A year on

Job done

When I started this Blog, it was with an end in sight.  My job, I anticipated, would be over when the paintings were ready for the exhibition; this time last year, I had pretty much decided that I had done my bit and posted the last post.   On top of which, I had my own 'exhibition' to finish preparing for and I was submerged in Grade 8 piano, (which to my ecstatic delight, I have passed!).

However, I have not been able to shake off the feeling that I'm not quite finished.  Exhibition 2014, far from being an ending is only another step along the way.   It was both a triumph and a disappointment and there were tears of joy and distress.  For my part, the event  was inspirational.  I have learned a great deal: about Art; the characters; the processes; the journey; I have loved and am loving my own journey in writing and piano, for which I have Johnny to thank, for his encouragement.

Collectors

This time last year, we were sweltering in London.  The support Johnny received was wonderful and the exhibition was beautiful.  'There's no one exhibiting work like this in London,' one critic commented.  The critic had wandered in off the street on impulse and spent time chatting to both Johnny and me.  'We didn't know about it,' said her companion.  And that was the disappointment:  it was a hidden exhibition.  Very few people attended who weren't directly connected with Johnny - and there are a lot of you - your support was and is valued immensely.




Johnny's frustration was apparent.  His wish was and still is, quite simply, to put his paintings in front of an audience to show, as he puts it, 'What I have done with my life.'  It isn't about fame or riches, but about demonstrating that against all odds that with no money and no connections it's possible to follow your passion and lead a fulfilled life.  And that's not knocking money either - money buys paint, paper, food and pays the rent.



So, the mission continues, for a venue to show 'What I have done with my life.'

We're going to need help. x

Le Grand Depart

'We have to be in London by six o'clock at the latest on Saturday to collect the keys from the gallery,' said Johnny, 'so we must be on our way by one o'clock.'  This impressed me: times and schedules do not sit comfortably with Johnny and his normal response is to ignore them.  I was also delighted because departure time fitted in with my Saturday morning schedule of hair dresser (exhibition prep), so I would be able to attend the great send-off.

All that remained was to fit in the bicycle

The weather was unsympathetic, manifesting miserable - what's new? However, spirits where high and I arrived to find Sam's van packed with paintings.  The final challenge was to find a place for Romas' bicycle.  'Do you ride a bicycle Gill?' Romas had asked me last week, 'I am getting mine in condition for London - we could explore London by bike - yes?'

Not bloody likely.  My style of cycling requires the equivalent of a bus lane, which does not disappear from one traffic light to the next and I don't like myself in helmets. 'No,' I replied.

Where there's a will ...

Good job!

J modelling Yorkshire cricket hat

Team Harrogate

Romas performs Puja for blessing and good fortune

And they were off!

 See you in London!  It's been a fabulous journey.  Much love Johnny,

Gill xxx

Arrivals

Susan, the first of the American party landed tonight, so it was a reunion at the Brasserie for early doors.

'So, Johnny,' Susan enquired, 'how are things going?'
'I've still got four paintings at the framers ...  Romas wrapped thirteen paintings yesterday ... when I get back tonight, I've got to send Sarah the final inventory of paintings going to London ...  I've got so much to do.  It always comes down to me in the end ...

'I've stopped taking my medication - the doctor put me on it  - well, I've been feeling wonky - I have to take three pills - and they're strong the doctor says - I can only take them for a short while.  Anyway, I was feeling grim - drugs always do this to me you know - so I read the instructions on the box.  I was supposed to take one pill, then increase to two and then to three, but I realise that I should have spread them out, not take them all at once.'

Wednesday 4th June

Text this morning from Romas:

'Good morning.  Plan B.  From 11 a.m. I am wrapping Johnny's paintings.  So sorry for short notice, but English lesson cancelled. Yours happy and bless, Romas. Have a good day. Peace.'

Marvellous! I thought, the wrapping is happening!  And, I could do with the extra time - my Grade VIII exam looms on 26th June and I still have, metaphorically speaking, 'five paintings to finish' on the performance front.

Late afternoon, on my way home from job interview, I called in at Johnny's.

'Much wrapped today?'

There was knocking on the Coach House door ...

'Three ...  Romas is so reliable,' there was a significant pause, which heralds a tale. 'I went to bed last night around ten - I'm trying to get as much rest as I can - I must have drifted off, but I was awakened by noise!  Someone was banging on the windows and then there was a loud knocking on the door.

