now, it's personal.

Lockdown has happened again, and the news on the grapevine is that Welney is closing down completely. This is a little bit annoying, since I'd only just put up some paintings on the wall in the centre.

So, thanks to Dunc's prompting, I am going to show them here, on the blog, where literally 3 people will see them. 

I won't put them all up at once - don't want to overload you with sensory euphoria, and this affords me some space to write a little exposition on each painting.

So, stick on one of Tony's Dawn Chorus recordings, and sit back and enjoy.......

The First painting in the collection is one that I started many years ago. Those familiar with my working practices will be no doubt surprised to hear that will be the only time you see that phrase, as most of the works in the exhibition are from this year - and not just this year, but this winter.

The Hawk Owl is a picture of the first one I saw, in Finland with Dunc, Mark and Simon. Only metres from the road, at about midnight, with intense light stunning the birch scrub, the Owl sat motionless as  Bramblings buzzed in the thicket and a Wood Sandpiper poked around a roadside puddle. The green buds were beginning to open, a sign of the lateness of the northern Spring. It was June. I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed that the owl wasn't as fiersome looking as I had imagined it would be. The feathers on its head were fluffed up, making it look like a stuffed toy, but the unblinking gaze was transfixing.

I've been thinking about Scandinavia again, recently, and so I looked again at the picture, which had been set aside in an unsure state. I wasn't completely happy with the barring on its underparts, and the body lacked a little sophistication. I'd already tried a few times to get it right, and progress had been unsatisfactory, so I left it to simmer. Taking the bold step of slapping paint over the barring with a big brush, somehow it looked immediately better. Checking my the sketches and photos I'd taken at the time, I had a clearer idea of how the bars should look, and within half an hour, I'd brought the picture up to a standard I was happy enough with.

We saw two species of woodpecker in Finland that I hadn't seen before, but the Great-spotted is a frequent visitor to my garden. It's been a long time since I painted one, but I took the chance to use as a motif for a painitng about the apple trees just outside the kitchen window. The bark and moss creates a wealth of pattern and subtle colour, and the tangle of branches and twigs forms the structure of the composition, leaving the woodpecker to rest for a moment in the stillness of a damp December morning.

Just before the last lockdown, I headed over to Wicken with Rich, his dad and Loz. The sun turned the sky peachy yellow - almost as bright as Trevor's boots. Looking south across the largest patch of reeds, a male Marsh Harrier patrolled in the darkening sea of Phragmites, its wings silver blue as it drifted on the slight current. It was the only Harrier was saw that evening, but the scene stuck in my mind as somethng to capture in paint. I don't think I succeeded completely in distilling the complete vision, but it'll do for a start. 

As we walked back, the clear sky still beaming, three swans headed off towards the distant washes. Again, the contrast between the yellow sky and the shining blue plumage of the birds was the thing I wanted to capture. This picture isn't in the exhibition, but I think it's a more confident piece, and better for it, thanks to the exploratory work done while painting the Harrier.