Search Results

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

You'll not be surprised to learn that one of my favourite haunts is the Tate Modern on Bankside in London. With so many incredible galleries in London as well as further afield from where I live in Hertfordshire, I am spoilt for choice. The Tate Modern however, is a particular magnet for me. There, I soak up energy from a host of artists, of genres both similar to and divergent from my own. Twombly, Ben Nicholson, Malevich, Picasso, and so many more. Last week, I found myself wandering into the Blavatnik Wing at the Tate Modern, a part of the gallery into which I tend to venture more rarely than that adjoining the main Turbine Hall. I'm very glad that I broke my habit – not least because I found they'd stashed away there a favourite painting of mine by Shozo Shimamoto of the Gutai group, 'HOLES' (1954). I'd wondered where it had gone! While I was in the Blavatnik Wing I discovered the work of a magnificent German artist, Silke Otto-Knapp, in the form of a multi-panel painting, 'EINE AUFEINANDER FOLGENDE REIHE VON BILDERN' ('A SERIES OF IMAGES FOLLOWING ONE FROM THE OTHER'), painted in 2018. 'EINE AUFEINANDER FOLGENDE REIHE VON BILDERN' - Silke Otto-Knapp (2018) This piece took my breath away. Firstly the figures, in motion but also strangely static as if part of an animation project, reminded me strongly of another magnificent though little-known German artist, Elisabeth Schettler (1913-2003). Schettler was active for many years as part of the famous artistic community in Ahrenshoop on the Baltic Sea coast. Otto-Knapp hails from Osnabrueck, a city with a similar artistic heritage. I am proud to say that I have a family connection to Elisabeth Schettler. The painting of hers that you see below hung in my home, to my great delight, for many years. It now resides in Southern France. Elisabeth Schettler was known for her characterful depictions of workers – she lived and worked in Karl-Marx-Stadt (now Chemnitz), Germany, in the beautiful area of Schoenau. Her sister was a dancer, a disciple of the notable expressionist dancer Mary Wigman. I have always felt that Elisabeth's work embodies a sense of the dance; perhaps in the way that, in modern dance, gravity is embraced whereas in ballet it seems to be defied! The image below is an example of Elisabeth Schettler's Batik work. I was struck by a similarity in Silke Otto-Knapp's simple, flowing figures, to Schettler's more rustic evocations. I feel a particular connection to Schettler in that my favourite painting tool, that I use in almost all of my oil paintings, belonged to her. It is small, delicate and, like many other German items of the years between the two World Wars, has been made to last. I guard it with my life. It is my talisman! To return to Silke Otto-Knapp: Apart from the beauty of the imagery, I was struck by what I read of the techniques this artist employs. The multi-panel painting pictured at the start of this article has been made using, exclusively, lampblack watercolour. Otto-Knapp's method is to apply layers of watercolour to the canvas, then to wash them away. The separated pigment, floating on the surface, is then moved by the artist to settle in other areas of the canvas. The process is repeated, building up layers and, thereby, a dark background. The outlines of the erased images gradually emerge and brushes, sponges or the artist's fingers are used to control the gradations between light and dark. In my own work, I often 'scratch back' surface paint, releasing layers of colour below. Seen through, and surrounded by, the brush and knife strokes on the surface, they develop new significance and energy. Again, reading about Silke Otto-Knapp's creative process, I was reminded of much earlier experiments of my own. In oil painting nearly twenty years ago, I used the paint excessively thinned-down with turpentine, allowing drips to sculpt and simultaneously erode forms. Like Otto-Knapp, I would rub away areas of paint to create highlights. In the act of painting or drawing, any mark produced must necessarily overlay something else, whether earlier marks, or just that famous 'blank canvas'. Something always gets hidden. Furthermore, we can create by removing, build up by breaking down, and reveal what is below by stripping away the surface. SOME GERMAN ART, AND ABOUT CREATING THROUGH DESTROYING - Text and images copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022.

