Dreaming of peatbogs.



Work in progress – oil on panel – 100 x 80 cm. Day one.


Detail from painting.


It is  lockdown day…….? I can’t remember. I am dreaming of peatbogs, sinking in to the black butter. I decided this morning this would be the day when I would start my big bog painting. It has taken a while to summon the courage to start. Apart for the cost of paint, I have been waiting for the right day, which might sound odd, but painting days , such as these, starting days, are strangely particular, and I know on waking if it is going to be such a day. Today it was/is. Where this painting goes, I do not know, when it will be finished, I don’t know, much like everything else at the moment, so perhaps it is apposite, my bog, this day.

Mid way through this morning I walked on the painting, I wanted my feet to feel the paint- the moss, the sedge, the peat. They are now stained green, black.

Tomorrow I will continue. More drawing, walking, in paint. I’ll let you know from time to time how it is going. This is my voyage from the house, my bringing forth the nature of the moor. It is my way of being there, when I cannot.

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