Paul Critchley : Paintings

Paul Critchley interiors furniture corners doors windows

6 Eyes 3 Points of View: Introductions by Patrick Hughes, Prof. José Carlos Suárez Fernández and Marjan Ruiter

From the perspective of the British artist Patrick Hughes:

Vladimir Nabokov wrote that ‘Chess problems demand from the composer the same virtues that characterise all worthwhile art: originality, invention, conciseness, harmony, complexity – and splendid insincerity!’ Paul Critchley’s work is original in his shaped canvases which show us what shape things really are when they are isolated. When I started painting in 1960 I could not imagine what the background in a painting was for, and cut out of hardboard with a coping saw my pictures of hearts and shields. Critchley’s inventiveness is irrepressible, he has imagined things we have not dreamed of, but that when we see them we think ‘I wish I had thought of that.’

The conciseness of Paul’s work is there in that he does not show us more than one thing or area, he just paints and makes the window or the corner of the room. Against this conciseness we might also consider his prolixity, even generosity, in showing us details that we take for granted but which he lovingly draws to our attention, details of carving, of plugs, of pattern, the purely visual. Moments that are a joy to him in their quiddity and that become a joy to the viewer because he paints them so well, the glowing elements of an electric fire, the check lining of an average suitcase, a feather boa.

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Mystical Voyage 2005 90 x 114 cm There is a harmony in these pictures given by the preponderance of perspective. The perspective system grips the regular world like a force of nature, like gravity or light.

Everywhere we look rectilinear things, doors, windows, suitcases, houses and so on, set off towards infinity, tables begin to make their way towards their particular vanishing point, depending on where we are standing. From our point of view as a central actor, we are surrounded by things or planes which are hurrying away from us into the distance, obediently obeying at all times the rules of perspective. This gives an overall harmony to our vision: Paul takes this perspective and isolates and stills it, pickles it, and causes us to think a fresh about what surrounds us at every moment of every day.

Nabokov’s fifth characteristic, complexity, comes into the Critchley world as a tussle between the dimensions, two and three. Seen in reproduction his pieces are flatter than they are in life, because when we look at them they come to life, as we come to believe the spaces and shapes he represents so well. The windows Paul paints in perspective can also be really hinged and moveable; and the corners that he paints can be in corners or on corners that are real: painted and actual are superbly complicated in his art.

When one paints things people often believe you. Samuel Taylor Coleridge referred to the ‘willing suspension of disbelief’ that is an aid to the true appreciation of art. Paul Critchley is such a talented and imaginative artist that we readily suspend our disbelief and step into his witty, wondering and mysterious world. His ‘splendid insincerity’, the result of many years of honing his skill and focusing his intelligence on his corner of the world of art, comes from a very rare feeling for the beauty and delight to be got from the overlooked and the ordinary.

This is sincere insincerity, not a trick but a triumph, not a dusty corner but a turning point.

The World In Perspective 2005 127 x 122 cm

The viewpoint of the Spanish art critic and Professor of art history José Carlos Suárez Fernández:

Pumps 1976 40 x 50 cm

Many are the roads that have been travelled and much has changed in Paul Critchley’s work since these white canvas walking pumps which were the iconographic motif for this painting from 1976. However there is one thing which hasn’t changed since then, and to which he has always been faithful, and that is his devotion to reality. It’s as if those pumps were a manifesto and a declaration of the principles on which his painting was going to be developed.

Just as the pumps are in contact with the floor on which they stand, so it is that his concerns and pictorial interest take as a reference and source of inspiration the reality around him.

From this we can deduce that we are in front of a realistic painter but this would, without a doubt, be a mistake; not because he isn’t, but because he is this and so much more. The term realism is applied to literary and artistic work which faithfully imitates nature; the concept of realism as an aesthetic system has acquired a plurality of meanings and many movements or tendencies in art have used this term as a label for their own theories, especially since it reached maturity in 19th Century France with Gustav Courbet at it’s head.

Referring again to his painting we can state, paraphrasing René Magritte and 4

more specifically his painting ‘The Treason of Images’ (1928), in which the text “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” appears below the pipe - that, in the same way, these are not pumps but a representation of pumps. Thus the essence of the concept of realism incorporates representation and mimicry, to which can also be added objectivity.

The invention of photography, which liberated painting from the heavy burden of representation, contributed decisively to a change in direction in the search within art. This was the case with Cubism, the greatest rupture in art of the 20th Century, as much in its analytical phase in which the focus was on reality and its decomposition, as in the later synthetic phase with the incorporation of ‘collage’. In effect, the objective representation of reality was replaced by the presentation of the real object. The consequences of these changes brought about the modification in the use of drawing and was probably the most radical transformation in linguistic terms in the history of art since the development of central perspective during the Renaissance. The consequences of Cubism’s contribution to art flowed into some of the realisms of the following decades and the evolution of this movement gave rise to geometric abstraction.

Here we should point out that since then, and more especially since the late 1950’s, art has been debated between two great trends; the fundamental concerns about form (abstraction) and concerns for content (figurative, in the majority of cases realistic). That dichotomy led to the polarization of art, and artists had to opt for one or the other. This raised contradictions which over time intensified but which, fortunately, in today’s art

seems to have been overcome. A lesson well learnt. Today they are perceived as two sides of the same coin and, like yin and yang, both live together in harmony.

At the same time there were movements such as minimalism, which was based on the inefficiency of the ‘object painting’ as a tool to escape the hold of representation. As an alternative it proposed the construction of 3dimensional objects to be placed in genuine space so that the viewer would be able to have an understanding of the work unhindered by the artistic object.

Paul Critchley’s work, although apparently from a very different environment, also demands the breaking of formal tradition imposed by the bi-dimensionality of painting. Something which artists such as Lucio Fontana had already done within spacialism in which, on occasions, the use of pictorial material on a support was avoided in an attempt to transcend its inherent flat character. Paul Critchley makes his own the affirmation by Robert Morris, according to whom, the material chosen imposes its form. Turning this around, he would say that it is in fact the theme selected which dictates the shape.

