Inspiration

1960

     By 1960 the track of my life had been scribbled on a ten-foot canvas with a red 'fineliner' pen, moving as it did with all the directional predictability of a housefly looking for mischief. Then, at a certain point, it crossed a slightly bolder line of royal blue.

     Mr Ruddick was suddenly there - as if he had always been. Standing almost to attention with his stylish Errol Flynn moustache, well-polished brogues, immaculate blue suit and Windsor knotted striped tie. He announced his arrival as our new art teacher, and it was almost love at first sight for me. It filled me with absolute excitement - not the kind of excitement Julie Baker from class 2 delivered, that was quite a different kind. I hung on his every word (whereas I didn't pay much attention to what Julie said, I just wanted to cuddle her).

     Mr Ruddick talked of Turner, Constable, Picasso and Caravaggio although, without question, his favourite was Raphael. No books or pictures, just the names and colourful inspirational stories.

Later in life I heard Michael Caine on television saying that the job of a school was to teach children how little they know. "If you can do that" he said, "they'll teach themselves". Well, I'm not sure how great a theory that is but it was at least partly true of Mr Ruddick.

     At lunch times, I took to walking down to the Shipley Art Gallery in Gateshead to see if I could sort out the good from the bad and the ugly. It was great, although, curiously enough, the most memorable exhibits were the large white marble statues in the entrance that made you feel like you were definitely in the right place to study art. There was a muscular bloke walking a lion on a thick lead and a beautiful figure of a woman bathing - which I don't think was totally wasted on the boys from my school. Her naked left breast was bared and had a much shinier finish than the rest of the piece indicating the boy's constant physical appreciation of her beauty.

Through studying the paintings at the Shipley Art Gallery I started to notice and admire some of the tricks and techniques the artists had used. One picture in particular featured a distant village, and I wondered how the artist had painted so much fine detail. It wasn't until I moved closer that I discovered how he had tricked me.

Thick cream paint with deep random brush marks had created wrinkles and crevices. Presumably, this paint had then been allowed to dry and the physical modelling had then been flooded with thinner navy-blue paint. Then, the blue on the top surface of the cream had been wiped away so as to create the illusion of tiny cream rooftops and other features picked out from the even tinier navy-blue shapes in the crevices. It fooled the viewer into believing they could see detail that wasn't really there. See 'use of glazes' in the tutorial.

Another painting was a portrait of an old woman and part of her hair was so thin and wispy, which on closer inspection just wasn't there either. Help, I've been tricked again! See 'use of scumbles' in the tutorial.

     At one of our first lessons with Mr Ruddick, he announced a competition which included all the other schools in Gateshead. The theme was road safety.

I decided to make my entry poster-size and that it would feature a boy cycling along with his hands in his pockets (we all knew this was dangerous but did it all the same). The front wheel of the bicycle I turned into a roulette wheel. I 'cheated' the angle of the wheel for greater effect and took great delight in painting it as realistically as possible. The colours, numbers and the four-armed chrome plated spinning spindle - discovering that you don't need silver paint to illustrate chromium. Just black and white! The headline was "Don't gamble your life on the wheel of fortune". It won the first prize and remained in pride of place in the hall until I left the school.

Towards the end of one lesson, I was just completing a painting of a Spanish Galleon silhouetted against a red sunset as Mr Ruddick stood watching me finishing it off. 

Then, he quietly slid into my personal space and asked in a whisper how I would feel about giving it to him. I was delighted that he should appreciate my work  and inside I screamed with delight. But, on the outside, I suppressed my enthusiasm, just replying with a quiet, staccato "yeh" - and a deadpan expression.

He asked me to come with him and we left the classroom where we both stood while the rest of the class watched us through the windows (normally this was how he gave people a real dressing down). He talked to me about not appreciating the talent I had, and that I shouldn't be too ready to part with my work. I was so embarrassed, and I'm sure I didn't take it in the way he intended, but simply as a professionally delivered admonishment. My delight had turned to misery in the space of minutes. If only we could revisit these times in our lives and apply the experience we have acquired in intervening years.

Without question, the day that left the deepest imprint on my memory during all my school years was my final day, thanks to Mr. Ruddick.

During the morning we'd been allowed to play board games and generally mess about, but Mr Ruddick had also announced that in the afternoon he would be talking to us about 'the facts of life' before sending us on our way. The mere mention of this sparked a wave of bubbling excitement, particularly among the boys, who were fizzing with anticipation throughout lunch.

In the event, it turned out to be quite different to what was expected but I am sure much more valuable than anything the birds and the bees had to offer. His advice stayed with me for the rest of my life.

*Always keep clean and smell nice because sooner or later everyone notices.

*Try to stay friends with everyone, even when it's difficult.

*Tell the truth even when it's hard to do so.

*Sing and dance every day, it keeps you fit and it keeps you happy.

*Work hard and try your best to enjoy it.

I always intended someday taking up painting with oils - like the 'real artists' whose work hung in the Shipley Art Gallery. The first stage of this plan would involve seeking the advice of Mr Ruddick on what paints to buy and how to use them. I don't know why but I just assumed he would be a great artist and know everything there was to know about all the technique required to get great results. However, when I left school, I simply didn't get round to it, there were too many distractions, competing interests that squeezed art out of the picture – mainly girls, music and motorbikes - so I didn't do it.

Year after year, I didn't do it, but always remembered Mr Ruddick with great fondness.