Art…

One of my favourite shows on the TV at the moment, is Landscape Artist of the Year. Artists from all over the country compete to win the title, and it is fascinating to watch them at work.

All kinds of medium are used, not just the usually oil and acrylic paints. Watercolours, spray cans and stencils are used to. I have also seen linocuts, wax and coffee used to great effect too.

I am always amazed by the different approaches the artists take. Some are so completely bizarre and you think it will never look like anything at all. And sometimes it doesn’t, if I am honest. They get just a few short hours to complete their masterpieces and it is clear from some of them that this is nowhere near long enough.

I especially like this programme because it is never boring, what with all the different techniques being used, not to mention the different personalities of the artists themselves. I have dabbled in art in my youth and could easily have ended up an artist instead of a writer. Painting with words is still art, and I often wonder which one I like best.

You also get to meet some of the artist’s family and learn about their lives. Surprisingly, there isn’t a certain type of person who becomes an artist, they are as different as chalk from cheese.

As the programme progresses, you cannot fail to have a favourite. I am not keen on a lot of modern art, where you have to guess what has actually been painted. Some styles of art are not to everyone’s taste, and personally, I like to feel something when I look at a picture, whether it is a painting or a photograph.

Last week, I found myself comparing art to writing, and realised how similar they really are. First, you have to decide on a subject, plan the design or context, and then use all the skill you have to create something unique. Something that comes as close as you can get it to the idea in your head. And when we edit, isn’t it very like dabbing away with a paintbrush?

Sometimes an artist will discard one canvas and start on another, one that might be closer to what they were wanted. How many times, have we, the writers, done this?

I have concluded that we are all artists, no matter what we use to create our masterpieces.