Artist Focus - Caroline McManus

Another manic monday. It was last year on the 11th August I first met Caroline and as usual I had overdone my meetings for the day and was running late. I wanted to see 3 artists in the mill, Caroline wasn't one of them.

In a rural mill in Mosley on the 4th floor, the dark corrugated metal lined corridors had a mad max feel to them. Each of the padlocked doors a route to another world of light and colour.
I had come to see Chris Cyprus but found that he shared a studio with Caroline. In this mill in particular everyone had gone to great lengths to personalise the space around them. Luxuries like rugs, carpet and sofas were commonplace and so walking from the corridor was like stepping off the plane at your holiday destination when you walk into a wall of heat.

We made our greetings, I accepted the obligatory cup of tea and sat on a stool in the section where they both work. The studio was one of the better ones. The highly sought after corner units where you get two sides of windows that fill the space with light. The studio itself was an impressive example of artists ingenuity in furnishing a space in the most functional, cost effective but homely way.

Caroline sat and chatted with us as I asked Chris about his work and told him of my plans for the gallery of dreams. Chris was a nice guy but ultimately sceptical about what a gallery could do for him. I come across people like that every now and again who think they can do a better job of selling their own work. The truth is that all the well know artists in the country have only been able to achieve long term success through a network of established galleries.

After looking through Chris's work I was intrigued by what Caroline was painting. I find out Caroline is an art teacher and she paints in her spare time wherever she can. Chris is full time, it is largely his studio and Caroline merely makes cameo appearances. For this reason, and in this space, I didn't take her as seriously as I do now. Lesson learned.

They had sensibly sectioned off a small gallery area and Caroline's work was leant against the wall. When I saw Carolines Work I liken it to a humble X Factor contestant giving their first performance. All the evidence would suggest an uninspiring performance where Simon Cowel would lambast the mediocrity of it all. In truth it was a moment where in a couple of seconds it was clear she had serious talent, blasting out an operatic performance that makes you gasp.

The colours hit me as if I had chomped down on a piece of lemon. Sharp, bold and confident. I looked at a large painting of a cow in a bright, almost flourescent green background. I loved it immediately and knew that others would feel the same.

Cows have always held a fascination for her. Their large lumbering forms and inquisitive nature is something she loves to photograph when she is out walking around Saddleworth. She told me she likes to think of food when she paints. Some of them are flavours of ice cream and some are fruity. She had some portraits too and we are now looking at bringing some of these into her collection displayed at mooch.


Since this meeting Caroline has become a best selling artist and her confidence has increased. People love her work and when they have one, they just want to buy another. Her work has universal appeal and always makes people smile. I can imagine people buying her paintings of cows in India where they are sacred or in Argentina where they just like cows for another reason.

Caroline delivered another 5 pieces a few days ago for the current exhibition. They look the business.

