Mike Skidmore

My new studio and first workshop with 7 students

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 12:55:16 +0000

After all the hard work and worry about whether I had got the design right for the studio, the first equestrian in oils class, proved a resounding success.

Growing pains & lessons learned

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 10:46:14 +0000

“Wisdom is usually only gained by accident, or as a result of a cock-up!”

Mike Skidmore 2012

The following stories are true episodes in my life, and I would like to think that each tale told, taught me something valuable, if only in hindsight.

FRUIT GUMS & ROWNTREE’S PASTELS

My family moved from South Shields to Pontefract in Yorkshire when I was around the age of 10.

A new school and the distinctiveness of a Geordie accent, meant I quickly merited special attention from the other kids – mostly mimicry, but sometimes accompanied by a bit of a thump. I was fairly unused to bullying and it came as a bit of a shock, especially as I didn’t have the know-how to deal with it. Many times after school I would run home in tears and lock myself in the bathroom.

My father didn’t help – I lost a new pair of gloves one winter, and as a punishment he made me wear a large pair of socks on my hands to school. Half the class ran around the playground wearing their socks on their hands making ridiculous Geordie ‘why-aye’ noises, whilst a handful of others took the opportunity to beat me up.

It all subsided over time, but I always felt like an outsider at that school. At break time I just used to wander about on my own, longing for a bit of attention – the friendship sort – and looking for opportunities to change things for the better. I remember well the day I thought I had found my chance.

There were two particular scallywags who hung out together, and one of them lived at a confectioners shop, owned by his parents. He had managed to steal a large quantity of Fruit Gums, which must have inspired the intrepid pair to set about starting a Fruit Gum gang. Members were by invitation only and received ‘secret’ bits of paper to gain entry to the gang. I longed for one of those bits of paper so much!

Every lunch time they would all get together and suck constantly on large quantities of fruit gums, whilst regularly comparing tongue colour. It all seemed so cool, (or whatever word we used then), and I ached to join in whilst watching alone from the far side of the playground.

And then I had it – my first strategy. The next morning, having raided my savings, I bought an armful of Rowntree’s Pastels, as it seemed to me that they were the arch rival sweets to Fruit Gums.

I distributed my own invitations. At lunch time, all those invited, and a fair few others, descended upon me, took a pack of Pastels each and left. I was popular for about 5 minutes. I just skulked away and went back to being Mr Invisible!

An expensive exercise it was, but I learned my very first valuable lesson in creativity – it’s always better to be original!

THE ART OF ADOLESCENCE

As I reached the age of 14 my hormones were growing faster than my common sense. This was difficult to cope with, as I attended an all boys Grammar School that was a bus ride away from the nearest girl’s school. Consequently, we had to make do with telling ridiculous stories of the countless girls we had snogged, and even more outrageous stories of actual conquests. Some of the colourful rubbish we used to talk still makes me laugh, as our one-track minds, and libido-fuelled competitiveness, kept us constantly trying to outdo each other with ever taller tales.

And this gave me an idea!

I had discovered I could draw quite well. This talent, allied to my Mum’s clothing catalogues, meant I had a ready supply of pictures showing women in saucy underwear to use as artistic reference (there is something wonderfully evocative about the word ‘saucy’, such a shame that language like this died out with the likes of Sid James, and his gravelly laugh).

I took some of my drawings to school to show off and gain a few credibility points. They went down very well indeed. So well in fact, that I was offered money for them.

Thus my first business was born.

It went from strength to strength as I began to get even more adventurous, drawing the voluptuous ladies without their brassieres. It wasn’t easy though, as I had to peer at the photographs from all angles to try and make out the detail beneath the lace. Sometimes I even employed the services of an old Victorian (oh, the irony) magnifying glass that was kept in the sideboard.

Of course I got caught eventually. I was hauled off by my form teacher, who was embarrassingly for both of us, a female (I’m really, really sorry Miss), to see the headmaster. He waved the drawings about, called me a ‘Gutter Snipe’ as I recall, and threatened to tell my parents if it happened again. Naturally, he kept the offending material!

