Lourdes

The full title of this newly finished canvas, completed today on the anniversary of the Blessed Virgin's first appearance to Bernadette Soubirous at the grotto of Massabielle on 11 February 1858, is La belle Apparition à Lourdes. It can be viewed at my private retreat where it is permanently displayed in the presence of sacred relics of the saint.

The Beautiful Apparition from The Song of Bernadette (1943).

Bernadette Soubirous

Bernadette Soubirous (feast day April 16th) was born on 7 January 1844.

Lourdes is a village in France where the Blessed Virgin appeared eighteen times to Bernadette Soubirous in 1858. Her  messages to Bernadette are ageless and apply to all of us today.

Bernadette seemed relieved that she was becoming less of a public figure following the visions of the Blessed Virgin. Several months had passed, and after receiving communion on the feast of Our Lady of Mount. Carmel, Bernadette felt an irresistible urge to return to the Grotto. Since the barricade was still in place, she and her aunt could not get as close to the sacred spot as they wanted, so they knelt in the grass, and the Beautiful Apparition of Our Lady appeared to her one last time.

Bernadette joined the order of the Sisters of Charity. Throughout her life she remained sickly, but attended patiently to her duties as infirmarian and sacristan. She died a holy death on 16 April 1879. She was thirty-four years old. Bernadette was buried on the convent grounds in Nevers, France. Her body was exhumed thirty years later on 22 September 1909 in the presence of two doctors, several appointed officials, and nuns from the local convent. When Bernadette's coffin was opened there was no odour, and her body was untouched by corruption.

A second exhumation took place on 3 April 1919. The body of the then declared Venerable was found in the same state of preservation as ten years earlier, except that the face was slightly discoloured, due to the washing it had undergone during the first exhumation. A worker in wax was entrusted with the task of coating the face of the Saint who had been dead forty years. The sacred relic (Bernadette's body) was placed in a coffin of gold and glass and can be viewed to this very day in the Chapel of Saint Bernadette at the motherhouse in Nevers, France.

http://www.catholictradition.org/Mary/lourdes.htm

Lucy

Marilyn

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Marilyn Monroe (born Norma Jeane Mortenson, 1 June 1926 – 5 August 1962)

Marilyn Montroe was found dead in the bedroom of her Brentwood home by her psychiatrist Ralph Greenson after he was called by housekeeper Eunice Murray on 5 August 1962. She was thirty-six years old at the time of her death which was attribut to "acute barbiturate poisoning" by Dr. Thomas Noguchi of the Los Angeles County Coroner's Office and listed as "probable suicide." Many questions remain unanswered regarding the circumstances and timeline of her death after the body was found. Many elements of this timeline have been brought into question, most notably the discrepancies in exactly what time the actress either made or received her last phone call and at what time during the late night and early morning hours of August 4th and 5th her body was discovered. Eunice Murray volunteered that on the night of the actress' death: "When the doctor arrived, she was not dead." Eunice Murray died in 1994 without revealing further details.

Many detectives — including Jack Clemmons, the first Los Angeles Police Department officer to arrive at the death scene — believe that she was murdered. The death of the actress has since become one of the most debated conspiracy theories of all time. 

I wanted my portrait(s) to reflect her tortured existence, controversial death, undead aspects and intimations of an altogether less glamorous life than is normally asssumed looking only at the surface. An old friend and established artist in her own right, Laura Harold, commented on first seeing my treatment of Marilyn Monroe:

"Visceral. Looks like you've peeled her skin off."

I sought to expose something less obvious, something certainly more visceral, which pealed away the layers of superficiality and illusion. Glamour today is usually taken to mean the quality of allurement or attracting by a combination of charm and good looks, but it used  to mean magic, enchantment, spell and witchery. Marilyn cast a spell over her adoring public, but it should be recognised she was also under one herself.

Anthony Hill, another old friend from way back who greatly appreciates art, had this to say:

"You have really got it with Marilyn. It has everything, all the pain and the tragedy is there, and so much emotion. A stunning work of art. It will be difficult for me to watch 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' without seeing that harrowing face."

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Bird

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At the beginning of modern jazz, as it became defined by bebop, was Bird. The first two records I bought as a youngster were by Bird (alto saxophonist Charlie Parker). Those two EPs (extended playing vinyl discs) were followed by a 78rpm of See You Later Alligator by Bill Haley and his Comets with Paper Boy on the B side. Sadly, the brittle 78rpm did not survive, but I still have the treasured EPs which I continue to play.

My portrait of Bird (whom fellow jazz aficionados of the period within my circle also referred to as Chas P), is inspired by the first saxophonist to impress me. Others followed, but Bird remains indelibly stamped on my musical memory and remains as potent as ever. If you love the music, it is impossible not to love Bird.

