Experience the sheer joy of James Dicker, a passionate oil painter who chases pre-dawn light across the Shoalhaven landscape and shares his profound connection to the Australian bush at his open studio this Saturday on the Jervis Bay Arts Trail, open 11am-2pm.
Landscape painter James Dicker caught the whiff of wet oils on a fresh painting by his uncle Robert when he was in primary school, on a family visit to Bundeena south of Sydney in the Royal National Park, and his creative future was cemented.
“I really was taken by it and I believe that it was literally an artwork that opened my eyes to what is out there and to be more observant even from that age,” James explains.
I ask him what he sees, on his pre-dawn forays down dirt roads or chasing the setting of the moon.
“Composition,” he says without hesitation.
One of the paintings that currently hangs in James’s studio in Tomerong is a long straight road and telegraph poles in the pre-dawn light, a perspective that in the hands of a less confident artist would easily become a cliché, but this painting has nuances of colour and light that elevate it right out of danger.
“That was way before sunrise and what I tried to convey there was the fact that there’s colours just waiting for sunlight. The grass and the mountains and the clouds are all there. They’re all sitting there. They’re no different to when the sun comes up but it’s the light it’s the light that changes everything.”
Early Influence at Bundanon
James studied art at school and it was one of his HSC subjects in the early 90s, which led to an invitation to come to Bundanon – along with three other students – to paint along the Shoalhaven River with Arthur Boyd.
“The first thing we did [at Bundanon] was paint down by the river,” James reminisces. I ask James how he pushes through that looming figure of Boyd who prolifically painted the Shoalhaven River, which is also a favourite site for James’s work.
“We should never feel this way, but I feel like Arthur Boyd wrapped the river up so much, but I’m willing to put all that aside, and I want to paint the Shoalhaven River,” James says. “We all own the river, and I want to paint it in my way. I really have always been inspired by Arthur Boyd as well, but I feel like I want to [push through], that’s my goal.”
Painting through Photography
James’s paintings convey a deep love for, and intimate knowledge of the Australian bush and he says he is often out camping and fishing with his family, including three school-aged children.
He started in all seriousness with photography, shooting on slide film on a multi-year cross-country adventure with his now-wife, Tracy, after completing his trade qualifications as a painter & decorator. He began capturing the Australian landscape literally through a creative lens – James says at the time, he knew the act of photographing their journey was feeding his future-self as a painter.
“I really focused on that in the belief that it was great to capture all of these colours, especially using Velvia slide film. It was going to help me down the track because I could always see myself painting and I had already done some painting.
“It was those early days that really inspired me to try to capture it whether it be on canvas or on film. I absolutely love it, I think my eyes are going to wear out before anything, because I literally scan, I’m continually scanning for composition and light and shade.”
Return to the River
When the new accommodation and museum buildings were opened at Bundanon a few years ago, James saw a promotion for a weekend to stay and paint at the property and immediately booked for him and Tracy. “They gave us the end room, I don’t know if it’s because as soon as I saw the promotion I pulled over to the side of the road and thought, I don’t care what it costs, I’m going to book this.
“We really enjoyed it and I would recommend it to anyone. Got to do a little study with an artist out there, we used some acrylic paints and he wanted us to paint a painting in under half an hour, which was really cool as well.”
Working in oils, I ask James to sketch out his process for a new painting, and composition is front and centre again.
“I tend to bring what I’ve either photographed or have really impregnated in my brain or my vision of what I want to paint and I’m able to just get started on composition I literally wash, I get a brush out and I use a bit of colour on the palette and I will thin it out and then create my composition of key points in the painting and where I want things to be.
“Then I tend to do the sky, which some artists say, why do you do the sky first? and I’m like, why wouldn’t you do the sky first? There’s no rules. I tend to work from the back to the front but then again sometimes I’m almost like clockwise around the painting and I just get into the zone.”
He exercises restraint, not over-working his paintings or working when the flow isn’t right. “Sometimes you get over to the studio and you’re probably not quite in the right frame of mind maybe or it’s not happening so you don’t try and push too hard with it.” But he says walking through the studio doors, even after a long day that might have been not the greatest, can work magic.
“Providing the household’s sorted, I’ll say, I’m going to go to the studio, and when all the planets are aligned, I come through these doors and I just get into it. I feel like I’m in the right place.”
Farmland Beauty
Among James’s current influences is the farmland of the Shoalhaven, the green river-front properties with dairy cows, rusty sheds and iconic, sculptural silos. Several such paintings are currently hanging in his Tomerong studio.
He says, “I keep an eye on the moon phases and the likelihood of a nice sunrise. And I found myself going up these dirt roads that come to a dead end and sometimes it comes to a private property where you can’t go any further and you wish you could. Then you meet the farmer or push your luck and ask if you could go in further for a bit better composition on a silo or an old rusty shed. They tend to capture my eye.
“There was very little traffic on the road one morning and a farmer went past with a tractor and I thought, he’s up and at it for the day and how hard they work and it kind of goes unrecognised at that hour of the morning when only the cows are getting herded up and into the dairy. The Shoalhaven’s pretty rich in dairy farms. I decided to do a few paintings of that area out towards Greenwell Point Road and as an artist to try to recreate that vast distance over a little canvas.”
Open Studio
James was finally able to build a dedicated studio for himself about 18 months ago, and he says it has been transformational in his practice. Not just the dedicated place to work but also the visitors who have stepped inside on the Jervis Bay Arts Trail, have given him a vigorous burst of energy.
“Having built this studio has literally spurred on a surge of painting,” he says. “I’ve literally painted more paintings in the last year than I probably have in all my life. The studio and the Jervis Bay Arts Trail.”
He adds: “I do have three children under 18, they keep me busy, as well as a painting business to run. But my beautiful wife helps me along the way and I find myself … like last night, I don’t think I got to bed before 12.30 because I’m finishing off a painting that I absolutely love. It’s one of Booderee, it’s coming together nicely.”
And it will be finished and on display this Saturday (25 October) in his studio, along with a newly commenced work that will give visitors a peek at his process. I ask James about how visitors have reacted to his works in progress and he says, “I get a lot of compliments on what I have on the easel on the day and I think it’s nice to have one half-done.”
He adds with emotion in his voice again, “The people that have come here are seriously giving me fuel, even though I’m not relying on it, but it’s happening. It seems to be my time to do what I’ve always loved doing and now I’m doing it and it makes me feel really good.”
The Last Word
Uncle Robert still offers critique and rousing words of advice, though now into his late 80s his eyesight is failing. James says, “Uncle Robert rang me today and I told him we had this interview. He was so excited and said, make sure you tell them how passionate you are and how it makes you feel.”
With emotion in his voice, James says he hopes to be painting like this for another 30+ years. “I can be having an average day at work and if we’ve agreed I’m going to go over to the studio and I do a two-hour session and I’m loving what I see, I can, after that, basically tackle anything. I have a smile on my face. My wife knows it. She doesn’t say anything, but she knows how it makes me feel. It makes me feel really good.
“If I manage to do something on a canvas that I’m feeling good while I’m doing it and I step back a couple of metres, and then I look at it again, and everything’s happening right, the colour’s right, composition’s right, I’m actually doing a little jiggle in the studio.”
After we finish our interview, James texts me a last word from Uncle Robert: “It takes two people to paint a good painting. One to paint the picture and one to tell him when to stop.”
