Mice, Men and Musing.

My plan for December was to paint/draw one small pastel each and every day. This was to be a new venture planning forward for the exhibition in Shaftesbury in March. I was very excited and buoyed up at the prospect of creating a large body of tiny gems. Then we received the bombshell news that my beloved has terminal cancer and at the time did not look as though he would make it through to the end of the year. Plans are always sent adrift by reality slapping you in the face.

The top row were completed at the end of November, which means between visits to hospital and days of feeling too low to climb out of the chair I have managed 9 out of 20.  One or two I am really pleased with, and will work towards framing them (mounts ordered today), the rest I think I will mount as a book. By attaching the mount to a larger piece of thin card I can punch holes in the backing sheet and put them in a file.

These are the ones I am most satisfied with and may qualify for full frames. I will look at them again after the mounts have arrived.

On another thread, Dorset Artists (a closed face book group I belong to) publishes an on line magazine to which a close friend (Andrea Jenkins) writes fairly regular articles. She asked me if I had a muse and would I write her a line or two about it. Here is the email I sent her:


Musings on a Muse.

Until you asked the question I hadn't much thought about having or not having a muse. Is there a goddess that watches over me and my work? - most definitely, but she is well aided on this earth by my beloved M. It is he who encouraged me to start painting again (with the promise that I could paint and he would cook and clean! It hasn't quite worked out that way, but I wouldn't have it any differently).

I think of the great painters of the nineteenth and twentieth century, the Impressionists, the Pre-Raphaelites and their muse/models and of Lucien Freud, whose models (I think his only real muse was male) were willing to spread their legs for the world to see. There has to be a bond of respect and trust between artist and muse.  It really is very special and not always meant for sharing which is why my only portrait of M is of his beautiful hands caressing his guitar.  Occasionally I see a particular turn of muscle of juxtaposition of plains and have an urge to draw/paint share, but these are precious moments and I hug them close.

As I read your questions Andrea I thought I had two muses. M and the landscape around where I live, but on thinking about it I realised that the landscape and the seasons are my inspiration, whilst my true muse is a facilitator. His actions and words encourage and support even when they are not directly concerned with my art.




I had hoped that the magazine would be published by now - but as always when dealing with artists time is a strange thing and I expect we will see the fall edition out next spring.

This is my portrait of M and one of my favourites - it hangs above his desk and we both see it all the time.

The magazine can be read at http://dorsetartists.com/2016/02/10/magazine-archives/