No matter how humble the subject, I never forget its impact can be truly extraordinary.

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When Architecture Becomes Art – Buildings That Inspire Me

BPA — Mon, 07 Feb 2022 16:08:18 +0000

Inspiration. It’s the start of all creativity, the fuel that drives the art world and everyone in it – including me. But the things and images that prompt us to pick up a brush or a pen or a chisel can vary wildly.

I’m an acute observer of what’s going on around me, and my ability to notice everything going on means I can take inspiration from almost anything. My art is to then turn what I see into my vision of the world and share its beauty with my audience.

In this blog, I’m going to focus on my love of architectural art, why architecture features in art, explore some of my favourite pieces and profile some of the world’s most iconic architects.

How does architecture become an art?

Perhaps it’s my scientific background, but to me architecture has always been about far more than piling bricks on top of each other to make a whole structure.

It’s also a complex and awe inspiring blend of art and science: curving, precipitous walls, the magic of glass, linear compositions where natural light and shade combine in endlessly fascinating ways. They are temples of inspiration!

It may surprise some readers, but there is a long-running argument about where the line is drawn between architecture and art, and if they are actually two separate and distinct things.

One side insists the medium simply has to be an art as it’s a form of self-expression, while others disagree passionately.

I’m firmly in the former camp and, as someone who is acutely observant, I can find even the smallest of details in an architectural subject enticing.

The world is my art gallery

The sheer number of colours crammed into one doorway is what initially catches the eye in ‘Old & Tired’, but look closer, and you soon see the architectural features surrounding it also have something to say. They hint at a more elegant age, when it wasn’t waiting for an eagle-eyed artist to put it firmly in the spotlight.

I use architecture both as a frame and a subject in my painting ‘The View’ from Tate Liverpool.

The huge window becomes a springboard to the built environment beyond, which is filled with evocative buildings, from the relatively drab brick house to the beautiful and rather more aesthetically pleasing Liver Building, one of the finest in the city.

Both lead us to a very important question…

Is architecture considered an art form?

The primary function of architecture isn’t to be an artwork. Buildings are designed for a purpose: to be lived or worked in, they house machinery and materials. By their nature they are created to be practical.

But that doesn’t mean they can’t be beautiful or have an artistic purpose that extends beyond what they contain. Think of Stonehenge, Europe’s great medieval churches, or Santiago Calatrava’s breathtaking City of Arts and Sciences in Valencia, an icon of contemporary architecture.

It doesn’t have to be on such an epic scale either. I see interest and inspiration in places that perhaps other people don’t: from the geometric splendour of Hong Kong Memories to the magnificent light I captured in Airports of the World – Malaga.

In creating a building, architects are not just designing a space for an office or shop or art gallery. They are bringing to life an idea in its own right: one that will occupy a public space in the urban landscape and – hopefully – start a conversation about the creative process and architectural form.

Not every building that’s ever been suggested has been a success. A proposed extension to the National Gallery was junked after Prince Charles dubbed it a “monstrous carbuncle”.

But there are plenty of examples that have inspired generations. Let’s take a closer look at some standout creations and the architects behind them.

Frank Gehry

Think of this American architect (who was also great at furniture design) and Bilbao’s Guggenheim Museum and the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles might spring to mind.

Gehry created sinuous, modernist architecture that resemble sculptures more than buildings. His Fish Sculpture for Barcelona, host city of the 1992 summer Olympics is a perfect example and while it looks outlandish, it’s an astonishing feat of engineering brilliance.

While his buildings feature a swirling aesthetic, as he moved from architecture to artist throughout his career, other pieces, such as lamps and sculpture, featured strong fish motifs as he tapped into the natural elements that inspired him for years.

Le Corbusier

Charles-Édouard Jeanneret-Gris, better known as Swiss-French genius Le Corbusier, is regarded as one of the pioneers of modern architecture, and used urban planning to create better living conditions for people in overcrowded cities.

