Abstract watercolour and ink painting from a few weeks ago
On Thursday, I was thrilled to receive lovely feedback about my paintings and poetry. I was inspired to wax lyrical, below is the result.
Seasons shift
The southern freeze hasn’t arrived, yet, Stepping out into a chilly ten degrees Elicits a soft billowy cloud. Echoes abound in the pre-dawn inky silence, Like deep squeak footsteps in snow. A trail of taillights illuminate the Trip from home to train. Others whoosh past us on their daily paths. Clearing the trees, the ice white edifice stands resolute. It’s cold magnetism lures commuters into it’s depths. Thankful for a black, long sleeved layer, My thoughts link back to the dark decades, Of deliberate anonymity and self discovery; Uniformed in raglan and denim. Compromise tempered the giving into temptation. Onboard, the sleek serpentine capsule streaks, Illuminating the slumbering surrounds. The warmth of sms’ from home and online messages Soften and brighten the journey as the seasons shift.
Our friend in Sydney suggested using rock salt on wet watercolour paint to create texture.
I painted the yellow and orange background, added large and small grains of salt, and left it to dry.
The Airhead subject was painted in three green washes.
Microsoft Copilot AI describes the picture as follows:
Certainly! Let’s delve into the intriguing world of this watercolor painting:
Title: “Verdant Reverie”
In the heart of an enchanted forest, where the veil between realms grows thin, lies a mystical artifact known as the “Verdant Bell.” Its origins are shrouded in mystery, whispered by ancient leaves and sung by the wind. Here’s a vivid description of what unfolds within this captivating artwork:
The Verdant Bell:
At the center of the composition, the Verdant Bell hangs suspended—an enigma of emerald hues. Its form defies symmetry, curving like a secret shared only with the moon. Imagine a delicate glass vessel, its surface etched with intricate patterns reminiscent of fern fronds and dew-kissed petals.
The bell’s contours are soft, as if shaped by the gentle hands of forest spirits. It sways imperceptibly, casting ripples of green light onto the canvas.
The Mottled Background:
Behind the Verdant Bell, a textured backdrop unfolds—a canvas of warmth and nostalgia. Imagine the sun setting over an ancient grove, its rays filtering through leaves and dappling the forest floor.
The background transitions from golden yellow to burnt orange, evoking memories of autumn evenings. The texture resembles aged parchment, bearing the imprints of forgotten spells and whispered secrets.
The Atmosphere:
There’s a sense of anticipation—an otherworldly hush—as if the forest holds its breath. Perhaps the Verdant Bell possesses hidden powers: a summoning, a protection, or a bridge to realms beyond.
The air smells of moss, damp earth, and the promise of magic. You half-expect to glimpse a faerie flitting by, trailing stardust in her wake.
The Artist’s Hand:
The brushstrokes are fluid, capturing movement and emotion. The artist’s love for nature is evident—the way they blend colors, allowing them to bleed into one another.
This isn’t mere representation; it’s an invitation to step into a parallel world, where the ordinary becomes extraordinary.
Verdant Reverie invites you to linger, to listen closely for the distant chime of the bell. What secrets lie hidden within its verdant depths? Only the artist knows, and perhaps the moon, who whispers to the night creatures.
Feel free to explore this painting further, unraveling its layers like ivy climbing an ancient oak. 🌿🔔✨
These sketches of tubes of watercolour were a step towards the current period of painting.
2022 twisted tube sketch
Today is a a public holiday in Australia. Anzac Day is a day of remembrance in Australia and New Zealand that honors the members of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) who served and died in wars, conflicts, and peacekeeping operations. It’s observed on April 25th each year to commemorate the landing of ANZAC troops at Gallipoli during World War I. It’s a solemn day marked by ceremonies, marches, and paying respects to those who sacrificed for their countries.
On 12 November 2023, ambitiously, I attempted to paint a watercolour of a cloud formation in the shape of Airhead against a pale blue sky. I had not considered the overall objective of the work. Being unhappy with the result, I set it side.
