Skies

They fascinate me, do skies.  Ever-changing, so many variations....

One day, there are the silken traceries of white against the blue.

The next, subtle irregular striations of grey, suddenly climbing steeply into a blurred mass.

We sat and sheltered from the rain, watching the lightening show whilst sipping iced tea and spicy ginger beer,

Wonder what skies await me and my camera today?

My Sunny Meadow Painting

Un prato soleggiato - a meadow basking in the hot Italian sun, as seen from the shade of an olive grove - is the subject for my third art class painting, and which is complete except for an isolation layer and varnish to protect the paint. The colours are a little warmer than this photo shows but it is proving impossible to achieve the correct shade through digital adjustment with what I have available to me. I must try again when it is a dry, sunny day. I learned a lot about achieving and working with texture and colour in this painting, and layering by cutting in to gain a sense of depth. It looks well on the rich blue wall of my dining room.

So, no class until October - woe is me! Hopefully by then I will have a new hip joint as I am awaiting the date for a joint replacement operation and will know when I go to the hospital this Thursday. I need to be able to manage quite a lot of stairs to reach the studio where the class is held, though. Meanwhile, I am contemplating a "portrait" of my husband and myself - I ought to prep a board in readiness for this. And make a couple of cotton nighties in preparation for my trip to hospital.

Roses

June in an English garden means roses (scented ones, of course!) to me, so I wandered around taking portraits of some of the lovelies brightening up my world.

Such delicate colours in their luscious silky petals, pretty as a picture and fragrancing the air as well.

Clearly, I have a preference for the peaches and pale pinks, although I have some beauties in other shades as well, just that these ones were the ones revealing their beauty on this occasion.

When we married, my bouquet contained the palest, barely-there apricot creamy petalled-roses, so some of these are chosen for sentimental reasons.

There are pretty, shaded frills and complex ruffles with a very special elegance of form.

 

Some reveal their fringed and beaded centres, inviting in the bees and other insects to enjoy their nectar sweetness.

 

Others are more shy or coy, a spiral of tightly furled petals hiding, for the moment, their golden centres.

Some appear almost muddled in their layers, crimped edges wrapped in a complex, chaotic geometry.

 

Some are just voluptuous, rich and velvety pinkness.

 While most of my roses are shrubs, standards or bush, I do have a lovely rose climbing an archway. accompanied by trachelospermum jasminoides and a wisteria album.  I love how its flowers hang down to be admired.

These photos were taken at the beginning of June, a month ago.  Life got in the way of me posting them - but fortunately did not prevent me enjoying the flowers.

Sun on sea 1

Another few weeks, another seascape, in acrylic paint on board. I learned a lot from working this image, including more on glazing, and using palette knives as well as brushes. It has a very different feel to my Brighton West Beach piece, more like a sunny Mediterranean sea - it evokes memories of a holiday we took some years ago on Cephalonia. I think it has a serene as well as sunny feeling, and it makes me feel happy to look at it.

I feel so privileged to have the opportunity to take classes which support me so well in producing art I can feel so pleased with - it has been quite a while since I have been able to take such pleasure in creating art. I hope it helps me back to using textiles, too. It does me lots of good to get out of the house and work alongside and learn from others working in our own styles and ways.

Picture the third is well under way too - not a seascape this time, and with different challenges. I am having such fun with painting. It strikes me that this is a different form of magic armchair travelling, too.

On Brighton Beach

Last November, just as the snow came, we spent a weekend in Brighton. The purpose was to see a production of MacBeth at the Brighton Dome/Pavilion Theatre to support my son's English Literature studies, but it was good to spend some time away from home in fresh surroundings. I hadn't been to Brighton for decades, and it was interesting to see what I remembered and what I didn't, and how things have changed.

Apart from the theatre, we explored the Lanes a little, and enjoyed some lovely meals. We also visited the Pavilion, a first for all of us, and took a wander on the beach.

This photo shows the snow-heavy clouds over the sea between the piers, and the sunlight fighting valiantly to shine through.

It was recently our local Arts week, and despite my health being poor again, I managed to get to one exhibition, of paintings. It was a thrilling show with a wide range of different styles, media and subjects, by a group of artists all taught by one tutor. I decided to make contact with him and there was a vacancy in one of his classes - on a Monday afternoon, which suited me very well as the afternoon is when I tend to have most energy.

I took along some photographs and decided to work my Brighton beach image in acrylics on board. Today, the painting was finished, and here it is:-

 

I'm really pleased with it and am looking forward to getting it framed, as well as thinking about my next subject. I'm also really, really enjoying painting again. I'm not good at working on my own at home, so the opportunity to go to the group, to socialise and to see the stunning work produced by my fellow students, is proving very fulfilling and enjoyable. As for my tutor, Andy, he's lovely and a great teacher for me.

