richthoughts

richthoughts

Richard Heys  //  I live and work in East Sussex, England, on the edge of the ancient Ashdown Forest - Winnie the Pooh country. I was born and raised on a farm in West Yorkshire. Close to a reservoir and the moors of the Peak District.

I work predominantly as an abstract artist, although landscapes I have visited, and grown up with inform my imaginations and resurface again and again in my work.

I also love with a passion the ethereal nature of colour and the physical qualities of paint and ground. I work consciously with the polarities of imagination and image, creating pictures of place and no-place, inner space reflections of outer place and atmosphere.

I work to remould inner spaces, to invite attention to and engagement with surface and depth, outer picture and inner soul-space, I aim to create, to borrow a phrase, "the painting as a doorway".

Jun 10 / 11:18am

Night Returns

Night Returns,

thankfully unfathomably,

the urge to sleep growing insurmountable.

 Whilst wishing on what’s to come

weighing what has been with what may have

we catch our breath in readiness for love.

Wheeling overhead threshing the day

she pounds out what gold we have

‘Scooping and hollowing out’.

Listening to the night,

much of what we are turns away.

We are caught beneath her

despite ourselves.

Night falls

Heaven bows

overhead.

Stars twinkle out

light and colour fade,

night returns.

 

Night returns

light and colour fade,

Stars twinkle out.

Overhead

heaven bows.

Night falls.

Despite ourselves

we are caught beneath her.

Much of what we are turns away

listening to the night

‘scooping and hollowing out’.

She pounds out what gold we have

wheeling overhead threshing the day.

We catch our breath in readiness for love

weighing what has been with what may have

whilst wishing on what’s to come

 the urge to sleep growing insurmountable.

Thankfully unfathomably

night returns.

Apr 9 / 11:40am

"The Fruitful Darkness"

The opening of the Tao Te Ching


The Tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao.

The name that can be named is not the eternal name.

The nameless is the beginning of heaven and earth.

The named is the mother of ten thousand things.

Ever desireless, one can see the mystery.

Ever desiring, one can see the manifestations.

These two spring from the same source but differ in name;

       this appears as darkness.

Darkness within darkness.

The gate to all mystery.

 

translated by Gia-Fu Feng & Jane English

Mar 5 / 11:26am

on darkness

Whilst preparing a talk on Abstract Expressionism I came accross this extract about obscurity and darkness, it is placed in a text next to Durer's Meancholia I, a fascinating Renaissance engraving. The engraving depicts a dark browed but angelic craftswoman surrounded by the tools of her many trades. Whilst she sits in reverie, completely lost in the Divine Furor of her imaginings, transported far from her cluttered and demanding surroundings. She breathes the finer air of inspiration, most alive in her spirit whilst seeming depressed, even witless, weighed down by her heavy furled wings. Durer is telling us, it seems, this weight of body, temperament, tradition and experience is the leaven needed for creativity.

 

Melancholia_i_-_blog

Nuit/ Night
Any state which provokes in the subject the metaphor of the darkness, whether affective, intellective, or existential, in which he struggles or subsides... I experience alternately two nights, one good, the other bad. To express this, I borrow a mystical distinction
: estar a oscuras (to be in the dark) can occur without there being any blame to attach, since I am deprived of the light of causes and affects; estar en tinieblas (to be in the shadows: tenebrae) happens to me when I am blinded by attachment to things and the disorder which emanates from that condition.

- Roland Barthes (A Lover's Discourse)

These thoughts of Barthes reminded me in turn of the thoughts of St. John of the cross referenced in Eliot's Four Quartets.


O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant...

I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
the lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble in the wings, with a movement of dark-
       ness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant
       panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away-...

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without
       love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet
       faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in  the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing...

extracts from East Coker - the Four Quartets - T. S. Eliot.

Feb 28 / 3:07am

Ian McKeever’s thoughts on abstract painting

“I’m not a pictorial artist, I’ve no interest in this. I’m interested in the feel of things.”

He describes himself as a Romantic, saying he’s got no time for anything else. I like him already.

McKeever enjoys the physicality of paint, pouring, viscosity, the material substance of the paint itself. He writes that he would like his paintings to grow at the same speed as mountains are formed, suggesting a massive gestation and a great natural power. The earth folds and mountains are pushed up as continental plates press together in a monumental certainty and potential for chaos.

McKeever works on his paintings in series, slowly building layer upon layer, and passing on to the next, working his way through the whole group, before starting again at the beginning, thus allowing time for the works to dry before adding more layers. He works for around a year on a series, so nothing is rushed.

With reference to the gesture in painting McKeever makes very clear statements about his approach, and contemporary practice, stating one cannot paint in a gestural way without seeming naive, the gesture belongs to de Kooning, and the past. For the contemporary painter it seems we have to deny our hand in some way, create with a finesse which disguises the production, and not flourish our painterly handwriting skills.

McKeever suggests that the act of painting is not a contrivance saying “I don’t know the edge between my skin and the painting when I’m working”. Painting becomes instinctual. It grows out of the meeting of physical and intellectual. Painting grows out of the friction between the material and the spiritual. Referring to the intensity of William Blake, “I find Blake fascinating; he was close to the edge... Blake’s figures have a kind of heat, they’re cosmic in range. They emanate light...”. For McKeever this is important, when he paints he’s “so in my feelings”.  Yet as he works he asks profound questions of his paintings; -

                  “What is the kernel of oneself? What is that edge? What is me?”

