New Calderdale series of watercolour paintings. Large format prints are available on my Fine Art America gallery where you can get a print of it that is 60 x 44 inches or a range of smaller sizes too
New Calderdale series of watercolour paintings. I have uploaded them to Fine Art America where you can get a print of it that is 60 x 44 inches or a range of smaller sizes too
These watercolour paintings are already 5 feet long but I have uploaded them to Fine Art America where you can get a print of it that is 108 inches (9 feet) long, Impressively big!
This Spring in England the hawthorn blossoms were better than I have ever seen them. I made many dusk walks to go and see them and smell them in the steep fields below the moors, listening to the late birdsong and seeing the first bats among them. Then suddenly they are gone and all that is left is my paintings – until next year
This is an original watercolour painting.
The painting is made with artists watercolour paint onto sized and primed heavy handmade watercolour paper.
All pictures will be carefully wrapped and securely shipped to you wherever you are.
Size of painting
8.5 x 11 inches
On the Cuillin Mountain Range, Isle of Skye, Scotland
The Painting was made using Indian Ink and a Bamboo pen, expressionistically, then followed with washes of watercolour. The work is really all about the expression and passion in the original ink marks, which are made using a Japanese bamboo calligraphy pen
This original painting is on heavy archival 350 gsm handmade watercolour paper
The Iceland Series of Paintings is based on my Visit to Iceland. Here is an extract from my diary of the visit to the interior wilderness of Icelnd – Sprengisandur. The Diary can be seen in my blog Not at Home on WordPress
The Sprengisandur Wilderness is so barren that every time a discernible feature appears I spring up with the camera, to record this unusual occurrence. Some rocks, a valley, a pool of milky water. Eventually a very large dam of pale green water receding forever into the mist, which is punctuated by pylons. The road improves, the bus whizzes over the rutted surface, flying across narrow bridges spanning the green milkstuff. We stop at a hotel, the second of two, the first being the ‘Highland Hotel’ – not half. A stop where we must all take off our shoes and pay £2.50 to visit the toilet.
Once again the bus turns onto a rutted black lava-sand track, the bumpiest of the lot, travelling as it does over unyielding lava flows. We can tell we are nearing Landmannalaugar when we see bright green moss carpeting the hills; the appearance is of a sci-fi unearthly place, maybe as in Tolkien’s poem;
“The world was young,
The mountains green,
No stain yet on the Moon was seen,
No words were laid on stream or stone
When Durin woke and walked alone.
He named the nameless hills and dells;
He drank from yet untasted wells;
He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,
And saw a crown of stars appear,
As gems upon a silver thread,
Above the shadow of his head.”
Multicoloured hills appear, in those volcanic colours we are growing accustomed to, and then the camp-site. We had anticipated that it would be crowded, but not that is would be a dingy, maybe even squalid patch of stony bog-ridden mud, plagued with tents, a ring of buzzing and roaring Jeeps around the edges.
Disembarking, keeping our luggage out of the mud and trudging to reception, has the flavour of WW1 soldiers arriving at Vimy Ridge or some other far flung trench, to burrow a shelter from the wind and make a home for themselves in the muddy fields.
In the rain, we put up the tent by a small river, or ditch, and looking out we can see a tiny snipe bobbing up and down – its head going like those woodpecker toys. There are three sheep across a boggy meadow and a crowd of undressed people beside a waft of steam in the middle of this meadow.
Sprengisandur is only accessible during summer and is impassable in winter because of the snow, and in spring because of floods. In medieval times, the area derived its name from the fact that for hundreds of kilometers, there was no fodder for horses, and no human habitation to take shelter in. This feature gave the area its name: it is derived from Icelandic noun sandur “sand”, which denotes the volcanic ash deserts of the center of the island, and the verb sprengja that means “to ride a horse to death; to be on the point of bursting after running for too long”. One needed to ride as fast as possible, nearly driving the horses to death, to cross the mountain desert and reach the inhabited regions of the island again before one ran out of victuals.
The watercolour painting is unframed on archival handmade artists watercolour paper
Size of painting A4 size
width 210 mm
height 300 mm
8 x 12 inches