wall painting

Part of a still extant medieval wall painting at the church of St Thomas, East Shefford, Berkshire. I was captivated by the rich colour, and the delicacy of this fragment, and in awe of the piety motivating it's origin. I would that I were able to piant with such strength of purpose, and such skill as the painter of this work.

chain link fence 2008

These drawings were made on tissue paper in the Autumn of 2008, whilst I was in hospital suffering from depression. I made tracings of a chain link fence from a photograph in a book, preferring the easily crumpled, fragile texture of tissue paper to the more robust smooth surface of tracing paper.
The photograph showed only part of a fence; I made tracings of only part of that photograph, moving the tissue paper as I worked, each drawing different from the one before it. Held in the hand, it is possible to see through the tissue paper to the drawings beneath, thus they have a cumulative effect.
They have never been exhibited, shown solely to members of my family, and my partner, and remain wrapped in a piece of rice paper in a drawer. At the time of their making, I was otherwise unable to work, and visiting the Occupational Therapy room, where one was encouraged to use paints, pastels, pencils and charcoal freely by the therapist, remained an impossibility for me. To retain at least a vestige of my drawing practice, towards the end of my period in hospital, as evidenced by the chain link fence drawings, was of vital importance, even though they themselves are slight in appearence.

Chapel of Rest

In my father's cold, still beautiful hand, my mother placed a small posy of Rosemary, Lavender and Forget-me-Not, gathered from the garden, their stems bound together with a scrap of the blue wool she had used to knit one of my father's pullovers.
In death, my father appeared to be utterly at peace, with a suggestion of the faintest of smiles playing about his lips, as though he had been amused, and had registered that amusement with the ghost of an expression.
I realised, with an excruciating intensity of emotion, that his lovely eyes, eyes yet as innocent as a child's, would never open again, that we would never again hear his voice, never share the the substance of what had left that fragile smile traced upon his lips.

wall painting

A second wall painting from St James church, part of a repeating pattern.As with the previous image, there is a naivete and simplicity profoundly touching to behold.

wall painting

The church of St James, Cameley, Avon dates from the 11th century. It has a number of wall paintings from different periods, revealed by 20th century repair work, the earliest being perhaps as old as the church itself. I would imagine that the image pictured is early. I found its simple delicacy and naivete most moving.

on recognising one's own egocentricity

From the preface to the 1975 Penguin edition of Dark as the Grave in which my Friend is Laid, by Malcolm Lowry, written by Douglas Day, University of Virginia, August 1967, on Malcolm Lowry:
"..He was never able to define himself to himself....he was acutely egocentric: his gaze was almost always inward, so much so that he was very nearly blind to the world outside- except in so far as it reflected his own thoughts and feelings. From time to time he would try mightily to focus on something outside himself-the world situation, friends, wives, the sound of a voice, the colour of a sky...."
I read these words with something of a start of recognition, for I read of myself within them. I am by no means comparing myself with the greatness of Malcolm Lowry, but recognise that I am myself, "acutely egocentric", and that my gaze is most often inward, rather than directed outward to the world beyond the narrow confines of the self. It was therefore somewhat reassuring to read later in the preface, that the writer did not consider egocentricity to be "synonnymous with conceit". I can assert that it is not, although the two conditions appear to lie so closely alongside one another that one may be mistaken for the other.

dark rainbow drawing II

This is the first drawing that I made for almost a year, and is not a new drawing, but instead represents a visit to an earlier work, now 'finished' in July 2010. The drawing dates from 2008, and was originally untitled, one of the rainbow drawings made whilst living in Turnpike Cottage, shortly after return from hospital in the late Autumn.
On regarding it with a critical and not altogether friendly eye several weeks ago, the notion of obscuring the bow with crumbled, dark pastel suggested itself to me, a possible development that could have meant the ruination of a drawing. Instead, the drawing has been revised, I think successfully, and I can look upon it with something of the feeling of relief.