This gives rise to work where the shape comes from the very object represented or, more precisely, where the shape is conditioned by the actual theme of the painting. Thus we are presented with irregular shaped paintings (again we are reminded of Magritte and his painting ‘The Representation’ (1937) in which the frame adapts itself to the silhouette of the female nude portrayed) and three dimensional paintings, where the shapes are adapted to the interpreted space, as is the case with his corner paintings.

As we are discussing space we should bear in mind that ever since the Renaissance,

and in the styles prior to the avantgarde of the 20th Century, the concept of space in mural painting consisted of perspective understood as an objective representation of space. This separation of genuine space and represented space created a problem of integration between painting and architecture which prompted the appearance of Trompe l’œil. The eventual consequences of which equate to the suppression of the wall in the viewer’s perception and with it comes a limitless sense of space based on fiction and illusion which is related to theatrical scenography.

In his work elements and methods coexist which bring to mind concepts such as surrealism, hyper realism ... isms etc., labels all of which, after all, merely function as a method of classification and to try to apply one or other to his work would be like trying to put it in a corset and to impose limits on that which doesn’t have any. Because, as I already said right at the start, his work is that and so much more.

It is a work which possesses such magnetism that I was trapped from the first moment I saw it and with each new encounter there is the discovery of new nuances and sensations which leads one to the healthy exercise of reflection (the difference between seeing and looking).

In summary it is intelligent work filled with a fine sense of humour, where visual games and conceptual irony remind us, once again, that often in painting, just as in life, appearances are deceptive.

Ceci est une peinture 2006 25 x 50 cm

Be Careful 2002 190 x 111 cm Painting in two pieces

Casting light on the paintings is Marjan Ruiter, Director of the Dutch museum ‘Centre for Artificial Light in Art’:

The Lighthouse Bulb 2005 71 x 161 cm In three pieces

In the history of Western art both Giotto and Cézanne are frequently quoted as being pivotal figures whose vision and influence have changed the way we see, think and feel about our environment and ourselves. Where would we be today without the emotion of Giotto and the analysis of Cézanne – no Renaissance, no abstraction?

When Paul Cézanne died in 1906 the electric light bulb was still only in its infancy. This single invention has done as much to change art as Joseph Caxton did to illuminate the medieval mind. Without electric light we would still be in the Dark Ages. Nowadays, as with printing, we take electrical light for granted, but prior to Edison’s invention the only sources of light were daylight, moonlight and the light from flames. Yet we overlook the fact that light is such an important part of life; without it we would not exist. Artificial light, though not a necessity, enables us to live more comfortably and makes life more beautiful too. Ever since its invention, electrical 6

light has held a particular fascination for artists because it is constant, and this consistency means that it can be controlled and manipulated. Previous generations of artists never had such a magical tool and either worked, like the Impressionists, with fleeting daytime, or from memory and imagination. The light they painted in their pictures was truly artificial, but the electric light bulb meant that light in art became photoficial; light itself became the subject rather than the objects illuminated by it.

Marcel Duchamp wrote, “There is a difference between the kind of painting that addresses itself exclusively to the retina and the kind of painting that goes beyond the retina, for which the tube of paint is a mere springboard.” Duchamp’s credo required that painting should be more cerebral than retinal, and the invention of electric light helped artists to express ideas and emotions differently.

In the paintings of Paul Critchley, light, either the presence or the absence of it,

plays a central and very functional rôle.

The light, whether natural or artificial, gives him a means to create an atmosphere, and thus the ingredients for a story; a story which he doesn’t tell you but which you, as the viewer, are tempted into inventing as for example in the paintings ‘The Naked Bed’ and ‘Midnight Visit’. His painting ‘Escaping Light’ also has these atmospheric qualities. For Paul there are no formal boundaries when painting. The light literally escapes from the painting and falls onto the floor. Although it is perfectly clear to the viewer that this is a painting, the three dimensionality of it invites one to either open the door further to see what is going on in the room, or to turn out the light, close the door and go home. That may be how the eye – the retina – sees it, but the brain sees it as an illusion created by coloured shapes, one on the flat, vertical wall and the other on the floor. There is no light other than in the eye of the beholder and in his interpretation of it. As Balthus said “A painter can be a realist of the unreal, and a figurative of the invisible”.

Escaping Light 2003 200 x 85 x 128 cm

Some painters work at home whilst others work in studios away from where they live. Personally I prefer to stay at home rather than go off to the office to work. Like everything else in life there are advantages and disadvantages. One of the advantages of staying at home is that no time is wasted on travelling, another is that the act of painting becomes one of those daily routines; going out of the house becomes an event.

My paintings are, for want of a better word, domestic; they’re about my surroundings which could easily be yours too; they’re about daily life and they’re about painting. Breathing, eating, painting. The disadvantages of working at home include the necessity for self discipline and the fact that life and work are never separated. Going off to the office makes it easier to start and finish work but it also separates living and painting.

Many artists change their subjects and alter their styles frequently which can be very exciting as one never quite knows what is coming next, but on the other hand one is always waiting for a definitive statement. When I began painting I did many different pictures but I have gradually reduced my subject matter and now paint interiors by using multiple viewpoint perspective in order to show the whole environment. The distortions in scale, shape and feeling which this wider viewpoint creates have led me to reject the standard rectangular picture format and to work on irregular but, to me, logical shapes. These shapes are an integral part of the painting and as such are not chosen in any arbitrary manner.

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However this logic does not mean I am seeking to reproduce exactly a particular scene - a photograph can do that - but rather the first sensations suggested to me when I stepped into a room - is it claustrophobic, bright, dark, cluttered etc? At times this can result in paintings with separate pieces, such as the shoes in ‘Dressing Down’, as I concentrate on the interesting features and disregard less interesting ones. On other occasions I introduce unexpected elements to help create a mood or to give a story to a painting, such as the burning candles in ‘The Time Has Come’.

The themes of the paintings illustrated in this book could be described under the following headings: Interiors, Corners, Furniture, Doors, and Windows & Balconies with Landscapes. Although the human figure rarely appears as the main protagonist its presence is often felt - especially when you, the viewer, are reflected in the real mirrors incorporated in the furniture paintings and in the one of the photo booth illustrated on this page. In this painting, ‘The Enigma Of Self’, the mirror engages the spectator in a significantly different way to the other paintings by inviting the viewer to interact and complete the picture by deliberately introducing their own image. A photo booth takes a photo of the person who enters and sits down. This painting is a self portrait of the viewer because the viewer has put him or herself into the picture.

