After The Storm

December brought gales a heavy rain which continued unabated for a month. Eventually the storm subsided into quiet days in January. Returning from a walk on Turnworth Down, my wife and elder son said they thought they had found a painting.

I went to see the oak and began work at once. The remainder of January, February and March entire, and on into April I worked without let-up for up to six days a week. When weather permitted outdoor work I worked in watercolour on site (primary paintings) or drawings. When inclement, I worked in the studio from the primary material. Finally, after about eleven weeks, I put down the brushes.

Is it finished? A painting is never finished; the painter merely stops at the point when he knows that he, personally, cannot improve it further at that stage in his development.

This was the only painting I produced that year.

Autumn Mist

The ancient oak woodland of Girdlers' Coppice and Piddles Wood tumbles down to the mirror of the Stour. This reach, rich in the ingredients of landscape, is upstream from Fiddleford Mill, and has probably yielded more canvases than anywhere else.

Here the endless permutations of fleeting light and reflections meet the constancy of centuries represented by oak and mill. The seasons encircle the year but nothing is ever the same twice.
Autumn Mist captures a moment in time - about 9.45 am in eartly November just as the sun breaks through the morning mist. The considered stillness is emphasised by the unpredicted movement of kingfisher, heron, magpie, moorhen and rabbit - painted as and where they occurred.

It is suprising how quickly a painting becomes history. The disease and the chain-saw have destroyed the elms and the hedge-rows so that, today, a new painting would be very different.

The gestation of this painting took many years of contemplation and sketching the scene. First the composition dropped into place but it was not until much later that it became evident that the lighting shold be November and the time of day so precise.

I worked on it continuously for most of three months - I remember, at one point, counting 138 trees whole or part! It was damaged by the Royal Academy necessitating stretching on a new canvas and then a further fortnight's painting and restoration. The work, in its final form, is what you see today.

Autumn Light

The tranquil Stour, the transient light of morning and the translucent leaves of willows combine to evoke autumn at Shillingstone. Clayton Farm and its meadows, the Old Rectory, parts of Croft House School and the old railway line appear through the rising mist.

I worked on this canvas for several weeks using my primary sketches painted on the other side of the river. It is the reverse of many previous paintings. I have often sat on the far bank in the picture - painting Hambledon Hill with the Stour in the foreground.

Autumn Light speaks for itself.

Jack

Jack is the west-country name for the Pike.

This drama is set among the reeds of the Stour at Shillingstone. A tranquil afternoon is reflected in the still waters of the Stour. Perfect reflections of reeds and trees form as Rudd glide silently below the surface. But a storm is brewing. The sky darkens and that eerie red light permeates the landscape. There is no clue to the presence of the most ferocious of fresh-water predators as the Jack maintains his dark, motionless and solitary vigil among the reeds.

Suddenly an explosion of energy and movement shatters the mirror of still water as the Pike lunges at the passing Rudd. Scales and water flash in the low light. One escapes by the 'aerial route' while the other dives towards the darkness.

Soon the mirror reforms, reeds stop waving, the Jack returns to the deep and - once again - no one would know he was lurking there.