Glenn Marshall - Yorkshire Artist

A Sale, Surprises.....and a sting in the tail!

17/9/2017

"Homeward Bound to Kilham"

This painting has been on exhibition in the Long Gallery at Burton Agnes Hall. They have quite a collection including works by Pissarro, Renoir and Augustus John amongst others so it is quite a privilege to be in such exalted company. I was delighted therefore when I was informed of its sale and I hope the new owner gets much delight from his purchase. It's been a funny old week and this sale has not been the only pleasant surprise. Last Sunday I met up with an old friend from Batley Grammar School who I hadn't seen for fifty one years. Later during the week Merice found a group on Facebook called 'Gildersome - Past and Present". Gildersome is (or was) a small village in the West Riding of Yorkshire. It is the place I grew up in and though much altered I still have very many fond memories of my life there. I joined the group and have already been reunited with some friends from the past. There are photographs of me when I was but a lad attending Gildersome C of E School. They were taken sixty years ago or more so quite a blast from the past. Here's one - see if you can spot me!

Notice that all us lads had short trousers on...it certainly was a different world back then!
But now for the sting in the tail. Last night I went with Merice for a short stroll with Dilly. I felt something on my coat collar so shook my head and felt it as you do and felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. It must have been a wasp that had landed on the collar and when I went to feel what was happening the little blighter stung me. I can't ever remember being stung before but was surprised just how painful it felt. A large lump swelled up there but manfully I finished our stroll uncomplaining of course. No I didn't curse and shout or threaten deadly vengeance on any other wasp that happened to come near me again...well maybe just a bit..well maybe quite a lot but I thought my behavior had been extremely dignified and composed in view of the circumstances. Merice clearly didn't agree. You might reasonably think that I would have been able to add 'sympathy' to the title of this blog but no - the whole occasion was a source of much merriment for Merice and I swear even Dilly was cracking up with laughter. I ended the week with the title "Lumpynut"! Ah well let's see what next week brings. Glenn

