To set the ambition to have an exhibition of work, a date for hanging and then maybe an event, An Opening. Of course focuses the mind.
Painting is one thing. Curating my work.. Editing for best effect. Disguarding and grouping. A thread running through to help viewing. A title to suggest a narrative. These all add layers to the process.
Its exciting but the exposure needs confidence. That is the precarious element. Coming and going without due warning.
This exhibition is amongst friends, but still. The vagaries of nerves and trying to be efficient regarding publicity. And thinking that each thing matters a lot, but remembering it’s all vanity and self imposed.
Why do it. When the joy is the doing.
I sat under unbroken blue looking over the wield of Kent and East Sussex. The commission is to capture something of this awesome view for people who know it intimately. It is difficult, not least because even if I admire it, I can not know how they view it. These are hard working people with machinery, animals and storage.It will give me something interesting to work on when I get home.
This image is made of random stains on a chair seat.
Observed, considered and recorded. Whether by drawing, painting or some other means. There should be a belief that it may have insite, the possibility of something seen differently, that this version may be revealing and intrigue to others. A gift.
To be enjoyed, accepted or rejected.
When my parents first looked at the property that was to become our home in 1963 ,( and still is theirs now);. there were a few very old fruit trees and a Philadelphus growing The ‘mock orange’ was flowering in an overgrown hedge at the far side of the garden area that would later become lawn. Mum and I walked through high grass and weeds hand in hand, it was full of thistles that towered over my four year old head. She introduced me to the delicate white blossoms of the flowering tree and invited me to sniff it’s aroma. It is one of my most vivid early memories.The sketches for these drawings were done in that garden nearly 60 years later, with the still flourishing Philadelphus behind me.On the right of the image is a cooking Apple tree that was newly planted when Paul and I married. 1981. It was part of a floral display made inside the tent where our reseption was held.Now on the right is the magnolia grand flora. The gift from ‘paddy’ dads step mother, that has caused mum such frustration. Planted too close to the house, it blocks the light, drops an endless stream of large dark leaves, clogs the sump that houses a pump that stops the house from flooding when it rains hard and just occasionally has a few delightful flowers. In the middle is represented the most grand and beautiful crab apple tree, which is covered in jewel like fruit that set perfectly when used to make jelly. On the left is a wee walnut. Not so wee anymore. A small bush ten years ago it has flourished in the land of plenty and goes ever upwards and outwardsAnd finally, the acasia that Paul and I gave dad for his 57th birthday. Now 93. – that mesns this lovely tree has been there at least 40 .
Time passes, things grow, or go.
This is part of four pages of sketches done in situe. They capture a truth that is elusive in further works. Nothing betters the direct response for me.
The more polished rendering looses rawness as well as some of the direct observation.
Babies and bathwater.
We then went out separate ways. And Visited a monastery on our return.
Painting first thing in the morning before it cooks up to 40°. We dipped in the lake to cool the dogs and then I swam the length of it to get back to the lake house. It is only a couple of feet deep, with gloupy mud underneath. Mud bath swimming. It was still refreshing though. It is so warm outside. The breeze is warm, the ground is hard.
I believe the air-conditioned studio at L’Age Baston is going to be a welcome sanctuary if this carries on.