Brian Douglas Morrison

Hallo,

don't worry, I am back again,

Brian M

In the past there were many artists who worked in "series", as is still the case today. That is, they were occupied with works which all treated a single subject, were executed in a certain manner or style, thus, oeuvres which bear a recognizable similarity in one way or another. This approach enables an artist to concentrate his mind on a particular technique and perhaps come closer to perfection.

I discovered a few years ago that having two projects open at once can have a further advantage. Some days I may get a little tired of a theme, begin to doubt whether the results are really worth while. It is a simply of state of temporary saturation. That is the moment to switch back to a former series and try taking a familiar idea a step further. Everything seems fresh all of a sudden. After a certain absence, my vision is clearer, decisions come more easily.

One of the most famous painters renowned for working deliberately in series was Claude Monet. He began working in this way in the 1880s and continued until the end of his life in 1926. The subject concerned was depicted in varying light and weather conditions. His first "series" exhibited as such was that of the Haystacks. During his visits to London between 1900 and 1904 it was a series of paintings of the British House of Parliament.

Of course, working as an abstract artist today, one is conscious that the world of art has greatly changed. Nevertheless, many arguments for the notion of "series" still remain valid. In the case of Monet, it was the subject which remained constant in an impressionist series. I was thinking, however, more of a certain way of seeing and interpreting things, a particular visual language or style, for example. It takes study, time and materials to develop a new skill, so it is not surprising if one wants to concentrate on it for a time. There is also the question of memory. Especially senior artists may find it difficult to recall what particular paints, type of gesso, plastic wrap or spattering technique was used for a particular effect. A notebook or voice recorder to hand is useful but, in the heat of the creative battle, we are less willing to break our train of thought.

One of the reasons I first wanted to work in series was that, after several years, I needed to put my work into categories. There was too much difference between my early calligraphic, collage works and the abstract vectorial series. Certainly, most gallery owners will tell you they prefer to consider a comprehensive series from an artist. They may well consider such a person more "professional"! But it is simply the fact that I find it it hard to believe that works in my capillary series are likely to appeal to observers who specially admire my vectorial pictures, and vice versa.
Brian D. Morrison, copyright © 2013

Brian D. Morrison was born in 1934 as the second son of the Glasgow paint and colour manufacturer Douglas L. Morrison. So an interest in colour mixing came early. He first studied interior design at the Royal College of Arts and Crafts in London, later, foreign languages at the Interpreter’s Institute in Munich (1962-65).


After teaching English in the latter college for some time, he finally became independent as a translator. A more direct contact with art and design came back in the late seventies when he started to work freelance for several publishing houses in Germany.

This occupation, involving writing, editorship and translation for art and photography magazines, continued after moving from Germany to southern France in 1984. From 1998 onwards, Brian then progressively found more time for his personal creation.
Understandably inspired by the visual arts throughout this 35-year occupation, a deeper interest in montage/collage, surrealism and graphics developed. In a way, it can be seen as a return to design but, after the turn of the century, the focus shifted more towards abstract art and modern calligraphy. One can still notice, here and there, a special interest in lettering and the written word within works of art. This inclination, curiously present in the work of many other artists, has been diversely called “Word into Art”, “The Word as Image”, “Les mots et les images”, etc. Quite in keeping with this phenomenon is a series of Invoices or letterheads from the late 19th century to which he has applied his personal designs.

In addition to experiments into the wonders of capillary attraction, his preferred occupation in the coming year is likely to remain the linear or vectorial watercolors.

Chantal Reymond, Beaux Arts de Paris

Artists are expected to ‘state’ something about their oeuvres. Well, I do not belong to that category of contemporary artist who is intent on subjecting the observer to a rude shock – simply for the sake of being “different” at all costs.

Once an idea is born, there is a certain pleasure in the obedience of the hands to the eye as they translate the concept into reality. That is why I do it. Nature always has been my greatest source of inspiration. Tropical fish in an aquarium, the wings of an Amazonian butterfly: here man has to accede that his imagination falls short of nature’s ingenuity. This is particularly true when one takes a close-up view of nature’s organic creations. Magnification permits the artist to communicate delicate design qualities which escape the viewer’s attention in the object’s real size.

For a further discussion, please use the Contact link.

To see an enlarged section of a picture, click on its thumbnail. Use your browser’s left green arrow to return. All works were produced on coated heavyweight Arches or Canson papers, notably Montval of 300 gram. The sizes vary between 18 x 24 and 40 x 50 cm.
The current series concerns designs of a linear or vectorial character using pastels, crayon, acrylics or gouache as well as Indian ink (Rohrer). Again in this series one is likely to encounter the additional technique of collage, but it is not systematic. These additional elements are mostly ancient documents from around the turn of the 19th century.

Are these subjects abstract or still figurative? It is up to the observer to decide whether he or she detects anything recognizable or not. Do not be mislead by any title given by the artist; it may just have served as an aid while trying to catalogue a list of oeuvres.

When surfing through Internet sites intended to encourage artists to show their work, I am surprised at some people's concept of the word "abstract". Is there any real "law"? Not exactly, every painter has the right to interpret the term at his or her own will. However, in the course of the last century, certain guide lines were established in the art world as to what "abstract art" imports. Moreover, we can always fall back on the verbal dictionary definitions. "Having only intrinsic form with no attempt at pictorial representation", is what Webster's dictionary states.

Serious artists are obliged to categorize their oeuvres for diverse reasons. If these works are to be exhibited, become the subject of criticism or you want to post images on the Internet alongside many others, it saves the collector and art enthusiast much time if they can search using generic categories or keywords, such as 'impressionist', 'conceptual', 'abstract', etc. It is important to get as close as possible – or leave it out entirely.

The discussion I would like to open is that these virtual galleries or sites for artists ought to recognize their responsibility and ensure that inscribed members categorize their works in an honest and precise manner. Art-orientated sites such as AbsoluteArts, Wotartist or ArtSlant are likely to have a team of competent collaborators, some of whom have an education in art history. Hence, they are qualified for editing incoming work.

On certain art sites I have often come across a picture in which a flower, portrait or animal was clearly recognizable in the thumbnail, yet the work had nevertheless been categorized as "abstract". Sure, in the manual execution there may have been a certain degree of abstraction, but the physical object could be plainly recognized. So, does this still fall under the term "abstract art" or should it be described differently? Nobody will argue that most paintings by Roberto Magnelli or Piet Mondrian are totally abstract. Yet, what about an engraving called "The Cats" by Johnny Friedlaender? If he had not added this title I doubt if I would have recognized anything. But I agree, he had the right. So, it appears some painters have got the wrong idea about "abstract", the term is just too convenient.

Brian D. Morrison, copyright © 2013

ArtMajeur Award for 2009 received.

Lodève 2008.
Expo for Montpellier 2010 in preparation.