The Enigma Of Self 2003 180 x 77 cm With mirror

Perspective is a lie. Using perspective for organizing space is fine when all you want to do is concentrate your vision in a narrow direction. However the moment you try to encompass just that little bit more then distortions creep in. The foreground looks and feels huge and what was once the focal point of the picture is lost as the edges of the picture take over and dominate. Perspective has its limits as can be seen in these four paintings where I tried to work within the conventional rectangular shape.

Strict adherence to the rules of perspective can result in falsehood as perspective was devised to understand the natural world from a fixed viewpoint in order to reinvent and reproduce it realistically. However our understanding of the world around us is derived from seeing things from many different vantage points which our memory joins together rather like a visual puzzle. The true representation frequently requires more than just a snapshot.

Top: Afraid Of The Dark 1982 152 x 122 cm Bottom: In The Studio, Day 1983 91 x 122 cm 10

Most rooms in a house tend to be either rectangular or square. Sometimes they can be as tall as their length and breadth, making them a cube. Cubism has always fascinated me; the idea of seeing one object from different viewpoints. How does one show all six sides of a cube simultaneously? In the painting ‘Afraid Of The Dark’ I’ve painted the inside of my rectangular room in such a way that the painting can be rotated - as though one is turning around to look at each wall straight on.

In the painting ‘Day And Night’ two rooms are shown together, one above the other, linked by the open door and the figure of a man who during the day was in one room and in the evening is in another having his portrait painted.

‘In The Studio, Day’ and ‘In The Studio, Night’ are variations in wide perspectives with flat planes, patterns of squares and rectangles, strong verticals and horizontals, creating a diagrammatical space.

Top: Day And Night 1983 182 x 122 cm Bottom: In The Studio, Night 1983 91 x 122 cm

Interiors Over the years I’ve lived in various places, but instead of photographs to remind me of them I like to make a painting. This painting is an all round view of my flat.

It shows everything there is from the kitchen sink to the fire extinguisher, all of which are painted in a very matter of fact manner. Although you would recognise the objects portrayed it would be a lie to say that this is what it looks like. The painting is more than an inventory of the flat, it’s a story; there are figures - activity.

Adding another layer to the picture is the element of time which has crept in because we can see through the bedroom window that night has fallen. I never work from photographs because a photograph only records a moment in time whereas a painting can be a mixture of various times and viewpoints. The painting is an idea; a concept of reality; it is a memory of the experience of living there. The space in the painting can be read in much the same way as a map; a flat surface which relates one place to another and yet this is not an architects plan. Perspective maps things out on a two dimensional plane so that the mind can imagine them in three. The space comes and goes as objects are rendered to look and feel three dimensional enabling us to move into the picture plane, as in traditional Renaissance perspective, whilst at the same time moving up and down like in classical Indian or Chinese pictures.

Rauric 12 1998 283 x 255 cm

The Naked Bed 1997 180 x 177 cm

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Unless you’re a thief, who is in the habit of entering a house via a window, then the normal access is through the front door. We’re all familiar with the saying “Don’t judge a book by its cover” but we all do it, first impressions might not count but they do last. When we cross the threshold and enter a house the entrance sets the scene; is it grand, cramped, spacious, functional or downright pretentious with plastic Greek columns and sparkling chandeliers? I’m no more, and certainly no less, curious than you are. The only difference is that I rudely stand and stare whilst making mental notes, “This would make a good painting, just look at the wall paper!

How many steps on the stairs? What is the back of the door like?” The entrance is the start of a painting journey through the house; room by room, floor by floor, right up to the attic.

Midnight Visit 2002 180 x 120 cm

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The shape of the painting enhances the feeling of realism because it echoes the shape of the subject portrayed and thus makes it extra real - supra realistic. For example, this painting of a room is shaped like the room. We are not looking at an image of a room in a rectangle but a painting of a room shaped to look like that room seen from a particular viewpoint. The standard rectangular form has nothing to do with the room nor the painting of it. So why confine paintings to these arbitrarily imposed forms? Wouldn’t it be more realistic if ones vision - ones idea - became the boundary of the painting? A boundary decided not just by observation and the rules of perspective but by feeling; if something feels big or small, tall or narrow, then why not make it big or small, tall or narrow?

“Somebody has been here ...� 1998 145 x 122 cm

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Here is a simplistic observation: Landscape, i.e. Nature, is for animals and plant life, but buildings are for us. In order to portray landscape the rules of perspective required are very basic: The horizon is the eye level and the foreground is bigger than the distance which generally fades away out of sight. There are no straight edges other than the distant horizon across the ocean - but even that is bent. There is no limit, no edge to ones vision. Buildings however, especially interiors, are totally the opposite. The rules are more complicated and more interesting.

Here there is a limit to ones vision because that vision is contained within the four walls, floor and ceiling, there are straight edges holding everything in place and even the light can be controlled. In a painting of a room we can just look inwards but staircases give us the possibility to look up and down as well thus giving greater depth, and therefore greater scope for drama. A room is private but the staircase is a public space, perhaps the person on the stairs is coming to visit, or maybe has just left us. Who left that light on and what are our neighbours doing?

In fact, who are these people of whom we can only see parts?

“Who was that?”, “I don’t know” 2002 200 x 91 cm

The Letter 2002 200 x 87 cm

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When I meet people who have never seen my paintings I’m often asked to describe them; to pigeonhole them with an acceptable ‘-ism’. Merely to say they are realistic is too vague as under the banner of ‘realism’ come the various sub-categories of Photo Realism, Hyper Realism, Magic Realism and Surrealism.

I wouldn’t describe my paintings as Photo Realistic because they don’t in any way attempt to copy the quality of a photograph. Nor are they Hyper Realistic because I can make sweeping generalizations in a brush stroke; they’re nowhere near Magic Realism and any Surrealistic mood is in the imagination of the viewer. So where do I pigeonhole my paintings? Do I call them Realistic, Naturalistic or Idealistic? Yes and No. The difference between the words Realism & Naturalism is subtle but worth noting: Realism in art and literature shows life as it is; factually, in a true way, omitting nothing that is ugly or painful - idealizing nothing.

