Andrew Storrie – A Painter For All Seasons

Dr Andrew Liddle begins a series on major northern artists by visiting one of the most popular, to see him at work …


“Either I must be a very bad teacher or some of my students are slow learners!” jokes Andrew Storrie. He’s discussing the remarkable loyalty of those who have been attending his twice-weekly workshops for a decade or more. One has been with him for twenty years! “But I suppose there is a bit of a social element in it after all this time. We all work together and exhibit at local art clubs.”

Among my favourites are his beautifully quiet watercolours, usually in the softest shades, which in an unhurried way breathe the very spirit of the Yorkshire Dales. They sequester us in quiet corners of Thorpe in the Hollow, Littondale and South Embsay, take us for a contemplative stroll in the shadow of Kilnsey Crag, give dreamy long views of Ingleborough and Pen-Y-Ghent. Yockenthwaite and, of course, Malham , are favourite haunts which he has painted often.

These scenes celebrate a distinctive way of life in a pastoral, limestone land, populated by shepherds, sheep and sheepdogs, rather than modern-day tourists. Other landscapes feature unspoiled villages like Boynton, Grindale and Rudston, at the heart of the gently rolling Wolds where Andrew now lives, or the rugged coast from Bridlington north to Staithes - where he exhibits at the village’s famous art festival, held each September.

If there is a distinct element of nostalgia about almost everything he paints, it’s not perhaps surprising to learn he has reverence for the fast-disappearing red pillar boxes and telephone booths. He has one of each in his garden, called respectively Doreen and Gladys! “I am preserving an iconic piece of British life,” he says, with a twinkle. “They remind me of my childhood and are part of the community.”

His house boasts a large and assorted collection of old-fashioned telephones, cash registers, chronometers, ticket machines, typewriters and other ‘objects of social history’, as he calls them. They are arranged in a tastefully decorative way, displayed in places where most people have china vases or ornaments.

“Doreen and Gladys are part of the family!” he chuckles. They tend to put in an appearance in another radically different style of art, featuring quirkily urban scenes, recognisably set in the West Riding where he grew up, having moved from his native Middlesbrough at an early age. They often focus on humorous Yorkshire figures, one old Tyke in particular – the “Binfluencer” – seemingly preoccupied with putting his dustbin out.

“I like to look for situational humour in everyday situations,” he adds, with another broad smile, flicking through his online gallery to turn up one of the most popular of his comical paintings, featuring an old couple on a blustery Bridlington beach, with carrier bags on their heads. “They’ve paid for their deckchairs and are not parting from them, rain or shine! Yorkshire folk like to get their money’s worth.”

Sometimes you will see a figure wearing a scarf in the claret and amber colours of Andrew’s football team. Indeed, he has done a whole series of paintings called City Gents , which reflect the atmosphere of match days in and around Bradford City’s ground. Proceeds from sales go to the Bradford Hospital Burns Unit, which did such sterling work after the tragic Valley Parade fire of 1985.

“Wherever a figure is wearing a scarf in any of my paintings, it’s normally in these vivid colours,” he explains. “I suppose you could call it a little subliminal message – just a little nod to Bradford City!”

The teaching came about when he saw that the East Riding College based in Bridlington, not far from his home in Boynton, was advertising for an art tutor. He had no teaching experience and had only recently moved to the area after taking early retirement from his job with the Post Office in Bradford, in 1999, but he knew he could paint and had a desire to pass on his skills. He’d also recently pursued a part-time course in Art at Bradford College which had given him a taste of the learning environment. “I enjoyed college,” he adds, “but it didn’t teach me a lot about watercolour: I had to work that out for myself.”

He believes he may actually have learned more from his mother, Marion, herself an artist working in acrylics. “Thanks to her help, I was able to get through my Art ‘O’-level,” he remembers.

