The name 'Picasso' is on the lips of anyone invited to name a famous artist. He has even become the subject of a thousands-fold proliferated TikTok sound trend where some one asks:“What's this?”, to be given the response “It's a art project.”, the first person then affirming “OK, I like it...Picasso.” Come on, you must have heard it! It is a little like the phenomenon of the great pianist Paderewski, effectively a late nineteenth/early twentieth-century rock star in respect of his fame and his antics, known by the average person on the street as 'Padrooski', even if that person barely knew what the great Ignace Jan did; I would hasten to add that Paderewski, still much maligned, was a very magnificent pianist indeed - an artist of rare poetry. I am also put in mind of Beethoven, whose charming piano miniature Für Elise (plagued into eternity, of course, by an execrable mispronunciation) and his so-called 'Moonlight Sonata', have both achieved a fame quite outside their provenance, musical significance, or even sound. Picasso is another 'one of these'. His striking and dynamic physical appearance in photos and self-portraits is highly and universally recognisable as are his revolutionary paintings, and his name has become a symbol for ground-breaking, maverick brilliance in art. PABLO PICASSO - 1908 SELF-PORTRAIT - Pablo Picasso (1907) I must confess that Picasso does not figure among my 'Top-Five' artists, or even slightly outside that boundary. I am nevertheless fascinated by the turbo-charged pace of his artistic development, and the searing influence that he exerted on so many painters of later generations, notably Francis Bacon who, my readers will know, resides well-within my 'Top-Five'. At the start of his career, Pablo Picasso powered through a 'Blue Period' (1900-1904) followed by a 'Rose Period' (1904-1906) during which times he produced pictures of touching simplicity, humanity and tranquility. The Blue Period presented a cool and sombre outlook, with the Rose Period offering a warmer mood. Both periods, in my opinion, contain the artistic embryos of the eruptions that were to follow. In 1907, the same year as the self-portrait above was painted, Picasso created LES DEMOISELLES D'AVIGNON, a work of supreme candour and confrontational honesty which also, amusingly, manages to incorporate a still-life of one of the artist's beloved bowls of fruit at the base of the composition. The thrust of the painting is, of course, the five nude sex-workers from the Carrer d'Avinyo in Barcelona which outraged the world and led his friend and colleague Georges Braque to exclaim: “It is as if he made us drink kerosene and then swallow a lit match”. LES DEMOISELLES D'AVIGNON - Pablo Picasso (1907) Museum of Modern Art, New York The critic Clement Greenberg has stated: “I am unable to put myself in the mind of the artist. How was he able to do that in 1907?” Picasso's trajectory was so rapid that the angular, jabbing limbs of the Avignon girls came only four years after he painted the haunting CELESTINA. CELESTINA - Pablo Picasso (1903) Echoes of the sad old woman Celestina with her one eye clouded over, may be seen in 'Les Demoiselles' with their displaced eyes that seem to look straight at us but simultaneously past us, or through us. Indeed, the woman at the top right of the painting has one dark, unseeing eye, the same one as Celestina's. Notably, both the 'Blue' and the 'Rose' colour palettes are incorporated in the picture which also manages to introduce allegory – in the fruit – and the influence of African Art (in the faces) which played such a major role in Picasso's depiction of the human form. The composition of 'Les Demoiselles' enthrals me. At first sight, we notice the two women on the right have darker heads, bearing rougher, inscribed shading on their faces and hair. The composition appears incongruous when we contrast these with the more serene figures on the left and particularly in the centre; and then we notice that the lady on the left also has a darker, albeit softer face. She – who also has a dark eye - appears to be looking towards the figure at the top right. Shift your gaze to the bottom right and the squatting girl; we see the latter's face sharply swung round to confront us with the most direct stare of all the figures. She too, has one dark eye which, like Celestina's is lower than the other. Suddenly, the composition starts to fall into place as we notice a triangle created between the figures on the extreme left, the top right and the bottom right. Establish a link between this geometry and the simultaneous triangles of breasts, challengingly and ferally gestured elbows, knees, and a unity is quickly apparent. Could there exist, here, a nod towards the triangle as apparent in Renaissance religious art? The upward-pointing triangles (male-symbolising) of the elbows and the downward-pointing ones (female-symbolising) of the second-left figure's groin and the lower-right woman's body shape as defined by her bottom and splayed legs and arms seems most apposite. The broadly downward-pointing triangle mentioned in the paragraph above embraces the entire composition in a subtle but brazen frame of femininity. As we delve further into detail, we notice motivic connections between the proud, outward-jutting triangles of breasts and jabbing elbows, the unevenly-set eyes finding echoes and mirrors in the offset line of breasts given their geometry by the haughtily-demanding cocked hips. Incidentally, I also see, in the two central figures, echoes of Picasso's own facial features. Shocking? Perhaps even today, but 'Les Demoiselles' is a painting which exists absolutely within a historical context and not at all in some kind of deliberately startling vacuum. Art throughout the ages has shocked people. Let us not forget the outrage that followed Michelangelo's depiction of The Last Judgement on the Sistine Chapel wall. https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/the-nude-ambivalence-and-censorship-from-michelangelo-to-mapplethorpe In music, Debussy's 'Prélude à 'Après-Midi d'un Faune' caused consternation when it was first performed in 1894, as did Stravinsky's 'The Rite of Spring' in 1913. Both are now considered cornerstones of western art music, the Debussy work especially being recognised as effectively representing the moment at which music turned 'modern'. Braque was right about the kerosene and the match, but trying something new can lead to startling revelations. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