Realism faces the facts with a disregard of sentiment and convention. A person said to be a ‘realist’ is one who believes himself to be without illusions and is not stirred by sentiment. The opposite of Realism is Idealism. An ‘idealist’ employs the imagination to portray perfection - an idea - even if this means being untrue to the facts. Naturalism is an adherence to nature; in art this means painting things in a way true to nature - but not necessarily realistically, for example, a tree painted by Monet could be rendered in three brush strokes which, when viewed from a distance, fit in with all the other brush marks so that one understands that one is looking at a tree. A realist, such as Holman Hunt, would have painted every leaf on the tree because trees have leaves - a factual reality. The opposite of naturalism, and also realism, is abstraction because abstract art does not represent objects, scenes etc., in an obvious way but abstracts and isolates features of reality.

“... and it happened late at night” 1997 180 x 91 cm

Behind The Closed Door 1989 180 x 90 cm Painting in two pieces

I’ve always thought that the attic is a curious space in a house. Some are converted into extra bedrooms whilst others are just storerooms where odd items get dumped.

The attic can become a depository for memories; a room full of ancient souvenirs, of sentiments and consequently a room of witnesses to ones past, perhaps sometimes to a past which is best left undisturbed, though of course at other times it can yield happy memories. There’s no escaping the life hidden away in the attic’s memory other than by throwing everything out!

To gain access to the attic one has to climb through the attic trap door in the ceiling… so why not hang a painting of the attic door on the ceiling? It’s the obvious place for it; your past can keep an eye on your present.

The Attic 1991 175 x 122 cm

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Little Brother Is Watching You 2002 60 x 50 cm Ceiling painting

The Upstairs Neighbour 2004 55 x 60 cm Ceiling painting 32

Stray Dog 1985 170 x 122 cm

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Corners ‘Looking In’ and ‘The View In The Corner’ are corner paintings which are difficult to illustrate here on flat pages. These are sculptural paintings because they are constructed in such a manner that they hang in, or on, a corner by either folding into or wrapping themselves around the corner. ‘Looking In’ portrays a room in a house into which we feel we are looking, but the actual painting is coming out towards us. ‘The View In The Corner’ is exactly what it says; it is a view and the painting hangs in the corner.

Looking In 2003 150 x 79 x 76 cm Corner painting

The View In The Corner 2003 180 x 80 x 80 cm Corner painting

In this painting we can see a brick wall which, in perspective, looks as though it disappears into the distance. I chose to make the wall very normal in order to emphasize the most important part of the painting; the door on the left at the end of the corridor. What makes this painting different is that the door is at 90째 to the wall - as some real doors are. As in reality with a door one can look both outwards and inwards; so from the inside we can look out and see a landscape and from outside we can look back down the corridor.

The door which sticks out at 90째 adds an extra dimension; a two way view which makes the painting more than an exercise in perspective. The three dimensional feeling is accentuated by the illusion of a corner and the little door on the right, which is on the same flat plane as the brick wall. The painting is large in order to add to the feeling of distance as one has to walk along the length of the painting - down the corridor - in order to experience it fully. If it were smaller one would understand the idea but not feel it.

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The Wall 2002 122 x 266 x 15 cm

This painting combines the categories of a window, a landscape, separate pieces, a corner and an interior - interiors have corners. As with the painting ‘Escaping Light’ (page 7) this is a 2-D painting with 3-D pretensions because although the panels are flat they occupy the corner.

We can’t see light but we can see its effect; we don’t see the light coming through the window but we do see it when it falls on the wall as the light has cut diagonally across the space in the corner.

Raking Light 2005 190 x 80 x 150 cm Painting in two pieces 40

Furniture Fashion and trends may be useful for historians and art critics, who can point to this or that influence, but I like my paintings to have an air of timelessness.

So the choice of objects which I paint has to be carefully considered; if I were to paint a recognized piece of antique furniture then the painting could be looked at differently from a painting of just any old anonymous piece. Likewise, if I were to paint a recognized piece of contemporary furniture then the painting would be looked upon as a portrait of that particular icon. So instead of portraits of design icons I’ve chosen portraits of all our yesterdays furniture, remember those? Remember visiting your grandparents’ house stuffed full of heavy, dark furniture and cluttered with their souvenirs?

I like to think there’s a subtle twist in these paintings; they look old but are in fact the opposite.

Let me elaborate: I once overheard some people say, whilst looking at a painting, “Oh, that’s so old fashioned!” Then they walked on to wax lyrical about an empty paint pot which the decorator had left in the middle of the floor and which they thought was a site specific 3 dimensional work of art to express how empty and colourless contemporary society had become… maybe that’s what the decorator meant, but with respect to my painting they missed the point which is that this is not furniture, this is a painting of furniture. The furniture may be old fashioned because it was designed 60 years ago but the painting is new. The subtlety is in the perception of the viewer. They looked too quickly and were fooled into thinking that what they were looking at was in fact something other than what it is - namely a piece of cloth stretched over a shaped piece of wood and daubed with coloured mud. My painting is an artificial piece of furniture which is why I can justifiably call it Art-ificial.

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Time To Reflect 2003 180 x 106 cm With mirror

In paintings of interiors I concentrated on wider perspectives in order to show the whole environment. However when we look around us, although we may see everything, we really only look at what attracts our attention. So why not just paint those parts, those objects, which are interesting and leave the rest out? The most recent paintings are of individual objects such as pieces of furniture which, when arranged together, furnish an interior. The space in between the painted pieces i.e. the parts I’ve not painted, like the walls, are just as important for the whole as they complete the scene. One painting on its own is just one painting, two could be hung side by side but still be regarded as individual paintings but when they are juxtaposed in such a way, as in this photograph, then the paintings start to take on an extra dimension by involving the space around and in front of them. So although the paintings may be two dimensional when arranged together they have a three dimensional aura. It would be interesting - I’m slowly working my way to it - to have a series of rooms in a completely empty and windowless house which I could furnish with paintings of the usual contents. Paintings like the ventilator illustrated on the title page, and of windows, doors, radiators, cupboards, TV, washing machine etc. This would be another variation of a painting of an interior. It would be an ‘installation’ because one would have to walk around the (3-Dimensional) interior of the rooms to look at the (2-Dimensional) painted furniture.

