I quite naturally painted since my childhood, as many children do! And I have always loved this form of expressing the world around me. I use mainly oils, watercolours, acrylics and charcoal/ pencils - occasionally collage, and other media. Over the past 20 years I have periodically attended art classes with 3 art teachers in England and some ad hoc classes. My first attempt at oil painting aged 16 was during a sweltering summer in India, guided by a lovely gentleman art teacher, Mr Kabli. I have painted off and on over the years work allowing. Now, as a Senior Citizen, I paint frequently - never a day without a line!
I filled this large meadow with bright, happy colours with some of the little creatures we would see walking by – dragonflies, ladybirds … note the absence of blacks, dark browns, greys which is typical of the Fauvist style. Acrylics on canvas 60cm square
This little wren punched above its weight … twittering amongst the wisteria after emerging from our upturned mop on the side of the house. It’s nimble movements were hard to discern until I did the impression of a statue to see whither it went! Every spring brings such joy and inpiration.
On the freezing Antartic winter ice sheet, a tiny chick is being tranferred from father to mother. All the mothers in the colony have travelled across miles of slippery and broken ice fields to the ocean to feed – and weeks later, back to sustain the growing chicks. Meawhile stoic fathers have endured fierce Antartic
Toucans are amazing – their plumage design and mulicolours over that yellow bib – sheer genius in my view! Don’t the chicks look like a stuffed toy! They enjoy figs, so I was inspired to put ‘Dad’ and his chick on a fig tree. How do I know he is a Dad? Near enough, I
One sunny summer’s day, my art group settled down to practicing its favourite pastime. Fruit was the subject. I was allocated two pears to paint, but … I was not inspired. I thought : why not have some fun … ! And this was the result. It never fails to cheer me up! And did
This ancient dovecote stands at the end of a sloping garden of a manor house in Kingscliffe, a village in Northamptonshire, UK. It is such a handsome building that one summer morning I sat before it sketching and didn’t move until I completed it. Pencil on Paper
Isabelle was 8 years old and her eyes were lit up in excitement - it was Christmas and her brother, Henry, a robust four month old was staring at his mother’s face and lips, trying to make word-sounds, copying his mother as she spoke to him.