That really is “the question”, or at least one of them. To me, framing is an intensely personal matter, so over the years I have usually opted not to frame paintings prior to sale; I prefer to let the client decide on a style that suits their home or workplace. Conveniently, as many of my sales are for export, a decision to leave the canvas unframed makes for easier, more secure and more cost-effective shipping for the customer. Furthermore, many buyers have expressed a wish to hang my canvases unframed, for a clean, modern look in the home. ARABESQUE - Haydn Dickenson (2020) In client's home HOPE IN DARK TIMES - Haydn Dickenson (2020), unframed, in private collection If the client chooses, or if I am presenting work to a gallery, my framing style of choice is always a narrow inlay or 'floater' frame, often in silver though sometimes in white. Smaller examples of my work are very much enhanced by such a frame, contributing to a more substantial impact than if the painting is left bare. A SCENT OF NIGHT - Haydn Dickenson (2023) oil on canvas in silvered wood inlay frame, 23 x 23 cm, for sale Despite usually opting for the unframed approach, I have always been fascinated by framing styles when imbibing the glories of art in galleries. Ever since I was young, I have craved absorption of the totality of a piece, paying as much attention to the frame as to the picture that it protects and showcases. I often go in close, peering at the massiveness of the wooden surrounds, the heavy, ancient hooks and chains that attach the painting to the wall (I'm sure I must be on security tapes somewhere, suspected of planning a heist!) I study the many layers and sections that go into the complex framing of priceless works of art – the rebates, the chamfering, the gilding, the hessian, all of which lead the eye inexorably into the painting. I am attracted to the ornate swept frames and other substantial gilt structures that, on occasions, surround even a twentieth-century picture, the ornate mouldings simultaneously complementing and contrasting with the bold, progressive statement. At the other end of the scale is the deliciously utilitarian, ultra-narrow bare wood framing style used around, for example, Jackson Pollock's NO 14 in the Tate Modern; spartan, barely there, understated, but nevertheless contributing significantly to the presentation of the oozing, flowing, darkly sensual painting. NO 14 - Jackson Pollock (1951) Upon examining the history of framing, we learn that the practice, in ancient times, was considered integral to the piece of art, allowing it to fit into its setting. Framing was first employed in ancient Greece and Egypt; one of the earliest existing examples is on an Egyptian tomb, circa AD 50-70. Carved wooden frames have been in use in western churches since the twelfth century when they were treated as borders between parts of the décor, performing a functional role of division, rather than as a device to enhance the picture in a more worldly fashion. Indeed, the 'borders' often came first, with the art being added later after the required areas had been marked off. During the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the impact of wealth and status emerged, and with it the advent of lavish frames – a kind of renaissance 'bling'. Brazenly gilded framing appeared, utilising ivory together with ebony, walnut and other luxury woods, paving the way towards the magnificent classical framing styles, both sacred and secular, that are familiar to us in art through the ages. The frame, by now, had ascended into a status symbol for patrons, whether ecclesiastical or from the moneyed laity. I will leave the last word to Frank Zappa, in characteristically uncompromising mood: “The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively-- because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins. You have to put a 'box' around it because otherwise, what is that shit on the wall?” Maybe I should consider framing for my work more often! Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

Ask someone about Pop Art, and the names put forward as examples will probably be Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein and, perhaps, Jeff Koons. A less familiar artist in the same broad genre was the Belgian Evelyne Axell (1935-1972), a prolific and provocative mixed-media artist who began her creative life as an actress. Evelyne Axell My readers know that I have more than a passing interest in female artists https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/female-artists-and-abstraction together with an antipathy to the prudish and numbing effects of censorship on the arts https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/the-nude-ambivalence-and-censorship-from-michelangelo-to-mapplethorpe . Today's article will hark back to those two earlier posts and hopefully shed some light on an interesting, even iconic twentieth-century artistic figure. Created in oil paint, a zip fastener and a helmet mounted on canvas, Evelyne Axell's VALENTINE (1966) hangs in the Tate Modern Gallery in London. It is a piece which I much enjoy. VALENTINE (1966) - Evelyne Axell In VALENTINE, Axell namechecks the first Soviet female cosmonaut, Valentina Tereshkova, combining the homage to her with a representation, perhaps, of the erotically-charged greeting of a woman to her lover on Valentine's night. The stance of the figure is slinky and languorous, the zippered white bodysuit is suggestively and enticingly opened, indicating carefully painted details of the woman's body; the