Ali Bannister
Spanish Horse (Drawn in Pastel)
I enjoyed doing the pencil portrait of this fabulous horse so much I couldn't resist having a go in pastel too. What an animal!
'Karioko' belonged to the late Miguel Tovar who won many competitions with his Spanish horses.
Drawn with kind permission from a photograph by Diego López
Rodríguez.
Limited edition prints are available to buy using the link below:
www.alibannister.com/…/the-spanish-horse-pastel-p-15…
Any questions feel free to contact me; or for more information about prints or commissions:
For those who are interested in more about the drawing....
It's rare that I am called upon to offer my thoughts behind a piece as most make sense on a purely surface level as straight renderings of an animal ...and people rarely look deeper. But recently I was asked about this drawing and what, if anything, it meant to me. I thought I'd share my reply here:
To explain I would like to share the quote that I came across this week which rather succinctly describes what I see in this piece.
'The horse is the best judge of a good rider, not the spectator. If the horse has a high opinion of the rider, he will let himself be guided, if not, he will resist.' - Nuno Oliveira
To me this picture shows a horse who has judged it's rider and found him worthy of following. In that way it is a partnership, a relationship completely in harmony; two species in sync; speaking a language that both understand and respect. The horse willing to give whatever is asked and the rider wise enough and respectful enough to not ask too much.
It's a partnership, a relationship, if you will, that I have known and that I miss. It was both an honour and a privilege to have been part of my horse's life, a respected friend and to be her sole teammate for so many years. But it's also a relationship that probably wouldn't be expressed as well in a drawing of a gawky 14 year old me on a slightly ageing pony of underwhelming breeding. In truth, it wouldn't do it justice.
So in essence this picture is a representation of the respect, harmony and partnership that I had with my little mare, who I loved greatly and miss still. She taught me so much - and in many ways purely by her living example. She had a wiseness about her, a dignified understanding and respect. She wasn't a 'huggy' pony, not affectionate as such, but the ways that she showed her respect and acceptance of us was equally as powerful and meaningful.
My mum said that she got to know my pony, Felix, best when she was injured and had to be taken for controlled walks (as you would a dog) to build the strength back up in her tendon. It meant that they spent a lot of time together, side by side, day by day while I was at school. Felix had to trust my mum and accept the limitations put on her with patient tolerance, which she did - as if she somehow knew that it was for the best/that we had her best interests at heart.
My uncle had said that caring for my granny in the last years of her life was one of the most important and meaningful things that he ever did. Well, in looking after my horse when she most needed it, in caring for her and loving her, my mum's relationship with her deepened.
As her team mate, my relationship with Felix was similar but subtly different: we had to place deep trust in each other - but in a more intense way. Riding over cross country fences is still a high risk sport. (I have heard it described as 'heading at 30 miles an hour towards 30 solid obstacles on the back of a beast that weighs a tonne but has a brain smaller than a golf ball'). People can -and do- get seriously injured and even die. So the trust that we had was deep and important - but oh the fun we had! ...and the success - but more importantly the fun: the pleasure, the sheer joy of flying round a course together as one, her legs as mine, turning in the air together; speed I could never reach without her, leaps I could never make alone, courage that came only from our combined confidence - my knowledge of the terrain and obstacles - her trust in me to guide her safely. To this day those times are still my happiest memories.
But for all the fun and thrill of the cross country courses, it was the moments where she would submit and let me lead in the dressage that meant the most to me - because this was an area of little interest or point to her. There was no fun to be had, no pleasure to be enjoyed - but the profound respect that she showed me in bending to my will at those times mean more to me than any height of fence jumped or trophy won. Rather than some feat achieved together this was a gift of her giving - and it was given freely and to few people - BUT - and this is a big but - it wasn't given often - so it was a rare and therefore far more meaningful gift.
In the picture of the grey horse I see the undeniable power and strength of the animal - a horse could easily kill a human if it chose to - but also it's beauty and the gift of it's submission. The presence of the rider is implied by the position of, and tension in, the reins, so the relationship is there - but the focus is on the horse and the the gift of it's submission in that moment.
I don't know of a single other animal that has the strength of a horse AND the beauty AND the power AND the grace AND the speed AND the sensitivity ...and then gifts submission to man.
So that's what the grey horse picture means to me: it's a representation of the relationship I miss, shown through the visual of an act of giving by an animal that to me is unlike any other and second to none.
(On a technical note the lack of background detail is designed to concentrate your eye on the subject. The limited and desaturated palette brings the piece together, makes it more coherent and lends it a classical feel which I hope make the piece feel more timeless.)
And the grey 'dapples' are reminiscent of the rocking horses that I drooled over as a child before real horses were even a part of my world. (My friend had one - at the time I thought that was the dizzying height that any child's desire could reach. What a thing it would be to have daily access to something so beautiful, I thought).
Dapples are also technically very difficult to draw and have caused me huge problems in the past -so this drawing was a way for me to 'grasp that nettle', bring my drawing on and hopefully lay a few demons.
