studio evening May 6 2020

Before adding the skin, or membrane of graphite; the unifying layer of soft grey through which the colours glow.

I have grown to love Beethoven's Fourth Piano Concerto, particularly the quiet, sombre second movement. There are passages of hymn like beauty in the first movement; I usually stop the disc after the second movement, as the third is a little too rumbustuous for my ear.

On this evening, a warm gracious evening in early May, I sit by the open window to draw, in the interval before dining. I have completed the 'colouring in' and am about to take up a graphite pencil to finish the drawing. My work place is tiny, just the size of my drawing board, made for me by my partner. My chair is one of an original group of six oak dining chairs from around the 1950's; it was given to me by my parents. Thus seated, frangrant air drifting in through the window, the sounds of bird calls outside, within, the poised perfection of the closing notes of the second movement of Beethoven's Fourth, a glass of wine to hand, I experience a moment of rare peace, a stilling of the inner turmoil to which I am accustomed. Within and without are in as perfect balance as the final notes from the piano.