For several years, I had been waiting for an opportunity to
use a very big piece of high quality watercolour paper, one of two pieces salvaged with a
friend out of a skip. We couldn't believe our luck.
The paper, so large, was in need of a big space, and when I
took on a studio at the Stonebow House, it was the first thing I wanted to
tackle. To say I was excited was a bit of an understatement. Don't worry
about mess, I was told, It won't matter about drips on the floor, or paint on
the walls. It was like a breath of fresh air. So I got started.
I ummed and ahed for quite some time. Usually, I just throw
myself into a painting, and let my brush take me away. I felt nervous now
though, I've been saving this paper for ages, and it must of cost a fortune.
The first mark can sometimes be the hardest, and when
a huge sheet of white paper is staring at you, its not easy to know where to
start.
One drip, two drips more and now I am committed. A sense of
a new world being created. My space. It was so pleasing to allow paint fall
under its own guidance, and land on the floor in pools of green. The paper so
thick, was taking all the water I could throw at it.
Wanting to create distance, I started to form hills, mountains, space. Strangely the linear paths of trees were starting to become claustrophobic.
This was my first day of painting in my new studio. I was
toying with the idea of going to the pub to celebrate, too much of a guilty
pleasure though, especially with a small child to pick up in a few hours. After
years of childcare, working in a new environment was tremendously uplifting.
More paint, more drips, the process so enjoyable. With green
dominating I had to add another element. Blue. Brown. More drips. Whoops, oh
well, sometimes mistakes have a habit of working out eventually.
Casual conversations with other studio artists, loud music,
classical mainly. My environment directly affecting every move. Thick brushes,
more water. Coffee. Rest.
Something just didn't seem to fall right though. I loved the
effects I'd created, but my space had become lost, and there was no distance in sight.
I left the studio challenged.
Day Two
The air was warm. The skies were clear. The feeling of
walking to the studio was exhilarating. I felt nervous, yet important. I had new purpose. My paint box, so overloaded, felt cumbersome. Remembering my student days, feeling the absolute pleasure of a day ahead devoted entirely to creation, I looked out for the usual gaze of passer-by's who wondered what
I had in my tool box.
I knew what I had to do today. I'd worked out what needed to
be done whilst lying in bed the previous night.
Turn the painting around. On its head. Oh my goodness, it was like a
door opening.
From being strangled in a forest of trees, I was now transported. And so Horizons, was born. Several horizons
in one. Where sky starts and ground ended could be defined in so many different
ways. Such a metaphor to my new life. And so I worked on.
The odd splash of pastel here and there, new lakes, a moon,
and hey presto. I put my brush down and left it. No more additions to make,
just time to reflect.
We were all very excited at the studios. Get if framed
of course! said one. And then what? Sell it!
It hadn't occurred to me that anyone would be able to house
this, as it was so big. It was probably too much to take on.
Certain areas really excited me. Especially where the paper
had made its own marks, steam trails, water, clouds, trees. The light greens
creating the special feeling of seeing light bounce of hills in the distance. I was up in the North
York Moors, or was it Somerset,
Northumbria, Ilkley?. It reminded me of so many places I have travelled.
What a great start to my new adventure with Stonebow
Studios. It sure helped having space and vistas to match. New horizons. A new
start.
YES!