That was the only year I didn’t win the art prize.

So, what was the lesson? Well, given how lucrative the porn market is these days, maybe it is this: when you come up with a great idea, persevere, and don’t be put off by a bit of consumer resistance!

Perhaps a better way to think of it is, if you have a talent, don’t be afraid to share it, as you never know where it might lead.

You decide!

AN ART COLLEGE EXPERIENCE

I remember my first morning in Cardiff, walking from the dreary digs I’d found myself in, to the art college I’d ended up at. I was uncharacteristically unsure of myself, and the long walk on a wet, grey morning added a sense of foreboding. My ego had taken a beating after being turned down by Norwich School of Art, my first choice college, and I was carrying the weighty burden of that let-down on my young shoulders. I was so used to being the centre of attention and flattered by all who saw my work, that I took my popularity for granted. Being relegated to a second choice was something I just wasn’t equipped to handle.

In reality I was too immature, too naive, too unprepared and a whole host of other ‘toos’, to be ready for any art college experience, let alone the one I found myself in. Gap years were not the thing in my day sadly.

I was also almost two years younger than everyone else at college, due to the fact that I went straight into a Foundation course from ‘O’ levels, rather than sit my ‘As’ (that is another story to tell). What a difference this made, not only was my view of the world basic, but I had rarely been outside of a Yorkshire mining micro-community, which was itself living ten years behind everyone else.

We had been asked by the College to bring along some work that we had completed over the summer recess. Once assembled in a group and introduced to the year’s tutors we were asked to put our work up on a large wall.

I then received my first experience of a critique, probably better described as an assassination.

Most of the work on show was abstract in nature, with a couple of performance art concepts, most of which engaged the tutors and resulted in a fair exchange of views. The remaining handful of figurative painters then received a tirade of criticism. My turn duly came, with one lecturer, who became my head of year, stating that I had done a drawing of little depth, in order to show everyone that I thought I could draw, when obviously, I couldn’t.

I never recovered from that comment. It was like a dagger through the heart, I felt humiliated in front of my contemporaries and permanently labelled a failure, unable to recover any respect in the eyes of the tutors. My future as an artist went from potential to ‘no chance’ in one cruel slap.

My situation felt unrecoverable, and the only thing that saw me through three years at that college was my stubbornness. But instead of sticking to my original plan of becoming a portrait painter I lurched from one subject or style to another. Why? Because, in hindsight, I was trying to come up with something that would win me some approval from the very people whose bi-weekly ‘crits’ I had come to fear.

All it would have taken was for one of them to put an arm around my shoulder, point out some positives in my ability and give me a little encouragement, and things could have been so very different.

I gave up painting for 12 valuable years after I left art college.

I learned a great deal from this period in my life, and take some pleasure in believing that I have achieved a fair bit, inspite of what I experienced.

In my teaching I have developed an approach that builds upon what I learned in those early days which centre on two key principles. Firstly, know something of the student and why they are there. Secondly, identify the positives in their work and build upon them. This will equip the student with the confidence and ability to address other challenges.

Although there is so much more I could say in summary, I’ll leave you to your own conclusions.

FIRST REAL COMMISSION

Post art college, I spent a year packing books for Readers Digest in Aylesbury. It was a mindless and monotonous job, picking books off a line and placing them in boxes along with a ‘free gift’. It did get exciting now and again such as when the free gift was changed, or when one of us caught a large spider, or better still, a wasp, to include as an added extra.

I was approached by my supervisor one day, a lady in her forties I would guess, and asked to do a drawing of her twins – a boy and a girl. Although I had left art college vowing to attack pastures new, the opportunity to earn a Tenner was very appealing. I agreed.

At break time, sharing a tea with my usual group of lady book-packers, I told them of the commission. To a woman they burst out laughing, and on pushing them for more information I was told, “you haven’t seen the kids”!

It was only when I was presented with a photograph for reference that I got the point.