'I got out of bed, not quite with it - you know - opened the door and there was Romas.  It was exactly eleven o' clock. "Hello Johnny!" said  Romas.
"Romas - what are you doing here?"  I enquired.
"Your text - to wrap paintings - 11 p.m.?"
"Let me see," I said.  'Sure enough, I'd typed p.m. instead of a.m. - and he still came!'

This time last year, I wrote, 'Another June arrives and another summer seems to be busy elsewhere.' And it's the same this year (in Harrogate at least): dull, dreary, dismal deluges and f***ing freezing.  I think Noah had the right idea: build a bloody big boat and head for the rainbow.  I am told that in London it is uncomfortably humid just now.  I would like to be humid, it would make a change from damp.

Party night 13th June

Paul Middleton and the Angst Band

And then along came Margaret Thatcher

If you like music that is irreverent, uncompromising and from the heart, then allow me to introduce you to Johnny’s brother Paul: a Yorkshire, craggy diamond. If you like your music delivered with unrestrained abandon, in an explosion of sound, words and passion, then he is your man.

Since 1967, singer-songwriter Paul has been entertaining in his adopted home town of Harrogate, as well as the wider world. Delivering his own lyrics in a gravelly, bourbon-soaked voice that wells from his soul, he sings of trials and tribulations in love, life and death.  His performance is expressed in an explosion of sound and emotion, which at times teeters on the fringes of mania, as his hands coerce the frenzied voice from his slide steel guitar.  Pied Piper like, he leads his Angst band and audience to the edge of the cliff as guitars soar, drums throb and xylophones pulse in a heady fusion of rock and blues, laced with Yorkshire grit and humour that cracks faces and releases tensions.

So what motivates this sixty-seven year old, former member of Harrogate’s successful 70s Prog-Rock band Wally, to continue writing and performing several nights a week?  Most of his contemporaries hung their guitars up years ago, whilst he has worn his into holes.

Off stage, it is hard to reconcile Paul’s extrovert, abandoned performances with this softly spoken, self-deprecating man.  ‘To pay the rent I make cupboards, but my passion is to put my thoughts into a musical context.  I am not a musician,’ he insists, ‘and I can’t call myself a poet either – I just have a desire to express myself – it has always helped me find out who I am – it still does.’

During the 90s, Paul started performing at the Blues Bar in Harrogate and has been entertaining across the UK and Europe since. Over time, both he and his band have metamorphosed into the present Angst Band, whose musicians provide an expressive platform for Paul’s individuality.

So, if you like a performance that’s original, honest, up front and personal then join the maestro and his musicians at the Brewdog for End of Exhibition Party night on a journey into his world of bad love, good times and full-on living.  Not for the faint-hearted: do you dare to love, laugh, cry and maybe, even find yourself dancing?

Paul Middleton performs every Wednesday from 9.30pm at the Blues Café Bar, Montpellier Parade, Harrogate.

For details of bookings see his website: www.paulmiddleton.com

John Middleton
London Exhibition

Monday 9th June - Friday 13th June 2014

THE CONINGSBY GALLERY
30 Tottenham Street
London
W1T 4RJ
Tel 020 7637 7478
www.coningsbygallery.com

End of exhibition party night
PAUL MIDDLETON'S ANGST BAND
Friday 13th June
At:
BREWDOG Shoreditch
51-55 Bethnal Green Road
London E1 6LA
www.brewdog.com/bars/shoreditch



See you there!

The final week

At early doors on Thursday, there was quite a crowd.  'How's it going Clive?'  I asked.
'Well, it's done - the invitations have been sent out, the catalogue is printed.  I'm feeling quite calm ...'
'I've got five more paintings that are almost finished - some might be ready in time,' chipped in Johnny.

Nobody said anything ...

On Saturday afternoon, I squeezed in to the Studio through an alley of paintings.  'I got all these back from Stephen Neale's yesterday,' reported a semi-recumbent Johnny,   'When I saw them all together, I realised that I have finished!  I don't need to do any more!  I'm just going to relax now.'

A shadow flitted past the window, something white and voluminous parked outside the door and a bicycle bell rang. 'That'll be Romas with the bubblewrap,' said Johnny.











