There's nothing like the death of someone close to shake up your little world, making you question who you are and what you do. About six weeks ago one of my closest friends, my dad, passed away at the age of 91. He basically gave up on life when his lifelong sweetheart had a stroke earlier this summer, and ended up in a care home. He died on thier 71st wedding anniversary. The cozy family homestead for 37 years is due to be auctioned next month - the end of an era . . .

Art News . . .

As a creative entrepreneur, I can't help feeling like the ground has been ripped from under my feet! You've probably experienced something similar yourself. It can take awhile to pull through, can't it? But life goes on, and my studio still whispers: "Here I am - come over sometime and let's see how it goes." So I've started to do that again; and some kind of renewed expectant feeling now lingers in the white-spirited air.

The truth is, I'm still sitting on a whole new show, unfinished from last year's trip to Cadair Idris mountian near Dolgellau in Wales. When I say 'sitting on', the pieces are actually stacked neatly in my rear studio space, leaning against the frames that Sapphire has lovingly made for them. My gallery connection in Bristol (Clifton Fine Art) still awaits patiently for their tentative emergence, so we can proceed with the solo show - at least 12 months overdue! 

"Everything in its own time" is what I say. I have to say this, as they really do need to sit there until I can come round again to add the finishing touches needed, (without over-working them!), and release them to the world.

I have managed to engage with a few Cornish pieces that were asking for a little reworking. Don't ask me why, but if they ask, I have to listen! Also, looking around, I realise I'm also sitting on (haha - that again!) an exquisite special collection of paintings, tenderly nestling in my back room, which now needs some seriously overdue public exposure. I must admit, I'd kept them carefully concealed for a specific reason: a friend of mine, who runs a suuccessful Cornish magazine, wanted to maintain an exclusive on the pieces, to which I agreed - for six months. Unfortunately, he didn't quite understand how sensitive a matter it is these days - the selling of art.

How Sensitive?

Buying and selling art is an extremely personal affair, and cannot be undertaken like selling advertising space! One can't actually sell a piece of art to someone anyway, all one can do is introduce them to each other and see how they get on - see if it's a match made in heaven, so to speak. I suppose it's more like a dating site than a shop really!  

So, back to the special collection we brought together earlier this year - I decided to call it: 'The Translucent Quality of Light'.  Read what I've written about it through the link to the collection at the bottom of the page. But firstly, I want to ask you this: What makes us want to surround ourselves with art anyway? A few years ago I put this question, regarding the value of art, to my followers on social media - receiving some quite profound replies. A few examples of how people responded are as follows:

What People Say About The Value of Art

• "The quality of colour and light create feelings in me which relax my mind and take me into a lovely world which is the natural world, which to me is healing and quite wonderful. It goes beyond words and looks into our souls."

- Renata

• "All of the arts engage our minds, imagination and senses. They help us to either lose ourselves or focus, whichever we happen to need. They take us on a quite a journey which cannot be quantified in any tangible sense."

- Bethanie

• "The greatest value of art is in enlarging our own perceptions of the world around us and encouraging us to reflect on it more creatively. The journey is initially inward but then results in actions that enhance society."

- Crispin

What People Say About My Art

How amazing, to have been blessed with such considered responses! As for my personal approach to visual art-making, the main feedback I've received, over the years, is that there remains an inherent sense of mystery in my work. In other words, it doesn't tell you everything all at once. Rather, it allows you to interpret nuances for yourself. This can often depend on the time of day, the light quality at the time, and even more than that - the way you are feeling yourself. I once had a woman drive 20 miles to meet me at a show in Monmouth, just to tell me she sees something different every day in the piece of mine she'd bought a year or two earlier. I know this to be true firsthand, because I have finally (after 3 years!) got round to hanging a couple of my original oil paintings on my bedroom wall in Paignton. It hasn't ceased to amaze me how differently I see them at various times of the day, in different lights, different moods, etc. (Also, how much more satisfying it feels to appreciate them in a home, as opposed to them being wrapped up in the studio with their siblings!)

Artist's Choice for November