Inspiration. So many times I’ve been asked where I get my inspiration from and naturally I ask artists this too. At Art Fairs and exhibitions, visitors and potential buyers will ask too because we all want to hear a story don’t we?
I used to feel awkward about answering this question oddly enough. I didn’t want to influence someone too strongly. What if my story of childhood memories of digging on a sandy beach triggered a less than pleasant memory for the listener?
I think the urge to connect with the narrative of a painting is stronger than that though so now I can wax lyrical about my thing for bridges and motorways and lonely goalposts.
Recently, I was trying out some key words that resonate with me ( I write them on post-its and stick them around my studio) and decided to explore them further. I’m not sure why I haven’t done it before to be honest, maybe it didn’t feel so important to me or I just didn’t want to dig too deep. There was a feeling that I might not like what I found and it would ruin the joy of those words and phrases hanging around with me like old friends.
It didn’t ruin the fun - it reaffirmed the importance of them. For example, my words ‘solitude’, ‘adrift’ and ‘fragility’, have been a part of my psyche since I can remember if I think about it. Childhood events sealing those feelings and memories of aloneness, uncertainty and sometimes fear, yes. But also they gave me ‘containment’, ‘'strength’ and ‘resilience’. When I look back at the long solitary hours I would spend in my own fantasy world of fairies and woodland creatures, of magical worlds hidden beneath our gaze, it all makes complete sense to me. Those were the loveliest of times and I’m sure I’m kind of creating other worlds still in my studio. Every mark I make, or choice of colour or image, resounds with the cacophany of those feelings and all I’m trying to do is put it all into some kind of harmonious rhythm with the odd clash of a cymbal ( okay I’m probably over-stretching the music metaphor but you get the gist.)
No wonder I like the vessel - a symbol of holding, containment and anchoring. And the lonely goalpost standing firm in a vast and grassy space. Give me a motorway bridge across a stretch of tarmac and a sea of headlights: a singular tree adrift in a flat landscape: a lone navigational marker jutting out from the waters of the sea.
If all this sounds a bit bleak, its not really. Because for all these words that I know and love, I’ve been exploring their opposites too. I actually do like a moody and soulful landscape but if you look closely I try to add a pop of something positive as well - something that says this is human nature, this is all our messy feelings and thoughts of wonder and not to be taken too seriously. This is me.
PRECIOUS SKY
50CM X 50CM
Acrylic and pastel on canvas