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Past-time 2003 160 x 122 cm Painting in 4 pieces with real electrical cable and plug

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable” 2004 190 x 95 cm 46

Chez La Madame ... 2003 86 x 188 cm 48

Miss America 2005 91 x 151 cm

There is a fine distinction between an illustrator and an artist. The illustrator illustrates the answer to a question given to him by a client. He has half the problem and all the responsibility of living up to the expectations of his client. The artist on the other hand has no client and not only has to find the answer but also has to ask the question. The artist has total control and no responsibility. This lack of responsibility sounds like paradise.

However freedom is a privilege which comes at a price; the responsibility not to squander it.

The Armchair Gardener 2005 100 x 60 cm

The telephone must rate as one of the best inventions ever because it’s such a tremendous tool with which to communicate; hence the reason why they frequently find their way into my paintings.

In a painting the telephone is a symbolic object, not a fashion accessory. This is why I choose to paint normal ageless telephones which could still be in use today or even tomorrow. The telephone can link people who already know each other or are complete strangers from other sides of the world and from different time zones. It’s possible, in fact we take it for granted, that we can talk to someone who has already lived the day we are about to start.

Conversing With The Past 2003 167 x 167 cm With mirror 54

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Dressing Down 2004 190 x 93 cm Painting in two pieces with mirror

Sometimes my paintings are described as surrealistic but surrealism is a label which I don’t think is quite accurate. Surrealism, as far as I understand it, means something which looks as though it could be real but is actually impossible, or an image depicting a number of unrelated objects which are strangely plausible. I feel that when someone describes my painting as surrealistic it might be more accurate to demote them to semi-surrealistic. On the one hand the term realistic could be used because the objects portrayed look real, in fact it’s perfectly obvious what we are looking at. However on closer inspection there’s often something odd.

It’s not the familiar surreal juxtaposition of unrelated objects but related objects which perhaps shouldn’t be there. In the painting of the sofa ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable’ we look at a comfortable sofa covered in upholsterers tacks; these tacks are not unrelated to the sofa, but they shouldn’t be sticking up preventing us from sitting down. Similarly in ‘The Aquarium’, to have some goldfish swimming around in the sink is not too unusual. Sadly many goldfish are to be found in domestic bowls but it would be bizarre to pull the plug and let the water and the fish drain into the bottom drawer.

All the characters in the stories share something in common; the pictures make sense because of the continuity of the realism but just occasionally there is a sensation that not all is as it appears and we are therefore left with an unsettled and disorientated feeling.

The Aquarium 2003 164 x 95 cm With mirror

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Fish Supper 2005 180 x 122 cm With mirror

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There will come a day, if it hasn’t already arrived in California, when someone will open a restaurant called ‘Las Tapas Americanas’ and where on the menu will be a choice of pills; health food pills.

The starter could be ‘Salade á la Vitamin A’ or ‘Consommé de Carotène’, the main course could be ‘Protéine Haché’ or ‘Huile de Foie de Morue’ (a low cholesterol speciality of the house). The dessert could be a choice of fruit flavoured Vitamin C tablets with the crème de la crème being the highly enriched ‘Cocktail des Fruits’.

All of these delicious and healthy meals would of course be served with low carbohydrate bread and washed down with water soluble wine pills - organic of course. Bon appétit!

Nouvelle Cuisine 2004 180 x 122 cm With mirror

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Radio Times 2003 146 x 84 cm With mirror

Cultivated Passions 2004 150 x 89 cm With mirrors 66

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Fire is a very peculiar substance - does it have substance? What is its texture, what is its form? It’s ephemeral and elusive which makes it fascinating to paint; it’s instantaneous - it’s burning now this very second. Fire is time, it’s action, it moves with the breeze; it’s dynamic. When the candle has burnt, the flame will go out and time will have moved on. The flame consumes the present and destroys all trace of the past. No wonder Lucifer the devil lent his name to the innocent phosphorous tipped match of wood.

The Time Has Come 2004 160 x 122 cm With mirror

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I agree with you, a clock is a strange thing to get excited about, so why have I bothered?

If you’re lucky and have the time to spare (?!) then read on because the subject is time. It would appear that every group of people; every nationality, race and generation not just young and old but also past generations - as well as every religion is, and will be, obsessed with time.

From dawn to dusk, from summer to winter, throughout history we’ve marked time. Time waits for no man, the Grim Reaper, Father Time and Vanitas; in other words Memento Mori. The time indicated on the clock is five minutes past eight or 20:05 which just happened to be the year 2005 in which I painted it.

I’ve decided to paint a clock every year with the year expressed as the minutes past twenty hours so if I live to the same age as my father did, 76, then the last clock I’ll paint will be in twenty four minutes to nine. That sounds like a ignominious time to turn out the light, I wonder if I’ll be allowed to stay up until nine o’clock?

An interesting but, considering the great scheme of things, a fairly trivial and vain little project, don’t you agree?

20:05 (Time Is Valuable) 2005 236 x 56 cm

20:04 Temple To Time 2004 59 x 66 cm 72

20:03 2003 23 x 25 cm

Despite the theories of Pythagoras and the ancient Chinese that the world was round, the common opinion during the Middle Ages was that it was flat - even though their eyes told them that the horizon looked curved. Ships sailed round the Mediterranean by following the coast, eventually reaching their destination - eventually. Having come to the conclusion that the Mediterranean was round the sailors must have decided that if they were to set sail in a straight line and cross the open sea they would arrive at the other side.

Since Hercules had torn open the land surrounding the Mediterranean to get to Gades (Cadiz) and the wider world, then the sailors may have presumed that they could sail round the world and eventually come back to where they had started. How many captains sat at their round tables, looked at their incomplete charts, and wondered just what was over the horizon of their curved table?

When Captain Columbus set sail with three ships the sailors must have thought it would only be a few days before they reached the other side but as the weeks passed and all they saw was a land-less horizon the thought that they were sailing into the unknown and about to fall off the edge of the world must have caused many a nervous breakdown.