Visiting my Deutzia

When we first moved to our house, this shrub was in the front garden. We liked it very much, but it did not fit in with our plans for the little piece of land. Eventually, we dug it up and, with fingers crossed, replanted it by the back fence. I'm glad to say that it took, grew and thrived, and gladdens my heart every year when it bursts into a white froth of springtime flower. I think it is some kind of Deutzia, but would love to know more about it if anyone can tell me.

This year, bring in the right place at the right time in the right weather has allowed me a closer look at this lovely plant.

Much as I love it, I did not realise it had other fans.

The bees have been buzzing contentedly among the flowers, foraging away.

Their industry and concentration between the frills and folds of the flowers reminds me of the dress designer arranging the dress at a certain big wedding in this country!

I'm glad to have captured these images to return to and enjoy once the flowers are over for another year.

Sign of the Times

Seen this morning on the magazine shelves of our village general store:

Your Chickens

Home Farmer

Time for a remake of "The Good Life"?

And the latter actually looks worth a look, to me!
(I don't have chickens).

A Walk in the Woods

What better way of celebrating the continuance of public access to forestry land than to take a walk in the woods on a Sunday afternoon in February?

This was an opportunity to visit Stockhill Wood near Wells on the Mendip Hills, run by the Forestry Commission which so nearly lost the right to run it before this week.

The trees are so beautiful and the air so fresh and clean.  It is good for the soul to be reminded of the power of nature and that even in the winter there is growth and greenness.

Last year's burdock mimic flowers in form if not in colour.

The coniferous trees make wonderful silhouettes against the grey skies.

A herb robert is already growing vigorously in the shelter of a moss-bedecked fallen tree trunk.

Paths curve away into the wood, choices to be made about directions to be taken.

The grass and the green of the trees glows against the grey browns of the paths and tree trunks and branches.

Other paths are mere tracks between the trees, the paths less often taken...

Dried stems that once bore seedheads mark the spot for the coming summer's growth.

Dried leaves clinging on to branches create a delicate tracery of lace work against the sky.

A different scale: moss, leaves and fungus flourish on the dead wood left to decay on the ground

Catkins remind that spring is on its way.

Moss is growing on the ends of logs piled up beside our path.

Clearly these stones have not rolled for a long time, dressed as they are in their mossy coats.

Stone and tree: the moss does not discriminate.

Ferns are already growing from this mossy stump.

Thistles are pushing through the autumnal carpet of shed leaves in search of the light.

Another tree is adorned, bedecked in catkins like strings of prayer flags for the new year.

A tussocky green mounded clearing appears

and affords views of the little lake across the invisible road.

The trees show glimpses of the terrain beyond their boundary, a hilltop moorland sort of place where once lead miners used to work.

It looks bleak at this time of year, but we are sheltered in amongst the trees.

The glorious trees, reaching for the heavens, reminding us to look up as well as around.

On Chestnut Farm

This afternoon I drove to Cheddar - not to buy cheese, nor to see caves or a gorge. The occasion was the first meeting of a Stained Glass workshop, being taught by Richard Pelham of Glastonbury Stained Glass . There were twelve of us, so my fears that the class might not be adequately subscribed were not realised, and I spent a very happy few hours revisiting the pleasures and frustrations of cutting glass (it being nearly a decade since I last practiced this activity). Practice is definitely required, but how enjoyable it was! Richard is a very good teacher who demonstrates and explains the processes very clearly. The company was also excellent, and the surroundings delightful. As I was leaving, I noticed this piece of recycled metal art and a bit of interesting fig topiary across the courtyard,

Wisdom

There is nothing more difficult for a truly creative painter than to paint a rose, because before he can do so he has first to forget all the roses that were ever painted.
Henri Matisse 

A New Year

Well, I am shocked that I've not written here for so long - but the last part of 2010 was a miserable round of viral illnesses, so I didn't have much to share.  We did have a weekend in Brighton so we could see Macbeth at the Dome Theatre (it being Ben's GCSE Shakespeare play) and that was lovely except he became fluey while we were there (and then generously passed it on).  We'd not been to Brighton for over a quarter of a century (!) so naturally it had changed a lot, and I'll talk about it in another post.

Christmas and New Year were quiet, family, home based festivities and I have no photos as I've mislaid my camera.

However, I do have this to share:  an except of a music programme we watched on New Year's Eve, which had me laughing until it hurt: Henry Dagg and his amazing Catastrophony: not a bad way to start off a new year.