The Joy of Sketch
David Clark
It’s my middle daughter, Zara’s
fault. I didn’t take Art as an option at school – a decision which failed to
elicit wails and gnashings of teeth from Mr. Sherlock, the Art teacher. Having
completed a degree in ceramics, Zara wanted to keep her hand in, as it were,
and so she found the Afan Nedd Artist’s group. I’ve always sketched, after a
fashion, and so I was interested, and offered to accompany her to her first
meeting, in June 2015. All of the Artists in the group work exclusively in
paint, and so Zara decided it was not for her. She went. I stayed.
When I talk about the group, people
often think it’s some sort of class – indeed the memsahib insists on calling it
that. It really isn’t, there’s no formal teaching element, although I’ve
learned a lot from the others. We just meet on a Wednesday evening, and work on
whatever piece we’re working on in a convivial atmosphere with like-minded
people. I felt a bit daunted at first. For one thing, all the others seemed so
confident. More than that, I thought – and still do – that some of them are
very talented. So I played it safe for my first couple of months, sketching
first in pencil, and then making my first ever charcoal pictures, one of which
was this locomotive.
I paint now as well, but I’m under no
illusions about the pictures I produce. I’m an amateur – an enthusiastic
amateur, true, but at best a leisure painter. Still, in a very short space of
time I went from being someone who didn’t like even the other members of the
Artists’ Group looking at my pictures, to someone who would gladly plaster
their pictures all over the internet. It’s not that by doing so I’m trying to
say – isn’t this good? – as I said, I’m under no illusions there. If I’m saying
anything it’s – what do you think about it? - But I do genuinely love the idea
of people looking at them, even when it results in criticism. If people tell me
they don’t like something about a painting or a sketch, well, at least it means
that they have looked at it in the first place, and often they have a genuine
point.
Painting, and taking sketching more
seriously, has had a beneficial effect on me. It’s tremendously therapeutic,
and has helped me through a couple of extremely difficult years, at work in
particular. When I’m out and about I find myself looking at things differently
from the way I used to – and looking at different things from the things I used
to. I love buildings, and last summer I learned about Urban Sketching, since
when I rarely leave the house without at least a small sketchbook and a pencil
or an inkpen with me. Sometimes I might use the sketches I produce as the basis
of a painting, more often I just keep them as a record of my progress or
otherwise.
This sketch of Ypres Cloth Hall I made while sitting in a café literally
in its shadow. I found that while Brits are usually pretty reserved, and won’t
approach you while you’re sketching unless encouraged, the good burghers of
Ypres were a lot more friendly and forthcoming.
Making that sketch last August was probably the only time that I really
felt like a proper artist. 
That was made last August, shortly before
I found a sketching pen that I really liked. This is my first pen and ink
sketch of Baglan Church in Port Talbot. It’s very simple, but actually I rather
like that, and it does look like the church does, which is always a nice thing
when you’re sketching. However, I’d like
to think that I’m capable of producing pictures which are a little more
sophisticated now.
On a crisp Saturday morning in early
September I sat on a bench in Swansea and made this sketch, which I think shows
some development from the previous. Twelve months ago I’m sure that I wouldn’t
have looked twice at the wonderful windows above the Bonmarche shop, but that’s
what I meant when I said that taking sketching seriously means that I look at
things differently now.
Mind you, I think you have to be
careful sometimes. The Memsahib and I stayed in Devon in September at the
Puffing Billy Guest House in Torrington during our 30th anniversary.
The Puffing Billy is the old Station Master’s house, and sits right on the Tarka
Trail. Mary’s words were, and I quote – “If you think you’re going to spend
hours sitting down and sketching this building this weekend, think again matey
boy.” So when I did make this sketch it was before she woke up on the Sunday
morning. Possibly the mogadon that I slipped into her cocoa the night before
might’ve helped there.
This next picture I did standing near
Addyman’s book shop in Hay on Wye, and it took about 45 minutes if I recall
correctly. You don’t have to look all that closely to see where I went wrong
and had to take some remedial action with it.
During the Autumn I sketched quite a
few of the more interesting buildings in Port Talbot – yes, we DO have some,
thanks for asking – and this had a surprising benefit. The last sketch I want
to share with you shows the Express café in Margam. Time was that every South
Wales town, and many villages as well, had their own Italian café. Thankfully
Margam still has the Express, owned by the Tambini family. I sketched this one
fairly early on a Sunday morning in October. I posted it on Facebook, as I
usually do, and thought no more of it. Unbeknownst to me, my eldest daughter
showed it to one of her work colleagues, who’s a friend of the Tambini family.
The upshot of this was that they bought the sketch from me, and now it features
on their menus and wine labels. And I’m honest enough to admit that every time
that I go into the café – a lot more often now than I used to, I might add– I
get a little thrill from looking at the menu and thinking – I did that. 
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