At least they could console themselves with the observation that no matter for how long or how fast they sailed they never seemed to get closer to the precipice. It would not be until 12th April 1961, when Yuri Gagarin set sail to orbit the world, that man would embark on such an adventure - and neither of these adventurers had a mobile phone.

Captain Columbus’ Table 2005 122 x 170 cm 74

A door doesn’t have to be just in a wall it can also be in a cupboard or a wardrobe.

For instance, in ‘Reflect on Yourself’ and ‘Monochrome Memories’ I painted wardrobes complete with real mirrors.

Paintings which have mirrors built into them oblige the viewer to become a part of the painting, thereby making the paintings interactive. This is particularly so in these two paintings because the viewer can open the painted ‘door’ panels.

These are more than just paintings, they are contradictions. They are not functional like wardrobes, as they are not pieces of furniture, but the doors are hinged and can be opened just like real wardrobe doors and the mirrors are functional mirrors, so in that respect they become furniture: Functional Art; real mirrors but not real pieces of furniture. Perhaps it would be best to describe them as ‘functional trompe l’oeil’ - if that’s not yet another contradiction.

Reflect On Yourself 2003 190 x 144 cm With mirror and collage 76

Monochrome Memories 2003 177 x 100 cm With mirror 78

Doors Prior to my first trip to Moscow in 1998 I had always avoided using any letters or words in my paintings because of their inherent symbolic value; the word or letter poses problems about purpose and meaning. A word can alter the content so completely that its integration is a very delicate operation. Apart from the obvious choices such as which word to use, what size, what colour and where to place it, there are other subtleties to be considered such as which typeface to use and how this will influence the interpretation of the painting. Typography, like so many things, is prone to fashion and style and fashion is something I do my utmost to avoid; I don’t want a painting to be dateable as it must always be stranded somewhere between the past and the present. The choice of stencilled lettering serves two purposes; firstly, by breaking up the letters so they merge more easily into the paintings’ surface like brush strokes and, secondly, the stencil style is anonymous, impartial, cold and functional. Its lack of charm is as uninviting as the door in some institutional building. Have you ever stood in front of an intimidating door, perhaps the door leading to someone intimidating?

Office 202B 2001 190 x 90 cm 80

No matter what I were to write using Latin script it would be decipherable. One might not understand the meaning but one would recognise the alphabet. However, if I were to write in Arabic or Japanese it would appear too painterly, too calligraphic and too gestural. Its formal presence in the painting would be different to that of text.

Cyrillic uses many letters which are similar to those in the Latin alphabet. This makes words recognizable as such but - unless one speaks Russian - incomprehensible.

The presence of a Russian word in a painting creates a barrier which alienates the viewer but also gives it a particular atmosphere of unease; the unease which one can feel when one is in a strange environment. Who and what lie behind this door in the painting and why that Red Line? Has somebody painted everything in black and white or am I looking at a world devoid of colour? Am I entering a restricted zone demarcated by the Red Line or maybe just gazing Through The Looking Glass?

Caution : Red Line 2001 175 x 100 cm 82

In Moscow it is advisable, if one doesn’t want to be stopped by the police whose salaries are supplemented by making gullible foreigners pay fines (bribes), not to stand out from the crowd. Disguise is an art. Preoccupied with this discovery, the first painting I did when I returned from Moscow was Pravda - Truth. The painting has two parts; inside and private, outside and public. “Who is he?”, asks the nosey neighbour as he peeps through the spy hole and sees the man in the Mr. Normal Suit going down the stairs.

The newspaper cutting, dated 5th April 1999, on the back of the door with the pin through Lenin’s head reads: ‘USA and NATO bomb Siberia, this is what American school children think’.

Pravda 1999 168 x 88 cm 84

The Man Who Smokes 1999 183 x 100 cm With collage 86

‘The Uninvited’ was the second of a series of paintings with Russian overtones (painted in undertones). The apartment I rented in the Stalinist era block of flats was not the sort to inspire devotion to The Cause, let alone to painting.

You’ve got to be a bit odd to want to sit in the middle of a block of Muscovites for two months on your own and paint, especially when you don’t speak a word of Russian. I never saw many of my neighbours; the moment they heard my door open, theirs closed. I must have been the first real foreigner 99% of them had ever seen.

They weren’t unfriendly, just uneasy, particularly those who must have lived through the Soviet days when neighbours were encouraged to report on neighbours; “Who’s this outsider?”.

The Uninvited 1999 185 x 133 cm 88

When we knock on a door to get attention we are communicating; knocking out a message. Some people just rap two or three times but others can have rhythmical logos so that the person within instantly recognizes who is on the outside and can therefore open the door with a feeling of security.

Message Received 2000 157 x 77 cm 90

I have always admired medieval paintings because of their story telling power and in particular the altar paintings with moveable panels. These paintings not only beckon the viewer to look but also to participate more fully in their stories. A single image tells a story on one level but the altar paintings reveal much more and give greater depth and richness, turning the story into an epic. Opening the panels is rather like turning the pages of The Good Book. Nowadays we are swamped with words and images, with information in general, but in the Dark Ages the sense of awe and wonder which the altar paintings must have had on the people as they entered the House of God must have been a monumental visual and spiritual experience - it still is for some.

Imagine what it must have been like to walk into the cathedral in Gent 500 years ago and be confronted with Hubert and Jan van Eijk’s painting of the Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, or to be a patient in the monastic hospital in Colmar and to see the chilling Crucifix by Matthias Grßnewald. Despite the constant TV images of death and disaster around the world, this painting is still horrifying.

Those medieval artists, conjuring up and provoking sensations, were the Hollywood story telling Steven Spielbergs of their day.

Sometimes the best stories are the simplest ones but told with a touch of flair and imagination. Stories can be direct and amusing, subtle and subdued, bright and cheerful whilst others are anxious and disturbing. The best story tellers are those who delight and inspire, who inform and provoke the viewer to participate and reflect. In my paintings I’m trying to tell stories of everyday events and to make them as interesting to you as they were to me - not the epic parting of the waves, but more the admiration of the silent rainbow as the sun comes out after a storm worthy of any heavenly damnation. Stories telling of the passing of time, of day turning to night. A story showing that in the corner of a room a seemingly banal and innocent wall can become menacing; a hidden door to a hidden life.