Le Corbusier also tried to standardise modern architecture under an ‘Esprit Nouveau’. It was an arresting form of visual art that notably saw several of his buildings elevated on stilts.

It gave them an incredible delicacy and grace. Unlike Frank Gehry, who liked to create curving forms that looked more like sculptures, the point of Le Corbusier’s purist style was crisp, clean lines, underscored by horizontal bands of windows and an external space dominated by a lush, green environment.

There are elements of Le Corbusier’s style in my paintings Rhapsodic and Beach Shelter, which echo his linear architecture and practice of putting buildings on stilts.

Frank Lloyd Wright

When it comes to the fusion of architecture and art, few do it better than Frank Lloyd Wright, the man behind the American architectural Prairie School Movement.

Arguably most famous for the Guggenheim Museum in New York City, as well as the beautiful private home Fallingwater, in Pennsylvania, architect Lloyd Wright was responsible for more than 1,000 buildings over a 70-year career that continues to influence architectural design – and art – to this day.

His ‘prairie-style’ and Usonian houses were not dissimilar to Le Corbusier, though they were created decades before – featuring low-slung bands of brick or concrete, broken up by horizontal windows.

While I’m fascinated by the buildings, what makes architect Lloyd Wright really stand out for me are his exceptional skills as a contemporary artist. His geometric compositions are great examples, and there are echoes of his intersectional style in my painting Bubble & Squeak #4.

Zaha Hadid

Lloyd Wright wasn’t the only great architect who used art as a means of expression. Zaha Hadid considered herself an artist above everything else, even when she became a fully fledged architect.

The importance of being able to set out her artistic vision was fundamental to being able to create the three-dimensional architectural forms Hadid wanted.

Her astonishing contemporary art led to some of the most beautiful and artistic buildings in the world, such as Azerbaijan’s sinuous Heydar Aliyev Centre.

How does the art world link with modernist architecture?

It’s a good question. For me, the two are inseparable and the connection isn’t just with modernism; it goes all the way back to cave paintings.

As I wrote earlier, architecture has a purpose, a function, and no matter how sterile the design of the building, there will always be someone who thinks it is beautiful or has artistic merit.

Think of the Brutalist style that cropped up across the country during the 1950s. It was functional, almost severe, prioritising structural elements and minimal materials over design or sculpture.

In the context of its function, it was perfect: Brutalist architecture projected a sense of robustness, solidity, three dimensionality.

It got a pounding from artists and critics for exactly the same reasons: the lack of visible artistic flourish meant these buildings didn’t so much occupy public spaces as brood over them.

There’s a hint of that in my painting Light into the Dark, which is dominated by the great architectural monolith of a building on the Regents’ Canal development at Granary Wharf.

Yet some of these buildings have become as cherished as a perfectly preserved Roman building or a magnificent stately home. Why? Because tastes change. We move on from history.

As new generations reinvent the culture around them, what was once deemed ugly or out of fashion is suddenly the architect and art communities’ hottest commodity.

The eco-architectural revolution

Green architecture is one of the best current examples. It’s become the pet project of almost every architect and incorporates sustainable or environmentally friendly materials in the development of buildings.

Think solar panels, organic roofs, thermally efficient heating and cooling systems – and natural materials such as wood and glass that bring a creative element to a space, while also blending form and function.

Given his love of nature, I think Frank Gehry would have been delighted to see green design in the work of modern architects.

What is the art period of architecture?

The connections between art and architecture go way back into history, and in some cases it’s difficult to see where one form influenced the other.

Architects and artists have been inspiring each other for centuries, with Asian, Middle East and African influences permeating western culture and architecture and vice versa.

Arts sculptures standing proud in an open space have enhanced all manner of classical buildings. What stately home doesn’t have art of all kinds hanging from its walls, and can you imagine the Sistine Chapel without that breathtaking ceiling?

Likewise in paintings, artists have been inspired to capture buildings either as a backdrop to or a setting for an instant of high drama – think of all those religious paintings packed with classical architecture such as colonnades – or a more still moment, such as my painting Manhattan Skyline.

