Oil pastel on cartridge 8" x 7.5"
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Oil pastel on cartridge paper 7" x 8"
When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle
The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call;
As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,
And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl.
Your cheeks were pink like painted cheeks, your eyes a pansy blue .
My heart was in my playing, but my music was for you...
(Robert William Service)
Monday, June 22, 2015
Friday, June 19, 2015
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
Oil and acrylic on canvas 36" x 36"
I started this series in 2013 and had put it on one side knowing that one day I would come back to it. This particular painting I called "Ghost". You may think it strange looking at the latest oil pastel work that there should be such an apparent difference within one person's body of work. My justification is that we live on earth - we experience and enjoy sunlight, warmth, the company of others. We create things, houses, gardens, art, meals, music and so on. I am no different to anyone else. But the earth tolerates us and begs the question - for how long? Certainly things are in a state of constant and complex change as they have always been if we believe in evolution - which I do. Remnants of bones and spirits may haunt the planet when we are gone and in fact do so now.
The paintings have many layers of colour which only really start to become visible when seen with the naked eye. I have not abandoned the oil pastel work but will continue to follow the two paths as it is viable. By clicking on the website link to the right you can see on my website some of the other work in this series under the heading "Reclamation" paintings (but please note I am currently reworking a number of these).
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Oil pastel on cartridge paper 20" x 14"
Miracle, bird or golden handiwork,
More miracle than bird or handiwork,
Planted on the starlit golden bough,
Can like the cocks of Hades crow,
Or, by the moon embittered, scorn aloud
In glory of changeless metal
Common bird or petal
And all complexities of mire or blood...
(From "Byzantium" by William Butler Yeats)
Saturday, June 13, 2015
Thursday, June 11, 2015
Oil pastel on cartridge paper 7" x 7"
I used to like being young, and I still do,
Because I think I still am. There are physical
Objections to that thought, and yet what
Fascinates me now is how obsessed I was at thirty-five
With feeling older than I was: it seemed so smart
And worldly, so fastidiously knowing to dwell so much
On time — on what it gives, what it destroys, on how it feels.
And now it’s here and doesn’t feel like anything at all:
A little warm perhaps, a little cool, but mostly waiting on my
Life to fill it up, and meanwhile living in the light and listening
To the music floating through my living room each night...
(From "A Private Singularity" by John Koethe)
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Tuesday, June 09, 2015
Monday, June 08, 2015
Friday, June 05, 2015
Wednesday, June 03, 2015
Tuesday, June 02, 2015
Monday, June 01, 2015
Oil pastel on cartridge paper 6" x 6"
Today the circus poster
is scabbing off the concrete wall
and the children have forgotten
if they knew at all.
Father, do you remember?
Only the sound remains,
the distant thump of good elephants,
the voice of the ancient lions
and how the bells
trembled for the flying man.
lifted to your high shoulder
or small at the rough legs of strangers,
was not afraid...
(from Anne Sexton "The Bells")