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I hate clichés; and there I go, spouting two of them in my title. Those closest to me know that I cannot paint at the moment. I'll avoid a third cliché by refraining from saying I'm 'not inspired' (oops – I just did it) because it really goes deeper than that. There are substantial reasons why my soul just can't get there right now. I comfort myself in the knowledge that the artistic realm is littered with practitioners who are or have been unable to paint, compose, write or whatever; for whatever reasons, and for however long, - often for years. Occasionally I experience a pang, a mild itch, to go through those familiar studio rituals, to smell the paint, to make wild marks, but a large canvas loiters, silent and bashful in my cold studio, its face turned to the wall. The pangs subside fast – they no longer feel like love, nor like lust; they are more like faceless calls to perform expected physical acts. Most people don't understand – they just fire back with more clichés - “Ah, but it's your passion! What's wrong? Don't you need to paint? Keep creating, Haydn!” The answer is no. I talked to one artist friend about it recently; she understood perfectly. It is a sad situation, but it's also OK. 'It' will come back if it is right for it to do so. Meanwhile, my creative outlets nestle and are nourished elsewhere. There will be some big changes in my life over the coming six months. I believe the art-shift reflects that fact, and excitingly so. Of course, I still think about art, and consume it constantly in its many forms; listening to music, teaching music, reading, writing poetry, taking photographs as if possessed, visiting galleries. Today I came across a beautiful clip from an interview with the magnificent lady that is Tracey Emin. FROM THE MOUNTAIN TO THE LAKE - Tracey Emin 2023 THE END OF LOVE - Tracey Emin 2024 We all know how polarising art can be – thank God that is so – but there has long been a general tendency to deride Tracey Emin for sensationalism and vulgarity. The entire articulate, provocative, honest and beautiful interview mentioned above can be seen here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QE4HmIUM4jE&t=1552s , but the clip that I saw first started at around the 22-minute mark. Chords twanged inside me when I heard Tracey speak of the colossal importance of the Self in the creation of art. I know that I have written in the past that I believe I am a channel, rather than a maker, that 'It Paints', rather than 'I paint' https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/it-paints and I continue to believe that. I also know, though, that only I am that channel, and only I can be, at that moment in time. My stance represents no ego-trip, but an embracing of the Self as Creator, even if by proxy. We abstractionists are used to onslaughts such as “I could do that” or “My four-year-old could do that” or the newest one (and possibly the saddest) “ AI could do that”. Really though, that is never the point. Only I did it, and the outpouring, of whatever quality it is, can and could only come from me, as the conduit. Thank you, Dame Tracey. Oh, and on the subject of 'Quality', shall we talk some day about Robert M Pirsig's discussions on the subject in ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE (pub. William Morrow and Company, 1974)? THE SELF IN ART: FOOD FOR THOUGHT AND HOME TRUTHS Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2025

Firstly, apologies for the absence of activity in this column for well over a month. I have been going through some stressful times, and my artistic output has been in abeyance. Life goes on however, until it doesn't, as the saying goes. I want to write today about my encounter with a masterly photographer, Mick Williamson, whose work and philosophy have resonated profoundly with my approach to painting since I met him and viewed his work for the first time just one week ago. https://www.mickwilliamson.com/ Many of you know that I embrace two artistic passions as career paths – the visual arts and music. I enjoyed a previous life as a classical concert pianist, and I still teach advanced classical piano technique and interpretation to a small number of carefully selected, gifted students. The visual arts however – in the form of abstract painting – form the principal thrust of my creativity in the seventh decade of my life. Less well-known is that I harbour another artistic passion; a hobby, but one which I take extremely seriously and which informs, inspires and feeds - just as music does – my abstract painting. That pursuit is analogue photography, using vintage cameras, on 35 mm and 120 film, often expired. Some people are aghast at my espousal of the 'expired film' cause, telling me it is a waste of money. I hear them. I have had my disappointments due to badly-kept film, but ultimately I disagree! With expired film, I love the added element of chance, the part of the creation that is beyond my control, the way in which colours may be dramatically altered by the passage of time or by poor storage conditions leading, as once happened to me, to a batch of several expired colour films coming out in varying shades of magenta when developed, something that a friend remarked upon as reminiscent of the films of Wes Anderson. I cherish these shots – the lady who does my developing was less enthusiastic! Maia on an ancient Agfa Synchro Box with 35 mm adapter on expired film Black and white is my favourite though and, alongside the expired rolls that I shoot, I do treat myself to the occasional in-date Ilford HP5 or Kentmere 400. My three-year old granddaughter is custodian of my camera collection. She has her own favourites, she knows which films in my special box in the fridge are black and white, and she often chooses which we should use before loading them for me! Once shot, I develop