I was unsurprised this morning when we awoke to a gloomy sky soon to be followed by rain. The forecasters advise this is a wet patch in the otherwise dryish El Nino weather pattern. As South East Queensland is subtropical, we catch a bit of Far North Queensland’s wet season around February anyway.
Faced with continued inclement weather, I decided to paint an abstract watercolour picture to brighten our day. Overall I’m pleased with the intensity of colours and the way the washes ran into each other.
The photograph is more blue than the turquoise of the actual picture even after adjusting the colour balance.
This watercolour started out as a stylised tree form, nothing more.
For the past eight months, I have repeatedly sketched a Buddha-eque figure. It is based on a photograph of me sitting on a bed taken in May 2023.
I have edited some of the sketches in Google Snapseed and posted them on Instagram. Some people on there have offered to buy them as ETFs. Whatever they are.
I reduced the size of the head of the figure so that the focus of the image is on the body. In one of the iterations of the head, I added a hoop and ‘airhead’ was born. I consider myself a little like a fool or airhead on a hill. Always looking for the greener grass.
Also, I have a tendency to over think things; all I needed to do was sit the figure on a hillock under the tree.
This is the last watercolour picture painted today and the following poem from the storm the day before.
Summer storm Outside, deep air filled rumbles Echoed by pre-breakfast stomach gurgles Rapidly fading morning light rays’ Impeded by gloom grey clouds
Tinkle ping crash flash overhead Panes rattle in frames Storm’s expected to last for an hour Stan pants, shaking on my lap I type this on my phone with an index finger
Internet’s gone off, using mobile data Light rain increasing to very heavy in thirty three minutes The worst is yet to come
Drops pelt Hammering heavily on the tin roof High pitched whooshing increases ear pressure Tinnitus swells
Stan lies rigidly vibrating Momentarily stops awaiting the next sound On it goes seldom slows
I am pretty certain I read about crepe myrtle in Anne Rice novels, set in New Orleans, Louisiana. The first time I saw crepe myrtle trees in red, pink, purple, lilac, and white was when we moved from New South Wales to Queensland in 2018. Since then I have been fascinated by the council planted trees along the streets of Morningside.
I was heartened to see our next door neighbour has a hot pink one in the corner of their garden. It proudly displays its dark green deciduous foliage and cerise blooms above the dividing slatted timber fence.
With my watercolour painting, I am attempting to find my groove. I appear to be in an ovoid phase. Given I am at the start of a journey, an egg shape is perhaps apt.
The picture at the top of the post has seven elements signifying research analysis and deeper understanding. I cannot see the point for myself to paint reality as I can take a photograph. I wanted to paint a representation of next door’s myrtle tree. Working on the basis of the approximate proportional amounts of each of the colours, I light touch painted three ovals in pink, three tear drops in dark green and a surrounding oval merging the three colours.
The next step is to try a painting including the pale blue of the sky.
Back in the eighties, I was gifted a set of Daley Rowney Georgian tubes of watercolour; I still have them. At the time, I was inspired to paint a hotel doorway in Whitby, UK and the view from riding pillion. I will post pictures of them when they resurface.
Over the decades that followed, I dabbled with watercolour painting. Lacking confidence because of my self doubt and fears of failure, of not being any good, and of looking stupid, I have hidden and stifled my art enthralled inner child.
Sixtieth birthday gifts included, Mont Marte A3 paper blocks and a compact Winsor and Newton Cotman watercolour set.
On the day of our thirtieth anniversary, on the way to lunch by ferry, we narrowly missed a heavy downpour on the Noosa River. The first picture is a representation of the malevolent view from our table at Lucio’s Mariner, Tewantin.
With a need to suspend my self disbelief, to allow my inner child to stretch their arms and reconnect with its creativity, I have opted to have a go at abstract painting.
The second painting is a section of my inner vision of the occasion, an abstract sky. Freed from the heavy constraints of assumption and expectation, it represents a lightness of hearts and a hope-filled future. My mind sees other shapes there too.
