dominique cameron RSW

 

 

 

Ink and charcoal on paper – 33 x 22 cm.

 

Thank you to everyone who has looked, liked, commented and supported me this year. It is very much appreciated. Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas and a hearty Hogmanay.   Dominique x

 

 

 

Mixed media and my sons old t-shirt on canvas 140 x 140 cm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mixed media on paper 150 x 20 cm

 

 

 

Mixed media on paper – 140 x 60 cm.

 

The world has stopped. Frozen. I am the only sound in the wood this morning. Along the edge of the burn starbursts of ice reach toward the fast flowing water whilst thick fingers of ice clutch at boulders and rocks midstream. I am careful not to slip on them. Across the water I sit and look at the trees. A robin sits too, watching me . I think I should have brought some nuts to give it. Instead I throw it bits of my kit-kat. It simply looks on. I paint the utter stillness. A heron lands on a rock, my feet shift on the crunchy leaves and it takes flight, its great swags of wings lifting it gently into the pale sky.

 

 

 

The wood feels exposed this morning, wind echoes a memory of sleep as I walk. I am getting a new view of the wood in winter, this steep sided fissure in the landscape. The geography and geology reveal its bones. Here in my favourite place a copse of young beech trees mimic the curves of the burn below, rising upwards, away.

I sit listening to the wind roaring and closing my eyes I am all at once at sea.

 

Mixed media on paper 140 x 60 cm.

 

 

 

 

Rocks below the lighthouse at Fife Ness, the most easterly point in Fife. From here on a clear day you can see north past the Angus Glens almost to the Cairngorms and south past Dunbar on the way to St Abbs and the  English border. A wide wide view.

Mixed media on paper  – 76 x 55 cm.

 

         

 

 

 

Acrylic on panel – 28 x 36cm

 

157 x 54 cm, mixed media on paper.

 

Cold, really cold. Deer, rabbits, a wren, flock of pigeons circling overhead. The problem I have now painting outside in this weather is the temperature. Paint starts behaving differently – it sits on the paper gloopily but as soon as I add any water the support itself becomes sodden , so I am left with wet paint and wet paper which refuses to dry. I stand around literally watching paint dry while my feet start to freeze in my wellies. Coldness seeps, and by the end of the morning  I am shivering. The only thing to do is to make the decision that it won’t dry any further and then swiftly roll it up and get it back to the studio as soon as I can. Half an hour later and with the hairdryer on it the painting is dry and warm, less so me. Still, another amazing day spent in the company of trees. Wonderful.

 

The heavens open. Leaves tremble all around me with the splashing of raindrops. A gunmetal, pewter sky keeps the tin lid on things as I wait for a break in the weather. I know, I watched the forecast but the optimist in me says it will be fine…….

 

 

The rain comes down harder, paint sliding off the paper, charcoal dissolving on touch. An image of tear stained mascara running down a face. By the end the paper is more like a wrung out handkerchief as I finally decide it is time to leave, but the feeling of this place today is caught, fleetingly, in black and white.

142 x 60 cm