Artist focus - Malcolm Croft

I met him 20 minutes late. I had been waiting at the opposite entrance to the mill feeling like a bit of a lemon. The security guard was eyeing me suspiciously, trying to suss out whether I was up to no good.
Malcolm came round the corner and said he had been waiting at the other entrance. We both apologized, an innocent mistake. We climbed the 4 flights to the studio floor of Vernon mill in stockport. I have been to dozens of old textile mills in the northwest but Vernon mill is in better shape than most. They all have a smell that is unique to old industrial buildings. Its kind of a fusty old wood/oily smell that I really enjoy in the same way I kind of like the smell of petrol (in small doses).
On the 4th floor the artists have all made an effort to display their work on the corridor walls. It all looked okay but I was here to see the work from one man alone.
Malcolm unlocked the padlock and led me into his small windowless studio. He brewed a cup of tea and we made small talk.
He is relatively new to painting and briefly tells me his story of how he was knocked of his bike 13 years ago and that left him with chronic back pain. It made him housebound and he had to give up his job as a freelance press photographer. With no formal training he realised he had a natural talent.
We talk through the paintings that are vivid and bright. With no natural light the studio doesn't feel that much worse for it. His paintings are all set within a window frame like wooden surround. Who needs windows anyway, Malcolm's view on the world is what he makes it.
He is frank and open, for someone who has only exhibited professionally for a couple of years he is remarkably clued up on the art industry. Despite what I first thought, he isn't an accidental artist and he is well aware of the pitfalls of the art industry.
His work is bold, simple but carefully considered. He uses oils and thickly applies them in technicolour. It's all still life and is a reflection of his role as a house husband. The table with pot of tea and plates set references family life. The table is set, the daily ritual about to commence. The coffee pot and lemon links to a sunday morning relaxing with the paper. With hints of Van Gogh the simplicity of his work is something that is homely, family oriented and in many ways comforting. Many of the objects are retrospective. The cornishware and coffeepot are memories from Malcolm's childhood in the 70s. For Malcolm these objects from his childhood evoke feelings of strong family bonds, a comforting and homely environment.
Meeting Malcolm is a good experience and he is a very easy guy to get along with. There is no unease, no pauses in conversation and no bullshit. There is an underlying confidence that says, "This is what I do, like it or not". His work comes from within and is very personal so when I met him for the 1st time commissions seemed impossible. He has since found that he can still find his own meaning in a commission.
I left the mill having been there about an hour longer than I intended. My car was ready and I was late for opening the gallery but I felt it was time well spent. If nothing else I've got a new respect for cars when cycling on the road.

One year on.

"You guys have a gallery in London don't you?.." The woman was confident she had seen a Mooch art in London. It occurred to me to say yes but telling lies to me is like throwing a ball with my left hand. I'm just so bad at it that even if I wanted to I'd end up looking like a fool.
I'm sure at some point mooch will open a gallery in London but its great to know that when we do, there will be one woman who will think it has been there ages.

I didn't make a big deal of it but on the 26th June, Mooch art was 1 year old. It's hard to fathom the distance that a small gallery can come in that time. Art galleries along with other luxury goods have taken a hammering since the crunch hit. Rumours are circulating about the latest casualty so surviving and even prospering in the worst economic crisis in 70 years is something to celebrate.

Oldham street is still the Mooch epicentre and that is the way it is going to stay. Things are turning and there is a change in the tide of confidence. Sales have been fantastic in the past 2 months and at the time of writing the FTSE has seen it tenth consecutive session of gains. Is this is a sign that things are on the up?

What is certain is that mooch shows artwork that people want. The starting of a gallery is a risky thing and more that a few people had doubts about it. One of my friends took me to task when I had just signed on the lease for the gallery. He has a lot of experience in business and strongly believed I was chasing a fanciful dream. I wouldn't be able to make enough to live and that it wasn't a viable business. It gave my confidence a serious knock but after some soul searching I went ahead and did it anyway.

Around that time I remember a talk by Trevor Baylis, the inventor of the clockwork radio. He came across massive resistance to his ideas. Like me, (although to a lesser extent) people thought he was just a dreamer with a crazy idea. Trevor sent his idea to the National association of watch and clock collectors who took enormous pleasure in ripping his ideas to shreds. The letter he received back was highly detailed in its criticism. He has kept this as a sign that most people find it easier to knock an idea that to create one. It is easier to be sceptical that to believe in a positive change. Trevor can say it much better than me, "The key to success is to risk thinking unconventional thoughts. Convention is the enemy of progress."

Mooch is still growing and is likely to make some bigger moves very soon. The only difference now from last year is that when I say I'm going to do something, people take me a bit more seriously.

Artist focus - Mike Smith on Mike Smith

Mike pokes his head round the door briefly and says for me to come in. He is smoking a roll up and doesn't want to stink out the flat so disappears onto the balcony leading off the kitchen. The second floor flat on a crumbling street in Hulme could be a set on shameless. Abandoned cars lie in drives and four floors of post war architecture make it clear this is a rough part of town. Mike Smith is an artist, but he also an alcoholic. The two are incompatible.

This is something very difficult for me to write about because it is story of extraordinary waste. Someone who approached me 2 months ago with some paintings which impressed me has since fallen off the wagon. Not knowing his problems I was compelled to show his work, how can I possibly refuse my namesake?