Spanish Horse (Drawn in Pastel)
I enjoyed doing the pencil portrait of this fabulous horse so much I couldn't resist having a go in pastel too. What an animal!
'Karioko' belonged to the late Miguel Tovar who won many competitions with his Spanish horses.
Drawn with kind permission from a photograph by Diego López
Rodríguez.
Limited edition prints are available to buy using the link below:
www.alibannister.com/…/the-spanish-horse-pastel-p-15…
Any questions feel free to contact me; or for more information about prints or commissions:
For those who are interested in more about the drawing....
It's rare that I am called upon to offer my thoughts behind a piece as most make sense on a purely surface level as straight renderings of an animal ...and people rarely look deeper. But recently I was asked about this drawing and what, if anything, it meant to me. I thought I'd share my reply here:
To explain I would like to share the quote that I came across this week which rather succinctly describes what I see in this piece.
'The horse is the best judge of a good rider, not the spectator. If the horse has a high opinion of the rider, he will let himself be guided, if not, he will resist.' - Nuno Oliveira
To me this picture shows a horse who has judged it's rider and found him worthy of following. In that way it is a partnership, a relationship completely in harmony; two species in sync; speaking a language that both understand and respect. The horse willing to give whatever is asked and the rider wise enough and respectful enough to not ask too much.
It's a partnership, a relationship, if you will, that I have known and that I miss. It was both an honour and a privilege to have been part of my horse's life, a respected friend and to be her sole teammate for so many years. But it's also a relationship that probably wouldn't be expressed as well in a drawing of a gawky 14 year old me on a slightly ageing pony of underwhelming breeding. In truth, it wouldn't do it justice.
So in essence this picture is a representation of the respect, harmony and partnership that I had with my little mare, who I loved greatly and miss still. She taught me so much - and in many ways purely by her living example. She had a wiseness about her, a dignified understanding and respect. She wasn't a 'huggy' pony, not affectionate as such, but the ways that she showed her respect and acceptance of us was equally as powerful and meaningful.
My mum said that she got to know my pony, Felix, best when she was injured and had to be taken for controlled walks (as you would a dog) to build the strength back up in her tendon. It meant that they spent a lot of time together, side by side, day by day while I was at school. Felix had to trust my mum and accept the limitations put on her with patient tolerance, which she did - as if she somehow knew that it was for the best/that we had her best interests at heart.
My uncle had said that caring for my granny in the last years of her life was one of the most important and meaningful things that he ever did. Well, in looking after my horse when she most needed it, in caring for her and loving her, my mum's relationship with her deepened.
As her team mate, my relationship with Felix was similar but subtly different: we had to place deep trust in each other - but in a more intense way. Riding over cross country fences is still a high risk sport. (I have heard it described as 'heading at 30 miles an hour towards 30 solid obstacles on the back of a beast that weighs a tonne but has a brain smaller than a golf ball'). People can -and do- get seriously injured and even die. So the trust that we had was deep and important - but oh the fun we had! ...and the success - but more importantly the fun: the pleasure, the sheer joy of flying round a course together as one, her legs as mine, turning in the air together; speed I could never reach without her, leaps I could never make alone, courage that came only from our combined confidence - my knowledge of the terrain and obstacles - her trust in me to guide her safely. To this day those times are still my happiest memories.
But for all the fun and thrill of the cross country courses, it was the moments where she would submit and let me lead in the dressage that meant the most to me - because this was an area of little interest or point to her. There was no fun to be had, no pleasure to be enjoyed - but the profound respect that she showed me in bending to my will at those times mean more to me than any height of fence jumped or trophy won. Rather than some feat achieved together this was a gift of her giving - and it was given freely and to few people - BUT - and this is a big but - it wasn't given often - so it was a rare and therefore far more meaningful gift.
In the picture of the grey horse I see the undeniable power and strength of the animal - a horse could easily kill a human if it chose to - but also it's beauty and the gift of it's submission. The presence of the rider is implied by the position of, and tension in, the reins, so the relationship is there - but the focus is on the horse and the the gift of it's submission in that moment.
I don't know of a single other animal that has the strength of a horse AND the beauty AND the power AND the grace AND the speed AND the sensitivity ...and then gifts submission to man.
So that's what the grey horse picture means to me: it's a representation of the relationship I miss, shown through the visual of an act of giving by an animal that to me is unlike any other and second to none.
(On a technical note the lack of background detail is designed to concentrate your eye on the subject. The limited and desaturated palette brings the piece together, makes it more coherent and lends it a classical feel which I hope make the piece feel more timeless.)
And the grey 'dapples' are reminiscent of the rocking horses that I drooled over as a child before real horses were even a part of my world. (My friend had one - at the time I thought that was the dizzying height that any child's desire could reach. What a thing it would be to have daily access to something so beautiful, I thought).
Dapples are also technically very difficult to draw and have caused me huge problems in the past -so this drawing was a way for me to 'grasp that nettle', bring my drawing on and hopefully lay a few demons.