Untitled Portrait

Untitled by Tim Irving

A Zoo

Swimming to the Sky - Tim Irving

You have to practice your craft. Preferably daily with set hours. If not every day, then two or three days a week. As a painter you'll waste reams of paper, as a photographer you will produce thousands of worthless photographs, not to mention the time and effort spent.   

I've had an idea for several months that I should photograph a flamingo. I've done several drawings, played with colours and I know it will work, but I just can't find the right location. Today's zoo was no exception. After a long drive I find good flamingos, insanely peachy pink, but in the worst setting possible. Never mind, I console myself with a sea lion.

The Joy of a Cheap Lens

Clacton Pier - Tim Irving

This photo is from a roll of film I've had in a camera for what seems like years. The camera is a 1946 Ensign Ful-Vue that I loaded at the start of the summer, and finished 2 weeks ago. I like this photo! In a world where fast auto focus and HD is becoming normal, a dodgy lens can make refreshing change.

The Other Cycling Photograph

Tour of Britain - Tim Irving

Here's the other photograph from the Tour of Britain Cycle Race. It's not bad considering my fumbles. October and November are good months for cycling as many clubs around the country are holding hill climbs. Hill climbs make it easy for a photographer, because as the cyclists struggle to reach the top they almost come to a standstill, in fact some do come to a standstill and end up walking. They're easy pickings for the predatory photographer, I can even take my time fumbling and still get the shot. There's a nice audio slide show featuring a hill climb here.

Pickling Onions

Button and Owner - Tim Irving

Take Inspiration

When an artist sells a picture, it's a red letter day. It justifies the time and effort spent creating, it's confirmation that someone likes, or even loves what you're doing and it inspires you to carry on. But when your art isn't selling, or worse, isn't being seen, making art can be difficult. Unless you're particularly strong willed you need someone (other than a partner, relative or friend), to validate your efforts and give encouragement.

I could do with a little encouragement myself at the moment. My problem is time, of which I have plenty, but not enough in one block. I need two sessions of 8 hours each to work on 2 projects. But I feel guilty leaving the dog alone for more than 5 hours. Before you ask, no I can't take him with me and I can't leave him in the car. I could leave him in the garden, in his kennel, which is very comfortable but I'd be worried that he'd escape. Until I think of a solution I have to busy myself around the house.

Of course my problem is trivial even laughable compared to the suffering and insecurity experienced by artists. Art history is littered with artists who didn't sell a thing, and at times like this, when I need perspective they are a great inspiration to me.

George Catlin - Shon-ka-ki-he-ga, Horse Chief, Grand Pawnee Head Chief (oil on canvas, 1832)

I'm looking at an old postcard. It's from the Smithsonian, it's of a Native American called Shon-ka-ki-he-ga. The original was painted in 1832 by George Catlin. George has the distinction of being even  less successful in his lifetime than Van Gogh, who at least sold a few of his paintings to his brother Theo.

George Catlin was inspired to paint the Native Americans by the introduction of the Indian Removal Act of 1830, which forced mass migration on the native people and in effect was genocide. George travelled west several times, no mean feat in those days, to paint the people and the landscapes he saw being destroyed.

Trying to support himself and his wife he took his paintings around the country in a touring show, but never covered his costs. He failed to persuade the Smithsonian to buy his collection and he tried and failed to get the government to sponsor his work. He died bankrupt and disheartened. His debts were paid by a Philadelphia industrialist who acquired the entire collection of 600 meaningful portraits, which he donated to the Smithsonian.

In a rather uncanny coincidence, while writing this piece I've just sold a photograph.

Nose Art

Sally B by Tim Irving

Memphis Belle by Tim Irving