The Waiting Is Over 2000 180 x 138 cm 92

The Caller 1997 178 x 151 cm 94

The maxim that the artist only paints one picture in his or her life and the rest are variations on it must be true - at least in my case so far. It was only a matter of time before I combined the two ideas of a corner painting and a door painting. A door opens and closes; allows entry and denies it. We take doors for granted, we open and close them without giving them a second thought - other than to lock someone or something in or out. Instead our attention is normally focused on what lies behind and to where they lead. ‘Disconnected’ is a corner painting, i.e. two planes meeting at 90°, which hangs in the corner of a room. In it there is a door tucked in the corner; but closing this door in order to deny access from one stairway merely shifts the problem as another doorway is revealed giving access to a different set of stairs. It may be very efficient but it is also very frustrating and quite disturbing as it is impossible to close the door. Even the telephone is frustrating because one cannot use it to dial out. This could be a corner somewhere in a house shared by Messrs. Duchamp & Escher.

Disconnected 2002 180 x 86 x 84 cm Corner painting

A Foot In The Door 2002 180 x 120 cm 98

“Eye can see you ...”

2002 180 x 100 cm

The Voyeur 2004 200 x 138 cm With mirror 102

Sometimes the suggestion of a person in a painting is more evocative than the actual figure. The shadow of a figure, or shoes in the middle of the light falling on the floor, or perhaps shoes under a table, or at the top and bottom of the stairs, even clothes neatly arranged on the floor, all hint at the presence of a person and thus leave the painting open to wider interpretation.

The Changed Man 1998 192 x 228 cm

A word or two of explanation about this painting - when the door is open the light comes in casting a shadow of the balcony on the door and we can look out past the balcony to the ocean.

However when we close the door we see that the same view has been painted on the back of the door and that an open door with the light falling on it has also been painted on the brick wall. The occupier of the house has painted a ‘Trompe l’oeil’ on the back of the door and on part of the wall in the corner of the room - hence the title of the painting ‘A Door With A View’. This is a painting about that painting on the door in the corner; a ‘Trompe l’oeil’ painting about a ‘Trompe l’oeil’ painting.

A Door With A View 2002 180 x 120 cm 106

Windows & Balconies with Landscapes To paint a landscape which is in front of one requires a lot of analysis; a lot of selection and rejection. Never mind the result, I recommend to anyone to try to paint a landscape en plein aire because it is a tremendous exercise in abstraction, especially because the information is constantly changing. It is inevitable that these lessons will carry themselves over into other work, and so imperceptibly, painting by painting, month by month, things change and develop. Since my introduction to painting en plein aire every year I make a point of painting landscape, not just to get out of my studio and into the sun but also to take my mind away from studio style picture making and force myself to solve different problems. At first I used to separate the two styles, but in the window paintings which open and close to reveal a landscape, I combine the two.

Blue River 2004 180 x 159 cm 108

The Taste Of Summer 1999 190 x 184 cm 110

It doesn’t rain in Spain, it pours. Especially towards the end of summer when, after the months of exhausting heat, the humidity rises and the heavens open. In ‘Towards The End Of Summer’ we hurry to close the windows as the rain lashes down but the force of the storm blows them open snapping the cord. After the storm has passed we open the windows and as we do the lizard, who was sheltering on the window ledge, is startled and scuttles off into the sunlight which shines crystal clear through a break in the clouds. The rainbow, that symbol of peace from God to Noah, announces the end of summer.

This painting actually started life in spring 1993 when I saw a rainbow stretched out above the village of Polop.

I was so struck by the scene, the fact that beneath the rainbow there was light and colour whereas just on the other side of the prismatic band it was dark and stormy, that I immediately made a note on the only piece of paper I had to hand. I kept the 4 x 5 cm scrap of paper not knowing what or how I could use it. Three years later, I saw another impressive rainbow which reminded me of the little drawing but this time the idea of combining it within a window painting which would show both before and after the storm was a logical solution. As with nearly all my paintings one idea leads to another.

Having decided to make a painting with a window and a rainbow (yes, I know it’s a cliché to paint a rainbow but please give me the credit for being neither too intimidated nor frightened to tackle it - it’s a brave man who dares to take on a hackneyed theme!) I had to find a suitable landscape. Fortunately this wasn’t difficult because every time I passed along the road from Altea to Polop I would always look at the small white house set amongst the terraces of olive trees and wonder about the lucky soul who lived there. During the summer of 1996 I took the central panel into the country and worked on it every day between the hours of 2 and 5. After I was satisfied with the landscape I took out my little scrappy drawing of the rainbow and, using those notes and memory, I painted the dark brooding sky. The two window panels with their reflections and rain were actually painted in my studio in the middle of the annual drought which afflicts southern Spain.

Towards The End Of Summer 1996 180 x 155 cm 112

From My Window 2001 182 x 173 cm With net curtain 114

The Passing Of The Seasons 2005 180 x 165 cm 116

Rhopography is derived from the Greek word rhopos and is used to describe a genre of meticulously painted still lives of trivial bric-a-brac and minute objects which may include such things as the remains of a meal, crumbs etc., and insects. These become allegories of pleasure and decomposition, of life and death, reminding us of the transience of human life and the brevity of our existence by transforming the ordinary into the eloquent. Rhopography was very popular in European art during the 17th Century and Memento Mori are as old as life itself.

Early Summer 1997 184 x 175 cm 118

In August 1997, on the advice of a painter friend who thought I might find inspiration for some new paintings, I went to Tossa de Mar. The town is charming, small and at that time of the year overrun with tourists like myself.

For me the most striking discovery was the little bay so I had to return despite the hoards of tourists.

Setting up ones easel and trying to paint the movement of the water and the changing of the light amidst an international crowd of bemused onlookers requires more than just a bit of concentration, especially when the wind is howling in off the sea and almost blowing the painting off the easel. I had the selfish feeling that this was my bay, my discovery, and I should be able to have it all to myself - or at least until I had finished the painting. Just when I wanted to study the colour of the sand at the water’s edge a group of children would descend and start building sandcastles. I moved my attention to the beach and within minutes umbrellas appeared and opened up like psychedelic mushrooms. Examining the colours in the water, a difficult task in itself, is not made any easier when obscured by bobbing air-beds. No, the only way to have paradise at my finger tips was to paint it. Out went the boats, out went umbrellas and all other distractions including the people - even topless ladies.

