green and red

The first of these paintings was made as a test. Did the tempera block paints that we had selected for the children at school allow them to mix all the colours they needed. Turquoise, ultramarine, vermilion, crimson yellow and white. With the addition of black ink the answer was yes.
The paint has a capricious quality which you have to accommodate. From wet to dry the colours change – so every stage is a slow reveal. Layers disturb one another so solutions have to be found in order to build up the surface. But you can nudge colours through different temperatures with a liberating economy of choice. The gentle defiance of the material creates a healthy friction to work against.
The paintings grew in number to become a series based on photographs I’d taken over the years. These photographs recorded the incidental spaces that we tend to notice – even as we engage with the grander business of living a life of purpose with the people we love. The images are like a pulse beating behind the action. As I look over them I know the depths of significance that they have for me – and I know too how freely they will slip away from it. They are paintings of light and bubbles and water vapour and air. The stories will vanish but I hope that, in spite of – or perhaps because of their quietness, they will continue to resonate.