My 1st visit was to his girlfriends house in Chorlton. It was here I realised he was more than just a very talented painter, he was, and still is, a creative genius. I don't use these words lightly and haven't used them before but am certain of their use at this point.

Mike has shown with some great galleries and has sold a lot of work to a lot of people. Never have I met someone who painting is as easy as taking a walk. He can knock out a painting in a day that many other artists would strain for a week over. Its effortless, and it leaves him with excess room in his brain to fill with strange and dark thoughts.

In the flat he offers me a drink, I accept a cup of tea. He makes it and then says he has no milk and that I don't have to drink it. He apologises and curses himself for being an idiot and a loser. He does that a lot.

It was in his little kitchen with him still smoking when I asked how things were going. I knew something was up because in the two months since we met he hadn't produced any more artwork despite being in a new exhibition next week. He told me that fairly soon after our conversations "Emmesse" slipped back into his old ways.

On the 26th June, mooch art was 1 year old and I invited all the artists out for a few drinks. Mike wanted to be involved in a normal social drink but he told me that he stood outside watching us laughing and drinking through the pub window but tragically couldn't bring himself to step inside and sit there with a coke.

Emmesse (Mike Smith) is a caricature of the tortured artist. At first I wasn't sure whether to believe his story, but it has been confirmed by others close to him. He revels in the poetic destruction of his life. When he is drunk he says he thinks he can be like David Bowie, an artist, a madman a creative force to be reckoned with. In truth he is everything but.

Mike knows this of course. His rational side knows damn well just what impact he is having on himself and those around him. He is incredibly open, honest and articulate about his situation and I can't help but like the guy. I expect others have fallen for his childlike qualities mixed with lucid intelligence. But everyone, it seems, finds that the alter ego is too much to deal with. His girlfriend threw him out of her house a week ago and the flat we are in is his own but he now shares it with his former tenant.

Artists have always had an alternate view on reality and some have had a very tentative grip upon it. I have always loved the work of Caravaggio. A renaissance painter who was as unstable and dangerous as he was talented. The dramatic and dark paintings still have massive power and resulted from this incredible mind. Modern day Caravaggios are being born today.

He talks me through some of his paintings, many of which were done to articulate his remorse at being a drunk and many to tackle his overwhelming fear of death. The work is brilliant, but it is stacked like pieces of rubbish in his bedroom. He says he should just chuck them all in the skip, he has done this before. Many pieces are typical landscapes, very skilfully painted without a trace of his personality. Others are malevolent, dark and foreboding pieces with meaning in every brush stroke. The curtains are closed despite it being a bright sunny day. I ask whether he enjoys painting. He pauses and thinks about it. He says he doesn't enjoy it in the conventional sense but he feels it is necessary.

He asks whether I still believe in him. I say I do but its really up to him not me. I'm no shrink, no counsellor. I wonder whether I said too much, or didn't say enough. Whether listening is enough or whether firm guidance is needed. I don't know, and from what I have heard, many people close to him don't either.

So why should I write this about him you ask? Well maybe If people know about this he can be helped. Treating your body to a course of 14 pints of special brew isn't a recipe for a long life. Mike knows this and thinks he will be dead within a year. Whether this is dramatic I can't be sure but It still leaves me with a lot to think about.

Hot Hot Hot

Are we going to have one of the best summers ever? I can feel it in my bones. The papers have fascinating nuggets of information saying Today Oldham was hotter than Jamaica. For sweating bodies in Oldham it is hardly a great victory. I had 2 ozzies in the gallery today up for the weekend. I mentioned the weather and immediately berated myself for being a typical englishman.

Cycling into the gallery this morning there was a buzz in the air. The women are solar powered and everyone is looking beautiful. Everything felt right and the world sorted. On the train (with my bike) a spontaneous conversation broke out between the myself and the other guys sitting next to me. On a cold dark February morning with the windows steamed up, barely a word would have been said but the feel good day was too much to contain to ourselves. I could tell we all had to spout mindless stuff to reaffirm the fact that it really was a good day INDEED.