Sting..sorry 'click' to see a selection of my fine art prints

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FORTE NON IGNAVE

11/9/2017

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Unexpectedly I met up with John Grayshon, an old school friend, yesterday. Although we have been in contact with each other on Facebook this was the first time we had met physically for 51 years. Spending some time together brought back many memories and I thought I'd share them with you. The school in question is Batley Grammar School and John was part of a quartet of good friends who shared the experience all those years ago. We were John (Grash), David Walker (Whacker), Raymond Gray (known inexplicably as Raymondo) and I was "Mash". I suppose John was always the leader of our little gang. He as just a little older than the rest of us and we more or less followed his lead. Thanks to social media I have also talked to David and another old mate Richard Parkin. Raymondo has disappeared from our radar but who knows one day we might have a reunion.Back in 1961 it was quite an achievement for a young lad from a council estate to go to grammar school. Although right in the middle of the 11+ period I never actually sat the exam. In one of the interminable experiments by the Ministry of Education as then was, our school was part of a project where overall school work would be used to decide if you worthy of a grammar school place rather than place the emphasis on a single exam. Anyway be that may I was invited to apply for a place in a grammar school for my secondary education. I remember how proud my mum was when I was offered a place. There was a local grammar school nearby in Morley but Batley GS had a much better reputation for its level of education so that was the one I (or mum!) chose. Things were very different then. I would have to have a school uniform of course but this was very expensive as only a few shops stocked them in those days. Luckily mum got some kind of grant so, together with my dear old nan, off we went to Rawcliffe's in Dewsbury and when we returned home I was fully equipped ready to begin my new school career. Nan had even bought me a brand new shiny leather satchel for my books bless her. Uniforms were compulsory and had to be worn throughout your time at BGS. School caps were mandatory right up to the day I left and woe betide if you were ever caught without it. I think I had the just the one throughout my school days and inevitably it became a bit shall we say well worn. Not of course that we ever wore it all the time despite the penalties for not. You just put it on when you got off the bus and walked into school. That was the one and only brand new uniform I ever had and for my last year I was conspicuous by my bright blue blazer that my mother must have accquired from a jumble sale. Many enquiries were made as to whether I was thinking of taking up a career at Butlins (if you know what this is all about you may just be showing your age).
For our first year we had to wear short trousers. As succinctly put by the headmaster "Young boys fall over - cut knees mend by themselves but not trousers!" On my first day we were shown round the facilities and one young lad plucked up the courage to ask where the woodwork room was. "Over the hill boy" was the terse reply " at the high school. You have come here to work not play." Despite that rather forbidding start I soon settled into my new class and school routine. The school had three streams catering for different levels of pupils - A, Alpha and B. I was put in the A stream for the brightest (Merice - please don't comment!) and there of course first met the boys who would be my closest friends throughout our time there.
Batley GS was founded in 1665 and was very proud of its traditions built up over the years. Teachers wore black gowns and were always "Sir" - none of this first name malarkey. We were always addressed by our surnames though we quickly got used to this. Even talking amongst ourselves we would use this mode of address to each other though usually in the form of nicknames we all got. In addition to ours shown above there were some memorable ones. Gatenby became "Gate'hole'", Paul Gelder was "Redleg" (work it out for yourself), Richard Parkin was "Piggy" and our Polish pupil whose name began with a 'W' became "Whiz" even by the teachers. There were many more but you get the picture.
Things were a 'little' different in those days. For example on our first P.E. lesson there we all were lined up dressed in our P.E. kit. This comprised a pair of white shorts and white pumps. Nothing else. The teacher, one W.A.R Smith walked down the line and give us all a sharp crack on the backside with his ruler and the information that this what was in store if we didn't do as told. He finished up "I'm one in front now boys!" Corporal punishment was a way of life. The most common punishment was lines which could be 25, 50 or 100 written repetitions of a sentence decided by a teacher usually beginning with "I will not........" though a whack with a ruler was not uncommon. Some teachers had a preference for chucking the blackboard rubber at you and they had many years of practice behind them so you had to be quick to get out of the way. In extreme cases it was the Headmaster's Office for the cane and for the very worst offenders there was a public flogging in front of the whole assembly. These were very rare and of course, the recipients quickly acquired a certain amount of awe and respect from the rest of us. Probably the worst form of punishment was Saturday morning detention. That's right you would have to get up early on a Saturday morning and report to School for a two hour detention where you would be assigned menial tasks. This detention was awarded for a variety of reasons. Yes you've already guessed one which would be caught without your cap. But being late three times a week would also incur this imposition. I didn't have many because I wanted to spend my Saturday mornings playing football for the School 2nd XI.
In our third year the world changed.Yes it did. A certain four lads from Liverpool burst on the scene - the Swinging Sixties were born. Suddenly it was OK to be cheeky to authority, to do your own thing, wear what you wanted, get rid of the short back and sides and grow your hair. Not so at Batley Grammar School. My I.B. Fallows, our formidable headmaster, saw to that. To be fair we didn't have all that much contact with him apart from morning assemblies but he did take a class in Latin with us every week. His speciality was Aeneid's Odyssey, the Roman's reply to Greek mythology. Basically we were assigned a section of this baloney, "Sorry Sir masterpiece", to be studied for our Latin GCE exam. Each week we had a passage of the book to translate into English or as a special treat, translate a passage of English back into Latin. Very exciting indeed. Mr Fallows would solemnly walk up and down our row of desks and if he saw a stray hair peeking over the collar it was "Haircut by Monday boy" That was all it took and the blossoming Beatle cut was gone. Yes you are reading this right. Yours truly did indeed learn a bit of Latin in fact believe it or not I've got an 'O'level in the subject. Like generations before and since the first Latin verb we were taught has stayed irrevocably in my head - "amo, amas,amat......" I'll let you finish the rest if you can but if you can't - don't worry you haven't missed anything! The title of this blog is our school Latin motto but I can't remember what it means...but if anyone does..let me know.
I could go on and on and maybe will do later with tales of smoking in the toilets, chemistry teacher blowing himself up, two full terms in the school lavatories in stead of the geography class and many other thrilling tales of school life in the sixties. However no blog about school days would be complete without a mention of school dinners. We had a simple choice. Eat it or leave it. All meals were prepared and cooked each morning in the school kitchen every day. I loved 'em. We always wanted to be a 'server' on our table because then we were in charge of portion control. Four days a week me and the gang took it in turns to occupy these favoured positions and I apologise unreservedly for the way we treated our tablemates on those days. But on Fridays for some reason I can't recall, they got there first. If you happen to be reading this I hope your revenge was sweet and filling!
If there are any old boys from BGS reading this I'd love to hear from you and any comments too on what I've written. Glenn

