Courtship Rituals & Remaining True to My Art

It’s no secret that I covet all things corvid, so happening across an enigmatic pair of jays was always going to be a delight. Their screaming call (music to my ears) always lets you know they are near and if you are fortunate, a flash of their beautiful plumage gives you a hint as to where they may be.

Jays are indeed very colourful birds, especially when compared to the rest of the corvid family, but I think they are, for all their show and shouting, quite difficult to see. They are quite a shy woodland bird and like the cover of leafy branches. So, to actually find a pair in the midst of a courtship ritual was fortunate indeed for me.

I’d love to say that finding this pair of jays was down to my incredible birding skills, but I must confess it was totally by chance. I was actually tracking a great spotted woodpecker and was attempting to make myself ‘invisible’ behind a large beech tree. Looking up I spotted a jay; it was tearing small pieces of flesh from a crack in a tree, and then hopping over to its awaiting mate to offer the prized morsel. I can only guess that it was the remains of an earlier kill, which it had secreted away for just this purpose. The birds called affectionately to one another, there were none of the gruff raucous shouting noises, just platitudes accompanying a gentle tug of war. This was repeated several times, with the waiting bird vocalising their anticipation.

So amidst my excitement I did remember to sketch, I was taken up more with the birds than my drawing, so what I originally had to show for the encounter was even more scribbly than usual. So, in order to satisfy some false need of accomplishment, I later went back over my drawings with my artist pens, to make them look ‘better’ – to add more information.

The problem is, by doing this I lost the spontaneity and energy of the original drawings. I changed the experience.

An artist friend of mine, whose opinion I value, asked me why I felt the need to do that this time. I just couldn’t answer her. There was no good reason for doing what I did. I had not been true to my art and I felt rather ashamed. I can only give a true painted account, if my initial responses to my encounters are real ones. Without that initial spark present in its entire scruffy half drawn glory, the painting loses its authenticity. The Art is lost.