Painting by numbers

Today

Yesterday Paul & I travelled up to London to see a Beryl Cook exhibition at the Portal Gallery. We've always enjoyed Beryl Cook paintings with their apparent innocence belying a very acute and enthusiastic observation of ordinary people.

They are such a celebration of late 20th and early 21st century life.

We're toying with the idea of actually buying one for the flat in Brighton - out first proper foray into buying original art.

In My Day

I was the "arty" one of the family. I drew pictures from the time I could hold a pencil (at about 15 months) on any paper I could find. My parents were uncomprehending admirers of this talent; there being little other acknowledged skill in the family (tho' when I look at my mother's freehand cake icing, there had to be something there).

Christmas and birthday presents often took the form of painting by numbers kits, some of which I dutifully completed. They were really a sort of grown up colouring book, were boring to do and flat to look at. I was given books on "how to draw". There was an artist living on the first floor who also talked to me.

I do have the priviledge of having my original work displayed. The first one of these is a pastel abstract. I did this in response to hearing "Dessins Eternel" by Messiaen at Westminster Cathedral. It's all swirly oranges and yellows and lives on the wall at my sister's flat.

The 2nd one also hangs on my sister's wall and was done while I was at art college and had mastered the craft of oil painting. It was derived from some drawings I'd done while visiting Saffron Hill in London. It's one of those pieces which says a lot, but not what you intended. The most noticeable bit of the work is a huge "No Entry" sign. It's generated a lot of passion in its time; including having my sister's 1st husband take a knife to it.

Nice to know that my work has something in common with the Mona Lisa.