THE LIBRARY OF THE FOREST

WALKING THROUGH OWLET WOOD ON A SNOWY AFTERNOON

Acrylic, gouache, paper and linen on canvas, 2023, 61 x 61 cm.

This is a further exploration of painting over linen gessoed onto canvas combined with collage. On the figures and parts of the tree-trunks the acrylic is so watery as to be like watercolour, and these were painted over what started out looking like an abstract collage with just the blue painted paper and the spotted paper stuck onto the whitened linen.

the final result has a strong graphic element which retains the abstraction, but combines it with the narrative of the two figures bundled up in thick clothes hurrying through the wood with the little dog almost hidden behind the woman.

THE DOOCOT

Inspired by a weird Hipstamatic photo of a doocot (there are ruined and repaired gothic stone doocots (dovecots) everywhere here in Fife), this painting was the beginning of  a new phase of painting for me – using the unbleached fine shirt linen as a surface gessoed onto the plain canvas, and allowing the figurative into my work.

Acrylic, pencil, graphite and linen on canvas, 2023, 100 x 100 x 5cm

detail of the edge of the unbleached fine linen.

detail of some of the words written onto this painting.

IN OWLET WOOD

Acrylic, charcoal, ink and paper on deep-sided canvas, 2023, 61 x 51 x 5 cm.

From the rules of Sister Corita Kent – everything I do is an experiment  – plus my studio being in the kitchen for the winter means I go back to things after supper and get my hands covered in paint again or start sticking things onto things having ripped things up. My recent collage work on paper is having a huge effect on the paintings; with this one technically it’s as much a collage as a painting.

 

LABYRINTH

Acrylic paint, gold powder, charcoal and collage on canvas, 100 x 120 x 4 cm

In January I had a frightening experience in a blown down plantation of Corsican pine – the further I got into it the more difficult it became to get out again, and this has something to do with that.

the labyrinth listens in the dark
what coat I wear to lie down
in the fern bed
& the needle leaves –