Views can change within the same day. Our love/hate relationship with heatwaves remind me of my Gran (bless her soul) where no day is ever the right bloody temperature. "Oooh isn't it hot, you just can't do anything" "Oooh is just too close isn't it" "It needs to rain, it does, but I don't like it when its raining."

The galleries are baking too. Have sympathy for Sophia in the triangle where the lovely light and bright space means she has to wear shades indoors and have a fan constantly blowing on her. Oldham st is cool though, a natural spot that makes winter electricity bills skyrocket also means without air conditioning its actually very pleasant now.
What has this got to do with art? Absolutely nothing. I just like talking about the weather. Damn it.

Painting above is called Sunflowers by Victoria Tsekidou and is currently on display at the triangle gallery.

Mooch Focus - Danny Cawley

On first glance the place is an outrageous mess. Its like a paint factory where a series of small explosions have gone off. Canvasses are laid out flat on the floor all in varying stages of drying and they cover most of the available space. Dannys studio is big though, it needs to be. This was my 1st visit to Danny Cawleys studio in east manchester. A room in an old mill that artists rent out because no one else could put up with the lack of heating. I entered slightly out of breath from climbing the 4 flights of stairs.
Stepping through the maze of canvasses on the floor and you start to see order in the chaos, beauty in the mess. The smell of paint is really strong, oil based, emulsion and spray paint cover the canvasses. The odd squelch of carpet is because of the water he uses in the process. This also explains why he work flat.
This is one of the great things about the artist Danny Cawley that is so far removed from the typical view of an artist. Sat next to the middle aged watercolourist sitting with easel en plein air, Danny looks, sounds and paints very differently. The art is abstract, bold and urban and is a reflection of Danny himself. A former graffitti artist he challenges what we consider to be "Fine art". It doesn't whisper, It shouts. It doesn't mince its words, It tells you as it is.
Going to the same school and growing up in the same neighbourhood as Liam and Noel makes me think that Manchester is a great breeding ground for creative brains. His swagger and manc accent says "I don't do art bollocks". I know what he means. He does it his way and he does it purely to get the best result. Tear up the rule book and paint how you want. If we always do what we've always done, we'll always get what we always gotten.
Danny takes me through the paintings that are stacked high all around his studio walls. He clearly loves what he does. He is borderline going full time but for an artist thats like stepping off the edge of a cliff and you are at the mercy of the fickle art market. I point out that Lowry alway held his job as a rent collector throughout his life even when he became well known.
I came away from the studio impressed, having selected some great work to display with the gallery.
I meet a lot of artists and see a lot of work. I look for the right attitude because to succeed as an artist you need to be mentally tough and damned determined. How else can you take being constantly judged in a few seconds by hundreds, if not thousands of people. So coming away from the studio I was impressed as much by his determination as by his art.
Danny perhaps arrogantly said he is a name to watch out for in the future. With most artists I would discount this as naive bull. But with Danny I believe he has the trousers to match his mouth. Watch this space.

Suits you sir

It's a scene only in dreams/nightmares. You turn up to work without your trousers or worse still, completely naked. This is the feeling I had last night, only less intense and I didn't break into a cold sweat.
I went to a young professionals networking BBQ. It was held in the courtyard of a solicitors and being my 1st time I have been hadn't a clue what to expect. Made up of mostly of accountants and solicitors there was a sea of smart shirts and dark suits. Most had shed the small strip of material tied around their neck to signal they were out of intense work mode and just into casual work mode.
Naturally I stuck out like a sore thumb. (Why do sore thumbs stick out I wonder). Jeans and trainers are my uniform now and I left smart stuff behind blue chips and corporations 2 years ago. For me I only wear suits for weddings and funerals and am glad of it.
The gallery is a relaxed and easy going place and a suit would give out the kind of signals that say serious, formal and worst of all, unimaginative. For the accountants and solicitors it shows they are responsible, reliable and professional, which is great for their business, but not for mine.
Standing out if you're an accountant, bad. Standing out when you run an art gallery, good.
Viva la revolution.