‘tracks, prints and paths’ ravilious

‘Tracks, prints and paths’ is a phrase used by Robert Macfarlane describing Eric Ravilious’ interaction with the South Downs in Macfarlane’s book ‘The Old Ways’ but James Russell is the recognised authoritative voice on Ravilious. Many images from Ravilious in Pictures published by The Mainstone Press are appearing on the web just now so I thought to put together my limited narrative of the Footsteps of Ravilious day exploring the South Downs landscape that inspired him. An event organised by the Towner, where many of his watercolour drawings are in the permanent collection.

Agricultural landscapes were his love . . . . .  and appropriately we started our day at East Dean Farm sitting by the pond that he used as subject matter. This view sets the scene well although now quite gentrified (someone has ‘lined’ the pond) and the farm is now used as a wedding venue as well as a rare breeds sheep farm.

On to the chalk cliffs of Newhaven harbour and the west pier, where the tumps in the landscape (shown below) were made to house lunette batteries that protected the sea defences from invasion by Napoleon.

My view out to sea and, below  ‘Newhaven Harbour’ a lithograph that Ravilious tagged as ‘Hommage to Seurat’.

We follow the line of the Ouse to the north and start the slow climb up Itford Hill carpeted in cowslips . . .

. . and reach the view of Muggery Poke, now abandoned, but a landmark for those who wish to fly . . . and float. All the four legs remain oblivious.

Ravilious experienced a busier use of the agricultural landscape. Mount Caborn in the distance.

Looking down from Bedingham Hill, signs remain of the old chalk pits and Cement Works no 2 that closed in 1968. Barges travelled up and down the Ouse carrying cement. Eventually this became a landfill site  – the black pipes that release the methane are still visible before the gorse and scrubby hawthorn reclaim the area. Ravilious made some studies of the pits, the workings  and the railway.

The sinuous path of the Ouse is quite beautiful . . .

. . .  as is the river Cuckmere in Cuckmere Haven – watercolour by Ravilious.  We drop down passing  Coombe Barn and The Lay turning up the track where the fever wagons were placed. And arrive at Furlongs, the home of Peggy Angus, but owned by a Mr Wilson who managed the cement works. Angus and Ravilious were great friends and she remains an important figure in circle of artists and craft makers here at this time. Furlongs was the gathering point.

Ravilious considered that what he discovered during spells at Furlongs was fundamental : “…altered my whole outlook and way of painting, I think because the colour of the landscape was so lovely and the design so beautifully obvious … that I simply had to abandon my tinted drawings”.

One water wheel is still in-situ by Little Dean . . .

. . on to Firle where the lilac blooms were just breaking forth. And into the walled garden where plastic sheeting has replaced the green house glass. Military canes at the ready to support tomatoes and the almost exact point from where Ravilious made his composition for ‘The Greenhouse: Cyclamen and Tomatoes’.

As the exploration came to an end, I thought about the changes in the landscape 80 years on since Ravilious had captured and executed his visions. A good deal of the South Downs is a National park and there are 37 Sites of Special Scientific Interest. This wikipedia link is helpful in understanding the changes in agricultural practice here. And to close, this front garden of one of the village cottages packed with aquilegia and bluebells retains a sense of the past – cottage gardens are back in fashion.

Now a little bit of nostalgia. Below is a water colour drawing by Edward Bawden of his friend ‘The Boy’, Eric Ravilious in his Studio at Radcliffe Road’. They became friends meeting at the Royal College. Bawden, John Nash and Philip Ardizzone taught me at Colchester School of Art.  Edward and John Nash, both small in stature, were impeccably dressed  in tweed suits with waistcoats and perfectly knotted ties. I’m afraid we students were not dressed in a similar manner, after all it was the late 60’s  . . . flares and mini skirts. They would spend quite a while just giggling at private jokes – a sweet pair. I’m embarassed to say that we didn’t really know who these talented tutors were but we did respect and appreciate the knowledge that they imparted and their sense of civility. Bawden taught me to carve perfect circles with a lino cutter but mine were never up to his standard!

This post has connections with Ravilious too. And invaluable reading: ‘Eric Ravilious Memoir of an Artist’ – Helen Binyon and ‘Eric Ravilious Imagined Realities’ – Alan Powers.

A sulky lad scuffs idly through the scree

head down beneath a kite cart-wheeling sky.

Daedalus seals his art to set him free,

pinions fulmar feathers waxed and dry

onto the golden shoulders of his son.

‘Swoop down too low, the sea will drown your wings.

The great sun which fires my tears and stings

Your eyes’, Icarus stumble into flight,

Stretching his wings through a May soaring day,

Higher and higher from his father’s sight.

He reaches for heaven; suns flame his way.

Feathered keenings close a reckless flight.

A falling lullaby of dripping light. Pam Hughes Rite of Passage.

may day and a man

Today, May 1st, a walk beckoned to loosen up stiff limbs from days sitting in cars, sitting at desks, sitting doing drawings on screen, sitting . . . although a session of  stretching in a yoga class was helpful last night.  A walk to the The Long Man at Wilmington was an attractive idea that quickly evolved into a necessity.  This man is a landmark clearly visible from the road and the train that connects Eastbourne to Brighton. He’s also called the Giant and the Green Man and, is thought to be from the Iron Age or neolithic period, but is most likely 16th or 17th C.  On the journey from the village  to the point where the visitor can climb up gradually to his feet, he plays the game of hiding and then being revealed.

Eric Ravilious painted this view in water colours at the start of the 2nd war. Interesting to read his fascination with chalk figures.

At  70m in length, so the height of 40 men, but with no visible baggage. Is he a eunuch? I’m afraid I got a little bored with him especially on discovering that he isn’t made from chalk at all but from concrete blocks  . . .  .   and turned to look about to the surrounding views but thought how lucky he is to see these views all of the time.

Stunning wind swept hawthorns litter the Downs here and reminded me of a painting by Harold Mockford,  ‘Asleep on the Downs’, which is the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning.

Primroses and wild violets carpet the tufty grassy surface we walk on and skylarks swoop in pairs above our heads . . .

. . . .  towards Newhaven, where Harold  lives, a rather interesting pincer movement of landscape features swirl around the rising land and,  just turning to Birling Gap, the White Horse becomes visible.

Tumuli and chalk pits provide the ups and the downs of this landscape occupied by the ‘locals’ .

Before the crops fully vegetate, the strong echoing lines of the machine rolling over the landscape are still visible . . . .

. .  chalk and flint, the indigenous materials of  The Sussex Downs.

When I walk up on the downs

I think of things you nearly said.

Skylarks broke through the cloudless skies,

bristly oxtongue snared my boots.

I’m sorry that I went away.

 In the grass which we had flattened

purple clover kissed wild thyme.

I looked at you. You had not spoken

chalk and wind and sea blown words.

Untroubled plantain gazed at us,

salad burnet, hurt, eyebright.

We could make it work this time.

 Only mouse-ears heard the things,

high on the downs, you early said. Pam Hughes. Whispers