Jim Moorhouse – My Artwork

Posted on Jan 07, 2024

If I had to choose just one drawing instrument for the rest of time, I wouldn’t hesitate. Ubiquitous in offices, schools, pretty much anywhere in fact is the humble ballpoint pen. Colloquially referred to as Biro named after one of its main pioneers, who patented his pen in 1938. It’s one of those words which I’m never sure I should use in case it infringes some consumer law, but, in any case, my favourite make of biro, sorry, ballpoint is Bic, which is now available in a veritable spectrum of colours.

I started doodling with ballpoint as long ago as I remember. My nana liked me copying Andy Capp cartoons from the “Daily Mirror”. I could get engrossed in obsessively drawing the testcard from the telly. Oddly, we were discouraged from using them at school. From the age of seven, it was a dip in pen, charged with the inkwell on our desks, and when I started secondary school, we were expected to have our own fountain pens, so my ballpoint drawing took a back seat, and any unauthorised time-wasting during class, including writing a comic strip about one of our teachers, had to be done with an ink pen. But ballpoint was my favourite. Portable, convenient, easy to obtain, and ideal for drawing without making any mess. There can be the odd upset when a ballpoint leaks incidentally. Rubbing alcohol and nail varnish remover can be helpful to get rid of stains. 

The picture I refer to, I named retrospectively “The Mentor”. Perhaps the only thing I can, do whilst giving something else my attention is doodling. This can be a partly unconscious process. Many years ago, when I worked in an office, some of my best ideas came about when I was speaking on the phone to a colleague. I can’t remember how the initial image came about. It was a man, wearing a conical hat, three discs on it, looking superficially like a clown’s hat. He has a kindly face, and, instinctively, he’s someone who exudes wisdom. I decided to develop the initial idea into an A4 size drawing, and so “the Mentor” came into being. He is connected to the heaven above as evidenced by the stars and planets, as well as the ground beneath, where the roots of his table extend. He is blind, but all seeing.

I am a great believer in letting people make up their own minds, without too much explanation. I can go to a gallery, view a piece of art, and project my own meaning onto it. I guess we all do that to some extent. I was intrigued then to have a couple of poems written about this image at “Creative Walsall” a collaborative event between local artists and poets, each one different from the other. 

By Jim Moorehouse