my black and white films in Caffenol, another weird niche activity which involves brewing a heady cauldron of instant coffee, washing soda and vitamin C. Again, off the rails, but that's me! 1970's Praktica LTL with expired film, developed in Caffenol Sorry for the long preamble – I know I am prone to verbosity - but I wanted to set the scene for what I am about to report. In January I discovered, via a Christmas present from my daughter, the fantastic Darkroom in Camden, North London https://www.darkroomlondon.org/ , where I went to learn how to print from my own photographic negatives; I went up there again last Tuesday to attend an incredibly fascinating and inspiring talk by Mick Williamson, mentioned above. As I am a relative photography novice, Mick's name was a new one to me when I received the email from the Darkroom, advertising his upcoming talk. Although I am usually busy on Tuesday evenings, with piano tuition and/or meetings with my art agent regarding proposed exhibitions (watch this space, as there will soon be news on at least one!), something told me – CANCEL AND GO! On arriving at the Darkroom, one has to press a buzzer to be admitted through a high security gate and thence down a slightly forbidding, low-ceilinged concrete walkway which my photographer's eye always makes me wish I had a very fast film (possibly CineStill 800 for the tungsten light), a cable release and a tripod with me to capture this slightly vertiginous passage and its eerie atmosphere! Once inside unit 10, what met my eye was several walls of diminutive but astoundingly powerful chiaroscuro photographs, all mounted in plastic sleeves on a larger expanse of white, and pinned into hanging wires. The impact was stunning. I peered at these tiny prints, marvelling at the incredible composition, the observation, the photographic equivalent of what I call 'motivic connections' in music, the simple majesty of the candid moment that was presented so honestly and without artifice. I asked myself how any eye could see in such detail and with such unfailing 'rightness' how a shot would work, how the exposure could be so utterly correct, the totality of the image creating such a searing but gentle impression; moments embraced with accuracy, truth, and love. I felt that every one of these phenomenally acute observations must have involved intense concentration, composition and preparation. On a table was displayed a copy of Mick's book, THE PHOTO DIARIES OF MICK WILLIAMSON, a copy of which I am now fortunate enough to own. I picked it up and started thumbing through it. Stunned, I read that Mick's photographs are almost never composed by looking through the viewfinder of his simple, vintage Olympus Half-Frame camera. No, Mick makes his art by 'shooting from the hip'. Mingling silently with the world at large, out of his well-worn pocket Mick grabs the camera in a moment of Zen-like intuition and fires it at his subject from waist-height. One can readily imagine him, slipping like mercury, unnoticed in the crowd as he unerringly records his deeply compelling and moving moments of truth with rarely a glance into any viewfinder. Mick's presence in a room is remarkable. He is a slightly built man, unassuming, calm, warm and gentle in his manner. He puts me in mind of Tai Chi masters whom I encountered when I studied that art some years ago. Alongside the Zen-like tranquillity however, sits a crackling energy and a quietly fizzing humour as Mick explains, free of any distracting ego, his working method and artistic beliefs. Mick Williamson (on right of picture) talks about his work at the Darkroom, Camden When art becomes as seemingly effortless as this, I am always reminded of Eugen Herrigel's marvellous book ZEN IN THE ART OF ARCHERY about which I wrote in a previous article https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/it-paints I was excited then - though not surprised - to find, on opening Mick's book last Tuesday that Herrigel's work is mentioned by Susan Andrews in her excellent introduction. The pioneer of candid photography Henri Cartier Bresson, she tells us, based his artistic ethos on the Japanese art of the bow as explained by Herrigel, and she makes a parallel between this approach and Mick Williamson's own ego-free one. As Susan Andrews writes, “his presence seems almost invisible in the photograph”. Mick, through his mastery which has been honed over many years, becomes one with the camera, one with the subject, and one with the moment. All is a totality and is indivisible. Once in a while, one encounters a person and an art which make a profound impression; last Tuesday at the Darkroom, this happened to me. How does all this link with my own work as an abstract painter? It surely does, though I want to speak little about myself in this article. Suffice it to say that I feel myself to be a channel through which – as in my article already quoted – “it paints” , as a door opens and I am ushered inside a new realm where, when the best conditions prevail I, likewise, paint 'from the hip', spontaneously and without pre-meditation. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2024

