Hectic few weeks. Squeezing any me time is proving almost impossible. Revisiting a familiar theme, I’ve chased the Swaledales along the North Pennines. It already feels as though Autumn is slip-sliding away. Sorrow for the borrow Paul.
Occasionally, the paints aren’t to hand and you need to use what’s closest. I often turn to my Caren D’ache pencils. I always thought it cheesey when people drew their children. I now make it a constant subject matter, a diary of sorts as to when they were young and I wasn’t so old. Sorry for any missed posts during my recent subatical. Normal Autumn service has resumed. SAD?, I’m not going there this year.
If you’re interested in attending one of my workshops, the next event will be held at North Shore Health Acadamy, Stockton on Tees.
|12ACM743 – Art for All – One Day Workshop|
|Course details:Dates: 27-Jul-2013 – 27-Jul-2013
Places Available: 11
Times: 0930 to 1600
Location: North Shore Health Academy, TS20 2AY (map)
The following termly fees apply to this course:
Tuition Fees: £26.00
No doubt you’ll be familier with the phrase, ‘painting the town’, well that’s what I’m proposing, but replacing the ‘town’ with the ‘village,’ as I attempt to paint every tree on the village green from one angle or another. Inspiration has come via Edgar Payne and the wonderful work of John F. Carlson, two American artists who seem to hit the right note with me.
June, and the sun’s shining like a millionare. We (the family) visited Filey last weekend – a small seaside town in North Yorkshire, historically part of the East Riding of Yorkshire, located between Scarborough and Bridlington on the North Sea coast.
It was almost a memory from childhood, an old fashioned summer’s day when the sun was so hot you could burn in your own back garden. Then thoughts shift to departed family and friends, those we love and miss. The unsuspected changes and fortunes remind us to live life and enjoy every day. Corners will come, enjoy your sun.
Busy lives strive to abandon the spirit from places we carry with us. The day-time window beckons the soul, while the fingers tap and the pen push, the mind is wondering lonely fells giving birth to infant streams. The hunger for solitude searches for intimate landscapes becoming intimate places within our hearts. While alone we miss the company of others, in the landscape a journey out becomes a journey in. Office days become wasted years as the trappings of modern life fade the memory of an old footpath walked long ago by a younger man.
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