On Cities, Memory & Time Capsules | The Sunday Journal No.8

This week, with Daniel Roy Sharples, I thought we'd be talking about Edinburgh and Hong Kong. About architecture and neon lights. About the experience of painting en plein air and perhaps even his appearance on Landscape Artist of the Year.

 

Daniel painting Victoria Harbour, Hong Kong at Sunset.

 

Instead, I found myself thinking about time capsules.

Daniel told me he owns several small paintings by artists he admires. Not grand studio works, but modest plein air pieces. What he enjoys most isn't simply the image itself, but the thought of another artist sitting in that exact spot for several hours, slowly building a scene from a blank canvas.

"The best ones seem to capture not just what a place looked like," he said, "but what it actually felt like to be there."

It's a lovely thought.

 

Daniel painting Wet Market, Hong Kong.

 

Daniel first visited Hong Kong in 2007, drawn there by a love of cinema and places he'd seen on screen. What began almost accidentally grew into something much deeper. Four years living and teaching there established a connection that remains important to him today, and he returns whenever he can.

 

Daniel painting Neon Signs, Hong Kong.

 

At first glance, Edinburgh and Hong Kong might seem unlikely companions. But through Daniel's eyes, both reveal themselves as cities that reward looking closely.

"I can walk out the front door in either city and spot something worth painting almost straight away."

In Edinburgh, it's the crow-stepped gables and rows of chimney pots. In Hong Kong, it's the people, traffic, signs and constant energy.

 

Daniel painting View from The Balmoral.

 

It explains why his paintings always feel so alive.

Daniel works almost entirely en plein air, and perhaps what appeals most is that he embraces the things photographers and studio painters often try to eliminate. Changing weather. Traffic. Moving shadows. Crowds. He even seems to enjoy the unpredictability of painting in public, accumulating stories along the way.

 

Daniel painting Wan Chai at night.

 

Daniel Roy Sharples, Bamboo Scaffolding Nocturne (Wan Chai at night).

 

One particularly surreal afternoon involved a family scattering a loved one's ashes into a river, followed shortly afterwards by a group of teenagers skinny dipping in exactly the same spot.

You suspect a photographer would have missed the whole thing.

And perhaps that's why I found myself returning to his idea of paintings as time capsules.

"Because they were painted outdoors," he says, "I like to think the layers of oil paint somehow hold on to a little bit of that moment - the light, the atmosphere, the dust in the air, and the character of the place on that particular day."

It's a wonderfully romantic notion but feels very true when you look at his work.

 

Daniel painting in Tsuen Wan, Hong Kong. 

He says he's never visited the places shown in the paintings he owns, and yet somehow feels as though he has and isn’t that what paintings are supposed to do - not simply decorate a wall, but preserve something. A mood. A memory. A particular quality of light. A few hours spent standing on a street corner in Edinburgh or beneath the neon glow of Kowloon.

Little time capsules.

Until next Sunday, Adam