A trip to the mountains, part 2; large Brazillian cities

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View from a valley, oil on card, 14 x 9.6 cm

 

A community in a mountain valley, oil on card, 9.4 x 6.6 cm discarded

Two more paintings from one of the valleys near  Morro de Campestre. The little houses, which are often wooden and tiled, huddle at the base of  splendid mountains.

Large Brazillian cities are extremely ugly, unless they have the fortune to be sited as impressively as Rio. (Florianopolis is not beautiful -though you might hear people say it is- what is attractive about it is the closeness and variety of its natural surroundings).

The Brazillian inability, or refusal, to plan, their lack of understanding of public space and their instinct to merely improvise, or sort something out at the last minute means that anything which needs large scale co-ordination often goes terribly wrong, so that all large Brazillian cites are largely squalid, ugly monstrosities, crime infested, grafitti covered, filthy rat-holes, containing significant areas of extreme poverty and social degradation (usually, for visitiors and the rich there are showcase tourist streets and enclaves for those with private wealth to escape to - shopping malls, restaurants, posh condominiums, fancy gyms etc).

These cultural failings do not affect so negatively smaller places, and I believe there is a cultural element at play too in the Urubici area, which is that the cultures which lent the mountians their native populations are generally central European. They came there with the specific intent of creating a worthwhile life for themselves through their own labours. They do not have the negative attitudes towards work commonly seen in latin or slave populations.

Having had a British education, I aquired this sneaking admiration for people who don't want to work, but the truth is that people who are not industrious are rarely creative either, and all this means that Brazil is less interesting in terms of culture than it might be: certainly, there is not much happening here in Florianopolis.

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A trip to the mountains, part 1

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 Hills, oil on card, 9.7 x 7 cm

Two horses in a field, oil on card, 10.1 x 7 cm - discarded

A first selection of paintings from my recent trip to the Catarinense mountains, which is an extremely beautiful place, very clean and unspoilt with smallholdings, orchards, little herds of cattle and chickens. The people I stayed with kept bees too.

I much prefer it there to Florianopolis where I live. The people of the mountains are German and East European in origin and are reflective, industrious and orderly. They people are friendly and courteous without indulging in that excess of hugging that characterises less European parts of Brasil and the coast.

The middle painting here shows something of the influence of William Gillies and Joan Eardley: this is partly in the thick textures and the strong colours but also in the compositional structure, where fairly simple profiles play against flat bands of colour.

Clouds

Clouds, 2011, oil on card, 7 x 9.5 cm

Tomorrow this time I shall be on my way to the mountains. Let's hope it doesn't rain too badly and I can do some good work

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps (2010): review: 1/10

Notorious financier Gecko is released from prison, writes a book and gives lectures. His dreary daughter is having a relationship with a young broker with an effeminate manner*  and big dark eyes: thanks in part to Gecko this fellow sees the light and rejects the wicked ways of speculative capitalism.

This results in the usual macho posturing in boardrooms as well as supposedly creepy meetings and conversations with his mentor.

This is a long, preachy and joyless film, an utter stinker, which even Douglas cannot save from tedium.

*Don't you think he looks rather like the Marc Almond in his "Tainted Love" days?

Wuthering Heights (1939): review: 7/10

In Yorkshire, a foundling is adopted by a family which has a son and a daughter: the first seeks to oppress him, with the second commences a passionate love.

Solidly made, with some excellent photography, and acting, the film is too bound by British politeness to touch the elements of madness than animate Bronte's book.

The television in room 202 at the Rex Hotel, Pelotas, New Year's Eve, 2010

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The television, Rm 202 at the Rex Hotel, Pelotas, New Year's Eve, 2010 - available

oil/ card, 7.4 x 9.5 cm

I do not reccomend this hotel, which is filthy and run by some extremely surly women. They told me that they do not serve breakfast on New Year's  day because it is a holiday. The rooms themselves are pretty awful, shabbily decorated and with work out furnishings. On New Year's Eve I spend a good hour killing mosquitos and trying to ignore the racket coming from downstairs (karaoke) or adjacent rooms.

As for painting: I did little on this trip. It seemed better to spend my time taking photos. I'll probably do more in the country, later this week, because I'll be moving about much less and therefore in a better frame of mind to paint. If my surroundings are too unfamiliar, painting isn't easy; contrawise, if they are too familiar, a sort of visual boredom ensues and it's impossible to feel any inspiration.

Airport, Florianopolis: a short story

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Airport, Florianopolis

They wait: they sit and wait to get to another place.

Sometimes they return, sometimes they don't.

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