Now most portraits have a challenging feature or two to negotiate, but in this case, the word ‘challenge’ was an understatement. Each child had quite a severe squint behind large National Health glasses. Remember the ones – pink for girls, blue for boys? Added to this, each had teeth that made quite a statement, and the sort of hair that defies gravity. It was the first time I had ever faced having to make a decision based upon applying ‘artistic licence’ or dealing the cards straight.

My creative integrity kicked in and I went for the latter. Wrong decision! My supervisor was not pleased. She claimed the drawing looked nothing like her children, refused to pay and then appeared to give me every shitty job in the place until the day I left.

Simple lesson here – don’t say yes to a commission until you see what you have let yourself in for.

I can actually see her point today as a parent, if not as an artist. In hindsight I could have played things down somewhat and given her the picture she wanted, rather than play at the principled artist. It’s not as if the picture would have been seen and appreciated by anyone other than family and friends.

What a plonker!

My new studio – ready at last and big enough for eight!

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 20:29:04 +0000

No more loading up the van on freezing cold mornings to drive to a venue I’ve hired to hold a workshop. No more lugging armfuls of easels that seem to be alive and determined to attack me whenever possible, up steps and around corners. No more realising I’ve left something vital at home and in embarrassed fashion, have to chance several speed cameras to get back at something like a respectable time.

But I will miss Eric who used to open and close the venue for us. He is the most considerate and helpful person I know, always smiling, always with a tale to tell, and he too used to team up with me to fight the easels. But, should I need to run any larger groups in the future it will be Eric I call. Thanks mate, you are good’n.

As for my new studio, it is equipped with tables, chairs, placid easels, white walls, great light and running water. So if you are reading this and considering joining a course, you will have a fun and rewarding time.

Mike

100 FACES exhibition

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Sat, 03 Sep 2011 12:12:57 +0000

WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All the worries about being ready, hanging pictures, having enough wine or people turn up to drink it were unfounded.

The people that helped – Dave and Miles from the Carp Society, Bev Daley (a brick as usual), Vedanti (spiritual support), Shaz ( a burst of enthusiasm), James (who helped with the exhibition stands) my brother Paul (always there when I need him) and of course Cathy my wife who recieved a bunch of flowers bigger than her for her total dedication – made it all possible and worthwhile.

Great reviews, write-ups and some coverage from Cotswold TV all helped but what really made it special were all the people who came to see us and the many compliments we received.

And yes………WE ARE GOING TO DO IT AGAIN, SO WATCH THIS SPACE!

’100 Faces’ Portraiture Exhibition

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 11:24:14 +0000

’100 Faces’ is the title of the forthcoming exhibition of Portraiture that I am currently organising and curating. The event is due to take place on August 5th 6th & 7th 2011 at The Carp Society Lodge, Horseshoe Lake, Lechlade, Glos. GL7 3QQ.

You can view the poster and read a little bit more about the exhibition on this dedicated page, but I will also be blogging about the experience of organising the exhibition here; covering everything from gathering work from artists around the country and finding sponsorship, to considering the obligatory Health & Safety aspects of the venue, and choosing the Private View wine (or whisky in our case)! Keep checking back for new posts. All updates will be added to the ’100 Faces’ category so they will be easy to find.

A day at the races

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 16:36:58 +0000

A day at the races

Is it just me, or is anyone else offended by the string of ‘we have the customer’s interests at heart’ type adverts that are currently being televised by high street banks? I strongly object to being patronised or taken for granted at the best of times, but especially by institutions who have treat their customers in such a shoddy way.

Rarely in my own commercial ventures have I had cause to praise my bankers. I have always found their attitude to be blatantly one sided, and often schizophrenic. One memorable example of this from my early business life, was when a bank manager advised my partner and I to ‘reward’ our success with company cars. He then proceeded to bollock us for being irresponsible with our commitments, when we had a cash flow blip some months later. In reality he was playing poacher and gamekeeper in response to his paymasters’ greed, who were then insisting that managers should also be salesmen. Ridiculous!

However, that isn’t the banking tale I want to tell, it’s just a rant I needed to get off my chest…thanks for indulging me!

