dominique cameron RSW

 

Telegraph poles, puddles, fences and back gardens.

I wait in the queue, for the loo at Waverley train station. Glancing to my left I see a woman of middle age dressed in a black, belted, wartime overcoat and the blackest, shiniest polished brogues. Her hair is dark and worn in a bob, the fringe resting on her eyebrows. She stands in front of a mirror, arms at her side, motionless and stares at herself. She watches her features intently and quietly, with no sign that the image is one she might recognise. She is still and upright and concentrated for a a full two minutes and then suddenly she tilts her chin upward, revealing her pink, fleshy neck and, with her left hand slowly strokes the skin in a downward manner along her trachea. This, she repeats a dozen times or more. Lowering her head she returns to her original position. Below, her polished shoes twitch, causing them to sparkle under the ceiling lights. Another sharp movement brings her right forefinger up to her forehead . She rubs, again and again with effort, her face passive. She drops her hand and looks. And looks. Stepping back, her eyes take in her body and she turns, her shoes twinkling as she exits. I inch further forward in the queue.

 

Weather, finished painting. 150x40cm

 

Detail from painting. Sitting on the rocks along the shore. Watercolour, acrylic , ink and charcoal on paper.

 

Ink drawing from the shore at Elie looking toward the Isle of May.

A pic of some of us at the Christmas lunch at Sainsburys. Brilliant to see everyone again. Top of the cracker jokes this year  – Q. Why did the chewing gum cross the road ? A. Because it was stuck to the chicken.

A lovely day in Dundee catching up with all the news and singing carols in the bus.

 

December day of shortening light. Gesso, acrylic, watercolour and charcoal on paper. 146x45cm.

 

Charcoal, acrylic, gesso and watercolour on paper 66×60 cm

 

Sun, biting wind.

Meet a dog walker who asks if I am out painting. I say I will draw if I can find somewhere out of the wind. He tells me where I should go, then patting me on the shoulder says ‘Good luck Mrs Picasso’. I walk on. Turning down the path to the shore the wind hits me and takes my breath away. I turn my back and retreat . In the harbour hundreds of eider ducks think the same as they bob collectively behind the shelter of the pier wall.

Watercolour, acrylic, charcoal and gesso on paper. 140x40cm .