floating helmet (actually a toy one) to the left introduces a fetishistic kink. The painting, though modern in outlook and daringly progressive, also embodies a paradoxically demure classical poise. Evelyne Axell was one of the first Belgian Pop Artists, having cut her teeth under the mentorship of none less than the great surrealist René Magritte. To aid her ascendance, she at one point adopted the androgynous moniker 'Axell', and became the first female artist to produce and exhibit her own nude self-portrait, LE PEINTRE, in 1970. In an age when many (though far from all) people are becoming increasingly enlightened and spiritually evolved, there is a converse movement towards excessive and damaging censorship of the arts. When the censorship is applied not by humans but by Social Media bots, the prudish finger-wagging becomes as tediously artificial and indiscriminate as it is insidious. Facebook, which has no compunction as to the posting of, for instance, violent physical attacks recorded on mobile phones, recently took down an image of Evelyne Axell's ICE CREAM, on the grounds that it 'displayed excessive skin'. ICE CREAM - Evelyne Axell (1964) One commentator observed at the time: “If this is offensive, I would really like to stop seeing pictures of women in thongs, bent over”. Surely, the latter 'genre' of pose qualifies as one of the most generic and repetitive in modern-day misogynistic imagery, peddled by those who have no understanding of true eroticism. Axell's painting, by contrast, presents us with a bold and playful primary kaleidoscope which, though not without an erotic undercurrent, offers nothing to offend any but the most Victorian and repressed. I have an axe to grind, as one of my own abstract (yes, abstract!) paintings was also deleted by Facebook for 'displaying excessive amounts of skin'! Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

I have just returned from a short holiday in one of my favourite places on earth, the Languedoc mountains in Southern France, where I spent a beautiful week visiting family. I used to pass a great deal of time in this heavenly place. Opportunities are now more limited, but in that tiny hamlet, set on the side of a remote, wild, south-facing garrigue mountainside, some of my most important and poignant life-experiences were forged. During my sojourn this week, I renewed acquaintance with people whom I have not seen for fifteen and, in two cases, thirty years. I walked, I worked on the land, I read, I cooked, and I wrote poetry. I also drank a fair bit of superb, honest red wine, which tasted of the glorious region in which is produced. It is the wine, as well as the moving experience of the past week, that has impelled me to write this piece. I want to talk about the concept of Terroir. Terroir is the French noun that refers to the soil, the climate, the weather, and the vegetation that influence the flavour and other qualities of wine produced in a certain region. A particular grape grown in the Languedoc will, for instance, produce an entirely different wine from one made with the same grape but grown in, say, the Loire valley. Wines from my region of the Midi tend to be quite bold and tannic but, conversely, also delicate, with undertones of the wild herbs which are the natural neighbours of the grapes from which they are made, and the harsh soils of the region which can turn from acidic to calcareous in the space of a few metres. The same applies to fruit and vegetables. During the past week I tasted (spread on the world's best organic artisan sourdough bread) some jelly made out of quinces from a wild tree that grows on the Languedoc slopes. In my garden here in England I have a quince tree whose fruits resemble the French ones, but lack the secretive, feral, herby and woody quality of their Occitan cousins. The same – this is an art blog, after all – applies to Art! My followers will know that my paintings have always been infused with symbology gleaned, subconsciously, from the Natural World. In my photography, I am fascinated by urban decay and the stark realities of modern human experience – these matters have also, at times, crept into my painting – but it is Nature that is at the root of my work on canvas. I first discovered the Languedoc in 1988. Ever since, far more than the glorious verdant English countryside that I also adore, it is the savage poetry of the sun-baked Languedoc slopes, outcrops and terraces that have constantly surfaced in my subliminal reference. The colours of wild heather, of juniper, pine, broom, box and dog-rose sit in my mind, ready to burst forth and energise me when my soul needs re-alignment. ECHO - Haydn Dickenson (2015) UNTITLED - Haydn Dickenson (2010) RECOLLECTIONS - Haydn Dickenson (2015) A friend once described me as 'European, not English'. I think she was right. I love where I live now and it is right for me, but the wild South is where I have been in a previous Life, and where I may return in another. The South, with its sharp sensuality, alternately seductive and hostile, is my Terroir. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

Firstly, dear readers, you may notice a few changes in the layout of this site, as of this week. I decided to treat you all to a few bells and whistles on the Home Page, and a (hopefully) more phone-friendly format now as well; all this courtesy of an IT expert who has also done some work on my SEO which I hope will bring more traffic to the site in the coming days, weeks and beyond. Please keep sharing though – the more the merrier and, when shares come from those loyal to me, that means even more. Now, to today's topic: In SAMSON AGONISTES, the 17th Century poet John Milton presents us with the desperate, blind Samson railing against his condition with the seismically powerful utterance: “Oh dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse Without all hope of day” I remember so well my tutor on Milton, Dr Ronald Knowles, when I read English at Reading University, intoning this immortal verse. The words have