'Describe this in words if you can', challenged Leonardo da Vinci in the margin of one of his anatomical drawings - it was painting that made him famous.
Were he alive today, he would perhaps have been involved in programming computer generated images. He used oil paint in his own time, that being the most modern medium available. Today, static, silent, unscripted images in rectangular frames are no longer able to compete for our interest when every screen has moving images and stereo sound.
Art started in the service of the shaman and chief, then priests and kings, as in Egypt and Mesopotamia. Then it became more democratised as might be found in Ancient Greece with vase illustrations or sculpture.
The ideals of these images were revived in the Renaissance as Bible stories for the semi-literate. After a long, interesting history of diversification, these physical paintings could now be seen as out of date.
Commercialisation, at the hands of Charles Saatchi and others, has led to thorough debasement of art today. It often has such slight content that it is better to keep paintings in a bank vault rather than hanging on a wall, unless one wants to boast of one's wealth, or they match the curtains. With so little content and appeal to the mind in today's art, the custom has grown of giving only a few seconds attention to any painting. Before the modern era, painting was intended to be looked at carefully, every opportunity for scrutiny adding its rewards. In recent times public sculpture is still viable and Banksy's ironic messages have a real following, but we have become ever more distracted in our viewing habits.
Although Hieronymus Bosch and Leonardo were exact contemporaries, Leonardo belongs in history, while strangely (and 'strangely' is the word) the imaginative work of Bosch can still hold our full attention today, even without the advantages of sound or motion. The same may be said of El Greco, Goya, Daumier, Blake and others who used imagination rather than contemporary fashion as their inspiration.
The puppets whose strings are pulled by the Saatchi agency are denied the opportunity of having anything personal to say. Saatchi is the equivalent of the fairground hucksters who used to con the gullible with the promise of seeing a mermaid or similar freaks pickled in formaldehyde - oddly enough the same medium as was used in Damian Hirst's workshop.
Emin's tent (with its blackmail potential), Hurst's diamond skull (with the ugly human teeth) and the more recent banana (which is bound to rot) stuck to a wall - all these are blatantly commercial, and can only be called stunt art. The title given to this single banana - 'Comedian' - brings its immediate comparison with the two conceptual bananas described as stuck in the ears of a man on a bus - prompting a question from a fellow passenger and consequent punch line, 'You'll have to speak up, I've got bananas, stuck in my ears' - Those two bananas are valid, complete wit. You do the maths.
My ambition has been to make old-fashioned art as opposed to the highly commercial products typified by the 1999 Charles Saatchi exhibition, 'Sensation'. He owned the pictures himself, which rose in value as the exhibition toured worldwide (except where the exclusive money motive was scorned.)
My justification for being 'old-fashioned' is to use invention where I can. One idea: one picture, no pot-boilers. This means painting (with obvious exceptions) things that don't exist.
I used memories from my childhood first, and later, myths, legends and the surreal. Knowing my work is out of fashion, I have not tried to sell it, so an almost unbroken collection has built up. My earliest pictures are of experiences before WW2 though not painted until my sixties. Now in my nineties I am often delighted when I come across these fabrications, each original. My brainchildren have lots of faults, but they would be dull brats if they did not have the quirks and serendipity of free imagination. I see invention as the proper basis of any work of art, and hope this rings a bell with others.
Painting is demanding work. Literature can take its time; music too can build up mood in a fourth dimension. The painter must present all his eggs in one, instant basket. But note well - 'image' is the basis of the word 'imagination'!
In the last century, surrealists Leonora Carrington, Dali, Magritte or individuals such as Stanley Spencer all used images with compelling effect. Our dreams, our memories, our hopes for the future surely come as images, often mixed and unbidden, incongruous or metamorphic (as in Dali's Narcissus). Dreams have an erratic continuity! Sadly, the surrealists have become yesterday's artists. In their own time they presented compulsive imagery conjured from free invention.
Narratives, as used by the Pre-Raphaelites, are good themes for invention. Strangely one can't rely on universal knowledge of these stories today, even of Shakespeare. Painters might also use motifs that are personally evocative, thus too esoteric. An example is the back view of mules' heads painted by Stanley Spencer, as he had seen them when using travoys as a medical orderly in WW1. If we know about this, the Beau Claire Chapel murals have deeper meaning. Appreciation often depends upon going half-way to meet the artist. Sometimes they expect rather a lot, as in Magritte's 'Madame Recamier' which is great fun, but aimed at the art world (how many people know the original by J.L. David?). But his 'Not for Reproduction' has immediate impact - still depending on receptivity of course. One student, faced by the original, said it was almost too spooky to look at. (Magritte would have been delighted!) Another, male pupil, intended accountant, dismissed it as being 'wrong'.
We can't all paint like Stanley Spencer, but one can at least follow his unwritten thesis that imagination is a better source for pictures than any other reference. (Although he also painted 'realistic' landscapes, which were more popular in his day.)
In short, apart from still life, portraits, and figures from the life room, I choose topics which guarantee invention. If serendipity can be used, so much the better, which means the finished image can have more than the first intention.
In Samson for instance, I made him tipsy by allowing a lock of hair to fall over his face. Seeing that it was working, I added its shadow, not only making him a bit more drunk but also reinforcing the contour. Delilah's shoulder required form and direction. Three curving lines of tone answered these needs and suggested tresses that were out of sight - three birds with one stone, or three soft brush marks. Painting is hard work, but it has its moments.