Woodlands

Gloriously long, our last Autumn was uninterrupted by rain and gusty storms. Summer colours intensified and glowed for months before winter set in.

Prompted by the cascade of colour in the shifting seasons I ventured into local woodlands with charcoal. pastels and inks. I tramped along soggy paths and muddy fields to sit amongst trees and wet ferns. Propping my drawing board on tree trunks and wooden bridges, each outing an adventure.

I was washed out in the Clent Hills. My work almost washed down stream in Belbroughton. I sank deep in the mud of Hanbury Woods. At Dudmaston I sat amongst the thumps of apples hitting the ground and looked up at glorious canopies of rhubarb pink acers. 

Drawing outside embeds in the mind much more than just the images. It allows for the recall of all the senses - smells, sounds and the feel of places. So dozens of marking making and colour studies transported the landscapes back into my studio. 

Pinned to my walls the tree studies sat in my studio for weeks, as I prepared my boards, before recalling my woodland adventures. 

Momentum soon gathered, putting on, taking off and scratching through layers of oil paint and glaze. Whilst time required to ‘cure’ the paint enforces reflection and a gentle rhythm to work. As each piece formed, I relived the shapes, textures and colours of the woods, ferns and streams.

Months later a collection of Woodland expressions was complete, testament to my experience of nature’s perpetual and glorious story. 

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