Category Archives: thoughts about painting

If you don’t know where you’re going, any road will get you there

image showing three plein air sketches, 6x8

three small plein air paintings used to create a larger work

And as Joseph Campbell said: “If the path before you is clear, you’re probably on someone else’s.”

Last year I made these three small paintings while I was out on the hill and I’ve been struggling ever since to find a way to make them into a large painting. So far, this is what I’ve come up with but I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m not even sure if I quite like the result. All I know is that I nearly like it, so that will have to be enough for now. I think those clouds are going to be adjusted one last time before I can finally put this experiment to one side.

photo of large landscape oil painting, work in progress

large oil painting, not quite finished, created using smaller sketches

Another experiment has involved trying to make a large painting out of a tiny little pencil sketch and a hazy memory of a place I can’t quite even be sure exists (although I was definitely somewhere when I drew that sketch). In a previous post I showed the A1 charcoal drawing I’d made from the sketch and now I’ve started making an A2 painting, very murky and dark to try and convey just how rainy it was that day. Again. I’ve no idea where this is going but it’s something I feel compelled to try.

photo of unfinished oil painting depicting rainy landscape

murky work in progress of rainy day painting, A2, oil on canvas

Back in the slightly more real world two of my paintings are preparing to leave for new homes. I’ll miss the coffee pot, which probably sounds crazy, but some paintings you just get attached to.

photo of two small paintings

two paintings ready to go to their new homes

Christmas Eve – the best part of Christmas

Christmas Eve walk on the fell image

looking towards Sedbergh in the muted, colourful, afternoon light

When I was a child I realised that I preferred Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. It was so still and mysterious and there was that wonderful anticipation in the air. You could imagine anything was possible and it could be true, in a way, before reality arrived the next morning.

Being a Catholic family we went to church at Christmas and Midnight Mass when I was older. This seemed to make everything even more charged and exciting, because staying up so late meant entering an unknown world – a sleepy, magical, miraculous place where people gathered in the darkness inside a hazy candlelit church. One year it snowed and we were cut off from the rest of the world, a small quiet village marooned by a bypass stuffed with drifts. That Christmas Eve felt especially enchanted as we trudged around streets devoid of engines, with glowing stars, the blue dark sky and waves of snow shimmering with crystals.

This year a walk on the fell saw gloom pierced by rays of light, fiery bracken all around and beautiful gentle colours of violet and green in the distance.

photo of sun's ray in the gloom

could this be the fabled ray of hope?

Tilly may have been looking forward to the future with enthusiasm and hope or she may just have been lunging for a treat. Who’s to know?

photo of dog in bracken

Tilly lunges into the future

In 2015 I hope to paint furiously and, if I can, adopt the mindset of Ray Bradbury who once said:

“I have never listened to anyone who criticized my taste in space travel, sideshows or gorillas. When this occurs, I pack up my dinosaurs and leave the room.”