West, London
Celia Paul
Diaries
Hazlitt Holland-HibbertFrom a young age Celia Paul has chronicled her life through her art. The people, landmarks, and landscapes so intimately and deeply connected to Paul and her daily life between the years 2011 and 2024 are captured within the exhibited works on paper. These were composed often in a bid to record occasions deemed worthy of recollection or when an event readjusted the artist's perspective. As she herself noted, 'in this respect, they resemble diaries'. Like a diary entry, many of the works are dated, with these annotations being integral to the final image. The dates give a rare clue to a moment of specific significance - the third anniversary of her husband Steven Kupfer's death; a saint's day, such as 14th February; or the artist's birthday. In other works, the dates are withheld. Within these unmarked landscapes, portraits, and still lifes, the impetus remains veiled which only enriches their contemplative and intimate nature. The final work in the show, dated 11 November 2024, gained greater significance to Paul after it was completed. A watercolor of Paul's four sisters - Mandy, Lucy, Jane, and Kate - it marked the artist's birthday. That same day the artist Frank Auerbach died; a dear friend of Paul's, whom she named her son after. The watercolor subsequently took on a profound new poignancy. The power of these works on paper is indebted to the mystery of the visual language which, in contrast to the written word, withholds explicit communication with the viewer. This enigmatic quality leaves the diary entry only partly narrated with the image acting like an echo of the moment recalled by the artist. I don't make studies on paper every day, just when something out of the ordinary occurs - like when I am traveling, or when I have a visitor, or at a moment of unusual intensity when I seem to see my surroundings differently; the works on paper are records of occasions I need to remember: in this respect they resemble diaries. I make drawings in a variety of media: pencil, colored pencil, and watercolor heightened with white pastel, ink, and wash. When I am away from home I record what I see in small sketchbooks. I use the sketches for oil paintings on my return to my studio in Bloomsbury. The works on paper I make in the studio are on a larger scale and rarely form the bases of oil paintings. The paper is attached to a drawing board and placed on an easel so that the verticality of the image is accentuated by drips from the watercolor or ink. They have an openness and drama which contrast with the private intimacy of the studies I make on holiday which are prized from within the covers of my sketchbooks. The dates of both the outdoor and indoor records are integral to the image. They may just denote the year, or the time of year, or relate to a day that has special significance for me, as in 'Tower, Tree, Museum', February 18th, 2020. It is of the view from my window onto the forecourt of the British Museum, behind which I can see the BT Tower. I added the title afterward. The month of February 2020 has a particular poignancy, in retrospect because no one knew what was waiting for them in March: the first month of the long pandemic which caused so many rifts and ruptures. Some of the dates with private references I have kept to myself. In 'Everlasting Spring, Bunch of Dried Flowers, March 2024', I haven't marked that I actually made this watercolor on March 29th. It happened to be the third anniversary of my husband Steven Kupfer's death, as well as being Good Friday. I didn't want to close the image off from more open relevance by including the day in the title. Though all of the works have been made from a deeply personal motive, the dates of some have general significance: 'Delphinium, February 14th', for example, or 'Pink Rosebuds, New Year's Day'. Flowers very often mark occasions: Births, Weddings, Funerals, Public Holidays, Saints' Days. In the last work in the exhibition, the date forms its title: 'November 11th, 2024'. It was my birthday and all my four sisters - Mandy, Lucy, Jane, Kate - arrived to sit for me. The date coincided with the death of the great painter Frank Auerbach, my dear friend. At the time of the sitting, my sisters and I were unaware that he had died earlier that morning. However, there is an uncannily commemorative spirit to this watercolor.