Thinking about landscape.

I am always thinking about it: it is winter still, the skies are grey, light flashes fitfully. Colour is vivid and muted, both it seems, at the same time. Here in paint is my voice: it is not the only voice and the other voices are as indispensible to our survival as variations in our DNA.

Poster or posts.

When I first moved here I spent a number of years in the cellar ( not in trouble but the only place to work) and began each day painting the view from the window, the changing light, the weather. The practice was good for me and it raised as many questions as answers, probably more of the former. It was an isolated existence and discipline akin to sitting down each day to write: I liked the silence.

It was during this period that I was invited to exhibit and published a poster. That poster led to my very first sale here, to someone who happened to see the poster and knew that she had to have the painting. That sale led to others and gave me the confidence to continue. Yet making these posts has not been with pecuniary advantage in mind, it has been more like a diary that shares ideas and seems to strike a chord with people who check in on it. So it was quite a surprise recently to be asked to sell two paintings directly from the blog. Of course lots of people set up sites expressly to do this but for me it was different and hugely encouraging and I am very grateful to that person. It is true that I have thought of stopping, it's not an uncommon feeling for anyone persuing something, wondering what exactly is the point of it all.

Among these small paintings I have aimed for something simple yet simple still takes days to achieve, in silence, in isolation but no longer in the cellar.

Birthday selfies and a visit.

  

                                                       Here is one that will register 68.

and this at 58.

This week I will be receiving a visit from Rene Caussanel whose work can be seen here http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xvfzr0_rene-caussanel_creation Rene is an artist who knows about drawing. I went to see him last week and had my  portrait drawn, which is the first time that has happened to me. Scutinizing oneself is one thing but quite a different experience being on the receiving end of another persons  piercing gaze. Martin Gayford describes sitting for Lucien freud in Man with a blue scarf. published by Thames & Hudson.

Being wrong and right: some small winter paintings.

                                                              oil on card. 30x30cm

                                                              oil on paper. 30x18cm

                                                   ink and emulsion on paper. 80x60cm

oil on paper. 30x18cm

I wrote a piece a while ago entitled, Landscape doesn't go any where, and I was wrong because of course it is going somewhere all the time. It builds up and it gets ground down and it moves, often slowly , sometimes not.

We engineer it and given time it reclaims itself. It knows nothing of our endeavour and yet I still feel that we construct it mentally and emotionally no less so in painting which, in my case , is a landscape as metaphor in flux. I build it up and break it down. No painting is immune to my depredations. If they leave to go somewhere else then they are I suppose, inviable but if they stay with me then they are subject to change, not always for the better but that is the risk one takes.