There are some drawings of my sleeping parents having an afternoon snooze way back in the late 90s. I have gone back to these drawings to create a colourful painting out of memories and current experiences.
The sketches were over 20 years old. There are no reference photos, so I recreated the scene from memory and imagination. I found this very freeing. I also love the long width format, something I repeated in my harbour view of Essaouira.
My mother really did have a gold-beige chaise longue and my father has a wing chair (though it isn’t red and stripey!). Their house is full of art but the monoprint on the wall is one I haven’t yet made, with some of my favourite masks (like a stencil in reverse). My mother’s dress was from Next and my sister and I also had it in different colourways. She embroidered the cushions, though in more naturalistic colours. I like the cyanotype look!
You can buy this, or a print of it. Do get in contact!
Back in the 90s
I have made several attempts to paint my sleeping parents between 1996 and 1997. At this time my models were in their late fifties, younger than I am now! The sketches of them (Roger and Kristin) asleep were snatched from life, so they didn’t have to pose. After that, there was searching for reference, such as the wallpaper attempt, which was fun but very much not my parents’ vibe.
Whatever configuration I ended up with, Kristin was going to snooze on her own favourite chaise longue, which she and Roger dragged out of a skip in the 60s and then recovered in straw coloured velvet. The legs are from an old piano. I have caught the habit of sitting sideways on a sofa from her. Ask anyone.
Two years ago, frustrated at not being able to show anyone the acrylic (or oil?) painting I eventually made, I turned out all the drawers of my plan chest (also rescued from the trash, this time by my brother-in-law, Martin Earlam). It was at the bottom of a drawer, rather drab as many of my “proper” paintings of the 90s were (but by no means all). So I traced it, as I did with the double self portrait, onto watercolour paper. I then had another go, with gorgeous, warm tones of quinacridone gold, among others. It acquired a plant and some jazzy fabric. The composition works this time. The final result is an expression of my love for these two people who gave me life, when they were so very young.
My father doesn’t like it much. Which is understandable. I expect he prefers images of them sailing or camping, or at a Baroque music concert. He’s a lovely man. And she was everything.