'Johnny,' said Romas, 'we can start wrapping now!'
'I'm not feeling up to it right now,' replied Johnny.
'That's OK,' encouraged our effervescent Lithuanian, 'you tell me what needs doing and I'll do it!'

I left them to it.

'Any progress wrapping?' I enquired of Johnny on Saturday evening.
'No,' he replied. 'I'm enjoying being finished.  My computer blew up you know.  I think it's alright now - we hoovered it - this is how to deal with modern technology.'

Finished in Havana heaven

It was a peculiar evening.  Johnny doesn't hear well and was mumbling particularly effectively.  'I can't understand what you're saying,' admonished Marta.
'That's because you're Spanish,' replied Don Quixote.
'And I can't hear you either Johnny,' I said in support.
'That's because you weren't listening.'

And then Paul joined in - he can't hear well either.  'Stan,' he said, 'bearing in mind that you're going deaf and I'm going deaf, I haven't heard a word you've said all night.'
'I didn't hear any of it,' said Stan.

Part 5

Returning to Harrogate, Johnny met Beverley, who became his second wife.  Over the next ten years, her unstinting support and encouragement provided Johnny with an environment that enabled him to work and travel.

Gradually a pattern of working began to form.  ‘When I’m working in the field, it is reality,’ Johnny emphasises, ‘and I am a topographical artist – I observe and record what is in front of me – it is the same for figurative work.  I probably spend about twenty per cent of my time doing this kind of work – and it is absolutely essential.’

Portugal 9c

In early 1993, Johnny was commissioned, by Harrogate’s Gallery Emeritus, to make a tour of Spain and Portugal and record the journey in drawings and watercolours, for an exhibition on his return.  John’s wanderings lead him to the remote, mountainous Beja region of southern Portugal.  His mounting fascination led him to accept an offer to rent a stone and mud house in this unmapped, sparsely populated region, known locally as the Pampa.  For a year, he experienced and painted life from another age, where the inhabitants lived in harmony with the environment, using farming methods little changed from medieval times.

Mayan Temple Wall

Further afield, he has visited the Mayan temples of Mexico and lately, the Buddhist temples of Thailand.  ‘Even though I’m something of a nomad,’ John reflects, ‘I always return to Yorkshire - it’s only when I’m here that I can reflect on my experiences there.’

Mayan Sun-and-Moon

Describing his creative development, Johnny explains, ‘I value the discipline and craft of landscape and portrait work - that’s how I began – through direct observation and painting, but it is through my abstracts that I find my expressive soul.

Cave

To John, this is a mysterious and spiritual realm, which he experiences profoundly and where he feels a close connection with primitive painters: the cave painters of our past; the tribal artists of today.  He goes on, ‘Our ancestors ventured deep into caves to make marks and express something - something spiritual, I believe.  Why go to all that trouble to draw down a black underground hole, where no one will venture without a struggle?  I feel a connection with those mark makers.  It doesn’t make any sense, but it is what I do, what I am.  Both my grandfathers were underground - miners.  Maybe that’s why I’m underground too!’ he laughs.

African Queen

The abstracts develop intuitively and many glimmer with subtle luminosity, reflecting his experiences: as a traveller; of humanity past and present; of something intangible.  They line the walls and my eyes drift over them during pauses in conversation.  Some are geometric and block-like.  ‘Those were inspired by my trip to the Yucatan Peninsular,’ John elaborates.  ‘I am intrigued by pyramids and early artists.  I use many of their techniques in my paintings – this here,’ and he points to a zigzag border, ‘is the way the ancient Egyptians expressed water,’ transforming the image into a golden barge floating down the River Nile.

‘I have been told that I do not see things the ‘right way’, that I am deluded,’ John continues. ‘Maybe I do see things differently but that is not to say wrongly - one man’s reality is another’s delusion perhaps.  My Studio is a tardis and I can go anywhere.’

I can’t help but think that the Studio is the inside of the Envelope; or at least it is the place where Johnny’s subconscious and imagination are free to roam.

Way to the Temple

Each painting is an expression, which is unique to the circumstance of the artist. A painting is not simply the final image: it becomes a companion intimately associated in its own birth; a vessel which holds the story of the bond between creator and created.  Without the story, the painting is empty.

Johnny Middleton