A STRETCH OF THE IMAGINATION (2021) - Artist HAYDN Hi! I am HAYDN, the artist with the unusual 'musical moniker' - a UK-based and worldwide-selling abstract painter. If you're not familiar with me or my work, you can see it it at www.haydndickenson.com where you can also read more about me. This is my very first blog post – I launched the site only last night. Perhaps you are the very first person to read it! If so, thank you for visiting, reading and, hopefully, subscribing! In this blog, I'm going to be sharing musings about Art, thoughts and ideas that make me consider 'the greater picture' about abstraction and about art in general; and about painting in relation to other art-forms too. Hopefully this might inspire some discussion along the way! For my first 'go', I wanted to approach the core of how abstract art is created – or at least, how I create it (without giving away too many secrets!); so the title of my first post is: THE MENTAL STATE OF ABSTRACTION. I would say that most abstract artists have at some time been subjected to such belligerent statements as “My three-year old could have painted that!” - I know I have. Or, for “my three-year old”, substitute “a monkey/hamster” etc, or even “I”..... Years ago, when I used to exhibit in the open air in London, a guy once wound down his window in traffic to shout at me “I'm sorry mate, but those are really shit”! Overheard on another occasion were two passers-by conferring about my work: “Oooooh no – he's not as good as that Banksy”! Another one told me point blank that my abstracts (yes, he even used that word) would be better if I put some people in them. The great Cy Twombly described the critical reaction to his first New York show as going down “about as well as a turd in a punchbowl”. There is something of a stigma attached to Abstract Art. We, as purveyors of it, have to acquire and maintain a thick skin, but also perhaps to help people to make friends with what might seem a challenging genre of art. I have even heard the bizarre opinion (from a fellow artist, a fine figurative one), that artists who morph from representational painters into abstractionists in later life do so because of a diminution in dexterity, precision or coordination. Don't get me started! I have a page on Twitter where, in a recent tweet, someone recently opined more respectfully on one of my paintings: “ I have to declare that I struggle to appreciate abstract art in this form. It just feels too arbitrary and lacking artistry. Of course, art need not be 'artistic' as it is also a medium for communication. But I do not get any such communication. Sorry.” “ In this form” . Hmmm. I think maybe they just don't like the painting, which is fine. “ Arbitrary” - perhaps they mean something like 'arising out of chance'. For me, there is no chance in painting. When I paint, I am the channel. A painting has a life of its own. It is like a river, whose course I follow. That course can lead to me deep and muddy waters or to clarity, but I don't find anything arbitrary about either direction. “ I do not get any such communication.” Understood. I do not 'get' the communication of much of the music written by say, Karlheinz Stockhausen, in that it doesn't particularly speak to me, but I nevertheless consider it to be extraordinary musical utterance. I don't mean to digress, or to draw attention to negativity - rather, to present a context in which I feel that abstract art is at times misconstrued. So the title, again, is: THE MENTAL STATE OF ABSTRACTION For me, the mental state kicks off as something like this: 'Starting from nothing which is also something'...beginning from that mythical blank canvas which holds so many possibilities simply because it is blank; of course it is not really blank because the painting is already in there, awaiting release, a bit like invisible ink. The first marks are, preferably, highly gestural. The Mental State must be free, unfettered. Peter Feuchtwanger's revelatory approach to classical piano technique is founded on movements that arise out of a state of muscular repose and are thus instantaneous, unpremeditated and supremely liberated. My first marks on canvas often emerge in a similar way. The Zen paradox is that those first gestures eschew premeditation yet are born out of a state of high tension, like an arrow waiting to be loosed from the bow. So is abstract art, after all, 'arbitrary' because it arises, supposedly, out of nothing? I believe not; although, tantalisingly and provocatively, perhaps an ultimate purity could be attained through something that emerges from nothing – demonstrating an enlightened and enlightening absence of self-limiting ego. Picasso was of the opinion that true abstraction does not exist - “you have to start with something”. I prefer to think of opening a door, and seeing what one is faced with. A line is a line, until another mark joins it, touches it, stays away from it, balances it, aggresses it. Only then is tension created. That's when the fun starts! If you've read anything about me or, even more, if you know me, you'll be aware that I love nature. I live in a rural area and have done so for most of my life. The energy, the light and the colours of nature constantly infuse my work, especially those of the Languedoc in Southern France where I used to spend a lot of time. This does not mean, however, that I use them as starting points – they are more like references, visual appendices which add personal accents to the purer abstraction that is at the core of each painting. Needless to say, neither do I place these things in the painting – they emerge, like motivic connections in a Beethoven Sonata. I don't want to imitate nature. “Not for a million dollars would I paint a tree”, said Willem de Kooning – though he also said that “even abstract shapes must have a likeness”! And how about the viewer's 'Mental State'? Someone once said to me that it is easier to cheat with abstract than with figurative art. That may be true. Or is it that the sceptical viewer is too intent on looking for a cheat or a charlatan? Are some people intimidated by abstract art, because they think they don't 'understand' it? Do we need to engage more with the psyche of the artist in order to align more with abstraction? Understanding should not really come into it. What matters is whether we like a painting or not. Too often I have encountered people (in the worlds of music and literature as well as the visual arts) who confuse taste with perception of quality; in short “I don't like it, so that must mean it is bad art”. I am always touched when – and it happens often – a client speaks of how tones, shapes, colours and mood in my paintings remind me of a place or an event; or when they explain how a painting affects their mood when they look at it, how they feel its presence in a room even when it is out of sight. It is then that I feel the 'Mental State of Abstraction' in the viewer has somehow aligned with my own. THE MENTAL STATE OF ABSTRACTION Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2022.

