Our Dad he worked the coal face in more ways then one ,he loved us all in different ways . Coaxing the form out of the darkness needles fingers and oils.An urgency spurred me on the more I focused the less I was aware of what was going on around me the out come unknown.The tool kit there invisible in plain sight if you can be a self starter talent channels itself into other directions .Motivation to create what you want is reward enough but a tattered tenner or twenty occasionally will assure us our ideas have value. Self motivation…involves focusing the good things that happen to us make a list and reflect harnessing the power from within that’s constructive.
When the future looks unattractive we spend more time thinking of the past.You my have prospered emotionally there’s no guarantee will that continue ? we have to take charge now.I’m in a different place from we’re I started vital art development 6days 6 weeks none stop into a studio lone but not lonely the year went by fast.A painter is like a traveller with every first step finding new ways unable to stop left or is it right .A clear line without clutter absorbing the cost along the way ,we lean in and slow down .Bring past experience to bare art is as varied as our needs innate power drawing us in if we are not care full takes over concentration to isolation.
The most important the ones closest are the ones that help us the most
quiet ways my gal Maxine and David .
Constructive development we calculated the cost after – rent/ petrol/ parking/ food and drink though I recall losing weight went through two grand a tool at the right time. Use influence from the past does not fit into the present you’ve got to find a better way of working .I’m not interested that much in nostalgia I’m part of it the gentle annoyance.
Nostalgia is not what it used to be
Dashboard but not fingerboard word press to a new page
New links oh no I have to make sure it’s embed in blue.
Conscious thoughts edit for me
We pummel ourselves we think we’re broken
That’s were I want to be.
Don’t hide inside others to be seen
The world it’s good with that
Someone asked me “what is your practice ?
Its part of the process of change you see.
Concepts inherent in everyday materials life
we pull out help from inside
but at the same time it legs us up
That’s how it is .
I had no intention of drawing it came as a complete surprise things can and have changed. we have all being trapped in a short life.Our ability to control our life seems to be always in doubt we have only ourself to trade .The web is live how did that happen file in line gallery,post and publish the digital drop in the tech stuff finding out what was needed keeping it simple.The tools are there to use the dashboard now draws me in I could not stand more digits in my head.Something new stimulates a positive chain reaction ..change.Something was happening the more I focused the less I was aware of what was going on round me always winning and losing .
Stop and reflect think about what your trying to do
You might change what your trying to do next .
Playing with the paint
A young girl I used to be what has changed is external to me ,
To my studio I go it’s just as I left it the day befor
The door is open the smell of paint is strong
a picture unfinished but not for long.
I want to bring my work to life with passion and panache
drab not a happy place
I cut a swath of colour that will bring the slate to life
past and present meet .
Tubes of paint with out lids
liquin and varnish shades of grey not to mention the tray
the aftermath of a great day.
Brushes on table tops
rich plums and sienna too work well with Prussian blue.
The knife is bent how did that happen
canvas or board it matters not
there’s still paint in the pot.
Charcoal smudges work of fingers
finding colours to inbue
nervous of cause
but terrified of not going out there.
With paint as fresh as a bright idea
we’re nearer to winter but closer to spring
you’d like to sketch
I felt strong so easel and paint to town I went
views from lady or gent
a wink a wave on the subject of art there not too hot .
burning “grass” smells all a round
the soul as gone to return it must
source and focus of creative activity
is it not in our domestic
Sienna tint on canvas blushes of the bride
red knickers on the line
the colours of the heart we can not see
nude silk stockings and suntan bodies
a mixed palette so true clash blend those colours new
my eye can see the hand holds the brush I am nothing without the heart within me ; it is everything nothing the art we produce
innate creative power.
The power of play