One advantage of the dismal weather where I live (Scotland) is the constant rain on the rugged terrain of the more rural areas makes for jaw-droppingly gorgeous landscapes. Perhaps partly because of this there seem to be many tremendously talented painters in Scotland producing amazing work. I’m always disappointed when I go to contemporary art shows in London because quite apart from everything being shockingly expensive (I’ve been known to ask if the correct number of zeros were on a price tag), a lot of the work down south seems to be that of artists who are uninspired and so churn out derivative or weak stuff that’s either been done before (shock tactics and is-this-art? posing a la Marcel Duchamp) or work that shows little artistic talent or else is so up its own arse in terms of conceptual game-playing that you wonder if the artist is hiding behind a pillar clutching his sides as the likes of Saatchi fork out millions.
By contrast the Scottish painters whose work I’ve loved for the past 20 years often paint representative work showing the beauty of their country. When I say representative I only mean the subject is recognisable, I don’t mean that it’s painted in a dull, unimaginative painting-by-numbers way like the landscapes you see used to see hanging on the railings of Hyde Park on a Sunday. Rather, those Scottish artists I love use their own idiosyncratic styles, whether it’s combining the smudge and blur of impressionism with their own distinctive mark or using bold textures and brushstrokes to make their work original.
One of the Scottish artists whose work I’ve loved for over a decade is Davie Smith. Davie paints not only landscapes but seascapes and skyscapes. I own a couple of his watercolours and they still make me hold my breath in awe when I catch a glimpse of them. Great watery washes of sky in swirling blues, pale violets and seductive aquamarines with slivers of clouds chasing across the expanse. Vast stretches of sea, the depth and mystery captured with stunning acuity and talent. Little bothies and cottages nestled amidst breathtaking landscapes. Boats in harbours, morose-looking fish, clucking hens - those scenes that make the remote areas of this brooding country so beautiful. Davie has won several highly prestigious prizes – I first came across his work at the Royal Glasgow Institute annual exhibition in 2001 when he had won the coveted David Cargill Prize . Since then he has won the Winsor and Newton Award at the 2009 RSW (Royal Scottish Watercolourists) annual exhibition and the Adam Award at the 2010 Paisley Art Institute (PAI) annual exhibition. He exhibits regularly at the RSW, RGI, RSA (Royal Scottish Academy) and PAI annual exhibitions.
You wouldn’t think it to meet him though – a more modest and down-to-earth guy is hard to imagine. He spends his weekends climbing and takes his paints with him.
There are many qualities of his work that I love: the expanses of colour, one shade merging into another in his watercolours; the oil textures that stand out from the canvas giving the picture a three dimensional aspect that you feel you could climb into; the way seemingly random specks and brushstrokes of colour coalesce to form an organic whole.
You can see some of Davie’s art on his website:
or
He currently has an exhibition in the small gallery space upstairs at The Mussel Inn at 157 Hope Street, Glasgow, G2 2UQ, website
http://www.mussel-inn.com/gallery
I’ve already been seduced by two of the exhibits there and snapped them up.
(PS If any IT boffins know how to show the paintings on Davie’s website on this blog page, I’d be very grateful.)
2 Responses to Davie Smith, landscape artist.
Just had a look at his website – I like his work. Like the muted palette. Seem to remember some paintings in that style hanging in your flat – maybe they were his?
Well remembered, Stephen, I have two of his watercolours. And ‘muted palette’ is a very apt description of his favoured shades and tones – while he largely avoids the fiery colours of fauvism, he doesn’t go for pastels either but those subtle colours you’ve noted. The pale duns and bicuit shades of his cottages and land make the more piercing but still washy, dreamy colours he uses for sea or sky really stand out.