It draws your eye from my friend Brittany out to the buildings arranged before her, making you wonder who is behind all those windows..?

At the same time, architecture in art serves as more than a stage: it’s also a window into history, allowing us to remember how things once were. I’m thinking of William Hogarth’s images of a dissipated society and Stephanie DEES’ haunting, cheek-by-jowl Scottish tenements.

Architects can use templates provided by artists as a way to improve our present built environment, creating a new art form in the urban sprawl.

Art and architecture: forever joined

I don’t think it’s possible to have architecture and art as two separate and distinct beasts.

For me, buildings and their surroundings are a fundamental source of fascination, allowing me to create interesting paintings that stimulate the visual sense.

No matter what they are used for, buildings, like artworks, are subjective and that’s perhaps their real point, their true function.

Whether it’s to create a home for a magnificent sculpture, or to provide a blank canvas for all manner of artists, architecture can be a springboard, a delivery device for any artist looking to take their first steps, expand their creative process or give an old hand a new project to focus on.

One thing’s for sure: I’m going to be adding to my landscapes category for quite some time to come.

The post When Architecture Becomes Art – Buildings That Inspire Me appeared first on Brian Parker.

Self-Portraits and the Stories They Tell

The Artist — Wed, 08 Dec 2021 12:20:36 +0000

The power of putting yourself in the picture

These days we think nothing of holding our smartphones at arms’ length, tilting our heads to find the perfect angle and snapping a selfie. Billions of self portraits, billions of moments captured by digital technology flooding social media platforms every day, glimpses of our lives that we choose to share with the world.

It’s a far cry from the origins of the self portrait, back in the mists of the 15th century when painter Jan van Eyck unveiled his Portrait of a Man in 1433. Historians have debated (and will continue to do so) whether this was the very first self portrait, but for the purposes of this blog, it’s a good place to start.

I’m going to explore the power of the self portrait and self portraiture, examine its evolution from the early days of the Renaissance to the modern phenomenon of the selfie, what it means to the artist and explore how this singular form of painting and photography has turned storytelling into the most exquisite art.

Why are self portraits so important?

As I mentioned earlier, we can trace the birth of portraiture and the self portrait to the early Renaissance and the 15th century, when painters and artists turned their gaze from external subjects to themselves, presenting them to the public viewer for scrutiny.

Some historians connect the origins of self portraits with the revival of the linear perspective in art, as well as technological developments that led to the manufacture of mirrors that offered a clear reflection – putting artists in focus – for the first time.

Imagine the thrill of being able to see your features clearly: every detail of your skin, hair and features shown in sharp relief. How could artists who had made careers from capturing the likenesses of other people not be inspired to grab their brushes, put paint to canvas and create their own self portraits?

Albrecht Dürer is one of the best examples of how early self portraits quickly evolved. At the tender age of 13, the artist created self portraits using silverpoint, following it up over the years with versions in pen and dark brown ink, oil on parchment, and oil on panel.

While earlier self portraits were quarter views of his face, as if he were painting himself while looking from the corner of his eye, Dürer’s startling 1500 self portrait, depicting him as Christ (echoing Leonardo Da Vinci’s

Salvator Mundi, painted around the same time), looks you dead in the eye. It bewitches art lovers to this day.

From Dürer's Christ self portrait to Rembrandt's visual diary

As well as this confrontational style of self portraiture, one of the biggest changes to take place during and after Dürer was the shift in perception of artists and painters. Before the Renaissance, they were lumped in with all other craftsmen – their elevation to something quite different, and in some cases very special, had not yet begun.

One of those who achieved greatness was Dutch artist Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn – better known as Rembrandt. After opening his own studio in around 1624 at the tender age of 18 and forging important connections such as statesman Constantijn Huygens, Rembrandt moved to Amsterdam in 1631 and made a name for himself as a professional portraitist.