I've given up apologising for the many long 'radio-silences' on this blog. Over the past year, health issues have impacted on my creativity and productivity but, perhaps, the best things come to they who wait; so, dear reader, your wait is over! Now let's see if I can keep this up... I recently met up with a friend who was over on a rare visit to London. I had not seen her for ten years at least, so the reunion was a joy in itself. My friend is an artist of rare and searching vision, whose work in two quite divergent directions (industrial cityscapes and portraiture) carries a wistful grace alongside a probing and reflective honesty. Foremost in our conversation that day was portraiture and we decided, accordingly, to visit the National Portrait Gallery together. My regular readers are aware that, though I am primarily an abstract painter, my taste in visual art is as eclectic as it is in music. I adore John Constable's passionate sketches and studies as much as I do Joan Mitchell's vast, joyous abstract expressionism. I was bowled over by Francis Bacon : Human Presence at the NPG in November 2024 https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/where-it-all-began but, since then, I had not absorbed much in the way of portraiture. Our traversal of the NPG last month was a revelation. I almost wish I was a portrait artist! On the day we met, my friend had already visited the NPG's Jenny Saville exhibition just an hour before so we directed our attention to the Herbert Smith Freehills Kramer Portrait Award 2025 exhibition https://www.npg.org.uk/whatson/exhibitions/2025/hsfk-portrait-award/ which I wholeheartedly recommend. A LIFE LIVED - Moira Cameron (First Prize, Herbert Smith Freehills Kramer Portrait Award 2025) Copyright Moira Cameron CLIFF, OUTREACH WORKER - Tim Benson (Second Prize, Herbert Smith Freehills Kramer Portrait Award 2025) Copyright Tim Benson I was reminded how utterly compelling a portrait can be; how appreciating a portrait amounts to so much more than “Wow – it really looks like them!”, how a great artist can distil the essence of a person – as Bacon himself did – through a whole raft of representational approaches that have little to do with pure verisimilitude. At the exhibition, I was deeply moved by Paul Wright's portrait of his mother, a dementia sufferer. Rather than emphasising the sorrow and tragedy of dementia, this tender and loving picture depicts a lady apparently at peace in her inner world, the objects of her daily life swirling around her in the room. Stillness and retraction at the end of life are balanced by a sense of movement that seems almost playfully vertiginous. SMALLER WORLD - Paul Wright (Herbert Smith Freehills Kramer Portrait Award 2025) Copyright Paul Wright Willem De Kooning had a notion that - and I paraphrase - it is rather ridiculous to attempt to paint, for example, a nose, and the abstract painter in me naturally quietly aligns with the great Dutch-American master. We abstractionists tend to search for truth in pure mark-making, a subject that I explored in my article ABSTRACT ART AND REALITY (December 2022) https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/abstract-art-and-reality . Piet Mondrian believed that everything we see around us is an illusion and that a picture that is purely abstract is truer to actual reality than one which is overtly representational. Everything runs in a cycle however and, as much as the pure marks made by a child embody an unselfconscious truth that may be seen as the root of all painterly expression, abstract utterance is covertly present in every brushstroke that, by proximity to its neighbour, builds at last the portrait that we see before us. Even in portraiture, the tiniest abstract gestures are the pixels of the final canvas. The Herbert Smith Freehills Kramer Portrait Award 2025 Exhibition runs at the National Portrait Gallery, London until October 12 th . INSPIRATION IN PORTRAITURE : REVELATIONS AT THE NATIONAL PORTRAIT GALLERY Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2025

Just a quick post for today, and it's one of those trumpet-blowing ones, I'm afraid! I'm extremely excited and honoured to have been accepted into the collection of Molasses House Gallery https://molasseshouse.com/ , where four of my paintings are available to purchase as of today, with finance options available through the gallery. My Artist profile, and the paintings, can be seen here https://molasseshouse.com/browse-art/artists/haydn The paintings form my 'MANIFESTATION QUARTET', comprising 'PROPULSION', 'LIBERATION', 'EMPOWERMENT' and 'ASPIRATION' and can also be seen at https://www.haydndickenson.com/onsale At Molasses House, I am rubbing shoulders with such diverse luminaries in the contemporary art sphere as Ai Wei Wei, Thomas D Wright, Damien Hirst, Jack Vettriano, Mr Brainwash and Tracey Emin, to name but a few; an illustrious and eclectic collection if ever there was one. Molasses House is a brilliant and quite unique gallery and I am more than delighted to be working with them. Do drop me a message here if you want more information, but even better call in at the gallery and see the work for yourself! Gallery opening times are on the website, as above. Have a good weekend, all! EMERGING ACCLAIMED UK ABSTRACT ARTIST HAYDN AT PRESTIGIOUS SOUTHERN ENGLAND GALLERY Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2024

Many things in life have taught me about myself. Adopting a rescue dog was one of these. Sadly my beautiful dog passed away eighteen months ago, several years too early. I still miss him and am not yet ready to adopt another, but that time will come. Art has been another great teacher. I aligned with Abstract Painting as my principal means of personal and spiritual self-expression comparatively late in life. I like to think of the canvas as a mirror. To me, this mirror is not a static looking-glass, nor is its surface one of polished pristine purity. It delivers a reflection more akin to that offered by water that, in a kind of visual 'tempo rubato', bends and stretches its images, catching the clouds as well as the sun, temporarily obscuring the information while raindrops fall. THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS (2017) - Haydn Dickenson (Private Collection) I often find that the act of painting can tell me something about me, about my subconscious at a particular time; this can be illuminating, moving, sometimes disturbing, often enlightening. “The history of symbolism shows that everything can assume historical significance: natural objects (like stones, plants, animals, men, mountains and valleys, sun and