There was a particularly enjoyable point in my business life when, for the first time ever, it was possible for my then partner and I to stand back and admire what we had built. It hadn’t been without its stormy times over the preceding five years, but that’s running your own ship for you!

By this time we had experienced the ‘charms’ of a couple of the high street banks, and had been with the incumbent for several years. One day, it occurred to me that the strength of the business would put us in a strong negotiating position to get a better banking deal. For the first time it wouldn’t involve business plan lies, a begging bowl approach and a grateful acceptance of an extortionate ‘over base’ interest rate.

Our then manager, let’s call him David, because that was his name, somehow rumbled my flirtaciousness with his competitors. He decided to woo me back into his fold with an invitation to a black tie, bankers dinner at the Grosvenor. I accepted because I enjoy good food (although usually with good company), and the speakers were Roy Hattersley and Howard Davies, which promised to be interesting.

I was seated at a table near the front, along with my manager and a group of senior, and already very drunk, individuals from the corporate banking world. It wasn’t long before a couple of our party were behaving in a loud and irritating way. They began passing unpleasant comments in earshot of the waitresses, and generally trying hard to convince everyone that obnoxiousness was in fact a sophisticated form of humour! I tolerated all this throughout dinner, but when Roy Hattersley began talking, and these idiots began guffawing and heckling, my temper got the better of me. I decided to do my bit for the working man!

The loudest of these individuals turned out to be the most senior, although I didn’t know it at the time, and I singled him out for attention. I told him to shut up and listen, as he might just learn something about a large proposition of the population that he depended upon to pay his inflated salary. It created an interesting tension at the table with David, my manager, no doubt looking heaven-ward and mumbling “but I thought I was doing the right thing”!

Once Mr Loudmouth had come to the conclusion that I was actually being serious, he pointed a wobbling finger at me and said something about me not knowing what running a bank was about, and how hard it was to be a manager. I of course replied with the obvious, “I would make a better f****** bank manager than you sunshine”. David leapt in at this point to calm down a situation that was clearly heading into violence territory.

For the remainder of the evening, the table was much more subdued, Roy spoke relatively freely, and I felt I had the victory.

That was that, or so I thought until two days later when I got a call from David, to tell me how I had ‘got to’ his colleague. But in the spirit of client relations, he wondered whether I would care to become a bank manager for a few days to test out my claim. I accepted instantly. The necessary non-disclosures were signed, my picture was taken for the bank’s internal publicity machine, and I turned up for my first day in the dullest suit and whitest shirt I could find!

It was actually very interesting. I saw how business plans and manager’s recommendations were evaluated by remote teams of up and coming managers. I was surprised to see just how much information could be gleaned about the health of a business, from the movement within the bank account. And it was a revelation how aggressive the bank could be on the hunt for a juicy deal.

Hunting a juicy deal!

On the last day of my new career, I accompanied David to see a client who had a large loan with a rival bank, secured against considerable land assets. His ultimate objective was to get the client, a well known racehorse trainer, to switch loyalties.

On arrival at the stables, after the pleasantries were concluded with the trainer and his accountant, my full status was explained to avoid any complications. The Irish trainer thought the whole thing was hysterical as I filled him in on the whole story, although David did seem to be frowning a fair bit.

The trainer and I hit it off instantly, and had great fun together for the rest of the session, constantly taking the piss out of bankers, accountants and their like. We had a tour around the stables, bearing nearly sixty horses, and then moved on to a discussion about re-negotiating interest rates on a small loan that the trainer also had with my bank.

Out of the blue he asked David if he was a betting man. With the trainer being a bit of a rascal, David knew that he was being set up in some way, so his reply was a guarded “it depends”. “Well I’m very much a betting man, so tell me, does Mike here have any borrowing with your bank”? David looked at me and I nodded with a smirk. “Okay then said the trainer, I’ll bet his interest rates are better than you are offering me, so I want what he’s getting or no deal. If he’s paying more than I’m paying now, I’ll take the hit”.The trainer looked at me and I said wickedly “two and half above base”. I didn’t add that mine was a secured loan, whereas the trainer’s wasn’t.