                “The meeting point of the world out there and in here, what is the edge that separates me from the world out there?”

                “What if truth be found in painting”?

His work is very pared down, a discrete exploration. Often depicting the polarity and drama of light and darkness, he speaks of ‘presences’ or ‘countenance’ in his work. The reality and strength of the work brings a ‘presence’ into the world which has never been seen before, a ‘countenance’ which has never existed. Some of his paintings float towards the viewer, not unlike Eastern Icons whose countenances float in non-perspectival spiritual atmospheres.

Ian McKeever explores the boundaries of his being whilst creating art. He paints to understand himself in life. He describes losing his sense of self in crowds, and seems to rediscover himself in remote, wilderness places. Returning home he paints abstract paintings to confirm himself, to confirm his individuality. As a modern Romantic he wants to elevate himself and his audience, to lift us to contemplation of a higher reality through the medium of paint and canvas.

 Quotes from,

Ian McKeever in conversation, King’s Place 06.09.2009

In Praise of Painting, I. McKeever, University of Brighton 2005

Feb 23 / 4:49am

Why Abstraction

Sean Scully

“...I agree with Kandinsky’s view that the depiction of the appearance of the real world somehow obstructs access to the spiritual domain. And it is this domain that I am trying to gain access to with my paintings.”

 

and further, answering several questions at once -

Feb 3 / 8:02am

Moon Walking

A Moonlit walk in early January

(download)

Feb 3 / 7:22am

A strong call from Mr. Beuys

Joseph Beuys

 

In the depths of isolation,

in the utter seclusion from all that is spiritual

a mystery takes place in man.

Only when he becomes a completely new person,

Does he become capable of things

that had previously appeared to him as impossible.

This time, the resurrection must take place through man himself.

Man must, as it were, pull himself together with his God.

He must bring about movement, must apply effort,

to bring himself into contact with himself.

And that is the true meaning of the word “creativity”.

Incarnation of God being in the physical conditions of earth.

Through this, a cosmic event took place, not a historical one.

A force-stream of absolute reality took place.

And now a metamorphosis is happening with man,

which is difficult for him.

It is difficult for man, out of his own power,

to bring self-determination into real application.

That is really difficult.

He would rather receive what is given.

But he is not getting anything anymore.

He gets nothing, absolutely nothing from any God.

And yet this power prevails and wants to force itself inside,

but under the condition that man pulls himself together.

Dec 2 / 9:40am

Moonlight

I spent three weeks in the South of France this summer, at the etangs, near Narbonne. At high tide I could not sleep, the moon was impossible to ignore, the tide was very high, this is perhaps the starting point of the latest work. These are a few photographs from that night.

(download)

Oct 14 / 10:41am

Night couplets

Spirit - Reprise

Holy - Haven   Still - Reflection

Cover - Retreat   Darkness - Warmth

Familiar - Edge   Awake - Asleep   Movement - Rhythm

Renewal - Healing    Vulnerable - Loving   Journey - Wisdom

Holding - Silver   Transporting - Starry   Boundary - Waning

Moon - Midnight   Release - Sleep   Rest - Review   Secret - Treasured

Sightless - Seeing   Unconscious - Somnambulant   Stay - Renew

Forget - Remember   Forgive - Revisit   Redress - Oblivion

Layered - Veiled   Velvet - Growth   Purple - Revelation

Coal-black - Star Map   Constellation - Heaven

Safe - Hidden   Love - Embrace

Dream - Message

Breath - Blessed

Calm - Dew

Prayer

 

 

Sep 9 / 5:58am

Current inspiration - 'The Hymns to the Night'

5

 

Current inspiration - 'The Hymns to the Night'

I have been silently watching, the slowly dawning clarity and certainty of a new direction. In a way, of course it is the same, it has the same characters - light and dark, transparent or opaque. But the rhythm, and depth of questioning this has changed, and the question forming is what of the night? I have looked again at Novalis and his 'Hymns to the Night' and 'Spiritual Songs, such a Romantic call.

Novalis - The Hymns to the Night II (Translated by George MacDonald)

Must the morning always return? Will the despotism of the earthly never cease? Unholy activity consumes the angel-visit of the Night. Will the time never come when Love's hidden sacrifice shall burn eternally? To the Light a season was set; but everlasting and boundless is the dominion of the Night. -- Endless is the duration of sleep. Holy Sleep -- gladden not too seldom in this earthly day-labor, the devoted servant of the Night. Fools alone mistake thee, knowing nought of sleep but the shadow which, in the twilight of the real Night, thou pitifully castest over us. They feel thee not in the golden flood of the grapes -- in the magic oil of the almond tree -- and the brown juice of the poppy. They know not that it is thou who hauntest the bosom of the tender maiden, and makest a heaven of her lap -- never suspect it is thou, opening the doors to Heaven, that steppest to meet them out of ancient stories, bearing the key to the dwellings of the blessed, silent messenger of secrets infinite.