“Barron Falls”, drawings 1 to 4, 2017

James Brown

“Barron Falls”, drawings 1 to 4, 2017

Sketchbook drawings

Size: 21 x 13 cm

These drawings were created over the course of several months, during my time spent in doctors' and dentists' waiting rooms. I discovered that time passes quickly when contemplating how water flows over rocks. While the concept of a waterfall—specifically, a series of tiny cascades that contribute to the grand Barron Falls at Kuranda in North Queensland, Australia—may seem simple, the intricacies of capturing the water's route as it navigates lumps and hollows in the rock face were truly engrossing.

To represent the flow of water, I experimented with smudging pencil marks using my finger and incorporating strokes of colour to convey the overall dynamics of each drawing. Reference photographs provided insight into the broader scene, yet my interest extended beyond mere representation. In my mind's eye, I was crafting a fantasy of movement, with water flowing in various directions, ultimately destined for its downward journey.

“From the Overflow, Lake Tinaroo”, 2024

James Brown

“From the Overflow, Lake Tinaroo”, 2024

Oil on wood panel

Size: 61 x 61 cm

At the beginning of 2024, my friend David Jarman very kindly took Isabelle and me on a drive around the Atherton Tablelands in Far North Queensland, Australia. One of our stops was to see Lake Tinaroo, officially known as the Tinaroo Falls Dam. My recollection of the exact site of the scene has sadly faded from memory, but it was from the top of the spillway to the river below (see reference photo).

The subject, in terms of an arrangement of trees partially blocking and framing the view of a river bend, has a great appeal. In fact, I have painted numerous landscapes based on this composition. For me, there’s an inherent allure in the way that trees can partially obscure a view. This is possibly linked to anticipation about the future—the moment of pause, curiosity and reflection—what lies “around the corner”, but I’m not sure.

As for my choice of medium, lately I prefer to paint on wood panels rather than traditional canvas. The durability of wood allows for a more expressive and dynamic approach to my work. While I don’t aggressively attack the surface, the resilience of wood grants me the freedom to scrape, scumble, and manipulate the paint without fear of damaging the support. In short, I like painting on wood.

Spider Lilies”, 2017

James Brown

“Spider Lilies”, 2017

Oil with pastel and watercolour on canvas

Size: 30 x 25 cm

At the time I made this small painting I was enjoying the idea of using flowers, especially their silhouetted forms, as way of containing, or cupping, a feeling of softness and sadness. My explanation may not pin down with full clarity what I was after, but in essence I wanted to use the colour of flowers—not necessarily the true colours as a naturalist might see—as an expressive equivalent (viz. T.S. Eliot’s “objective correlative”) for how I was feeling. Of course, spider lilies with all their drooping petals and other dangly bits have a history of being used in funerals to connote feelings of loss. Here, however, I saw them as having the perfect creepy forms for symbolically capturing a dark moment of melancholy edged with something close to bitterness. I was a crazy man carrying the weight of the world in his head.

Regarding the technical side of how I made the painting, initially the image was a pastel drawing/painting that was pushed and pulled into being a cohesive image using water and watercolour. The use of water allowed the colours of the pastel to be merged in delicate transitions on the gesso ground. In the final stage, I worked over the pastel with oil paints and an oil medium to stabilise the pastel colours so that they became an intrinsic part of the oil paint film.

“Ross River Screen”, 2015

James Brown

“Ross River Screen”, 2015

Oil on Canvas

Size: 60 x 60 cm

What I find interesting when looking at paintings executed a decade or more ago is how the fundamental structures of my paintings are repeated. I can even speak with confidence in looking back that I like a clear vertical line in the centre of a composition. The reason why I lean to this central placement of a vertical, whether this might be a tree or a line created by the abutment of two forms, must have some deeply rooted significance buzzing around in my head. Mindful that many quirks have an origin, there is likely to be a very good reason why I shouldn’t try to find an explanation or I might end up trying to disguise this disposition if the answer is too weird to accept. Certainly, in this painting there is also a fascination with gaps between trees—the “negative” spaces—and these naturally framed gaps have always been a pictorial device that I enjoy playing with, in terms of a visual play between the reality of tangible forms of trees and the “other” world of intangible voids.

In looking back to the time when I made this painting, I recall wanting to explore the idea of “exploding” negative space (the voids) between trees with the vibrant colours of leaves and a tangle of spindly branches set against the suggestion of a river in the background.