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Painting the Hockney Trail

7/9/2017

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One Day Workshop - Tuesday 26th September 2017

"Woldgate in Late Spring"

Now who fancies a day in a pub with me? Not a bad idea especially as the pub in question is the Ship Inn in Sewerby, a traditional village pub with spectacular views overlooking Bridlington Bay that serves real ale and has a great menu. You could easily spend a day there enjoying the view and the hospitality or you could join me in exploring an iconic part of the Hockney Trail in watercolour. This will be a full day workshop starting at 10:00 am and running through till 4:00 pm or just after. The main aim of the day is to have some fun together so don't be put off by 'workshop' because I promise you the last thing it will be is 'work'. All abilities are welcome. If you already paint this is a fine opportunity to spend time with like minded people to share tips and techniques together. If you are just starting don't be put off - we will be a friendly bunch I guarantee and you will definitely benefit from the experience. Now what about if you have thought about having a go but not quite got round to it yet? Well this is a golden opportunity to dip your feet in the water in convivial settings and just see how you get on. We all started somewhere and it could be the beginning of a marvellous new pastime. Who knows you might turn out to be next Van Gogh! If you are interested but haven't got any kit just let me know in advance and I'll rustle you some up. Just to get you in the mood here's a few snaps from one we did earlier:

So if you want to come and join us we meet up in the Ship Inn from 9:30 onwards. I would expect us to be starting at 10:00 after suitable refreshments (plenty of black coffee should you require it!), breaking at about 1:00 pm for a hearty lunch from the Ship's menu and then back to 'work' till about 4:00 pm or shortly after. The cost for this artistic extravaganza is just £70 per person which is all inclusive of lunch and refreshments throughout the day. Please let me know if you are joining us and remember to inform me if you require some materiels. I very much look forward to seeing you. I'll be at the bar. Cheers! Glenn

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Surprise, Surprise.......

4/9/2017

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"Burnsall in Winter, Yorkshire Dales"

This is one of my very early paintings. Until recently it was in a private collection belonging to my mum. After her recent death they have been returned to me with the exception of a few chosen by family members for them to keep as memories. When I was first starting out she was obviously one of my biggest admirers and purchased lots of my early work to help keep me going. Apart from a few gifts she always insisted in paying something and even though I always charged her a nominal price there were times when the money came in very handy in the early days of a starving artist! There are a good many in the collection that went straight to her without even being photographed so this is the first public viewing of this piece. It is Burnsall, a delightful village nestling in the glorious Yorkshire Dales. However when I took it out of the frame to catalogue and photograph it I got a surprise. On the reverse was another painting not even seen by mum let alone anyone else. Would you like to see it? Hope so 'cos here it is:

"White Farmhouse in the Yorkshire Dales"

To be honest I don't even remember painting it never mind where it is but hopefully the drystone walls are a bit of a giveaway. It was obviously painted round about the same time as the one above so I'm assuming that's another clue to placing it firmly in the Yorkshire Dales. "Elementary my dear Watson!" I have a vague idea it could be in the Kilnsey Crag area but anyway it's definitely a white farmhouse. I was still working out my pallette but as prussian blue seems to figure quite a bit I'm assuming it's my Ashley Jackson period. Both paintings are for sale if you're interested. You can pick one or t'other but either way you will get both.That's what I call a bargain! I am working my way through the collection in no particular order so watch out for more of my early work. Thanks for looking and for reading. Glenn

Here are some more of my early paintings

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AN ARTISTS LIFE IS.........

20/8/2017

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Me in New Studio

This is me in my studio. It's all kitted out now and electrics going in Monday or Tuesday so it will up and running which is just as well as I have a lot to do.

