Virginia Woolf's wood pigeons

She has a lot.

Overhead.

Hope they don't disturb her train of creative thought!

 

Tricky little blighters to cut and stick too ....

 

 

 

I love the sound of these birds and seem to remember them calling when I visited Monk's House years ago. I daresay they aren't as gregarious as this little lot but that's my artistic prerogative!

 

So here's a detail of the writing lodge's spreading chestnut tree as it stands at present on my drawing board.

 

On we go ...

Collagistic hangover

This is no fun. Feeling totally groggy after a late night session at the cutting table. Finally called it a morning at 3.30 am and although I haven't totally broken the back of Virginia Woolf's writing shed, I am now pretty confident of it turning out okay.

Eventually.

My problem was I had zonked out on the sofa earlier due to some desperately boring rubbish on the television. Which catnap kept me going into the early hours with the aid of the BBC World Service (NEVER desperately boring) on the radio via my computer. I love working through the night like that, hearing stories - in the safety of my studio - from foreign correspondents in far flung dangerous places, (I will always associate that apple orchard on the right with a war photographer's harrowing account of Marie Colvin's last days) but the price is to feel like a half dead zombie (if that is possible) the next day...

Anyway the above is what I came through to this morning.

And here is a Sussex Downs vignette coming along in the background. Norman (?) church and all.

 

More sheep are needed over here - and more chestnut leaves.

Right, better try reviving myself with some tea and toast...

 

Progress on the Writing Lodge

 

This is the tricky bit .... stopping myself from getting caught up in the creative moment and going too far with blocking in a collage before it has been transferred to its paper base.

Even worse, it is a Sunday and I have no suitable paper other than the piece all these bits are currently occupying. Worse still, it is not one but two pieces which I shall have to tape together. The only available blue in the shop yesterday was a rather fetching teal shade, but far too dark for what I have in mind. So these two pieces it will have to be. And I will have to reconstruct the image so far.

Thank goodness for digital photos.

But blimey, all those little leaves on the spreading chestnut tree!

Serves me right for getting low on powder and mid-blue Canson papers.

Writing lodge doodles ...

 

Initially I thought about putting one of those convivial groups of Bloomsbury members sitting about in deckchairs outside the hut. But then I read this:

 

"It was here that Leonard came out in July 1931 to tell her that The Waves, which he had just finished reading was a masterpiece."

 

So, a bit of drama.

The deckchair will probably go.

Far too laid back (both literally and figuratively)!

 

Blake's Cottage and Woolf's Lodge

Struggling here with a different formatting to post a message to confirm I am still alive. Looks awful as I type but seems to come out okay. Anyway, that's enough of the technicalities .... Here's what I have been doing lately. It's an image I made a while back of William Blake's cottage in Felpham, West Sussex. It is about to go to a new home in the US so I added a few finishing touches and tidying round the edges I had been meaning to do for ages but never got round to.

The colours on the finished picture aren't true, it being an overcast morning this morning, but you might see a few small changes in the details. Golly, it's like one of those Spot the Difference puzzles I remember from the olden days of Look & Learn and News of the World! I have also been sorting scraps and making sketches relating to another Sussex resident. It's a take on Virginia Woolf's dinky little hut which she grandly called her Writing Lodge that stands in the garden of Monk's House. I have assembled quite a pile of possibilities scrap-wise and am looking forward to getting stuck into it tomorrow. Should be interesting. I do like huts.

Something about Blogger .... does my head in

I am getting soo fed up with technology.
For some reason I am unable to fathom,
I can't post any pictures to my blog at present.
And an art blog without pictures ... well, it's rubbish really.
So until normal service is resumed, I am stymied....

Will keep trying though.

Happy New Year and London memories

The first post of a new year, the first completed image of my new year!

A house in Texas, with family and pets (past and present), that was commissioned just before Christmas and my trip back to Chichester and London.

Seems a long time ago, already.

The beauty of dumping myself on my daughters is that they move around London so much. I was born in Paddington, but brought up south of the river. I never really was very au fait with the other side. Thanks to them I have found myself north-west, north and east so far.

 

This time Whitechapel, Ripper territory. Loved it. A few yards from the Bell Foundry (the oldest still in business business in Britain - since the fifteenth century) which is in a wonderful little row of dilapidated Georgian buildings with real live Georgian shops, bow fronted windows on the pavement. All empty, neglected and unoccupied and all the more romantic for it.

I love the unexpectedness and living history of London, the way as we hurried to catch the tube one morning I happened to look to the right and saw a blue plaque commemorating the fact that on that spot Isaac Rosenberg had lived, then stumbling upon Captain Bligh's house across the river, stepping into Benjamin Franklin's bare bones of an eighteenth century house near Trafalgar Square, passing by Virginia Woolf's home in Bloomsbury (you may have noticed I have a thing about houses  ....). And reacquainting myself with Keats House, of course. With the excuse (if one were needed) of delivering some cards.

 

So here I am, back in the bananas and fiddling with some sketches, some dried mulberry leaves from the original tree outside Brown's parlour window and a stash of autumnal coloured cuttings ... I feel a new Wentworth Place picture coming on ...