The great pianist Shura Cherkassky, when confronted by that well-meaning but sigh-inducing post-concert green room question “Who is your favourite composer?” would reply “whomever I am playing at that moment”. We all get that question – in my concert-playing days I, too, was often on the receiving end, but I seemed never to be ready with anything approaching Cherkassky's disarming candour and wit. One of the comparable triggers for an abstract visual artist is “What does it mean?” - or at least it is for this particular visual artist. We've visited this ground before though, in https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/meaning-what and https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/agnes-martin-and-the-non-meaning-of-art so we don't need to again today – though by all means have a read of those two articles! There is nothing new – in this column or elsewhere - in discussing the nature of what makes art, or what makes poetry; or in massaging the Aristotelian notion of a table to encompass one in which we recognise, in a human creation, an art or poetry 'essence'. https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/making-it-up-as-you-go-along Again, we've been there, done that. WORK IN PROGRESS (detail) - Artist HAYDN I have been thinking, though, about the nature of what we do as artists and why, and I started pondering, not so much on what 'Art' is, but what the word itself means. Could a close examination of the actual word bring us nearer to an understanding of what we are doing? “ Words, words, words”  exclaims Shakespeare's Hamlet when Polonius asks him what he is reading, seemingly dismissing their meaning and importance, but - damn you, Hamlet - I find words to be hugely potent; I love to ponder on their derivation, and am easily sidetracked into doing so. We need to go back to the early thirteenth century to find the word 'Art' being perceived as “a skill deriving from learning or practice” originating, via Old French from the Latin roots, Artem , meaning 'according to the style' or Ars, a noun denoting a skill or practice – possibly technical and not necessarily one related to self-expression. What is most unfortunate is that the popular perception of Art has become adulterated by taste and subjectivity. I have encountered too many people content to adopt the lazy stance that is “I don't like it, so it's crap (and by implication, not Art)” or another - “it doesn't look 'like' anything, so it's not Art” or another - “I could have done that”, though in the latter case I'm never sure whether they concede that the object of their derision is Art, or is not. For centuries, the term 'Art' has been employed to encompass a vast gamut of creative output made to be appreciated for its beauty and emotional power, and those last ten words can open doors to entire realms of magnificence. Antiquity, unfortunately, has tended to muddy the waters. The ancient cave paintings of Lascaux in France are revered and celebrated as Art while they were in fact created to express religious, ritualistic or symbolic meaning. It is unlikely that they were brought into being with any lofty intent. Prehistoric Cave Painting, Lascaux, France Contemporary graffiti, undeniably at variance in original purpose from the Lascaux drawings but made with sociological intent nonetheless, tends to raise eyebrows at least, and provoke vilification at most; unless it is by Banksy of course – because, well, he's an Artist, right? OK. In the German language, the word 'Art' goes the Latin way, referring to the style or manner in which something is made while, confusingly, the ancient Greek word 'Technê' (the root of our own 'Technology') refers to art or craft. Honestly, it is hard to know where we stand linguistically here, especially as the German word for Art is 'Kunst' which has engendered no similarly employed word in modern English. The roots of 'Kunst' are of Middle High and Middle Low German and Dutch origin, giving seed to the modern German Kennen (to know) and Können (to be able), and thence to 'Cunnan' (Old English) and 'Cunning'. 'Cunning' originally bore no pejorative connotations, and its derivation from 'Cunnan' leads us into reflection on a particularly traduced and abhorred English word which acquired its profanity entirely via the misogyny that, relatively recently, defiled its worthy origins. Plato has a lot to answer for, defining Art as he did, by the term 'Mimesis', referring to representation, copying or imitation. Willem de Kooning defied the Platonic stance, stating something along the lines that “There can be nothing more ridiculous than attempting to paint, say, a nose” . René Magritte more loftily opined that “Art evokes the mystery without which the world would not exist”. De Kooning probably veered towards the wrong side of inclusivity – I prefer to go with Magritte's catch-all poetry; but really, when we attempt to define, through semantics, what Art actually is, maybe we are just talking a load of Ars. MERDE D'ARTISTE - Piero Manzoni (1961) BUT WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2025