moon, wind, water and fire), or man-made things (like numbers, or the triangle, the square and the circle). In fact, the whole cosmos is a potential symbol” (Carl Jung, MAN AND HIS SYMBOLS) Jung goes on to speak of “three recurring symbols...the stone, the animal and the circle – each of which has had enduring psychological significance from the earliest expressions of human consciousness to the most sophisticated forms of 20th-century art.” LA JOUISSANCE - Haydn Dickenson (2019) For me, abstract art is about psychology, about painting feelings. Notwithstanding that my paintings are conceived as pure abstraction, starting – if all the conditions are right – from nothing, I have found that I, and other people, frequently see objects in them; this is perhaps in the Jungian sense that the objects are symbols presented by the subconscious. Children, especially, 'find things' in my mark-making. I had a piano student many years ago who would provide elaborate interpretations of the shapes in my paintings every time she came for her lesson. My two-year old granddaughter finds dogs and other representations in my abstract canvases, and she is also very clear as to which pieces she likes, and which she doesn't! Jung's concept of Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious has long been a source of fascination and wonder for me, and I am convinced that symbols are planted within my paintings, but not consciously by me. In this way, the canvas becomes a looking-glass, a portal to the psyche. SIX - Haydn Dickenson (2022) ART AS A MIRROR: JUNGIAN SYMBOLISM IN ABSTRACT PAINTING Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022

What is the origin of this phrase that trips so lightly off the tongue? I associate it most closely with Pamela Stephenson's tongue-in-cheek description of herself in 1980's UK TV's 'Not The Nine O'Clock News', but maybe it has more archaic origins. Answers on the proverbial postcard, please! I'm known primarily for fairly large abstract paintings. My painting style, particularly in acrylic work, tends towards 'action painting' in the tradition of the Abstract Expressionists. I favour large areas in which to work, urgent gestures, fast movement, outbursts of turbulent mark-making that I see as arising out of 'chance-but-not-chance'. Recently though, I've been leaning towards smaller pieces. I like to challenge myself, take myself out of my comfort zone. I don't want to stand still in my painting. For various reasons, I am currently reflecting on many elements from my childhood, adolescent and adult past, both precious and painful. I want to make sure that my present outpourings – and that is what they are, for Art is a channel for the soul – reflect and communicate change, evolution, growth, learning. I recently found, hidden away in my studio, some old, small, acrylic-painted canvases. They were mediocre, but they sat in beautiful rustic limed frames. Out came the canvases from the frames and I set about reincarnating them as bold statements in oil impasto. Here they are and, in their intensity and concentration, I would like to think that they deliver an emotional punch on a par with my larger work. CLOUDS IN THE WAY OF THE SKY (2022). Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas. 40 x 30 cm SLOW DANCE (2022). Oil and Mixed Media on Canvas, 37 x 37 cm My agent tells me that 'small' is the way to go for the moment, so I'm happy to comply! And, indeed, I'm delighted to report that some of my smaller pieces have just been accepted for an Exhibition in February 2023 at the Woburn Art Gallery https://www.woburnartgallery.co.uk/ Watch this space for more details on Woburn, other impending gallery presences, innovative merchandise and collaborations and more (including my artwork being commissioned for a ground-breaking experimental film – the first time ever for an abstract artist!) Thanks as always for checking in! SMALL BUT PERFECTLY FORMED? Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022

Back in the mid 1980's, I used to drink with the brilliant cartoonist and commercial artist Willem Van Beek (the Flying Dutchman as we called him), and a charismatic young artist named Adrian. Adrian was tall and would be seen striding distinctively around town in a flowing overcoat. During the course of one ale-fuelled conversation about art and music criticism, Adrian postulated the following: “The problem with criticism is that it is opinion presented as fact”. UNTITLED (2018) - Haydn Dickenson (Private collection) This utterance has stayed with me and, like most fine and bold statements, it makes me think. Sometimes I concur, but often I think that there is a little more to it than that. Today I thought it might be interesting to ponder on a few statements by artists and, and to offer some responses to them. Let's begin with Helen Frankenthaler, pioneer of 'soak-stain' painting. She believed that “Every canvas is a journey all its own”. This statement strikes a powerful chord in me. Almost invariably, before I begin a painting, not only do I not know where it will take me, but I do not know where it will begin. There is the blank canvas, of course, but contemplating that is a little like standing in front of a door before opening it. I try to begin without preconceptions. Preconceptions, if they intrude are, more often than not, thrown aside. This is one of the most beguiling and engrossing aspects of painting; that the painting takes me with it. I am not in charge. I strongly and deeply believe this, and I love it – the reality of working in symbiosis with the will of the painting. And as for that door – sometimes it is opened cautiously, peered around, sometimes it is flung wide - but always, new realms are revealed, to be traversed in a fresh voyage of discovery. “ In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present”. It was Francis Bacon who made this searingly accurate