stuck with me ever since. I have lived through some dark times, times during which the light seemed scarcely visible. To this day, vacillations in mood and outlook render life and creativity challenging at times. Leonard Cohen though, so wisely reminds us that “there is a crack in everything – that's how the light gets in”. Milton's Samson goes on to proclaim: “The Sun to me is dark And silent as the Moon” SILENT AS THE MOON - Haydn Dickenson (2019) As much as the sun can be as dark as the moon, so darkness can appear blinding in its intensity. The blackness prevents us from seeing the light that is nonetheless present. Darkness and Light, in painting as in other art forms and in Life, are necessarily opposing forces. In my earlier article WHY WE NEED ABSTRACT ART TODAY, I quoted Stephen Hawking's assertions regarding the positive and the negative in astrophysics, and I am in no doubt that the same truth applies to Art. In music too, constant consonance leaves only a void; dissonance is essential to provide balance and tension. I do not uphold the popular view that Mark Rothko's paintings, despite the tragic nature of his death, are unremittingly dark. Light itself may be subdued, and the manner in which Rothko's majesty stands before us in the darkened rooms in which his paintings are usually exhibited, is testament to their luminous power. LIGHT RED OVER BLACK - Mark Rothko (1957) I have recently encountered a person whose influence on my Art will, I suspect, be a powerful one. Indeed, that person's energy has already manifested in what I believe is a rather special painting. OUT ON THEE, SEEMING - Haydn Dickenson (2023) My agent has already remarked on “a lightness in (my) recent work. Not that it has lost any depth. The depth has more of a simplicity to it and in that, it has a very powerful expression of peace.” The dark will endure though. In the dark, we dream, and dreams are both essential and addictive. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

Of all twentieth century artists, the American abstract expressionist Jackson Pollock (1912-1956) arguably embodies most fully the popular conception of the angry, passionate, volatile and troubled action-painter. The art critic Jonathan Jones has written of him: “His paintings are of inner and outer space. They intuit a complex reality that cannot be put into words. This makes Pollock one of the most moving artists I know.” LAVENDER MIST - Jackson Pollock (1950) My artist mother, steeped in traditional drawing and painting techniques used to tell me of Pollock who, she said wearily, used to ride a bicycle over his paintings. Sorry Mum, I'm pretty sure he didn't, though it's not a bad idea – perhaps one I might explore myself! Sceptical though my dear mother was, to her great credit, she was wholeheartedly encouraging when I set off on the long road-trip to Abstraction. Just as Mondrian could not have produced his majestic abstract geometry without the artistic food with which his marvellous trees had earlier nourished him, I could not do what I do now but for my mother's nurturing influence on my early figurative style. Some of the greatest abstractionists of the past hundred years have been lambasted as 'easy to imitate'. The implication is that, because copying that style of mark-making might flow easily off the brush (usually on a much-reduced scale), the lazy imitator's painting will inevitably succeed structurally, compositionally and emotionally. Try it and you will see how hard this is to achieve. Franz Kline and Robert Motherwell are prime examples of the above myopic prejudice, but the reigning monarch of misrepresentation in this sense must surely be Jackson Pollock. The internet is awash with videos inviting us to 'Paint Like Jackson Pollock', usually on a tiny canvas on a table. Not only does such clownishness miss the point that Pollock's action painting was achieved using the whole body as if the painter himself was both brush and paint but it sidesteps the fundamental question: why would anyone want to paint like anyone else? On occasion, emulation stems from reverence and respect, but more frequently it is born out of insecurity and laziness. The legendary piano pedagogue Peter Feuchtwanger, with whom I studied during my concertising days, was often asked by insecure students: 'how long will it be before I can play like Ashkenazy?'....or Pollini or whoever. Prof Feuchtwanger would answer: 'No one can play like Ashkenazy, but remember that no one, including Ashkenazy, can play like you'. Naturally, the same holds true for the Visual Arts. The Abstract Expressionism movement, of which Jackson Pollock was a prime and revolutionary exponent, was chiefly concerned with feeling, gesture, psychological-emotional outpouring, and spontaneity. Spontaneity in art arises out of the artist's following of a subconscious impulse. The human subconscious is profoundly infused with and influenced by our position in the universe. Order and chaos are highly compatible bedfellows when they erupt out of the creative core of a great artist; the seemingly random can, when contemplated with an open mind and heart, manifest as divinely ordered. Today I stood in awe before Jackson Pollock's NO. 14 (1951) at the Tate Modern in London. POLLOCK AT THE TATE As I have done countless times, I took in the detail, straining as far as I dared across the alarm-wire to inspect the minutiae that inform the grandeur. I saw the way in which the great communicator of this picture which is, on the face of it, stark, but also lyrical and musical, placed with unbridled passion the giant but delicate gestures of part-shiny, part-foggy oil paint on the unprimed canvas. I saw how the paint bleeds into the canvas, creating an impression, through brown halos, that it is burning into the surface. I saw the thick, tarry marks that Pollock forced into the centre of the piece, and places where it seems that he applied tape to the canvas before smothering it in viscous black. I was reminded, indelibly, of the violence and beauty inherent