In this age of possessions, where citizens are renamed as consumers by economists, it is so good to simply look up and appreciate the skies. No one has to pay. There is no consumption of what is appreciated. The sky is there for everyone; we just have to take the time and look. And that is what Andrew Simpkin, British-French artist, does and shares: his colour vision of the skies of the Baie de Somme in France, around Lake Geneva, and wherever the clouds pull back long enough to allow the colours to emerge for us.
At first look, I’m drawn in by the oranges and reds that also give a sense of warmth, of a special point in time, and the emotions of the end of the day. Then the still there light blues of the sky pull my eyes, giving a sense of cool, or potential, of travel, of tomorrow. After the anchoring shape of the sun’s trajectory as it sets, the painting is not a static picture of a moment, but captures a movement, a skyscape equivalent of early modernists’ exploration of motion and representation of the flow of time in the static of a painting. Finally, I’m drawn to the many patches of colour in the mudflats of the tidal delta that reflect the generous skies.
The skies of the Baie de Somme in France are forever changing. While there are a hundred greys in the delta (as wonderfully captured by Pippa Darbyshire), and delicate shape-shifting clouds (as captured by Annette Hiltermann), Andrew Simpkin lets his love of geometry mix with the ever-changing colours of the skies. He offers us the bejewelled heavens with a hundred facets and reminds us to look up. And keep looking up, seeking the different hues of the sky. Marvel at how the rules of physics create such a moving kaleidoscope. Or ignore the rules behind nature and simply enjoy the sunset.
Simpkin’s works are a type of neo-cubism, and in some cases would be perfect, too, as stained-glass windows. The sunsets are particularly spectacular. As the sun edges behind the horizon, the vast planes of the sky change in colour by the minute, faster even. The sun reflects in the tidal mudflats adorned by snaking streams as well as hundreds of wet mirrors of forever changing size, each capturing the sun in different ways and hues – blues and purples and greens, aside yellows, oranges, even salmon and pure white.
There also seems to be an influence of Sonia Delauney, the famous Parisian artist, born in Ukraine when it was part of the Russian Empire. She, together with her husband Robert Delauney, worked on pure colours and also on ‘simultaneous’ colours, exploring contrasts. Simpkin has similar research within the landscapes. Viewers can look at patches of paint that vibrate on their own and then see the power of the contrasts with neighbouring brushstrokes.
Staring at Simpkin’s work also brings to mind the works of Hilma af Klint, the mystical pioneer of abstract art, who explores colour and shapes and seeks meaning in them, through them. The Swedish artist (born 1862) dedicated her life to giving form in her paintings to the invisible reality of the spirit world. Whether one believes in that or not, the beauty of the sky during sunset can elicit a sense of awe and wonder.
Even cloudscapes can be intriguing, through their form and on how they are canvases upon which the sunset paints by leaving a momentary echo of itself, infusing the white into a range of colours to contrast with the various sky blues and more solid mountain hues.
Staring at Simpkin’s paintings reminds me of another artist too – Wim Wenders and the film he directed, based on a script written together with Takuma Takasaki – Perfect Days. Hirayama (played by the extraordinary Kōji Yakusho), the Tokyo toilet cleaner and hero of the film, gets up at dawn and always stops for a moment when leaving the front door to look up at, and take in, the sky. A moment’s connection between a modest man and magnificent nature. It is an important punctuation point in his day. And whatever our jobs, it can be an important anchor point for us. Simpkin’s beautiful landscapes (that will feature this summer in “le Salon d’Automne” in Paris) remind me of the importance of looking up.
Taking the time to behold the sky costs nothing but can be much more than a momentary parenthesis in a busy day – it can be an invaluable pleasure and reminder of a life worth living, even in these globally complex times.