My first horn was an alto which I played briefly with a band around the age of fourteen before quickly moving onto a tenor saxophone which I felt more comfortable with for the next half a century. Then I evolved into a baritone and bass saxophone player, but I still play alto and, of course, tenor saxophone as required.

I kept the portrait simple and sincere, concentrating on those elements personal to myself and the period. Above is my first impression and below is a more worked version which I personally prefer out of the two:

Bird is now on permanent display in the small gallery which exhibits pictures relative to the period, expressionistic sensibility and mood:

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Sadness

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,
Into the living sea of waking dreams,
Where there is neither sense of life or joys,
But the vast shipwreck of my lifes esteems;
Even the dearest that I love best
Are strange — nay, rather, stranger than the rest.

Saxophonarium

Saxophonarium was originally titled The Saxophone Man, but has now developed into something transcending that earlier picture. The Time Travelling Transmogrified Saxophone Six Five Special Man would probably be a more apt title for this 40 x 28 inch (oil on canvas) rendition featuring a vintage Jérôme Thibouville-Lamy alto betwixt a gold tenor and baritone sax with a Puffing Billy locomotive joining in the mêlée. Like many, I hold immense nostalgia for the age of steam, but there is something more familial which connects jazz musicians, saxophonists in particular, with hissing, puffing steam railway locomotives. Both are probably equally subject to near-extinction. I have tried to capture the feeling as well as the sound these improvisational horns deliver through colour, movement and,  most of all, visual expressionism. The subject is static, trance-like; yet movement is evident from the piercing sound emitting and disturbing the air around, bringing vibration and rythmn. The saxophonist seems to be still, but within he is moving faster than the speed of sound whilst all around becomes a swirling mass of intense coloured light filling the void. Even the inert horns are sounding off to blend in the cacophony. 

The Time Travelling Transmogrified Saxophone Six Five Special Man.

An  earlier version of the painting.

Blowing a pre-1910 silver Jérôme Thibouville-Lamy alto saxophone.

Detail from the painting.

Shrimp

Click on each of the above images for more clarity.

Anyone who was around in the early Sixties would have known of the Shrimp; especially if they lived in London; especially if they were also a photographer with a studio central to much of what was happening.

It has been suggested I create a portrait of the Shrimp by an old friend from my studio days. I had a glance at what other people had attempted by way of portraiture and felt something was absent. Either their drawing was a carbon copy of an already published photograph (see below), or it lacked the mood of the Sixties and the subject became like any other sitter. The Shrimp was not like any other model. She was the Kate Moss of her day. She was stunning, small and of the time. She was the first ... and the last. We will never see anyone like her again.

My first three portraits (top of page) are impressions (after the passing of over half a century since David Bailey captured her so brilliantly through his lens) of how the Shrimp looks now. She was mostly photographed with a fringe, which decided me to portray her without one in all my paintings. The fourth portrait of the Shrimp shows her in her famous black dress (penultimate photograph at the foot of the page) and is inspired by her iconic Sixties' image.

She was also described as having the "world's most beautiful face." She was dubbed "The It Girl", "The Face", "The Face of the Moment", and "The Face of the Sixties." Glamour named her "Model of The Year" in June 1963. She contrasted with the aristocratic-looking models of the Fifties by representing the coltish, gamine look of the youth movement in Sixties Swinging London, and she was reported as "the symbol of Swinging London." By breaking the popular mould of voluptuous figures with her long legs and slim figure, she was nicknamed "The Shrimp." Jean Shrimpton (born 7 November 1942) was also known for her long hair, usually  with a fringe, wide doe-eyes, long wispy eyelashes, arched brows, and pouting lips.

Click on this picture for more clarity.

Today the Shrimp is grey-haired, prim and almost severe. It is perhaps hard to imagine that this is the woman who epitomised the Swinging Sixties in London, and introduced the miniskirt to the masses.

Jean Shrimpton, half a century since her hey-day as probably the first supermodel, now resides in Cornwall where she has lived as a virtual recluse with her husband since quitting the fashion industry more than thirty years ago.

She has always been honest about loathing the ageing process, saying: "I lie in bed sometimes and think 'ugh,' I don’t like my looks at all." 

After marrying photographer Michael Cox in 1979, the pair had a son, Thaddeus, who now manages the hotel bought by the Shrimp when she turned her back on the bright lights of London.

She said recently: "I am a melancholy soul. I’m not sure contentment is obtainable and I find the banality of modern life terrifying. I sometimes feel I’m damaged goods."