statement. In music, consonance must be balanced by dissonance. In life, turmoil and pain, alongside happiness and fulfilment, sculpt us into the rounded beings that we are. In art, Bacon saw beauty in the violent, the horrific and the brutal, allowing him to create work of transcendent sensual magnificence. In a similar vein, Louise Bourgeois opined that “Art is restoration: the idea is to repair the damages that are inflicted in life, to make something that is fragmented – which is what fear and anxiety do to a person – into something whole.” Critics have on occasion suggested, erroneously, that minimal effort goes into my paintings. Thank you, Willem de Kooning, for stating that “I might work on a painting for a month, but it has to look like I painted it in a minute”! FALSE ALARM (2019) - Haydn Dickenson “ Music, poems, landscape and dogs make me want to paint...and painting is what allows me to survive.” - Joan Mitchell. The first three, I have in abundance – only the fourth I currently lack. I lost my beloved dog to a cruel disease seventeen months ago and am not yet ready to adopt another, but the time will certainly come. Dogs teach us about ourselves. Finally, I will leave you with some words from Jean-Michel Basquiat which bring us full-circle to my old friend Adrian's sentence, referred-to earlier: “ I don't listen to what art critics say. I don't know anybody who needs a critic to find out what art is.” And one more from me: “ When I paint that line, I am most content when it exists for a reason no more or less great than the sheer joy of its creation”. THE BEST OF TIMES (2019) - Haydn Dickenson AND I QUOTE... Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022

I want to start by invoking the name of an artist and teacher named Sargy Mann. I first came across this name in an RA magazine article from 2015 in which Chantal Joffe writes of the searing impact that Mann's teaching had upon her. Mann's name is not a household one, but it seems he exerted an enormous influence over his students. It is especially moving to note that the artist became progressively blind, leading to his retirement from painting. Joffe writes: “I can remember looking at a Monet and the ideas that Sargy was explaining seeming so fresh...He taught us how Monet painted paths in his pictures so that our eyes would walk into his paintings. He taught us about how the shadows in Bonnard were built up with different colours. It blew our minds.” She goes on to speak of the respect with which Sargy Mann treated his pupils, and how he took seriously even the biggest mess she made. After reading the above article, I could not get it out of my mind, and the piece has been pinned to my studio wall ever since. I was particularly struck by the description of the respect and humility with which Sargy approached all of his students, and how he treated every one as an artist – something lacking in a number of teachers who tend to over-exercise their egos. Mann very much admired the work of Pierre Bonnard, an artist whose sense of colour has always resonated fundamentally with my own artistic vision. Sargy Mann's beautiful, expressive paintings certainly demonstrate this reverence. https://www.apollo-magazine.com/sargy-mann-late-paintings/ I have written before, in this blog, of my daydreams during repressed and traumatic family times, when I would imagine how I might paint household scenes in the colours and style of Bonnard, Cezanne or Monet. THE DINING ROOM, VERNONNET (1916) - Pierre Bonnard This brings me to speak of my own mentors. My first of these was my mother, a fabulous artist trained at Art schools in Yorkshire in the mid twentieth century. Her knowledge of the fundamentals of Art – anatomy, perspective and so on - was profound, giving rise to wonderful drawing and painting skills which were founded on her rigorous college education. The images below come from my treasured collection of my mother's work. Life Drawing (c 1948) - Joan Bailey SCARBOROUGH - unfinished (c 1948) - Joan Bailey My mother encouraged and nurtured my artistic gift and I soon began to draw and paint as a means of retreating into my own world to escape an often troubled family atmosphere. At school I excelled at Art as I did at Music, but a conflict was already brewing between these two directions, fuelled by my father's confused wish to live his life vicariously as a musician, through me. Meanwhile, I had found my second mentor in my Art teacher at St George's School, Harpenden which, coincidentally, was the school attended by one of my heroes, the artist Patrick Heron many years before. My teacher at St George's was the charismatic Mick Miller, who introduced me to an approach to painting that opened my eyes to the possibilities of colour. Mick insisted that one should use colour to describe an object above all, rather than resorting by default to the colours in which things appeared in reality. I threw myself into this new way of seeing which, to me, was incredible, absorbing and ground-breaking. Excited also by the bohemian milieu of the Art Room at school, where Mick would hold court at his table amid a fog of smoke from his roll-ups (this was the mid '70s, after all), surrounded by acolytes, I felt I was at the beginning of an artistic journey. Sadly, this voyage soon paused for nearly forty years, as a result of overbearing paternal influence. I feel a strong sense of destiny, stemming from my mother's loving encouragement and home tuition in Art and from Mick Miller's provocative revelations. Sargy Mann, writes Chantal Joffe, “talked to us like we were artists, and he had such humility”. Mick, in a similar manner, never talked down to his students, and I was moved and delighted when, meeting him again after more than twenty years, he reminisced about what he called my “incredible sense of colour”. Thank you, Joan and Mick! ABOVE THE EVERDAY HAPPENING (2021) - Haydn Dickenson. Oil on Canvas. MENTORS, ADMIRATION, INSPIRATION AND RESPECT Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022

