If the medium of water colour could speak, it would surely
say: for God’s sake, set me free! By its very nature water colour defies
control. A thunderous wash has a mind of
its own and invariably runs run amok. This attribute attests to the saying, that a
water colour can’t go right until it has gone wrong. Why then, do the vast
majority of painters do their utmost to restrain the medium’s most valuable asset?
Moreover, why do they paint from sterile photographic references, rather than
life itself?
To illustrate the virtue of freedom, I have taken a detail
from a painting I made over twenty years ago of the pregnant nude. My wife Denise
was the model and the verse is from my poem The
Colour Black.
Bold washes from her shoulders run
To trace the curve of her spine,
Elsewhere they accumulate
To hide a forested secret that’s
mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment