The constant gardener.

During the course of these Autumn days of painting, things change. Colour is noticeably different now. I start out with no agenda other than to look and set down something. When, from time to time, I decide to go at it in a certain way, the resolve lasts only as long as it takes to approach the unpainted surface. The painting takes over: the hand moves in a certain way and I follow where it leads. It is rather like the way that I garden: I have a plan but the plants have their way so I let them . The garden is a kind of time machine and so is painting although that is not, I imagine, a popular idea now. All of these paintings involve the passage of time whilst observing, thinking, making and being read afterwards. Nothing new in this but for me more interesting than something that might have a sign saying Move along folks, there's nothing to see here.
In a recent interview, David Hockney mentions people not noticing shadows, taking photographs of themselves with shadows that they had not seen. For me the shadow is often a positive space and not an absence of light but rather a vibrant counterpoint to other elements.

Paintings for an exhibition part 2

I was going to add these to the previous post as the developing story of the view from my window but it seemed that it would make for an overlong piece. There seems to be a back and forth thing happening though quite unintentionally between where the paintings might go and where they have already been: bad painting but honest and uncontrived. I see so many paintings that have surface but not much depth and am acutely aware of the danger that that poses, i.e. less to this than meets the eye. I think then that sometimes one needs to go back to the subject and accept that what is being seen are a number of forms occupying a set of spaces, before attempting to do something without that hook. When I draw then I am looking to set down what I see and experience through a variety of physical acts and senses. It is sometimes then that I can make something without so much watching the space before me that is the ash tree and the hill or the little bush but exploring the senses of being part of it via the act of painting and so making something of it that is mine. I still think of it as having the makings of a conversation: myself and the painting process, the painting and the spectator. I still aspire to make some space where something happens: a still space perhaps , still amidst the constant movement.