Walking along the busy road the whoosh of passing cars stirs the air and diesel fumes catch in the back of my throat. I turn hurriedly off into the woods. Everything falls – the light, the temperature, my heart rate. It is hard to write about this place, this space that is chaotic, dense, awkward. A little like the inside of my own head. Perhaps that is why. In the city the movement, conversation and striking juxtapositions of buildings and people allow for a deflection of the self. Here it is me and the trees and the undergrowth and the burn. Here is a language I have not yet grasped save the odd tourist phrase – ‘It is very green’, or ‘Where is my car ?’ So I fear it might take some time of coming back, of not just seeing, but being, here in this difficult space and, in the meantime my paintings and drawings will tell their own side of the story.
Mixed media on paper – 150cm x 65cm
150cm x 60 cm – mixed media on paper. A painting executed in the pouring rain under the canopy of an old oak tree. I did not want to return having made no drawing so set to and in the very wet conditions produced a piece that certainly reflected the weather this morning. With no hope of it drying I carefully rolled up the paper and hoped for the best. The painting survived remarkably well, less so my sodden trainers….
Acrylic and charcoal on paper 150cm x 50 cm.
Large drawing made in the woods this morning. The paint wouldn’t dry in the damp air and the paper ruckled and crumpled. Insects crawled, mozzies bit, deer barked. Splendid to be out in the landscape, getting lost in the making of marks.
Pencil on paper
Oil on panel
Terre Verte, Viridian, Emerald, Veronese. Pushing through the undergrowth, cow parsley as tall as my eye, cobwebs brush my face. Eating wild raspberries, small, sharp and red. Seeds caught between my teeth. Birdsong high in the canopy, dark hollows of sleep. Ash leaves ripple in the breeze spilling sunlight on a wren as it flits through the ferns.