in the act of painting. I saw how intuitively the marks on the canvas are organised, each one reacting with its neighbour in a cosmic rhythm. I saw the dots of yellow and orange at the base of the painting, perhaps betraying its placing on the floor, at the time of creation, close to another, more polychromatic piece that was being ejaculated at close proximity to this glorious twilight utterance. I saw the thin, raw-wood frame hugging the picture, juxtaposing its almost shaker-like austerity with the sooty sensuality of that which it encloses. NO. 14 - Jackson Pollock (1951) I was also prompted to recall the painter's wife, the magnificent artist Lee Krasner's recollection that Pollock applied paint using sticks and basting syringes, using them 'like a giant fountain-pen'; and I was minded to affirm through Jonathan Jones' words, quoted at the head of this article, that, by and through Pollock, we are confronted with Reality – something that my readers know is a central tenet in my attitude towards abstract art. To conclude, Mr Jones' postulation that Jackson Pollock “spins out some delicate weft of insight, at once mystical, scientific and psychological” is one with which I wholeheartedly agree. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

I have been strongly advised to write about AI (Artificial Intelligence) Art. I have so far resisted, because the subject fills me with revulsion and my instinct is to shield myself as much as I can from malign energy. The internet is currently awash with enticements for people to generate their own Artificial Intelligence Art. Today's article will be very brief but, as with a previous post, I invite your views on what is, to me, a frightening subject. AI art seems like yet another facet of the increasingly rapid degeneration and dehumanising of society. With my romantic, intuitive and emotional artistic nature, AI Art flies in the face of all in which I believe. AI Art is not Art. I follow a brilliant colleague on Social Media who recently wrote, and I paraphrase: “If you are wondering about AI Art, try making a few marks on paper or canvas and see how you feel after after doing so. Then you will know that no one and nothing can replace what You do.” Do write to me here if you feel you would like to contribute a view. EMPOWERMENT - Haydn Dickenson (2022) Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

A piece of writing which I much admire is the collection of essays, MUSICAL THOUGHTS AND AFTERTHOUGHTS, by the great pianist Alfred Brendel. I hope that Mr Brendel will not mind me borrowing an element of his title for my article today. In my daily and extensive reading about Art, I am constantly reminded of subjects about which I have written previously in this blog. Today I would like to reflect a little on some of those and, if this inspires newer followers to search some of my earlier posts, or my longer-standing readers to revisit them, I would be happy. On December 28th, 2022, I wrote of ABSTRACT ART AND REALITY. https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/abstract-art-and-reality I ponder on this subject every time I paint. I firmly believe that Abstract Art, though it presents to the viewer material that is non-representational, can postulate a reality in itself. I make that painting; you look at it. While you contemplate the painting, it is reality. In its purity, it is more real, I would argue, than a painting which seeks to represent – say – a tree. I would never seek to denigrate the painter of a tree, or a face. The greatest examples of representational painting move me profoundly, but abstraction presents the viewer with a challenge. We can lay ourselves open to a challenge, or we can walk away. That is reality, as are the non-figurative marks and forms which draw us into a contemplation of the canvas. On my first visit to the Sainsbury Centre in Norwich, UK in 1984, I experienced a seismic shift in the way I appreciated art. Alongside establishing a visceral connection with the work of Francis Bacon in front of which I stood transfixed, I became strongly drawn to the sculptures and drawings of Alberto Giacometti, who wrote: “The object of art is not to reproduce reality, but to create a reality of the same intensity.” PORTRAIT OF A WOMAN (1965) - Alberto Giacometti In BEING TRUE TO ONESELF IN ART https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/what-bowie-said, I quoted David Bowie's conviction that we should never make art to fulfil another person's brief. Any art form, be it visual, tactile, musical, the written or the spoken word, is a means of self-expression, and a deeply personal one. In THE VISUAL ARTS AND PERMANENCE https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/the-visual-arts-and-permanence I discussed the degree to which an artist 'lays his soul bare' on the canvas. Picasso saw art as a way of keeping a diary, and you can't get much braver than publishing your diary during your lifetime! Though I also see my work in this way, as an abstractionist I can retain command over the mystery. Every one of my paintings, however, carries a statement about my life, veiled though it may be. In my most recent article, DARK VERSUS LIGHT https://www.artfullyabstractedblog.com/post/dark-versus-light I referred to an essential artistic duality, a Yin and Yang. I have since read that Leonardo Da Vinci believed that: “A painter should begin every canvas with a wash of black, because all things in nature are dark except where exposed by the light.” This is as beautiful a statement as the one one made by Ernst Bacon in his astutely provocative book, NOTES ON THE PIANO that, contrary to the popular understanding that use of the sustaining pedal in piano playing applies a modification to it's sound, the reverse is true. No other stringed instrument possesses dampers – all are able to let their sound ring until it decays. Only a piano string has its tone castrated by a damper. It is the damper that brings about the modification. With the dampers raised – that is, with the sustaining pedal applied – the sound is free to develop, to resonate, to blend in sympathetic vibration, to be set free. As with Leonardo's observation, this is the opposite of what we are taught. A final thought, and a new painting: Abstract art predominantly expresses feelings. In ELEANOR AND PARK (2012), Rainbow Rowell writes “Eleanor was right. She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.” AND THEN AT NIGHT GET TOGETHER AND DANCE - Haydn Dickenson (2023) Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

