ROSS RYAN In Transit
ROSS RYAN In Transit 4 February - 2 March 2013
Foreword In Transit is Ross Ryan’s first exhibition with The Scottish Gallery. The works, which will focus on his travels to the Galapagos Islands and Germany, are accompanied by diary entries which offer insight into an artist who thrives on chance, fleeting moments and often an element of danger. Although a landscape painter, it is the human element in nature which is the driving inspiration behind Ryan’s work. In his own words; 'Landscapes are not only about nature, hills, cities and sea but also the people that walk around and live in these locations. Maybe you could call them “human landscapes” even if they are not visible in the picture as figures. From my travel diaries i have made, people are the focus be it living or in some cases dead. These intimate chance encounters are formed from the beaches of Galapagos to the gates of Auschwitz…'
Cuvry Strasse, Berlin 2/6/11 to 15/6/11 oil on paper, 200 x 100 cms This morning I took the table from the flat down to the park on Cuvry Strasse. Its been my pallet in the studio since January, seasoning well with various notes, doodles and peoples contacts. The weight of the table has made setting up a timely procedure. Any wind at all threatens to knock it over. The sheer size also blocks the view I am trying to paint, making me have to work at right angles. Later a bus load of Dutch men turned up wearing pale yellow dressing gowns, I think they were looking for the Badeschiff baths. Today was suspiciously quiet. Just myself and a handful of police dressed in riot gear with more arriving in vans. Later I was approached by two heavily armed police and asked to leave as I was trespassing, I pleaded for just a couple more hours so I could try and get closure on this painting. The cops disappeared but on return, after talking to their chief, I was informed that a large protest was about to pass, with the potential of getting very rowdy. I was told they liked my painting but they suggested I leave immediately or we would both be damaged. At that I quickly dragged everything back to the van as I had learnt my lesson two weeks previous when I got tear-gassed. I have been constantly entertained by a group of drunk punks from Dresden, like proper ones. During the morning they spent their time yelling and throwing beer bottles at passing tour boats whose passengers were snapping away with their cameras as if taking pictures of dangerous wild beasts on an African safari. When the punks were bored they made their way over to my spot. Wearing a straw hat, checked shirt and pink crocks I started to feel ever so self-conscious as this pack of alpha plus males closed in. Bottles of beer in hand they towered over me to watch with their foot high hair and acked up boots, then the questions started to role. I was somewhat taken aback by their sheer intellectual bombardment. One cannot be judged by one’s studs, spikes, piercings or tattoos. Shortly after they departed the skies opened and gave way to a huge thunderstorm, I just managed to get the painting in the van but all my equipment was soaked. My eyes are sore from all the details. Nearly 80 continuous days of painting outside from minus 15 to the stifling heat of today. I have documented a changing Berlin to the best of my ability and finishing with this large work that leaves me content and full of confidence. Time now to return back to the highlands.
Eisfabrik off Kopenicker Strasse, Berlin, Germany, 26/5/11 oil on paper, 85 x 80 cms Another massive piece of waste land in the hart of the city. All along the river Spree you can find old factories whose futures are bond for gentrification. As always a few punks floating around with their token scary dog. Received a SMS that a World War II bomb had been found close by in the river, a big one and we were all going to have to evacuate. Great uncle Peter?
Badeschiff, Berlin, Germany 7/5/11 oil on paper, 60 x 60 cms A Spaniard and his toddler came over and watched me paint for some time. I eventually gave the wee boy my brush resulting in him making the best marks of the day.
Katahausen Club, Berlin, Germany 29/5/11 oil on paper, 85 x 80 cms A girl asked me to marry her at breakfast, apart from that just another day painting.
Charles Darwin Centre, Santa Cruz, Galapagos 13/11/11 oil on paper, 45 x 43 cms Again I find myself flanked by iguanas; we seem to choose the same places to sit. We are right at the entrance to the Charles Darwin Centre and today there is an endless stream of visitors. First I could identify Spanish, then French followed by German and English tours. I guess many of these people are straight off the plane and then herded here, and like myself are overwhelmed by these creatures. A general pattern seems to form amongst the tour groups. Firstly on approach, smiles and pointing fingers, then progressing to the formation of a semicircle around the specimen. Later normally one of the males from the group will break the pack and see how close he can get to the iguana looking back for signs of encouragement. Realizing the iguanas are unimpressed and are not going to move until the heat leaves the ground other members of the party move forward grasping cameras and video recorders alike. For me this is when it gets weird, they drop to the ground crawling forward as if they have discovered this very creature, snapping countless photos. As I was only a couple of meters away on my small painting stool, I too was pointed at, approached and snapped in the same way. I reckon if there had been a big pile of dog shit next to me they would have done the same to it.
Champi and Christina’s House, Santa Cruz, Galapagos 16/11/11 oil on paper, 45 x 43 cms Champi is one of the islands most colorful guides and it is to him I thank for me being here. I shared a cabin with Champi during a whistle stop tour of the islands on a yacht two years ago. His Land Rover is not just any old car but was one of the first to be imported by the municipal back in the late 70’s. Apparently half the island learnt to drive in it; maybe that’s why it’s looking a bit shagged out.
La Plaza, Isabela, Galapagos 20/11/11 oil on paper, 45 x 43 cms On arrival last night the village was a very different place from past visits. The Plaza was crowded with drunken people shouting, cheering and betting as horses raced up the sandy high street. During the last race a horse went crashing straight through one of the bars. Now at 6.30am the only people left on the street are the dregs from the night before. This church is built crudely from cement blocks but I like its form, something you might expect to see in Greece. Towards the end of my drawing the prize jockey from the night before charged by pissed as a newt leaving a cloud of dust.