In the years that followed, he created an astonishing body of portraits and self-portraits, many of which bore his trademark use of light and shadow, separated by the subject’s or the artist’s nose (depending on who was sitting). The 1637 canvas A Polish Nobleman is a striking example, and it’s a technique repeated again and again in Rembrandt’s almost 100 self-portraits.

A life in paintings

This 40-year, incredible visual feast chronicles his life as an artist and painter, from being a dapper young man, through to the powerful, unflinching canvases of his later years, complete with craggy features and glowering stare. Intriguingly, each self portrait was created with the use of a mirror, so the viewer is actually seeing the subject in reverse.

Historian Kenneth Clark wrote that Rembrandt was “with the possible exception of Van Gogh, the only artist who has made the self portrait a major means of artistic self-expression, and he is absolutely the one who has turned self portraiture into an autobiography.”

Vincent van Gogh, self portraits and the art of performance

Rembrandt wasn’t the only artist creating a buzz with self portraits, but he was among several who used their paintings to tell his own story.

For example, there’s a world of difference between the 1628 portrait Rembrandt Laughing, the 1639 Self Portrait with an Architectural Background (currently held by the Paris Louvre) and the enigmatic Self Portrait with Two Circles, created between 1665 and 1669.

They reveal a man who has not merely faced the slings and arrows of life, but documented them in images that can be unsettling and prompt uncomfortable questions about oneself and the world.

Arguably the most famous painter to put their life – and mental and emotional pain – on canvas is Vincent van Gogh, but he also painted portraits throughout his career, and wrote that they were: “the only thing in painting that moves me deeply and that gives me a sense of the infinite”.

As an impressionist, van Gogh constantly tried to depict his own feelings about and involvement with his subjects in each image, trying to reveal the inner qualities of the figure in the painting. “It’s difficult to know oneself – but it’s not easy to paint oneself either,” van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo.

Depicting pain in oil and canvas

Like Rembrandt, van Gogh used mirrors for each self portrait, painting his own face and head, again and again from around 1886 to 1889. Self-Portrait with Dark Felt Hat, believed to be one of van Gogh’s earliest self-portraits, dating from 1886, is dark and gloomy, and at first glance seems to offer precious little insight into the artist.

However, history tells us he was in poor health at the time the self-portrait was painted, and that shock of red beard at the centre of the self portrait hides the fact his teeth were falling out. Van Gogh’s sombre, grey city clothes try to persuade the viewer he’s from a middle-class background and he’s conventional, someone they can trust to paint their image, their story. It’s a performance.

Vincent van Gogh’s later self portraits bring his extraordinary face into the light: they are paintings peppered with bursts of sunshine yellow from straw hats or an easel or his beard, before Van Gogh turns to the cool green and blue hues that dominate the final three self-portraits created in Saint-Rémy, in the months before van Gogh died.

Just two of van Gogh’s self portraits feature the artist’s infamously wounded ear (Self-portrait with Bandaged Ear was the centrepiece of a Courtaulds’ exhibition this summer). Both were painted in 1889, and both are striking in their emotional resonance. They’re over a century old and yet remain utterly contemporary in their beauty and their boldness.

What does a self portrait portray to the viewer?

While Vincent van Gogh used his paintings and self portraits to capture something of his internal, mental struggles with, Mexican painter Frida Kahlo created works that, in no uncertain terms, told gallery and museum visitors the story of the chronic pain she endured during her short life.

As a youngster, Frida was creative and enjoyed art. She was inspired by Mexican nature and artifacts, but she never considered painting as a career. All that changed after she was badly injured in a bus accident in 1925 when she was 18.

She was impaled by a metal handrail “the way a sword pierces a bull” and suffered terrible injuries, including three displaced vertebrae. Frida was confined to bed for around three months, and it was during this time she took up painting, using a special easel and our old friend the mirror placed above it, so she could see and paint her face.

Exploring oneself in a self portrait

She said: “I paint myself because I am often alone and I am the subject I know best.” Her paintings drew on a range of inspirations, from Botticelli to cubism, and increasingly Mexican folk art as she depicted images that combined beauty and ugliness, pain and death.