When my mother trained at art college in the 1940's and 50's, she spent an entire year studying anatomy and life-drawing. As a result of this rigorous training, she knew in precise detail all the bones and muscles in the human body, their names and how they worked. Several of her exceptionally lovely nude studies, which are testament to her comprehensive knowledge, still adorn my home. My mother's upbringing was strait-laced if not puritanical; she was the daughter of a parish priest in wartime Yorkshire. Many of her life-drawings (surely a peculiarly euphemistic art-school term) however, display a notable sensuality, a delight in the exquisite planes, lines and contours of the human physique. She used to tell me of one of her favourite models at the time, a woman named Molly, whose body I believe fascinated her. NUDE STUDY - Joan Bailey (c 1947) From my mother I inherited a love of drawing the human body. Though I had no access to the kind of training on which she was raised as an artist, I nevertheless fostered in myself an adoration of the nude in painting and drawing. The magnificence of the human body in its sweeping lines and its gestures, whether literal or implied, offers an energy which I find readily translates into abstract forms and non-figurative mark-making. In the past I drew and painted many figurative nudes for sale; now no longer – I have settled, in my professional output, fully within the field of abstraction although I occasionally revisit 'drawing from life' for my own personal artistic enrichment. Today I am writing about 'The Nude' because I feel that the perception of nudity in the visual arts remains as confused and inconsistent as it has ever been. Between 1536 and 1541, Michelangelo painted the stupendous 'Last Judgement' on the whole altar wall of the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican City. He depicted the majority of the male figures and Angels nude, leading to a furore and the eventual obliteration with painted drapery of much of the nudity in the magnificent fresco. THE LAST JUDGEMENT - Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni (1536-41) Would Michelangelo's nude figures have been engendered less outrage if they had been female? It appears that female nudity in art – though at times problematic - has proved more palatable to the public in the long term than male. Robert Mapplethorpe's superlatively impactful male nude photography continues to provoke far more controversy than do his female nudes and, across the creative board, a similar inequality holds sway. The great Egon Schiele's raw expressionist nude drawings which influence so many figurative artists to this day have surely remained more controversial than, say Gustav Klimt's delicate erotic sketches, as distinct from the latter artist's more complex symbolist paintings. This state of affairs has certainly been exacerbated by the presence of a number of male nudes (including self-depictions) within Schiele's canon of work. EGON SCHIELE - Male Nude (1912) EGON SCHIELE - Woman in a Green Turban (1914) GUSTAV KLIMT - Female Nude, Turned Left During my mother's college days, life-models were almost invariably female; on the rare occasions when a male model was booked, he was obliged to don some kind of tied loincloth. One assumes then, that art students of the day were left with somewhat incomplete skills in the drawing of certain aspects of male anatomy. Many years ago, when I used to produce nude sketches for sale, it was problematic enough to publish images of them online at all, but the greatest stigmatisation befell my work when the nudes I dared to exhibit were male. Social media, in its tedious prudishness exercised by the bots which police it, renders the display of even the most decorous and subdued nudity by artists virtually impossible. Indeed, I was once in the bizarre position of having an abstract image taken down from Facebook on the grounds of 'nudity'. The action was ludicrous as the offending image was not even figurative; it was a large, entirely abstract canvas containing not the slightest allusion to anything human, let alone unclothed. Such prurience does a huge disservice to art, and to artists. Posters for recent exhibitions of Schiele's work in London and Vienna were censored with a banner reading “SORRY – 110 YEARS OLD BUT STILL TOO DARING TODAY #ToArtItsFreedom”. Pablo Picasso is famous for his often erotically-charged masterpieces as well as for an admittedly paraphrased but valid comment that “actually, all art is erotic.” On several occasions, my own 'pure abstraction' on canvas has been described thus by commentators and collectors alike. Eroticism in creative output should be embraced; sensuality is a component of humanity and to box it up in a private room to be approached only via an infantile nudge-nudge, wink-wink mentality leads to misunderstanding, intolerance and an unbalanced perception of art. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