After numerous frustrating visits I put the painting to one side telling myself that I would return later in the year to finish it and that in the meantime I would work on the two door panels. The painting took longer than expected because I only finished it in April 1999.

La Cala 1999 200 x 184 cm 120

The Heat Of Summer 2001 179 x 173 cm 122

From My Balcony 2001 181 x 171 cm 124

Painting a landscape directly from the motif is far more rewarding than trying to work from a photograph - at least for me. A photograph flattens everything and simplifies volume to an arrangement of darks and lights on a flat plane, the result of which is that all feeling for space is lost; it becomes a photoscape and doesn’t show anything other than what the weather was like. Although photography can be a great help for recording details such as patterns, shapes of shadows, etc., it only reveals 1/250th of a second of a scene presenting us with a ready made image. What exactly can one learn in such a snapshot compared with studying the scene over a few hours?

Answer: A different lesson. It all depends on the objective and if the end justifies the means then that’s OK. I’m not saying that there is anything wrong with working from a photograph, it’s just that it’s like a McDonald’s fast food meal; nutritious and filling but not quite as satisfying as a meal you’ve cooked yourself. Chacun à son goût.

“It’s that time of day” 2002 153 x 78 cm 126

The difference between art and decoration is fine. Everything is to some degree decorative, whether it’s wallpaper, graffiti or a Francis Bacon painting - it fills a space on the wall.

But obviously there is a difference, we can feel it. Something which is decorative fills the space on the wall and something which is art fills the space between your ears.

The Back Door Is Never Locked 2000 169 x 94 cm 128

You must have heard, on at least one occasion, someone say, “Oh that’s nice, but it won’t match the curtains”.

To which the simple answer is, “Change your curtains!”. In this painting I’ve solved the problem by supplying curtains which match the painting perfectly; they’re light and breezy and the colour threads pick up the browns in the wooden shutters whilst the other shiny acrylic ones sparkle like the water!

High Tide 2002 160 x 100 cm Painting in two pieces with curtain material

132

Young Cypress 2000 125 x 97 cm

I’m amazed by digital technology; the special effects in film and the reality of animated figures to move about so convincingly, the manipulation of perspective and light is so smooth and slick that it makes painting look crude, raw, vulgar, dirty, primitive ... but also strangely alive. There’s a paradox here which is that Hi Tech realism is too sterile to be real. I’m not a technophobe but I do like to see the life involved: The process, the paint, the canvas, brush marks, the accidents, the over painting and the struggle. The spontaneity of crude coloured mud daubed on canvas is more expressive than the slick and mechanical. Whilst I admire the technology, imagination and teamwork involved I also like to see the individuality, the handwriting, the personality and the emotion behind it all.

Give me paint, not pixels.

Wild Wind 2000 100 x 80 cm 134

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Another Blue Day 2000 84 x 87 cm

‘Mobile doors and windows’ are paintings where the door and window panels are hinged and so can be opened and closed giving them an extra dimension. The idea of a mobile panel adds another layer to both the story and to the paintings’ complexity, especially when the doors are shaped in perspective.

This optical illusion means that the doors never appear to be fully open or closed, which is a visually unnerving experience.

Tall Sky 2002 120 x 100 cm 138

Time is a recurring theme throughout the paintings, whether shown by the presence of a clock, an hour glass, a burning candle or by day and night represented in the same painting. On other occasions by showing summer when the windows are open and winter when they are closed. Time can also be revealed in two different paintings of the same scene - one during the day and the other at night.

Lost In Thought 2000 57 x 125 cm

140

Panorama From ‘El Cautivador’ 2003 62 x 161 cm 142

Lucid Day, Lurid Night 2002 100 x 80 cm

The story behind these two paintings is quite simple: Looking out of a window which is higher than our eye level and only being able to glimpse the sky. There’s nothing to see other than passing clouds, birds or the moon and all one can do is day dream - as one does. However, one can also day dream at night, if that’s not a contradiction in terms, hence the title ‘Night Dreaming’. Both windows have locks on them, perhaps as a metaphor for restriction and freedom - the freedom to imagine whatever one wants to. When I showed the paintings in Moscow I was asked by an elderly gentleman whether I had served time in the Gulag and had painted them to make the point that the body could be imprisoned but not the mind. He’d obviously had some experience in these things.

146

Day Dreaming 2000 79 x 96 cm

Night Dreaming 2000 79 x 96 cm

La Casa del Campo 2002 100 x 80 cm 148

The pace of life seems to be getting faster and faster - or maybe I’m just getting to that age where it feels as though it is. In this quickening tempo photography seems like the ideal medium; instantaneous image and instant result. However what is gained by spontaneity could be lost by the lack of time to reflect. This is the advantage of painting because it’s good to slow down and take time to look. Photography sees things quickly but it’s just as valid to see things slowly. Trust me, just stand in my shoes and look at the view…

“Just stand here and look at the view…” 2002 200 x 138 cm Painting in two pieces

Acknowledgements: Patrick Hughes British artist - www.patrickhughes.co.uk José Carlos Suárez Fernández Spanish art critic and Professor at ‘Universitat Rovira i Virgili’ of Tarragona Marjan Ruiter Director of the Dutch museum ‘Centrum Kunstlicht in de Kunst’, Eindhoven www.kunstlichtkunst.nl Sal Sidner ‘Miss America’ (pages 50 & 51) - www.salsidner.com Photography: Simon Critchley Photoworkx.nl Meerdanduizendwoorden.nl Title page: A Breath of Fresh Air 2004 120 x 33 cm With string and toggle Left: The Insurance Policy 2004 55 x 26 cm ISBN: 0-9524537-0-3 ISBN: 978-0-9524537-0-3 Printed in Spain by Anman, Gràfiques de Valles, s.l. www.anman.com Published by Helen Conlon 2006 © Paul Critchley www.paulcritchley.com

Also published: ISBN 84-929010-02 This book, published by Sammer in 1996, with text in English and Spanish, covers work over a period of 18 years. It contains 88 pages with a total of 112 colour reproductions of 99 paintings, none of which are reproduced in this second book.