It's been a bit of a year so far. What with Merice's illness and the recent death of my dear old mum it is understandable that my 'art' life has been on hold and things have been piling up. However things are just about back to normal and I can get back to work. So what's to do? I have three commissions to complete by the end of this month, get some images ready for inclusion on an exciting new website, photograph and catalogue a load of my early paintings that I have received back from Mum's and organise a one day workshop for early September. So yes...things have indeed piled up! I suppose the question is where to start? Well the sun is shining for a change and we are just seven miles from the sea so I think the best course of action is to have a cuppa and then head off to the beach with Merice and Dilly. I reckon that's the best way to proceed don't you. An artist's life is indeed a happy one. Have a nice day yourself. Glenn

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Waterlogged Forest Trail

25/4/2017

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"Waterlogged Forest Trail"

I have had several pleasurable afternoons visiting various Yorkshire Forests and these have resulted in four new paintings of which this is the latest. None of them have been exactly specific to any particular forest but rather I have tried to paint the spirit of the places I have seen. There is something akin to spirituality in a forest. Maybe it's an unconscious ancestral memory from when we lived in the safety of forest and woods thousands of years ago. I don't know but what I do know is that I am always moved by being among old trees. This watercolour features a scene we have all probably come upon. Setting off for a steady stroll we are suddenly confronted by a seemingly impassable pool of water blocking the trail. What to do? If you're young you might happily splash right through but if a bit older make a detour into the trees till you get past it. Whatever don't let it spoil your day and continue to enjoy your time in our wonderful forests.

Enjoy a stroll in some more forest paintings by Glenn Marshall

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After.....and Before

12/4/2017

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"Forest Glory"

This painting started life as a challenge for a watercolour workshop I was conducting with Driffield Art Club. They are a talented bunch of artists so I wanted to give them something to get them thinking. The painting incorporated several different techniques and I was pleased how it turned out. It had to be a large one so everybody could see. This is the painting in its original form entitled 'Cascade of Light':

After the workshop I went home and hung the framed painting on my bedroom wall. I left it there for a couple of weeks and looked at it constantly. I do this quite often so I can see if any improvements can be made. There were certainly parts of this painting that I liked but generally the painting was a bit one toned which made it appear bland. There was no drama in it and I started to find the gap in the middle irritating. It split the painting into two halves and led the viewer straight through and out of the scene. That was the obvious starting point when I got it back in my studio. Once the gap was filled the painting started to take shape and make more sense. I added more trees and changed the tones of others to create more depth and space. Finally I made the reflections more exciting by emphasising the light and darks. The painting has more depth and the eye is now persuaded to wander through the trees before heading back to the light. I suppose the moral is never give give up on a painting and if you spoil it altogether you haven't lost anything! Incidentally the workshop went well and some excellent paintings were produced.

Enjoy a wander through more forest paintings by Glenn Marshall

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Tricks of the Trade

7/2/2017

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Once upon a time many years ago a fresh faced (well sounds good), young (might be stretching it a bit more!) artist who had just discovered the joys of painting wandered by chance into the Pannett Gallery in Whitby and discovered a treasure trove. Situated in a dedicated room he found the magical watercolours of one George Weatherill.The artist was of course yours truly and though you might well doubt the fresh faced bit and I was just turned fifty so hardly young - the rest of it true. I have waxed lyrical about George many times and will continue to do so. I have been back many, many times and am still always inspired by spending time with this quiet unassuming genius. I haven't done much painting so far this year but am looking forward to getting back in my studio before too long and had been toying with the idea of starting with another go at a Weatherill so it was opportune when I found myself in Whitby recently with a bit of time to while away. The Pannett Gallery beckoned and I whiled away a happy hour in the Weatherill Room. I thought I had uncovered most of his secrets but amazingly after seventeen years I found another.
The painting above is my first attempt in his style. Sadly this was in pre-digital days so this is the only image I have of it though I assure you the original had a lot more colour. But have a look at the rigging. I didn't get hung up too much about getting it right because that was not the object of the exercise and I knew I was no marine artist. Weatherhill and other artists of his day were surrounded by ships like these so the rigging would be second nature to them. For me it was a nightmare. The books all tell you that the rigger brush was designed specifically to paint ship's rigging.. right - so that's what I used and you can see how clumsy it looks. George's is impeccably done so he must have been an absolute whiz with the rigger brush. Wrong - the crafty old so and so used pencil. Pencil is so much easier to control, you can rub it out until you get it right and it doesn't fade. It's taken me all this time to discover that. So guess what I'll be using for the rigging on my next painting - just goes to show the importance of not just 'looking' but really 'seeing'.

