Acrylic, paper, charcoal and linen on linen canvas, 2022, 122 x 91.5 cm (48 x 36 inches).
rising on the steep deep wood /in place
falling
birds calling
in and out the tomb-court
A large piece of raw linen has been stuck onto this painting, after plenty of paint had already been applied. It might seem a bit drastic, but it was a game-changer.
Acrylic, paper, charcoal on linen, 2022, 61 x 61 cm.
This painting came after a birthday walk in the Trossachs, amongst birch woods and hilly sitka plantations, above the river Garbh Uisge, meaning Rough Water. Walking through the birches I got my pocket sketch book out and drew madly which made me feel a bit dizzy. Here there is a feeling of looming hills and promontories, and birch trunks and the river full of rocks.
In the Hills refers to the wish of the painter to be up in the wild places, in the heather and the trees, walking and finding themselves.
Acrylic, gouache, water soluble crayon and paper on canvas, 2022, 61 x 61 x 4 cm
Junun is music that is basically Sufi Qawwali from India, with a little help from an Israeli Sufi singer and poet, Shye Ben Tzur, and Jonny Greenwood. On the album is a poem by Meera Bai, a 16th century Hindu mystic poet, a Bhakti saint, and the line “Let’s go to that land, where my beloved shall be found” inspired this painting. The idea is that the beloved is the god Krishna, and the saint wishes to immerse herself as his devotee.
Acrylic and gold mica flakes on canvas, 61 x 61 x 4 cm, 2022
This is one of those paintings that looked gorgeous when just finished and then the next day flat and boring, So I had to work on it with layers of glazing on some more translucent blues – pthalo, ultramarine, and deep Australian blue – with some black too. and then the gold mica flakes are specks floating on the surface.
In Assynt in the summer the many little lakes (lochan) on the hummocky Lewisian Gneiss are full of wild waterlilies.
Acrylic and linen on canvas, 2022, 50 x 50 cm.
There is a lot going on under the top layers of paint in this one, a rectangular piece of raw linen over previous layers … and then the top layer itself is quite three-dimensional, thick and thin, skimming over the surface and then stopping in lumps and squiggles. The final brush marks done with a small brush taped to a bamboo cane, to try to let the brush fly over the canvas. Suggesting water surface and light in some sort of homage to Monet’s Nympheas.
Acrylic, charcoal, graphite, pencil, paper on canvas, diptych, 80 x 120 cm, 2022
this has brim-over and over view written on it. From a time when I was writing a poem about the river Tas in my childhood, and the big watermill in the village (Colman’s mustard headquarters in the 19th Century)
we children gone
the river below
underneath the leat are the drowned
the overflow down drowned
on the other side minnows and through
being metal railings
kingfishers and rushing churned up down
dark river deep
run
walk the concrete
past the two shooting out of floors
high above the tail race
on the deep stained dead
Acrylic and linen on panel, 2022, 61 x 61 cm
Many layers and again, Gaelic scratched into the layers, Duilleag-bhaite which means drowned leaf, literally, but is the name for water lily. It’s hard to see this one’s depth in a photo.
Acrylic, pastel and linen on a box canvas, 80 x 70 x 4 cm. 2022.
Not so many layers on this one, as the raw linen does such wonderful things. I left quite a bit of it showing. A light touch compared to so many of my paintings which are deeply layered.
Acrylic and oil pastel on canvas, 61 x 61 x 4cm, 2022
Dark pool reflecting mountain, and waterlilies, the counterpart of the shimmering blues of the first Waterlily lochan.
