When I first moved to Dewsbury, the street opposite our house was a source of inspiration for many of my painting around 1989. One of my favourites was of a guest house with an amazing Victorian conservatory. Others were of houses on that street, some of which were purchased by the owners.
My second husband had a fledgling printing business, which he worked hard to built up. He hung several of my paintings in his office to decorate the walls. Unfortunately the business failed and the bailiffs were sent in, and despite my paintings being nothing to do with the business assets, they were removed and sold so I never saw them again. One was of my older daughter in stripey leggins. I wonder who has it now…..?
A few years later my then husband and I split up. He only took with him 4 or 5 of my best framed paintings, which I did not begrudge him of course, but strangely enough , some time after that his home in the Barnsley area was burgled. The only things the thieves took were my paintings, one of which was that of the Victorian Conservatory a Ayton Guesthouse! If you have it, let me know, as I would love to have a photo of it at the very least…
This is a homely domestic scene. The teenager has an almost vacant, look, as she sits watching TV, and certainly doesn’t appear to be that happy. You can’t see what she is thinking, as she is wrapped up in her own little world. Its evening time, and in the top left hand corner of the painting, adjacent to a small plant, the little lamp on top of the wooden desk casts reflected colours onto the desk itself and the wall to the right, on which a painting of a child playing the violin hangs. The armchair on which she sits has a yellow cellular blanket draped over it, while the second armchair next to her is adorned with colourful cushions. On the far left is a patterned carpet/rug.
So many colours and patterns, yet somehow they all hang together!
Another painting from life , created ten years earlier than the one shown above, depicts Greek villagers going about their business in the summer of 1984
A painting starts with my eyes, as I choose the spot that will work in this size of canvass and light falling on the image. This choice of subject could come immediately , almost by magic, or after a few hour’s walk round the area, searching.
I add a turps-thinned oil-paint-wash to cover the stark white of the canvass, usually in a shade of blue, then while it is drying I lay out the palette with my paints – three or four of each colour reds, blues, yellows and several larger blobs of white. (Never any black or muddy tones of brown, , ochre, or mixable colours like green or orange). Then I sketch out the composition, either in charcoal or ultramarine thinned with turps: the lines and swirls that define the shapes and emotions of the subject. The limited palette and tinted background helps to balance the colours together in harmony, while each mark is deliberate and carefully planned.