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My Father - a Lovable Rogue.

7/12/2016

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It is quite a while since I did a blog and with Merice being ill, art has had to take a back seat for a few weeks, so I thought I would post something completely different. My mum is writing the third part of her autobiography and has asked me and my two sisters to share memories of our Dad with her. Gail and Gina have both come up with the goods and I am working on mine. Here's a little tale that I hope will give you a flavour of the man I am proud to call my father. I am not going to pretend that was he was a saint (thank goodness!)and there is no doubt he liked a drink so here goes.
After Gail's, my elder sister, wedding and reception family and friends were invited back to mum's house. She had laid on quite a spread I recall. Among the guests were the grandparents of the groom. They really were lovely people and when Mum was clearing up the day after she found some money left under a tray with a little note from Andrew's grandad saying how much he had enjoyed himself and that he had left a little token of appreciation to help defray the cost of the buffet. I remember Mum was really touched and she excitedly told me he had left £20. Not a lot these days but in the early seventies a handy sum. "I gave your Dad a fiver" she told me "and he's going out for a drink." Now when Dad had a few bob in his pocket and was getting ready to go to the village local (The Junction Hotel) he tended to whistle happily and as he skipped off down the road he was certainly whistling that day because I went with him and he bought the first round.
Fast forward thirty years. Sadly Dad had now gone and Mum was living in York in the same village as us. She rang me and was clearly in a state. "You'll have to come round", she said "I'm really upset!". Not having a clue what was wrong I hastily dashed round to her bungalow to find out what was going on. Fearing something serious I was relieved to find her in her chair and seeming more angry than upset. "Your father" she said in the tone that only women can use. As I calmed her down it transpired she had been talking to Gail on the phone and somehow the subject of her wedding had come up. When Mum had mentioned how touched she was that Andrew's grandad had left £20 behind that day there was a pause. "But Mum" Gail eventually said "he left £50!" That was the bombshell that had caused the upset and Mum was fuming that Dad had conned her yet again. He'd pocketed £30 before she found the money and to add insult to injury she'd given him another £5 to go for a drink. Obviously he couldn't refuse her kind offer - no wonder he was whistling so merrily! I just burst out laughing and eventually Mum saw the funny side of it too - how even though he was no longer with us he could still have such an effect on us. The laughter was mingled with tears because it brought back memories and we both realised how much we missed him and still do.
I hope you enjoyed this little anecdote and I for one am looking forward to the completion of Mum's latest book which will contain lots more memories of a man I am pleased was my Dad.

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Winter Wilds

2/10/2016

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"Winter Wilds"

I haven’t done any classes since I retired a few years ago but recently I have been helping a friend to learn how to paint with watercolours. This is purely for fun and I have really enjoyed going back to the basics with him. It’s been good for me to refresh my love for painting in this lovely medium. This was this week’s exercise. The lesson was ‘painting with washes ‘and experienced painters will see the wet on wet, wet on not so wet and wet on dry washes used in the construction of the piece. However all I see is a reminder of the elegant simplicity of watercolour painting with the paint doing all the work for me! I only used four colours to capture the harsh beauty of the North Yorkshire Moors in winter. I am looking forward to next week’s session.

Chill Out with some more Winter Paintings by Glenn Marshall

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A Sale, Surprises.....and a sting in the tail!

FORTE NON IGNAVE

Painting the Hockney Trail

Surprise, Surprise.......

AN ARTISTS LIFE IS.........

Waterlogged Forest Trail

After.....and Before

Tricks of the Trade

My Father - a Lovable Rogue.

Winter Wilds

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