'On my easel' is a series of posts that I am adding to the Self-Isolation Residency Blog which will consider a current painting which is within days or sometimes hours of completion. This isn't quite the same as 'work in progress' as many of the pieces under consideration in this category may actually be complete already. These are generally going to be works which I am reflecting on for one reason or another and it is these needs for reflection which are preventing me from 'accepting' the work as complete.'

'On my easel' is a series of posts that I am adding to the Self-Isolation Residency Blog which will consider a current painting which is within days or sometimes hours of completion. This isn't quite the same as 'work in progress' as many of the pieces under consideration in this category may actually be complete already. These are generally going to be works which I am reflecting on for one reason or another and it is these needs for reflection which are preventing me from 'accepting' the work as complete.'

Today i'm feeling quite introspective, the weather is very bad, I'm having some problems with my foot and really don't feel like going out for my daily walk or even standing for long periods in the studio. I have realised that I haven't spent a great deal of time actually drawing recently and so I've decided tyo embalk on a series of simple studies; jusr basically still-life drawings of different aspects of my study fromwhere I habitually sit. This will have a two fold purpose, the first one is obviously to practice my drawing skills, which I feel that I have probably neglected of late. The second purpose behind these is to reflect once again upon the nature of isolation, as in how small a world can become when one is confined alone to a single space for a long period of time, but how even that space can offer opportunies.

Having reflected on this piece for a couple of days I could see that it did need just a couple of extra touches here and there, but Now it's complete I'm very happy with it.

'On my easel' is a series of posts that I am adding to the Self-Isolation Residency Blog which will consider a current painting which is within days or sometimes hours of completion. This isn't quite the same as 'work in progress' as many of the pieces under consideration in this category may actually be complete already. These are generally going to be works which I am reflecting on for one reason or another and it is these needs for reflection which are preventing me from 'accepting' the work as complete.'

As I'm working on this series of landscapes I'm finding it a really interesting and useful way of exploring different marks that I can use to express ideas with impasto oil paint and knife. Obviously this is something that I've done previously but never to this extent. I won't always use the same knife marks to express the same things, but in regards to this series of landscapes I'm really happy with how handling the sky and water. I'm not quite as sure about the land section yet, which is why this is still on my easel.

Over the last week or so I've been working on a couple of semi-abstract landscapes which contrast the bright, Autumnal oranges and yellows of the landscape against the dark blue and mauves of the Autumn skies. When these paintings came off the easels, they were transfer into my gallery space for me to consider them further. When I brought them through to hang I was immediately struck by their similarities to a painting which I began last year of Saint Mark's Basilica which I began just over a year ago and has once again be hanging in the gallery for me to consider. This is an image of Saint Mark's which I was very fortunate to witness as the last sun of late afternoon illuminated the facade ahead of the oncoming evening storm and I immediately knew that I had to paint that image.
 
And so, I've lived with this image hanging in my gallery throughout my self-isolation; I've walked past it and considered it so many times. The dark wedge of the sky against the bright ochre diagonal of the Basilica contrasted with the light and dark reflections of the wet stone square. The parallels are exact. The sky is the sky. The jagged forms of the Basilica become the rugged outline of the hills. And the shining wet paving becomes the reflective sea and sand.
 
So, are these similarities coincidence or influence? I suspect the latter, but subconsciously. I didn't go out to paint landscapes influenced by this stunning vision I received of the architecture, but perhaps the constant exposure to its visage left an image on my retina or in my memory. Either way, now that I see the equation in full, I can’t help but take influence from in now.