I've been silent on this blog for a few weeks, but very active in the studio. My agent and I have been in regular contact, despite him being abroad shooting what will be a ground-breaking film for which I have been commissioned to produce the promotional image. Collaborating on this film is a great honour for me – apparently I am the first abstract artist to have been commissioned for such a project. I can't show you anything yet though – it's still top secret! Today I want to write about a few of my recent pieces. This is something I've not done specifically thus far on the blog – I've tended towards more generalised discussions, drawing on the work of other artists and their influences upon me. So, for this week's post, three recent pieces, two large and one small. THE RIGHT CHANNELS - 2022. 76 x 102 cm unframed Painted entirely in a thick impasto of oils, this large canvas, THE RIGHT CHANNELS, explores my interest in the opposing forces of Stasis and Animation. Interestingly, I am told that the piece displays within it at least three diverse hallmarks of my artistic personality both past and current. This leads me to ponder on the nature of 'style'. Sometimes, clients and critics will observe “ah, so this is your new style”, or refer to “your old way of painting”. I don't see things this way. To me, everything exists in a state of flux; nothing is permanent, and yet there is a context which endures. Echoes and resonances of work that I produced fifteen years ago constantly resurface in recent paintings and, fascinatingly, I see harbingers of my very contemporary work in some of my earliest canvases. A DAY BY THE SEA - 2022. 76 x 102 cm unframed This is an acrylic meditation, reflecting my love of monochrome elements. Greys and warm blacks offset the white of the negative space, while two subtly different reds offer a stark contrast. Black does not necessarily denote a dark mood, nor does red have to symbolise aggression – another over-simplification which constantly surfaces in casual observation. To me, depth and tranquility reside in this painting, belying its apparent simplicity. A DAY BY THE SEA (In Process) THE NEXT LEG - 2022. 40 x 30 cm unframed THE NEXT LEG is the smallest of today's subjects. It is painted on board – a surface that I love – pinned to the wooden stretcher from a cast off deep-edge canvas. Created fast and urgently in acrylic, there are many layers beneath what you see on the surface – multiple strata of paint and collage which were subsequently scratched back and gouged out. The support being board, rather than canvas, allowed me to be quite violent! The tool used for this assault was a lino-cutter which I inherited from the artist Elisabeth Schettler, about whom you can read in the article 'SOME GERMAN ART...' on this blog. THE NEXT LEG (In Process) Discussions are ongoing for the placement of my work in various galleries in Southern England and for delivery to overseas buyers, with some paintings going into Bedfordshire galleries in the near future. A lavish catalogue of my entire collection of both original work for sale and Fine Art Prints is being finalised by my representatives as I write. Watch this space for further news, or drop me a message here if you'd like further info! EXPLORATIONS, FORAYS AND FOLLIES Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022

Art has always fired me up, even at a young age when my creative life was veering, due to paternal pressure, towards Music. As a boy, I remember staring at my father's huge loudspeakers as they pumped conversation-numbing decibels of Scriabin and Sibelius onto a family subjugated by the pulsating wrath of sound. I imagined how I might paint those speakers in the style of Matisse or Bonnard, maybe in an inner attempt to calm the furious intensity of the music. I can feel the visceral sensation now, of the colours I visualised - pinks, greens and blues, and the expressive brushstrokes that I would make, seeming in my mind to be at an opposite pole of sensuality from Scriabin's bombastic, priapic trumpet motifs as they blasted forth, killing all delicacy in their wake. GARDEN (1935). Pierre Bonnard Though not a religious person then or now I would stare, transfixed, at the luminescence of Dali's 'Christ Of St John Of The Cross' and Holman Hunt's 'The Light Of The World' in my mother's books. Hypnotised by the distorted perspectives of Cezanne's Still Life paintings, I would run to the kitchen to commandeer bowls of apples, chipped jugs and bottles, scrunching up tablecloths for use as backdrops; I would then attempt to immortalise these objects which to me were brimming with exotic secrets, using oil paints that I had received for my birthday. STILL LIFE WITH MILK JUG AND FRUIT (c 1900). Paul Cézanne In the early 1980's. I used to visit a friend who was studying at the University of East Anglia in Norwich, on the campus of which is situated the magnificent Sainsbury Centre For The Visual Arts. https://www.sainsburycentre.ac.uk/ There, I first encountered the works of Francis Bacon and Alberto Giacometti. Bacon's paintings, in particular, cut through to my core with their fevered, passionate, brutal but supremely sensual handling of paint. My painting-heart skipped a beat when I encountered Francis Bacon. A response to Art coming from deep within, and the imbibing of energy gleaned from great practitioners whether they be household names or lesser-known ones, has always been at the centre of my creativity. In Art, nothing exists in a vacuum. I found my thoughts drawn recently to the subject of influence, and to pondering on whether Art can ever be truly original. In the book, 'Steal My Art' by Stuart Alve Olson, the author explains how the subject of the book, the T'ai Chi master T.T Liang, used