Like Vincent van Gogh, Frida Kahlo’s self portraits reveal something more profound about their creator. Her series of medical paintings feature Kahlo bleeding and her open wounds on full display, a constant reminder to the viewer of the pain and hurt she was living. Her frequent depictions of La Llorona and La Malinche, two central female figures from Mexican folklore, also allude to calamity or misfortune.

Her 1932 painting Henry Ford Hospital, in which Kahlo’s self portrait depicts herself lying naked and bleeding on a hospital bed, while her messy hair and exposed heart echo child-murderer La Llorona. Over the years, the art work has come to represent the Mexican taboo of women who choose not to have children – a surprising and profound tale that went beyond Frida’s own melancholy over her failed pregnancies.

Self portraits and photography

Like so many artists, Frida Kahlo found greater fame after her death than when she was alive. Tate Modern dubbed her “one of the most significant artists of the 20th century”, while Van Gogh’s mystique as a painter who suffered for his art, only to die a young man, took off in the last months of his life and grew to his becoming an icon of the art world.

In 1998, a self-portrait by Vincent Van Gogh was sold for an astounding $71.5 million, 10 years after another self portrait went under the hammer for $24 million. Portraiture and self portraiture, as had been the case for centuries, was the preserve of the wealthy.

The closest ordinary people got to this form of art was to visit their local art gallery or museum, or take a trip to London or Paris to peer from a discreet distance at the greatest, most creative portraits and paintings. Photography changed all that.

The dawn of a new era for self portraits and portraiture

We have Robert Cornelius, an amateur chemist and photography enthusiast from Philadelphia, to thank for what is regarded as the world’s first selfie, writing on the back of the photo: “The first light Picture ever taken. 1839.”

It was the same year Louis Daguerre introduced the photographic process and it didn’t take long for portrait studios to begin popping up in major cities. The general public was wary of this new technology, prompting photographers to turn to 19th century celebrities, such as Charles Dickens and Abraham Lincoln, and use their self portraits, publicise the medium.

It didn’t take long for photography to catch on as a national pastime. In America, they used it to record history, capturing the visit to Washington CD of 90 Native American delegates, while in 1870, the Allan Pinkerton National Detective Agency took a self portrait of a criminal – launching what would become the world’s biggest collection of mugshots.

In the UK, photographs captured a self portrait of Queen Victoria and her family in the 1840s and, 20 years later, she allowed photos by London-based snapper John Mayall to be published.

Photography and the self portrait going global

Photography really took off in 1888, with the sale of the Kodak No. 1 camera. Suddenly the creative pastimes of portraiture and self portrait were in the hands of the masses, and the art form was democratised like never before.

It gave rise to extraordinary talents, including the hugely influential conceptual artist Cindy Sherman, prolific photographer Robert Frank, Dutch wildlife photographer Frans Lanting, portrait and fashion snapper Richard Avedon, and prolific celebrity portraitist Annie Leibowitz.

Spool forward around a century and we come to the first-ever cameraphone, the Kyocera Visual Phone VP-210, released in Japan in 1999. Dubbed a “mobile videophone” it boasted a 110,000-pixel front-facing camera.

The age of the smartphone and the selfie

The year 2000 saw the release of the Samsung SCH-V200, and Sharp Electronics J-SH04 J-Phone, both regarded as the first digital smartphones, but it was the launch of Apple’s first iPhone in 2007 that sparked the selfie revolution.

It turned anyone who could point and click a smartphone into a photographer, while the rise of social media platforms provided the ultimate global art gallery with millions of self portrait images published: a melting pot of ideas and inspiration.

Subsequent generations of smartphones have seen vast improvements to their camera technology, allowing you, me and everyone else to capture our selves in increasingly minute detail, to tell our stories on a local, national and global level.

Truth and the self portrait

A great example of an arresting image is my Self Portrait as Harlequin, which allowed me to explore my love of dance and movement. The colourful, playful figure at the centre of the art work, with his golden mask and crown, is practically extending an invitation to join him on that chequered floor.

