Long Mizzle Garden

 Hello m' art clubbers, Last year I came across a Kurt Jackson painting in Falmouth Gallery called 'All Quiet Now Dorothy'. Those who frequent my blog may know I am partial to a good handsome pit. There was a beautiful, aquamarine sereneness to this painting; a spellbinding calm after a noisy, hectic day. It drew me in. For some time I couldn't quite comprehend my emotional response to it. No matter what we do to mother earth, she eventually comes to rest and reveals beauty in her scars.  All quiet now Dorothy - mixed media on wood panel (60 x 60cm)   Upon returning home I did some feet-up-post-dinner iPad browsing. I discovered Jackson has a whole series of 'Clay Country' paintings. Sadly I'd missed the dedicated exhibition. Jackson immersed himself in these extraordinary man made environments, working plein air to depict the less glamorous, industrial side of Cornwall, scenes you don't see on TV's 'Caroline Quentin & Fern Britton try to...

Hello m' sunny reapers, Apologies for the brief break in transmission. Work's got in the way this past week or so. Annoyingly money's one thing I've been unable to grow in the garden on trees.  I'm back now with coffee and biscuits, September sunflowers, and golden fields. I'll try to keep this post relatively short and sweet so I can catch up on some of your blogs! This field of sunflowers was spotted back in August.  To me, the sunflowers are standing tall and cocky as can be, singing 'sun shiiiiinnnnnneeee' in a Liam Gallagher kind of way.  The golden field above reminded me of a Gustav Klimt painting... I'm not sure which one, but not the one with that kiss . Klimt did paint one big sunflower. This is how I've felt this week... head down, working hard, watching over my little ones, a bit frazzled but still on my feet.     The Sunflower, Gustav Klimt, 1908     Vincent Van Gogh painted 'Wheatfield with a Reaper' in September 1889, the s...

 Hello m' furry antlers, I wonder what the artist Frida Kahlo would have made of a national lockdown. With her stern mono brow stare, nationalistic folk dress and cigar smoking attire, she looked to be a woman who wouldn't have liked being told what to do. However, Frida was no stranger to confinement. Having a crippled right leg from contracting polio as a child, she reached her teens only to have her spine, ribs and pelvis crushed in a bus accident, resulting in years of operations, multiple miscarriages and chronic pain. Henry Ford Hospital (1932), The Two Fridas (1939), The Broken Column (1944), The Little Deer (1946) Detailed paintings can be viewed at www.fridakahlo.org   Turning away from her previous career choice of medicine, Frida started painting. And what did she choose to paint in her constant bed of non-convalescence? The subject matter closest at hand - herself.  Only one look at some of her self-portraits exposes the true frustration, heartbreak and rea...