I was too late to post but this is yesterday's offering of another angle (excuse the pun) of Dorne, fishing all alone on a peaceful evening on Vane Tempest beach. The title is a play on words...at one with nature...a spiritual experience...Dorne again.
One of the painting studios by the purpose-built Monet's pond and bridge in Nottinghamshire, UK. I was a resident artist here many years ago and loved to wander through the explosion of colour in the warm sunshine. This particular occasion was a stolen moment just prior to one of their national art conventions after I had finished my preparations.
Proceeds of this sale will go to the charity World Vision for the children in Africa...a challenge organised by DPW.
Vane Tempest Beach is certainly an interesting place to walk along. On this occasion I was in the company of Bev. Our conversation was often halted as we stopped to watch those breakers crash against the rocks. As we walked back along the top, we met a man who gave us his life history...that's what you get in the north east when you ask someone a simple question...friendly to a fault.
This happy one year old Indonesian Orang-Utan is spending quality time with it's parent. The photograph was taken by wildlife photographer Thomas Marentand was found in several UK newspapers last week. Thomas has kindly given me permission to paint the happy scene, the proceeds of which will go to Rainforest Foundation Norway.
They really are his. I visited the garden a number of years ago but arrived on the day it was closed to the public. I was nonetheless resourceful enough to take a reference snapshot or two...don't ask! Fortunately for me, I have been several times before when it has been open, so I have plenty of photographs....none as striking as this, though.
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Yes, it was the evening I took a walk along Vane Tempest beach with Juli as the sun was setting over our shoulders. I was mesmerised with the suck of the retreating breakers and the light catching it all.
She was one of only two people on the beach other than us and we were hesitant to disturb her peace, but you know me. I'm not sure if she gave me permission to take a photo so my daughter attempted to justify my odd behaviour by explaining that I was an artist (as if that would explain everything). As it happens, she understood and Leeds Lass (known only by her email address at the time) was very friendly and accommodating. I promised I'd email her when I painted something. She emailed me back with a variety of titles that I'd asked her to think of, some of which included her name and others which were a clever play on words. I hope she likes my slight twist on the suggestions she made.
As I walked with my daughter, Juli one evening along Vane Tempest beach, we eventually came to Featherbed Rock which was bathed in gold. As we gazed up at it, we were transfixed. This is one of what will probably be many studies.
I've painted several studies of Yvon's pond and I don't suppose this will be the last. The colours change so much and I'm fascinated by the changes. It's such a peaceful place snuggled in the woods as it is. I often go and just sit and think about life as the goldfish lazily swim around. There are hundreds of them.
Sorry, i've painted over this a little. See newer post (Oct)
This is located at one end of Vane Tempest beach in NE England. I took the photo for reference the same day as the three sisters of the previous painting. I struggled with the urge to put detail into this painting. Fortunately I determined to stop before giving in to the urge altogether.
During our last Sunderland visit, we saw these three little sisters with a yellow ball, happily giggling as they headed for the breakers. It was a heart-warming scene that was quickly marred by the mother or guardian who screeched abuse as she dragged the tearful oldest girl back for not holding the younger girl's hand and sticking together. Now, does she not look in control? Do they look to you as if they are not together?
We could only look on in embarrassment at the verbal onslaught... and at the only one out of control and not able to hold it together.
The heart weeps when the innocents are cruelly dealt with.