Likewise Golden Boy and Monochrome Me are explorations of my face. They both feature a direct, present figure and act almost as a form of mirror. Self portraiture has always been an exploration of oneself, but the answers I find may be completely different to the viewers’ interpretation.

There’s no disguising the inspiration for Alive & Well, and while it depicts me in a similar position to Leonardo da Vinci’s work of art Virtruvian Man (currently held by Venice’s Gallerie dell’Accademia) that’s where the similarity begins and ends.

Alive & Well is a potted history of my physical health, the background of the painting is made up of medical bills and info leaflets, pill packets of all the drugs I’ve taken, as well as scans and X-rays. I wanted it to be more than just a likeness, more than simply holding up a mirror to myself.

I wanted this life-size artwork to present me as fighting fit, and while I’ve faced my fair share of ups and downs, the inspirational juices are still flowing, a feeling that’s almost impossible to capture in a simple selfie.

As an artist, I think there will always be an appetite for portraits and self portraits, even in the current era of instant gratification provided by the selfie. People yearn for connection, for experience, for insight.

From Van Gogh’s haunted expression, a self portrait captured from the reflection in a mirror, to Annie Leibowitz’ iconic Vanity Fair cover photo of Caitlyn Jenner, self portraits have turned making “windows into men’s souls”, to quote Queen Elizabeth I, into a timeless art form. How could I not be tempted to pick up my brushes and create?

What is the message of self-portrait?

The democratisation of the self portrait on social media platforms has, unfortunately, exposed people publishing their selfies to the opinions of the wider world, even if they are posting among friends.

It’s a consequence we artists are all-too aware of when we put flesh on the bones of our ideas and beliefs and take part in a local or national exhibition. We critique the art of those who came before us and our peers, whose works hang in a gallery or museum, whether they’re in London or Lesotho, Paris or Pune.

The act of putting your face in the centre of an image is an invitation to examination, both of the subject and oneself. But the fleeting nature of social media and our increasing desire to consume, to move on to the next thing, sometimes what’s behind the selfie gets lost.

The smartphone has replaced the medieval mirror, our thumb the painter’s brush. A life, a head, can be snapped in a moment, and is sent out to jostle among the vast number of portraits featured on every platform.

What are we trying to say with all these selfies? What are we trying to tell our audience? Are we simply seeking validation? The message behind self portraits is one that takes us all the way back to 1433 and Jan van Eyck’s Portrait of a Man: look at me.

The act of looking – whether you’re browsing a gallery or museum, or scrolling your news feed – makes the viewer stop what they’re doing and give an artist their attention. That’s the real art.

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The Importance of Light in My Work and How to Find the Best Light

The Artist — Wed, 27 Oct 2021 07:47:43 +0000

David Hockney famously quipped: “I’m a very early riser, and I don’t like to miss that beautiful early morning light”. Every artist, no matter their milieu, understands that light is one of their most important collaborators. Even an absence of light will be used to further an idea or create a project.

As Hockney suggests, light is elusive and quixotic, no two moments are the same and the art of creation lies in capturing the particular way something or someone looks at an exact point in time. It can be at the same time both terribly frustrating and immensely fulfilling.

I use light in different ways in my work. Sometimes it’s to illuminate, other times it’s to draw the viewer into a place or scene. No matter what I’m capturing on canvas, light is often a hugely important component of each piece.

As you might expect, my landscape collection features lots of bright, blue skyscapes, but in The Block, the spotlights crossing in front of the colourful balconies alter the shades, but also make you wonder what is going on just out of your eyeshot.

Meanwhile, Cinque Terre – Venazza, one of a series of picturesque Italian fishing villages, has an almost hypnotic quality as the light plays on the water, while there’s a subtle separation among the surrounding buildings. Those in the sun’s rays feel warmer, while those in the shadows are slightly less welcoming.

Then there’s Fujisan by Moonlight, which plays around with reflections and light when there is little to be had. It’s both evocative and illusory, and a good example of how light – and its absence – can be used to draw in a viewer.

