It was such a luxury
to climb the stairs to my studio under the roof tiles,
and get down to playing.
The luxury came from the fact that
for the first time I can remember
I let hubby trundle off on foot
to do some shopping on his own.
I usually get behind the wheel and act as chauffeur
for all our errands
other than the ones really near home.
- And here I was not even feeling guilty!
I didn't know what I was going to do.
(Nothing new there then).
Always torn between the figurative and abstraction
I let my choice of materials be my start.
Watercolour and inks to begin;
on top of a an initial sketch made with a pen held loosely
with the tips of the fingers
to allow the greatest fluidity of movement.
That was a joy
for the pure love of seeing the form emerge
through the marriage of colour and line.
Next the joy
comes by letting loose with some gestural marks in acrylic.
Then came the texture,
(laying in paint with the palette knife
-impasto - luscious!)
and the beginning of breaking down the figurative form.
How far will I let this go?
And what is the mysterious process
that will come into action to inform me
when enough is enough?
The deliberate choice to use both abstract and figurative forms
came at the junction of letting the composition grow freely, like Topsy.
Now the decisions will become more crucial.
I already know that there are some tonal issues I need to sort out.
As everybody knows beginning a piece is easy.
It's the final resolution that's the skillful bit.
So the question when next I climb to my eyrie
will be the same exciting one I always carry with me
when I approach a work in progress.
"What now? What now?"