This conceptional style of painting allows me to experiment with the properties of the watercolour medium and normalises the reduced dexterity brought on by aging. It accommodates less than nimble and unintended jerky movements.
The third painting reflects a vegetation lined riverbank.
I don’t feel comfortable with the whole abstract image. My inner critic believes there is a disconnect between the ‘sky’ and the ‘earth’.
I have found doodling is a successful catalyst when seeking inspiration. I can generally come up with concepts, it’s at the execution phase when where my inner voice/critic stymies my creativity. ‘Not good enough!’ is the most frequent thought.
Last Friday, I set out to to draw a witch for Halloween. Using the Freeform app on my phone, I scribbled a predictable silhouette of a witch in profile riding a broom in front of a full moon.
Grabbing a Winsor & Newton A4 visual diary, next I sketched out an imagined witch’s face with an oversized mouth.
Drawing on memories from reading Anne Rice novels, the second witch iteration became a glamorous vampire in front of a crescent moon. I paid attention to the lips and eye, inspired by the BBC One reality tv series, Glow Up: Britain’s next make up star.
After taking a photograph of the pencil coloured pictures, I applied filters in Google Snapseed, removed the backgrounds, and added black backdrops and text.
I imagined a heavily accented, Greta Garbo speaking the title of the vampire witch portrait as Fampyre Vitch.
My husband said, the initial sketch was scarier than the final one so I have included both. What do you think?
Apart from yellow, I prefer secondary colours over the primaries. This plant brings me joy, showcasing both green and purple.
When we moved into our new house in March, it had a few velvety leaves that appeared to be being eaten, my husband sprayed it to curb the ‘pests’. Gradually, new leaves appeared, unimpeded.
Over weeks, sprays of buds appeared at the centre of each shoot. Eventually they swelled, bursting open to reveal many many daisy like blooms.
Last weekend we spent two nights in Brisbane staying at the Inchcolm Hotel.
On Saturday night we were thrilled and entertained by Bite Club: Second Serve, a collaborative performance with Australian singer songwriter, Sahara Beck and Briefs Factory, “a down-and-dirty mixture of drag, boylesque, street politics and circus skills, all delivered with a smirk and a big sloppy kiss” at the newly renovated Princess Theatre, constructed in 1888.
On Thursday, in a small meeting room at work, windows blanked out with sheets of brown paper, I stripped down to my underwear. Time for my annual check up so that my moles could be checked for abnormalities that may indicate skin cancer. This picture from the right side of my face was taken through a dermatoscope that will result in a non urgent trip to the GP.
It is less than a month until family members arrive from the UK for a five weeks holiday. I’m taking a month off from work to coincide with our relatives’ arrival. Both were postponed due to COVID.
My husband has repainted most of the interior of the house and is busy reinventing the covered patio. Fingers crossed, the insulated ceiling panels will have been installed to help shield us from the heat of the Queensland sun in Spring, Summer, and Autumn. Spring officially sprang in Australia on 1 September.
Winter is tax time. Usually a time of extreme procrastination, we knocked off one lot last weekend, it’s now with the accountant. Just the personal returns to complete next weekend.
My enthusiasm for things, like the phases of the moon waxes and wanes. The poet authoring part of my brain has already downed tools. It may make a grab for them again soon, one never knows. With this in mind, I’m taking a break from podcasting and creating audio files.
I aim to continue weekly blogging with the odd picture thrown in for good measure. This week’s is a cloud self portrait sketch.
For the past few weeks, I have been wrestling with writing a poem. It is one of the longest so far. Perhaps next week it will finally be ready to share.
I recently came across these pictures of a young me, mid ‘80s at night school in Birmingham. I was fortunate to be able to go back to study with the person who inspired me to pot at secondary school, Lyn Chatwin.
Part of the base blew off in the biscuit firing of this Medusa inspired coiled creation. I did not risk a second glaze firing, opting to spray paint it instead.
theINFP 