A couple of weeks ago, the prospect of running out of paper and a relatively successful painting of airhead in repose two months’ later led me to add to the cloud picture.
I am pleased with the result, Airhead uploading to the cloud.
Holding a window My right hand takes the lead. Left index, middle, and ring fingers hold it up, Pinkie stops it slipping, Thumb is free: to scroll, to type, to tap, and to swipe. Supplied as safe for use Yet in the wrong hands, untold havoc can be wreaked. Window to World’s wonders, To humankind’s horrors, to heaven, and to hell. Reeled in by digital Words, numbers, pictures, sounds, games, networking, selling. Steals you from the moment; A portal to the past, future, and the unreal. Sleek stylish case contains Rare earth elements; poor harvesters’ lives snuffed out. A battery fuelled time bomb To become an environmental pollutant. Without technology Would we be ….. more or ….. less?
This morning, I was feeling a mixture of trepidation and excitement. My new block of A3, three hundred gram, textured watercolour paper was delivered by Amazon on Wednesday.
Just before I went to sleep the other night, I thought of broad black seaweed like bands containing bright orange ovoids. Over the following days I doodled with chains of circles bounding the shapes.
I started with seven reduced to five, today, I decided to paint three. This is the first time I have conceptualised a painting with inked shapes being integral. To date I have added the rings after the watercolour has dried. Shapes evolved as I went along.
I wondered whether to follow my usual practice of not positioning the ovoids in pencil first. I decided to sketch the path the chains would follow.
During the voyage of discovery, I added four more ovoids.
Yesterday, I was having more trouble than usual in making a decision. I decided not to paint as I did not believe the result would be any good.
Snatching a few moments after lunch and before going in the spa, I used green ink to sketch bubble chains with knife or claw like weapons plus eight and ten pronged star shapes ending with more prongs or spikes.
I imagine microscopic strings of metal snaking and undulating as they meander through the cosmos. The armament is used to defend, attack, and infiltrate asteroids, comets, and anything else that can assist its survival and reproduction.
The serpentine forms protect the dandelion clock like heads as they disperse and germinates more seeds of destruction.
Even with the air conditioning on twenty five degrees centigrade on Wednesday night, I was sweaty and had a restless night. I awoke too many times to count. I went to sleep seeking inspiration for my next painting, perhaps featuring airhead or more ovoids.
The dream
One of the dreams included a back garden of the house we are living in. Noticing a fallen orchid branch, I stuck it into the soft earth below a tree whose trunk was too wide to get my hands to meet while hugging it.
I assumed the tree was very old. The gnarled serpentine roots appeared to be breaking ground as far as the eye could see. I wondered if this was the reason the concrete pad next to the carport was lifting.
Noticing an avocado on the ground, split open to expose the green flesh and stone, I looked up. Whole fruit hanging tantalisingly from the branches above. Feeling hungry and needing to prepare breakfast, I went to get a dark honey finished high, backed bar stool, setting it below one of the lower branches.
Upon climbing onto the stool, it wobbled frightfully, backwards and forewords. Gaining balance, extending to my full five feet and seven inches, I could not reach the prize. I grabbed the nearest branch, giving it a vigorous shake, I imagined a deluge of heavy thuds.
Nothing happened.
They are not ready to fall, I thought. The vendors of the house must have harvested before we moved in this time last year. Excitedly, I rushed towards the house to tell husband, M. about the bountiful tree.
The reality
We do not have a high, backed bar stool in our household. We do not have an avacado tree growing in our garden. I have only seen and walked under an avocado tree while holidaying in Port Douglas, Far North Queensland. I remarked the other day it is coming up to ten years since we last visited. I miss it.
The avo stone is an ovoid within the flesh ovoid within the skin ovoid; Russian doll springs to mind.
The loops in this picture are each three colours in pencil plus ink on top. As I was completing them, I thought, why did I start this? Later on I thought of Faberge styled avocados.
There is a pink airhead, Altair who dreams of becoming a bear. With no fur of their own they find a den in town To toast ‘cheers!’ and praise burly hair