to grumble to his students that they were trying to 'steal his art'. This was a tongue-in-cheek reference to his fervent belief that stealing the art is something the teacher must permit. Though he reluctantly tolerated students who took up T'ai Chi as a trendy fad, Liang was always searching for those few who, to quote Olsen, “could learn his entire art – those, from his perspective, who could steal it.” My copy of STEAL MY ART complete, appropriately, with a Matisse bookmark. Perhaps then, when we assimilate, we steal in some way. By taking into our souls the energy of a great artist and allowing its essence to be reborn subconsciously in our own work, are we 'stealing' from that artist in the most respectful way? In previous articles on this blog I have mentioned how I never seek to imitate, but it would be disingenuous to suggest that hints of my artistic idols never break through in my work. Heron, de Kooning, Motherwell, Diebenkorn, to name but four, are all artists whose art resonates on my frequency and I have no doubt that observers will note this heritage in my own paintings. TONE FIELDS 2 (2017). Haydn Dickenson THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS (2017). Haydn Dickenson In 2015, I attended the incredible exhibition 'Francis Bacon And The Masters' at the Sainsbury Centre in Norwich, mentioned above. Here, Bacon's magnificently disturbing work was curated alongside that of masters who had been major influences on the artist – Soutine, Van Gogh, Picasso, Velasquez. Bacon's 'Study after Velazquez's portrait of Pope Innocent X' picks up the older artist's creation and reinterprets it through the searing prism of Bacon's own incredible mind. His series of paintings based on works by Van Gogh also demonstrate an extremely moving homage. Copying was, until recently, the basis of art education. David Hockney deeply admires Degas' copy of Poussin's 'Rape Of The Sabines. In Hockney's opinion, Degas made the copy “to educate himself”. JS Bach famously reworked compositions by Vivaldi and others, Liszt took folk themes for use in his Hungarian Rhapsodies, as did Bartok nearly a century later; and any composer who has written “Variations On A Theme Of....” has surely performed an act of respectful theft! It is hard to deny however, that Rachmaninoff's 'Rhapsody On A Theme of Paganini', or Lutoslawski's Variations on that same theme are works of high originality in the way they treat the famous melody, one that also fascinated Schumann and Brahms who both treated it in their own inimitable ways. Composers and poets quote, artists make reference, playwrights create entire plays based on a single line from Shakespeare's Hamlet – well, Tom Stoppard did anyway, in 'Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead'! It is part and parcel of artistic utterance that we celebrate, in our own creativity, the work of others with more than a nod of the head. I will end by quoting the Art Critic Martin Gayford: “The cult of originality in art neglects the fact that much great art has been made from working within a tradition.” CAN ART EVER BE TRULY ORIGINAL? Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022.

As some of you may know, before fully embracing my lifelong passion for the visual arts and making it my career, I was active as a classical concert pianist. I was brought up in an atmosphere steeped in Music, Art and Literature and have been fortunate enough to study with some superb musicians, most notably one of the world's leading piano pedagogues, the late Prof. Peter Feuchtwanger. Though I have not performed in public for over twelve years, and never cross over between the two art-forms in my professional activity, music occupies as important a place in my artistic core as does painting. Indeed I see little difference between the two in terms of essence. Only the means by which it is communicated differs. GOODNIGHT LADIES. Haydn Dickenson 2018 (Private Collection). My friend and colleague, the artist, photographer and film-maker Manon Vuillermet was instrumental in encouraging me, at a time of crisis, to paint, paint, paint – and to exhibit. Fifteen years ago Manon wrote: “ Some say that Haydn's painting is an extension of his musicality. I believe however that Haydn's Music and his Art must be separately considered. There are many diverse facets of sensibility to this man. A classical piano score requires adherence to precise rules. This is not the case in the Art of Haydn Dickenson, whose creativity vibrates with an unbridled and intuitive passion.” Far be it from me to contradict my dear friend, and the point that she makes is valid! Classical Music can seem rigid, unyielding even, while Abstract Art might appear to flout all rules. Rigidity in classical music is something of a misconception. Admittedly, a degree of objectivity exists in modern-day performances, leading to an uninspired conformity in some cases and, at worst, even a predictability. Scholars in Baroque Music have shown us that a significant degree of latitude was expected in performance during that era, particularly in matters of ornamentation. This fact joyously flies in the face of any notions of strictness or stuffiness. My pianistic idols are mostly from the first half of the twentieth century, when piano playing was unbridled, passionate, risky, individual and thrilling. Pianists – other instrumentalists and conductors too – were not afraid to demonstrate and revel in their often enormous artistic personalities, often departing from the 'letter ' of the score and imparting their own personal stamp on an interpretation. Recordings of the core classical repertoire made at this time display miraculous power, spontaneity and individuality. It is this highly expressive and romantic style of playing which informed my own. For me, the production of piano sound, whether lyrical and mellifluous or sharp and jarring, is