When it comes to finding the best light, it changes from artist to artist and painting to painting. The broad swathes of artificial light that reach into every nook and cranny are perfect for pieces such as Lockdown, while Light into the Dark demonstrates how concentrating incandescent, electric light into the centre of a piece can be both startling and absorbing.

You can take electric light in all directions imaginable, from using it to illuminate a space, form shadows or – like Pablo Picasso – entire images, as per his stunning light photos from 1949, which used a small electric bulb in a dark room and ended up in Life magazine.

We have the quick-thinking photographer Gjon Mili to thank for those superb pieces, after a 15-minute session with the notoriously prickly artist turned into five full meetings.

Natural light through windows can also be – pardon the pun – illuminating, enabling artists to play around with texture and, in the case of The Clore Gallery – Tate Britain #5, shadow and perspective too.

The trick with light is to look and look and look again – as Hockney said: “Drawing makes you see things clearer, and clearer and clearer still, until your eyes ache.” Find what works for you, from the high, clear skies of coastal light to the swirling grey of a brooding mountainside, and let your innate creativity take care of the rest.

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How To Tell A Story Through Art

The Artist — Thu, 23 Sep 2021 16:35:15 +0000

Humans have been telling stories for thousands of years. From breathtaking Ice Age cave paintings to Banksy – and everything in between – we have expressed and elicited the whole gamut of emotions with a combination of colour, composition and creativity.

Sometimes, the story is an ancient one: good overcoming evil, love conquering all, other times it’s about capturing a moment in time, such as Paul Delaroche’s Execution of Jane Grey, or an entire movement, as in Erich Lessing’s Liberty Leading the People.

Using art to tell a story can be a transactional experience, as the artist imbues their canvas with deeper and deeper meaning, so it requires the viewer to look and look and look, extracting more from the story than perhaps even the original creator intended.

My piece Saturday Night – Sunday Morning 3:24 am asks many questions: who is the lone figure in the distance? Where has he been? Where is he going? Why is he alone? The story percolates and builds in the viewers’ imagination as they are drawn into the piece.

One of my main aims is to stimulate the visual sense, and I draw on a range of inspirations to achieve the final image and tell the story. I’ve written previously about my admiration of David Hockney and his work Mr and Mrs Clark and Percy is a perfect example of storytelling in art.

It depicts fashion designer Ossie Clark and the textile designer Celia Birtwell shortly after they married (Hockney was best man) and is packed full of symbolism that helps tell the story of the couple, who divorced just three years later.

Birtwell is standing, suggesting she’s the dominant partner in the union, and stands next to a vase of lilies, synonymous with female purity. Meanwhile, the cat in Ossie’s lap is synonymous with infidelity and envy: and bisexual Clark’s continued philandering lead to their separation.

Of course, you don’t have to be an expert in art history to understand the story behind a painting. My canvas Old & Tired was both challenging to paint and rewarding, offering a hint at what the elegant but faded Wilton’s Music Hall had seen in its time.

That’s when art truly comes into its own: telling the stories that are on the cusp of being forgotten, and bringing them to life and a whole new audience, ready and eager to listen.

‘Husbands’ is another favourite of mine, painted for my friends Dan & Steve and I think it can be compared favourably with this work by Hockney. It would seem that the way I look and depict the world now is similar to what Hockney’s was then. Dan & Steve had been together for over 20 years and this painting was commissioned shortly after their wedding, hence the title ‘Husbands‘ and was my contribution to the normalisation of same-sex marriage. I thought it was a brilliant composition and found it technically rather challenging but the result was a success and my clients loved it.

I have been called a ‘true aesthete’ which is flattering as I would say that is what Hockney truly is, his work has an air of modernity, no matter when painted. My goal as a painter is also to create beautiful images which act directly on the visual sense and which appeal to one’s innate aesthetic sensibility. No doubt I have been influenced by some of Hockney’s style but he is only the first of many artists who have had an effect on my artistic sensibilities.

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