After a fair bit of hard ball and then pleading on David’s behalf, the trainer got his deal. He later told me that he knew exactly what the bank was up to, trying to seduce him with a small loan before going for the big one. He was just using the situation to leverage an unsecured deal he would never normally have got at that rate, and I was the convenient pawn. I just loved this guy, amiable on the outside, sharp as a razor inside.

At some point the trainer’s wife walked into the room, and I have never in my life been so speechless, until that is I met Miss World on the set of a Bollywood movie (a later story). Not just because of her beauty, but also because she was about a foot taller than the trainer, who had a sort of Charlie Drake-ness about him. David was very obvious, it was akin to the scene in Mask when Jim Carrey first meets Cameron Diaz in the nightclub, and first his jaw then his tongue hit the table. She invited us for lunch, and I accepted on behalf of the bank whilst ignoring David’s hissing in my ear about another appointment.

The trainer and I sat together, with his wife, at one end of the table, and the two financial bods sat at the other. The inevitable happened – the trainer and I proceeded to have an unofficial Irish – English drinking competition. Towards the end of the session, slurring his words, the trainer offered me a racehorse for thirty thousand. It had been bred by the Aga Khan, with the bloodline of Northern Dancer, and as a yearling was valued at half a million. He only wanted a modest price for it, because the owners had gone bankrupt and thirty thousand was what he was owed in fees.

I turned the ‘very kind’ offer down because firstly, I didn’t have thirty grand to spare, and secondly, I was a bit scared of horses. A particularly nasty brute, had bared its teeth and snapped at me like an ‘Alien’, whilst I had walked past its dark lair earlier on!

A few minutes later he dropped his price to twenty five, then eighteen, and eventually got down to ten thousand. All conversation around the table had ceased by this point and I felt compelled to say something. Off the top of my head, I offered to paint a portrait of his wife in exchange for the horse. I wasn’t serious, but when he spat into his hand and thrust it towards me, what could I do? I now owned a racehorse!

As we were leaving, the trainer said that we should speak in the next few days to sort out the training, and some races we could go to together. It would be great fun.

Immediately off the property I rang my wife and told her, very excitedly, that we now owned a family racehorse. There was silence at first, not from disbelief, because after a good few years together, she knew that anything was possible when I got excited. She was silent because she was trying to assimilate implications such as, ‘is he going to be bringing it back here’, before she said either ‘that’s nice darling’ or ‘you bloody idiot’! I told the full story and I’m pretty sure it was relief I heard in her voice, as it became clear the horse wasn’t to join her, the kids and the dog at home!

During this conversation I kept catching David out of the corner of my eye, trying to tell me something. Once I had signed off, he jumped straight in.“Don’t you realise why he agreed to sell you the horse so cheaply”? I nearly said it was because he liked me, but decided to just shake my head. “It’s because he wants the training fees! How much do you think it will cost you a month”? About five hundred quid was what I had in mind. “Two to three thousand”, said David, “much more when you go to the races. And don’t think you can make a profit on race winnings, because that’s highly unlikely in this game”.

I remember thinking ‘oh bollocks’, but decided to just chew on things for a while. I conducted a little brainstorm in my head, did a bit of a SWOT, and then came to a conclusion. I rang the trainer, who I think was expecting me to say I’d changed my mind, and told him that in hindsight, I felt he needed to address his corporate marketing to prospective clients. I said very dramatically, “you need a brochure”. And he agreed to that, rather than a painting of his wife.

I then rang my business partner and said “guess what, you own half a racehorse, and all its going to cost us is a brochure”! Job done, and what a great time we went on to have. We did win a couple of big races, one at Windsor, if my memory serves me well, and we took clients on a number of great corporate horsepitality jollies. I was even on C4 with the racing pundit who dresses like Inspector Gadget, and once paraded the horse alongside the Aga Khan, in the owner’s enclosure.

The horse story doesn’t stop here, and there is more to come in due course.