very closely related to mark-making in painting, with all its boundless possibilities. QUIETUDE. Haydn Dickenson 2020 (Private Collection). FACE UP TO THE FACTS. Haydn Dickenson 2019 (Private Collection). A former piano student of mine, now training in journalism, recently conducted an interview with me. Her questions were pertinent and thought-provoking. I hope that the following extracts are interesting to my readers: Q: How do you think that your career as a concert pianist has endowed you with the skills to show confidence and passion in your art and to be courageous in showcasing it to a wide audience? Would you consider these interests to be intertwining art forms and would you say that the overlap between them influences your work? HD: I am not sure whether my career as a pianist has endowed me with these skills as such. The mindset needed for playing a long and complex programme of virtuosic piano music from memory is quite different from that needed to offer for curation a selection of one's paintings. The one is neither lesser nor greater than the other, but the latter can potentially survive to a degree on introversion while the former might seem to thrive on extroversion. Playing the piano in concert, though a seemingly extrovert act, allowed me to channel energy through myself into the pure communication of supreme music, a very private and intimate act. Perhaps the need for such intimacy is why the great pianist Sviatoslav Richter, in the last several years of his career, performed recitals with only a tiny desk lamp trained on the piano in an otherwise darkened auditorium. The visual arts seem similar to me, being the transmission of private energy to become public through me as the tool. The final part of your question addresses precisely this point. Yes, the overlap between the visual and the aural is both substantial and tangible. To me, all artistic outpourings emanate from the same well-spring of creativity. People have often remarked upon the musicality of my mark-making on canvas, as they have of the painterly quality of my manipulation of sound at the piano. I consider both of these statements to be enormous compliments. Q: When I visited Paris recently, I went to an exhibition by Shirley Jaffe at the Centre Pompidou. I was struck by some of her early work, whose strong and determined brush marks and use of mixed media reminded me of some of your paintings. I was wondering if you had ever sought inspiration from other artists or if your work had evolved naturally and if you had expected some of the trajectories that it has taken? I wonder if perhaps you would resonate with the ‘spontaneity’, ‘gestural’ style and ‘mixture of turmoil and order’ within her work? Perhaps you could explain whether your style could be encapsulated in a few words and whether this is something you try to stick to throughout your work? A: I do not deliberately seek inspiration from others, indeed I consider the word 'inspiration' to be overused, and sometimes misused. In this sense, I never seek to emulate, though I do crave to imbibe the energy of other artists; so I visit galleries, staring in awe and humility at the composition, the mark-making, the tones and even, strangely perhaps, at the framing. I've always been obsessed by how great art is framed, by how these titanic works are presented to us within surrounds of such nobility that, to look at the frame alone, draws forth something of the genius that is held within them. Very often, after visiting a gallery, I experience a burning urge to paint. Currently - after a period of artistic depression - I am in a state of heightened creative energy, I am pleased to say. As for expectation, I expect nothing. I simply focus my mind and my soul on what I believe to be true to my artistic core. As for spontaneity and gesture - you could not be more correct! From the great Abstract Expressionists whom I revere, I have taken on the mindset of gesture and action, where the wildness of a mark takes the artist where it will. Turmoil and Order? I have spoken of this many times in the past and these words could not embody more succinctly my artistic philosophy - the Yin and Yang of Hysteria and Repose. Can my style be encapsulated in a few words? By me, perhaps - I have tried just now! By others, I do not know! SARABANDE. Haydn Dickenson 2020 (Private Collection). SEEING MUSIC IN MARK-MAKING Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022.

WIEDERHOLUNG - Haydn Dickenson 2021 “ The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.” These words, by the poet Robert Frost, have always resonated deeply within me; the journey, and the attendant dusky, bosky, humid, scented depths of the forest which may nevertheless afford unease within their hypnotic loveliness. ALWAYS START WITH SILENCE. Haydn Dickenson 2021 The contemporary artist Sean Scully is a polarising figure. I find his work by turns repetitive and profoundly, even mesmerically engaging. Here is a man who, coming from a humble background and armed with his totally admirable self-belief, knocked on the doors of all the New York galleries until he got the response he wanted, leading him to become one of the world's most successful living artists. With that trajectory in mind, does he come across as bombastic and arrogant? No; Sean Scully is a gentle man who states that: “ We are all part of Nature. We are not better than Nature. We are the children of Nature” I like this. I like the way that he articulates how, in his “Geometry painted expressively”, the natural world is both referenced and reverenced in a gentle though provocative way. Nature, for me, is the base metal for everything. The colours and forms in my art frequently echo the Natural World from which I draw daily solace and energy. INTIMACY - Haydn Dickenson 2017 ABSTRACT ART AND THE NATURAL WORLD Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022