Rain percolates
Through the glass
Each drop
Like resin
Distilled
To trickle down
The pane
A fusion
Each bead
Embracing
Until
The obscured
Becomes clear
Once more
And all is
Obsidian
As night returns.
Happy Place!

Having painted now over six weeks, I have worked on a series of pictures exploring local and not so local beaches. I have painted from photographs mostly, but now I can see a definite style emerging.
Acrylic allows for mistakes and change, and I am constantly lightening areas and repainting. Altogether I love seeeing how colours react to one another.
Keeping the brush stroke in a single movement defines the angle and layers the process.
Now I just want to explore more in this semi- abstract method. I’m hooked and it is changing how I view things. I’m constantly observing patches of colour, shapes and light.
My happy place!
Splash on the Shore


Foam glistens
Iridescent,
Blown on the wind
Of salt spray
Shards of light
Play on the crests of the waves
Like moths to light
Dogs run
In and out
In free abandon
Chasing the tide
Catching the best of the day.
A Summer Lament

Summer
like flowers fades
Days shorten
Time ebbs
Like the retreat of the tide
Memories are snatched
with velocity
Desperate to eek out
Final afternoons
Impromptu walks
coffees drunk
In favourite cafes
With favourite friends
Wild swimming at any opportunity
Big skies
Open spaces
Dogs running free
The chance to be ourselves
Until…
We pack
Our lives neatly
Like clothes in cases
To begin again
In ordered fashion
Of timetable and routine.
Lamenting what was
Holding the memory
Of Summer.
Along our Coast
Rugged and striking
Pastel hues
Merge on the wind
With salt in the air
Free like brushstrokes paint
This liminal place




Late Summer

Straggly borders and faded flowers
Drawn through with tangled weeds
Like lampposts sunflowers
Lean to wind and rain
Zinnia spikes a sharp vermilion hue
Fighting with soft pink of hollyhock juxtaposed
Yellow rudbeckia - too sharp
Note made
Straw coloured calendula floats
amidst a
Hazy mist of cosmos
Heights and stature change
Grasses shower seed
A profusion of tall perennials
The final flourish
Ending the firework display.
Morning
After a summer of rain – at last a lovely day!
The sky is stretched
In effortless flow
The land cradled in the
folds of the hills
Shrill notes of bird
Cut the stillness of air
All is restored
The earth sings its song.

Learning to paint – a whole new adventure
Summer is practically the only time I can paint. I have to be in the mood and once there need to relinquish everything else as it becomes all consuming.
I booked myself on a two day course for the first time with South West Art back in Spring. I sourced a portable easel second hand as my studio one is too big. Excited by the prospect of painting en plein air, I counted and recounted my brushes and purchased the necessary acrylics, stashing them into my ancient box – wondering how one actually carries the equipment to the location.
Super excited, slightly nervous, I turned up to meet the other participants- all seasoned enthusiasts and professionals, all regularly exhibiting … and then there was me.
I wanted that course as I’ve known artist Phil Creek for years, professionally as art advisor for Devon Schools and more recently collecting his work, one of which he painted especially for us. I love his style ; I was keen to learn.
I may have been from the weakest starting point, yet in two days all I did was learn. I watched… I listened… I had a go.
The technique: One 1 in brush, no drawing. First layer simply make broad lines – no dabbing , single strokes , looking for blocks of colour and cover the page. Never paint like painting a wall – single strokes with same 1 in brush again over the first layer. Repeat the layers- use the brush on its side or tip for fine marks.



Day 2 we learnt to draw people – just giving a suggestion all with 1 in brush then with rigger brush to finish. The idea is not to suddenly return to a detail style or the painting becomes confused, looking as though it has been done by another hand.

En plein air was hard – the time, the weather, the crowds. We carried our load of equipment down to the beach. I was keen to see how others dealt with it – trollies, hold-alls and the like . Easel in one hand, box in the other and a rucksack, we ended up at the Ham, Sidmouth, looking at the cliff above which my grandparents lived. When I was seven, could I have ever envisaged that one day I would be back painting the view ?



Two days well spent.
Morning
Glimmer of light
A haze of drizzle on the wind
A gardener’s morning.
Lament of Rain
Clouds scud
Blackened skies
Veil the sun
With coarsened threat
Lament of rain.