In a beautiful 1997 interview, David Bowie spoke eloquently about being true to oneself as an artist. “Never work for other people”, he told us. I will publish a link to the interview later in this article but, for now, let me paraphrase Bowie's words: “Always remember that the reason you started working was that there was something in you that, if you could manifest it, would allow you to understand more about yourself and how you coexist with others in society.” I very much agree. Even when fulfilling commissions, I need to be given a free enough rein to let the journey take me where it will. My two most recent clients for commission understood this wonderfully, and it is marvellous to feel that the client has enough trust in the artist's ability to fulfil the brief with minimal intervention. I believe that my best work is created when I fully let go. Though I adore water – the sea, rivers, ponds and lakes - and I crave to be near it, I dislike swimming; in fact I am afraid of being in water. In art though, I feel most comfortable when, to borrow David Bowie's analogy, my feet do not touch the bottom; when, as he urges, I have gone in a little deeper than I believe possible for me. In SPEAK YOUR MIND (2020) I did just that. In this picture I am pleased by the juxtaposition of form and anti-form, the suggestion and negation of objects, the apparent depth within the stark minimalism, and the feeling of space. I did not know where this piece would go - a thrilling sensation. I feared that SPEAK YOUR MIND would be just too 'out-there' for the public, but it has become one of my most appreciated works, and has been given one of my highest catalogue prices by the company which represents me. SPEAK YOUR MIND (2020) - Haydn Dickenson In the interview with Bowie below, he speaks of coming to understand more about ourselves through our art. To this, I would add that we also open an ever-increasing potential to do so. The process never stops. A new painting is a poor one if, when I contemplate it, it offers no reflections of my personal journey, however elusive and private. SOLO 23 (2023) - Haydn Dickenson Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

In 1929, René Magritte painted his iconic and justly famous painting, THE TREACHERY OF IMAGES, in which he depicts a beautifully executed image of a pipe. The painting is annotated in French which, when the words are translated, tell us: “This is not a pipe”. The painting technically pre-dates the coming of true Conceptualism, but Magritte's 'non-pipe' does draw the viewer into territories other than the obviously visual in a way not far removed from some conceptual exponents; namely, that we are invited to venture behind the immediate image, and think. Copyright laws in my country apparently prohibit me from publishing a reproduction of Magritte's painting here. I am not so much of an anarchist as Magritte so, though I'm sure I'd get away with reproducing it, I don't want to jeopardise the future of this column! Perhaps I might argue that 'this is a series of pixels, a piece of data, not the original painting of something that is not a pipe', but I doubt that I would get very far! Instead, let us open with an equally famous, even notorious piece, FOUNTAIN (1917) by Marcel Duchamp, the great Dadaist and conceptual artist. FOUNTAIN (1917) - Marcel Duchamp Duchamp's fountain is of course a urinal – or is it? It is not plumbed in, it does not invite being used as a urinal if for no better better reason than that its orientation has been altered. The apparent sanitary vessel bears an inscription, 'R Mutt 1917', the spurious signature being a reference to 'Mott', a contemporary maker of sanitary ware. The object carries a peculiar elegance, a certain utilitarian grandeur. Maybe, in a similar way to Magritte's later painting, it 'is not a urinal'. Conceptual Art is usually defined as art in which the concept is more important than the execution. Found items or everyday objects feature strongly. Some pieces may be interactive, where the visitor is invited to move or alter elements of their construction, or to add to the installation in some way. Though I would never claim to be a conceptual artist, I do on occasions incorporate found objects within my pictures. In 2011 I created the piece illustrated below, a rather disturbing one of which I am quite fond; in it I have glued some kind of rough metal frame, found on a walk, onto the board before applying paint over and around it. UNTITLED (2011) - Haydn Dickenson In ALWAYS START WITH SILENCE (2021) I used significant objects pasted onto the canvas in a way that goes over and above the simple collage technique of which I am also enamoured. The objects include the receipt for a copy of Ernest Newman's 'Wagner Nights' purchased by my father from a London bookseller more than seventy years ago, scraps of antique music score bearing words present in the painting's title, and the sprocket-hole imprints in plaster of some 35 mm film used by my father in his PhD thesis. My ancestry, childhood and adolescence hold great significance to me – not in an altogether positive way – so the concept of the piece is, subjectively, at least as important as the impact of the picture as a visual statement. ALWAYS START WITH SILENCE (2021) - Haydn Dickenson I hold great admiration for Cildo Meireles' conceptual piece, BABEL, which resides in the Tate Modern, London. The massive structure, its solid presence towering in a semi-blue-darkened room, is built of hundreds of old analogue radios. Each is tuned to a different station, the various low-volume broadcasts emitting a low-level murmured hubbub. The effect of standing close to the piece is strangely calming and simultaneously energising. I recognise several of the ancient radios from my childhood and adolescence, and the title, BABEL reminds me of a few Reading University friends who belonged to the 'Babel Society' when I was a student there in the early 1980's , that society sounding deeply cool to me at the time though I never dared join it (and still do not what it actually practised!) BABEL - Cildo Meireles (source Fred Romero from Paris, France, CC BY 2.0 httpscreativecommons.orglicensesby2.0, via Wikimedia Commons) It seems to me that Conceptual Art and my own genre, Abstraction, are not a million miles apart. Conceptual pieces deal, as mentioned above, with the process, the concept, the materials and the statement rather than the ultimate craft. The art critic Christopher P Jones has suggested that “It is common for viewers of Conceptual Art to wonder if the objects on display are