I just finished this painting which I have named Flowers in the sky. The inspiration came from the beautiful wild flowers of spring and I painted it whilst listening to Flower duet by Netrebko and Garanca on repeat. I cannot tell you how much I needed this! My life is getting busier everyday and only this afternoon I could allow myself such luxury and abandon. I am also looking forward to bedtime so that I can continue reading The Lord of the Flies; it was on my to be read for ages and so far I’m enjoying it as much as I imagined. Wishing you all a blessed Sunday xxx
Halfway through and loving my current read – Salinger’s For Esme with Love and Squalor (and other stories). The title was attractive enough, but I also love Salinger so choosing it from the crazy-high pile of to be read was no hard feat. What’s not easy I think is for authors to choose the title of their books; one wrong or extra word and it could kill it before it is read. Sometimes just one word makes it intriguing enough. These are some of the one-word titles I have and I noticed for most of them the title is the name of a woman… In art there’s a particular character which inspired many artists to paint a one-word title painting bearing her name and that’s Shakespeare’s Ophelia. My favourites are those by John William Waterhouse who painted several beautiful versions of her, this one in 1905.
From these lovely greens I am still to read Gone to Earth, The Old Curiosity Shop and I am especially curious about The Fountain Overflows, a story of a musical/literary family in crisis as seen through the child’s eye, which is said to be West’s most autobiographical novel… Green is a colour Van Gogh used a lot. Two things I can relate to is the associating of colours with moods, and the love of texture in paintings, both of which he was well known for. His paintings were also well known for the ‘furious’ brushstroke which was said to be an expression of his constant inner turmoil. Pictured here is his Cornfield and Cypresses, painted in St. Remy in 1889, the year before he died.
Some of my beloved orange, and behind them one of my favourites from Picasso – Portrait of Max Jacob (early 1907). I love Picasso for many reasons, one of them for expressing very well in words what and how artists feel when they paint. He once said “The painter always paints himself”. How very true. I believe it’s the same for authors and when it comes to all other talents really. The passion behind each work is very personal yet very expressive of one’s self, how ever different the outcome. Experiencing their work is like having a glance at their own personality. It’s like being trusted with a part of themselves. Isn’t that another good enough reason why books should be cherished?
This book took me back to a particular moment when I was little, in front of the TV, watching a documentary about orcas. After that one I decided that I didn’t like documentaries. There you are watching the beauty of an orca for half an hour, soft slow music in the background, beautiful footage of the killer whale floating effortlessly in the vivid blue, beauty and grace; getting all emotional when she gives birth and melting over her offspring… and then just like that the overall mood of the documentary changes and suddenly the orca turns into a ruthless killer, devouring a sweet little innocent seal who was doing nothing but minding his own business. Pleading eyes. Blood everywhere. No, I didn’t like documentaries at all. This went on throughout my childhood years; if someone at home was watching a documentary, I left the room. Time went by and so did that innocence. Slowly I started seeing sense in the fatidic circle of life.
Tarka the Otter is about the sense in all that but also about that which doesn’t make sense. For most of the book we get to see what life is about for an otter. In this case, the life of Tarka (meaning Little Water Wanderer or Wandering as Water). His life as an offspring, depending on his mother, and soon enough his adventures and challenges as an adult. You understand why his mother eventually leaves him and why he has to tear a rabbit or a bird into pieces. You understand why sometimes Tarka is the one who is hunted down. You understand all that. But then man comes along, and all of a sudden Tarka’s life is threatened by the senseless and for the life of me, I will never understand that…
Williamson left me speechless, I couldn’t believe all the attention to detail. A great observer for sure, his writing – a means of transportation. The rawness reminded me of McCormac’s The Road. If not a feast for the senses, it is one of awareness for sure. He managed to write a whole book about the life of an otter, day after day, without making it sound like a monotonous recurrent episode. My senses became sharper. I swam and played and hunted with Tarka and I became to love him. An emotional read but well worth it, hence that painting!
Williamson’s ‘Tarka the Otter’ left me so emotional that I grabbed the paintbrush as soon as I finished reading it.
Raw, vivid, true, beautiful and tragic. I named this painting Circle of life. I wanted to portray the meaning of it all in a painting. I also uploaded my review for the book, you can check it out in Book reveries page.
Art is one of the few things I cannot feel complete without. A huge part of me. It helps me express myself when words fail me. I’ve been painting for as long as I can remember.
Here are very few pictures of some art I’ve made in the past. Unfortunately I don’t have pictures of most of the art I have made in my life because unlike today a camera wasn’t always that available. As you can see the from the resolution, the camera used then wasn’t that good either.
Some pencil sketches done during teenage years.
Two of 13 Lighthouse paintings I’ve painted in 2013 for a solo exhibition.