We Made A Tent Rosette

rosette_v2

We Made A Tent, 2011

Hand-made rosette

I was approached by the Fashion and Textile Museum in London following my degree show in 2011, and went on to sell work through their shop. Some of this work was a series of rosettes – commemorative, awards for the little things; signifying important parts of time that have passed. Time that has been lived through. Badge of honour. A cathartic underlining of events. And move on.

I wonder if this is worth exploring again…?

We made a tent. Everything is ok. 

Uncomfortable Orange Paintings

Cadmium VI and Cadmium VII, 2015

Acrylic, A5

I tried something different, took a step outside of my comfort zone. It must have been a sunny day. These paintings are the wrong tone, the wrong colour. They do not suit me. Back I went to blues and reds…


A Dark Painting

Cadmium XI

Cadmium XI, 2016

Acrylic, A3

Mist. Oppressive haze. Something a little bit sinister.

With an arbitrary title. I need a new system.

 

Little Queen – Embroidery

Embroidery. 2009.

“Little Queen”

Embroidery, 2010

Self-portraiture; this tells a story. A sketch of muddled thoughts, sewn without over-thinking. A satisfying way to work, it is nice to look over old art; funny how it all joins together (and sometimes makes sense).

Faint heart never won fair lady. 

When to stop painting…

DSCF9492Two studies – acrylic paint, 2016

I started this pair of paintings side by side, with the intention of mirroring, a sort of butterfly effect. I ended up spending much more time on the left-hand painting… to its detriment.

I much prefer the more minimalist left hand painting, which took only a few minutes, simple brush strokes, beautiful colours – the paint moved across the paper, bled, arranged itself serendipitously and left a lovely splodge.

How can a couple of minutes work look so much better than half an hour of laboured painting?! And will everyone else see the same as me?

That has always been The Big Question – when to stop painting? When have you over-worked an ruined a once delicate, understated, confident piece of work? How on earth do you know when to stop? I guess it all comes down to intuition. And experience. Practice (and plenty of frustrating mistakes, screwed up sketchbook pages. There’s no going back.)

Stop before you think you need to stop.