perpetrating some sort of hoax, or at least sharing an inside joke that the rest of us are not allowed to understand.” So we come back once more to that niggling word 'understand'. My readers are aware of my views on that shiver-inducing word, and that I wish to dispel the preconception that art must be understood in order to be appreciated and enjoyed. Abstract art constantly holds the potential to be burdened by a similar stigma to that described by Christopher Jones, that we as artists are attempting to hoodwink the public, that we are fake or – an extraordinary statement, coming from a fine artist colleague - that artists turn to abstraction late in life because of a diminishing steadiness of hand! Abstraction, in particular Abstract Expressionism, is about feeling, experience, emotion, and action. In my case, the process – in which I almost always feel guided and driven by energies outside my control – is at least as important as the final culmination, the result, the enduring image. In this aspect I feel solidly akin to my conceptual brethren. In the gloriously tranquil artwork, AN OAK TREE by Michael Craig-Martin, we are presented with a glass of water set upon a glass shelf, in minimalist splendour. The text below the installation tells us “the actual oak tree is physically present but in the form of the glass of water.” The high placing of the shelf encourages us to look up, as if to the lofty canopy of the forest. The text continues “It would no longer be accurate to call it a glass of water. One could call it anything one wished but that would not alter the fact that it is an oak tree.” AN OAK TREE - Michael Craig-Martin (source Pixel23 at English Wikipedia., CC BY-SA 2.5 httpscreativecommons.orglicensesby-sa2.5, via Wikimedia Commons) Once again, I am reminded of university days, when friends and I would sit in earnest discussion on philosophical matters such as, for example, the Aristotelian question of what is it that makes a table a table. From Aristotle's standpoint, we arrive at the ability to call anything whatever we want. I would refer my readers to the excellent book THINKING ABOUT THINKING, by Professor Antony Flew, which may assist in some of the contemplations thrown up by the above statement, today's present article and, perhaps, with life in general! As a postscript, I have always been of the opinion that Art should provoke a reaction. Any reaction is valid; only indifference confirms the painting, the poem, the music, the drama, the novel or, yes, the conceptual installation as empty or worthless. Laugh and smile if you wish – I love to do this in front of Art! Deride and scorn if you must, but remember that Debussy's PRELUDE A L'APRES-MIDI D'UN FAUNE and Stravinsky's LE SACRE DU PRINTEMPS provoked scandal and outrage in their day but are now both considered pinnacles of twentieth-century musical expression. To speak of Conceptual Art as a genre designed to be capricious, facile or cynical is to misrepresent it grossly. A principal mission of the conceptualist, who is predominantly involved with the process, the approach and the choice of materials whether obscure or quotidian, is to lead the viewer into the work, to draw us deeper inside than a purely visual consumption of the piece permits. As such, we are encouraged to think, and that can never be a bad thing. Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023

This post marks the 'QUARTER-CENTURY' of blog since its inception last August! Thank you to all of you for your support. Welcome especially, to a few new members/followers. Today's post will be a brief one, with a three-pronged purpose: Firstly, to mark the occasion. Secondly (hence the dual title) to introduce you to my newest oil painting. Thirdly, to reiterate and perhaps elaborate a little on the aim of this blog. Marking the occasion. I've averaged 3.5 posts per month; sometimes I'll post two in a week, or even more, sometimes the frequency slows a little. Productivity depends on my mood, my preoccupations, my creativity – all the usual factors. The new painting. Entitled THERE'S NO TURNING BACK, this picture seems to embody a curious blend of the calm and the vertiginous, even the obsessive. Currently in my life I am engaged in a few matters which frighten me to a degree, but I am always of the belief that such matters must be confronted and that, indeed, there is no turning back. I feel very vulnerable at present, though, and this may manifest in my paintings. THERE'S NO TURNING BACK - Haydn Dickenson (2023). Oil on Canvas, 76 x 102 cm unframed. We can never truly turn back, for steps retraced and then retrodden are always made in the light of the previous ones; they are not fresh. In the same way, a statement can never be made again in the same way – it always involves different words, or a subtly different inflection in the voice. “Screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail” (William Shakespeare). The aims of artfullyabstractedblog.com These are: To offer an insight into my work, my influences, and my cultural milieu. To share with my readers some of my views on abstract art and art in general and, hopefully, to provoke some debate. To dispel, I hope, a little of the stigma surrounding abstract art. I feel abstraction is still distrusted by some, derided by others, and feared by plenty. So often, I encounter the slightly flustered, nervous statement “Oh, I don't understand abstract art” or even “I don't understand art”. You don't have to understand art to love it or, indeed, to hate it; either standpoint is valid! A certain contextual appreciation can be illuminating though, and I have received many heart-warming comments about, for instance, my articles about the origins of abstraction, and archetypal symbols in abstract art. I am so grateful that you, my readers, find them interesting and stimulating. That will do for today. Please keep sharing my blog, and let's get it to the Half-Century for which my agent is pressing me, by the month of June. I think we can make that! Copyright Haydn Dickenson 2023