I wouldn’t have missed this experience for the world, and it came about by simply undertaking an unplanned journey, just to see where it went. So often I work with people who aspire to something new, but can’t bring themselves to undertake it, without knowing what the end point looks like. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that the end is just the start of something else, and it never looks like it is suppose to.

Posted by Mike Skidmore at 03:52 0 comments

Portrait of Italo

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 11:30:32 +0000

Italo, Maitre'd at Pinos restaurant 60" x 48"

Click image to enlarge.

Painting portraits using glazes and impasto

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Fri, 10 Dec 2010 13:54:13 +0000

Here’s a 5 point snapshot of how I approach painting portraits and equestrian artworks using traditional glaze and impasto techniques.

1. The subject
There are two key points to consider here:
One, identify the main features that define the person. It could be the eyes, a shock of red hair, bushy eyebrows a large nose or a combination. Build the picture around them to ensure you are making the most of the subject’s uniqueness.

Two, spend time with the subject and talk to those who know them well to identify a pose that they ‘own’. How they sit and read, staring out of a window, head to one side, hands in pocket, slouched or upright. If you can discover the postures that best define this person you will be a long way towards a pictures that conveys their individualism.

2. The drawing onto canvas
Remember this is not a piece of art to frame and display, it is a drawing that needs to act as a plan for the painting ahead. It is an opportunity to study the face, build confidence through familiarity, begin formulating a battle plan and use the pencil to explore the shapes and contours you can exploit. In the picture below you will see that my initial drawing (done with a 2b pencil) is produced with bold, plan-like strokes so that I can then seal the pencil in place with a fan brush, water and white acrylic, as in the second picture. This means that when I apply oil paint, if it doesn’t go to plan, I can wipe it off and retain the underdrawing.

3. Tonal work
Here I work with paynes grey (for a cooler shadow) and burnt umber (for a warmer shadow), as a glaze. My medium for thinning down the paint is made up from turps (1 part), linsead oil (2 parts), damar varnish (2 parts) and venetian turpentine (1 part). This allows me to create a thin glaze that doesn’t run down the canvas and which retains its position when wiped.
I cover the whole canvas in a dark glaze until I can just see the pencil drawing underneath and use a cotton cloth to wipe out the lighter areas of the picture, thus creating a tonal image. This approach allows me to explore the face shapes and muscle direction, in preparation for applying colour, as I remove the glaze with my fingers and cloth.

4. Mixing flesh colours
It often strikes people as odd that I use flesh mix straight from a tube, but in the long run you end up controlling the amount and accuracy of the flesh colour because of the consistency and precision of the approach. I simply squeeze out the desired length then tint it with small amounts of alizarin, cad red and ochre, along with paynes grey and burnt umber to ‘dirty’ the flesh colour and remove any plasticness.
I also add my flesh mix to hair colour, albeit subtly, to ensure it ‘sits’ comfortably on the face.

5. Finishing the painting
I work the flesh colour into the canvas using filberts and blenders (fan brushes) and allow the colour to overlap the darker glaze areas to produce half tones and areas of reflected light. As the painting gets lighter the paint gets thicker (impasto) which pulls the lighter areas towards the viewer in contrast to the thin dark shadow areas which push away.
When this stage is dry I add thin dry areas of colour, along with strong thick highlights to bring the picture to life.

This is just a simple and basic account of how I work, but for those interested in going into more depth I run a series of workshops covering all of the above aspects and a lot more.

For more information contact Cathy on 01367 252 206 / email cathy@mike-skidmore.com

Me on DVD, at last!

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 15:03:44 +0000

I’m going to be doing a DVD fairly soon, depending upon dates from the production company. I’ve been asked many times but always said no, believing the market for my stuff to be too small. But the success of my workshops have changed my mind.
DVD will cover the whole process of glaze and impasto painting with a series of different studies and lots of tips along the way.

Portrait of Cathy

mikeskidmoreonline.com — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 14:57:50 +0000

Latest picture of Cathy. It’s only taken 10 years to get to this point. I need to do a better quality picture and give the painting a coat of Damar varnish and a very old box is then ticked!

Cathy, oil on canvas 48" x 40"