Many of the canvases of this most prolific artist were begun in workshops - which he continues to give throughout Yorkshire and the North East – to demonstrate techniques of brushwork and composition. “I paint because I enjoy it, I’m largely self-taught - but teaching others has actually encouraged me to explore new techniques and helped me to improve in many ways,” he reflects. “Working closely with students of different backgrounds and ages all motivated by the desire to paint has certainly broadened my horizons. And you never stop learning!”

A member of the British Watercolour Society - an honour that came to him after his paintings appeared frequently in exhibitions in Ilkley - he believes it is the most unforgiving medium, because you cannot erase paint over mistakes as is standard practice with oils. It is in the workshops that he demonstrates the amazing watercolour techniques he has developed over the years. Some of them are clearly unorthodox and his own. “It’s a fast and spontaneous medium,” he says, cheerfully. “You can knock a painting out in ten minutes if you know what you’re doing, although usually working on them off and on, they take 2 or 3 days, sometimes a week.” He’s been known to use a hair dryer to speed up the drying process.

After soaking the paper with a sponge, he tends to apply a light base of oranges or reds or blues to impart a bright underglow. His palette for winter scenes can be restricted to a mere four colours - and he may use no more than five for other seasons. When employing the wet-on wet technique, which involves paint bleeding to create a blurring effect, he will often stretch cling film across the surface and agitate the surface to create a pattern or grain. “Table salt is good for snowscapes,” he laughs. “You scatter it after the bleeding and it draws the pigment out.” A candle is useful for creating patches of pure white that paint will not cling to. Bubble wrap will create a mottled effect. A coin wrapped in tissue can impress a wan moon or bright sun when required.

He introduces me to his students as a school inspector, here to check up on their progress. There is a momentary tension in the air until the smile reveals this to be another of his jokes. He’s set them the task of painting the ghostly Corpach Wreck, the former fishing boat that sits at an odd angle on the shore of Loch Linnhe, beneath the shadow of Ben Nevis. It’s fascinating to see a fully-formed masterpiece emerging , as if by magic in the course of a single afternoon, and his appreciative students going away to try the techniques he makes look easy.

He works quickly, ad-libbing and joking as he goes, mostly favouring a fairly broad chisel-shaped brush, which in his hand darts quickly from one colour to another in the palette, always mixing colours and diluting them before dexterously dabbing them or washing them on to the paper.

He pencils in the boat which he breaks down into a figure of eight shape and paints round it until the loch, mountain and sky are perfectly formed, then he begins to add the final details. For one second it seems his hand may have slipped and he encourages that belief until converting the apparent blemish into a hawser anchoring the wreck. His all-purpose tool is – surprisingly – a credit card, which can supply a hard edge to create fine lines or swiped laterally to give texture and depth. “What you scrape off or wash off is as important as what you put on,” he says, as he dissolves a cloud with nothing but the spray from a toothbrush flexed in his fingers.

Andrew firmly believes that anybody can paint if they want to, likening it to learning to drive, and the need to master the rudiments first before setting out. “Often life gets in the way,” he muses, “or people fear criticism and lack confidence. It’s amazing how much better budding artists feel the moment they start using their skills to create pictures.” His students nod in enthusiastic agreement.

He’s indebted to the IT skills of his son James, the marketing officer for Bridlington Spa, for help with the website and the organisational skills of his wife Alison, whom he affectionately refers to as ‘The Management’ for keeping him on track in multitude of ways. The website will take you on a stroll through a landscape of sweet Dales’ meadows, crags that are limestone white or snow bright, remote farmsteads and deserted hamlets. Eventually you will chance upon more gritty scenes, rescued from grimness by their intrinsic humour. “I don’t have a preference for either style,” Andrew says, thoughtfully, “they reflect the mood I was in when I started them.”

He has noticed, however, that recently his Dales’ paintings have tended to be more animated than previously. “Yes, I think I’m introducing more people and animals than I used to. Maybe I’m moving with the times. Nostalgia will only take you so far!”