Read an article last week in which Tracy Emin waxed, as Tracy does, lyrically about the burgeoning art scene in Folkestone. I have fond arty memories of Folkestone and surrounding hills, woods and fields myself as it happens. While a student at Canterbury I made several trips to the Kent port, due mainly to the fact that my good chum Gordon had done his foundation course there and was still in contact with friends who were still living in the town.
These outings usually took place on so-called ‘fine art days’ when we swapped the typography and layout of the graphic design course for a spot of drawing and painting. Something that by all accounts has been abandoned by art academia. A grave mistake, as if nothing else, drawing things, especially outside, teaches people to see the world. More important than ever when days are now spent transfixed to a bloody computer and mobile phone screen. And when I say ‘see’, I’m talking about a real good look. It can take hours to transfer an object or scene onto paper and by the time it’s done you know the subject very well.
Sometimes, especially in winter, we would draw inside the studio, but in the summer, we’d be encouraged to venture out. We, that’s myself, Gordon and Dave – dubbed ’The Three Musketeers’ - needed no second asking. With our half imperial drawing boards (no metric nonsense back then) and a stack of paper and pencils, we’d squeeze into Gordon’s bubble car, a maroon BMW Isetta complete with stuffed platypus on the rear shelf and head for the coast. On route we’d park at a suitable scenic vista, spend a couple of hours drawing, stash the finished results and artistic paraphernalia under a sheltering bush, then head into Folkestone for a spot of luncheon and socialising.
Mid afternoon we’d bid farewell and head back to the field to retrieve the results of our morning’s labours. Getting out of Folkestone, three-up in a bubble car, was a bit tricky. The hills leading in (down and no problem) and out (up and too much for the plucky little engine) meant that on the return journey Dave and I would walk up the steepest hills and meet Gordon at the top. It was not a foregone conclusion as to who would reach the summit first.
Once, I recall, Gordon and I managed to convince our photography tutor that Folkestone would be an ideal place to spend the day snapping. He rather reluctantly agreed and we putt putted into town looking for likely subjects. These presented themselves in the shape of two mini-skirted girls, probably playing hooky from school. Having recently seen Antonioni’s ‘Blow Up’ and dressed in our matching white Levi’s we imagined ourselves as twin David Hemmings and convinced the girls to leap and loon around for the camera. The results were surprisingly good with lots of blur and movement. Happy days and good to know that Folkestone is still inspiring artists today. I wonder whatever became of the ‘blow up’ girls? And the bubble car. And the platypus.
