dominique cameron RSW

 

While I wait at the bus stop in Kirkcaldy a queue has started to form and way at the back stands an elderly woman in a shockingly pink overcoat. I smile at her and motion there is some space to sit if she fancies, so she comes over, I squidge up and we settle together on the standy up seats. Her hair is soft and white and sits like a cloud on her head, cumulus bringing fair weather. I comment on her iridescent snake skin jewels of shoes and she says, ‘I do like a bit of colour’,  her diamond earrings smiling with her in the sun. She tells me how cosy her house is and how she looks forward to the warmth after a mornings shopping. ‘Do you like my scarf ?’ she asks and I peep into a carrier bag to reveal a midnight blue sky with stars. ‘I got the matching gloves too’. Standing behind her an elderly woman carries a red plastic toboggan. ‘Hope you get the snow !’ I say and she touches the side of her nose laughing and says ‘Its for a project’. I am trying to imagine what kind of project as I get on the bus, whilst at the same time wondering where on earth my son might be. I think he is flying over the very far north of Russia. I remember I must buy eggs when I get back.

 

 

Mixed media on paper – 83 x 55 cm.

 

 

 

Mixed media on paper 33 x 23cm

 

 

 

Mixed media on paper – 76 x 56 cm

 

Mixed media on paper 170 x 60 cm.

 

 

Monday. North wind. Bright, cold. The buzzard ushers me into the wood, sharp crack of twigs under foot. I decide to cross the burn but half way across realise its too deep so turn back and clamber my way up the bank where I am met by a man and his dog. This is my first encounter with someone in the wood. He asks if I am ok and I feel embarrassed by my clumsiness. I introduce my self as an artist as if that might explain things and he asks if I am famous to which I laugh and apologise and say no. He tells me about Japanese artists he was watching work and dragons and his new home he is building. He has a giant sequoia on his plot where his garage will be. It has to go, it shouldn’t be here anyway. I paint the fragile day. It starts to rain, the drops settle on the paper. I stop, not wanting the rain to obliterate my marks, carefully roll up the paper and quietly take my leave.

 

 

Mixed media on paper  – 38 x 28 cm.

 

Finished version. Mixed media and text on paper.

 

 

 

(details)

 

 

Charcoal and acrylic on paper – 155 x 60 cm

 

(detail)

 

 

It is quiet, dim, still down here. High above the tallest trees dance with the wind, touching each other. The days are cooling now, the numbing of fingertips. A buzzard skreeks through. Antlers of wood rest on the forest floor, broken and birdsong rings in the air, bells peeling, joining, falling rising together, inviting the day.

 

Mixed media on paper 150 x 52 cm

 

 

(Detail)