A Feather on the Beach

A Feather on the Beach

Yes I posted a very similar painting to this one the other day with a poem. I put this one on today with no poem. Why?  Because I decided that I would like the challenge of trying again to paint a watercolour. This one was one that I had painted before and it seems that many people had enjoyed it.

The question for me was simple, could I do it again. I made some slight changes. I feel that I have at least done two things in the last few days. I have produced a work of art and I have got back into my running shoes.

Somebody told me that when you found a feather on the beach it meant that somebody was thinking of you. I find many feathers on the beaches where I walk. I hope the thoughts people are having are good ones.

I am not 100% happy with this work and feel I will try once again but I leave it with you. The previous one was two blogs ago if you wish to compare.

This blog is linked to my other.  A Thought Filled Run

Iona

Iona Beech

I stood upon the lonely beech

alone amidst the beauty.

Cerulean the sea stretched out

to kiss the waiting sky.

Caressing the Dutchman’s cap and Staffa’s distant shore.

Beating the walls of Fingals Cave with timpani of sound.

Bare foot I strode the golden sands

whispering grass atop the white walled dunes

imprisoned me within.

No words will ever tell

that inner beat.

Or majesty so rare.

In that lingering moment,

when time stood still,

so small I felt.

Stooping took within my palm

a million grains of sand.

Trickling though my fingers.

Reminding me that time moved ever onward.

The hourglass of life.

Each small grain

part of the universe.

Each plays its part

and has its place

and so do I.

And You.

 

Further thoughts and words about this painting and poem can be found on my other blog. A Year Apart

At One With Creation.

Feather On The Beach.

At One With Creation.

O to join the whale on silken cruise,

To dance with the dolphin

               and sing their songs of joy.

To soar with the skylark high

                    filling the air with melodies

                       comparable with the greatest

                                        symphonies of mans creating

To run with the deer o’er moor and fell.

Swim upstream with salmon

                                   homeward bound

                                                     To see the beauty,

                        in the gossamer wings of the butterfly.

Dance in thermals,                               

                     silent and uplifting.

  To devour the scent of petals,                   

        fragile glowing colours.

                                                   Rainbows bow across the sky,
 
                                                   Myriad dancing flakes if silent snow.



                                                   To feel the beat

               at the heart of natures creation.

    Throb with the inner pulse of earth.                

Enveloped in its shroud of peace.

For man is oftimes bound on paths            

                   destructive avenues of death

Creating imbalance in his pursuit of selfish gain.

Chi of all being                                                 

               lead us back to green pastures,

       open Eden’s gate.           

That we may sense again the peace.                   

In dominion yet not the dominator,                    

              fellow worker not destroyer.

Then all the world will shout,                              

Amen,                         

                   so let it be.                    



I chose to add watercolour to today’s words for a reason. It is so easy to find ourselves in a place where we cannot help but saying that we are caught up in the beauty of it all. I remember one day standing at the end of the beach just where the track climbed away from the sea. I was talking to a man out walking his dog. I said to him, “Is this not just so beautiful?” he immediately agreed and began to identify places and point sin the wide panorama of the place around us. I said nothing, because what I was talking about was the feather lying at my foot. I had been caught up in the wonder of its creation. Yet birds have many such feathers and each in its own way is a work of art.

This painting was given to a friend as a gift. Recently somebody commented to me about it. I think I will try this one again having since that day look at many feathers on the beach, who knows I just might be able to make an even better job.

I hope you have a wonderful day and that my ranting have not set you off on a bad start.

This blog is linked to my other.  Let All Creation Shout

The West Wind Blows

The West Wind Blows

West wind blows

where it goes.

West wind blows

trees and grass bend to face the east.

From where will come our aid?

As the west wind blows.

Unseen yet all around the winds of change

course through our lives.

Like trees and grass we bend this way and that.

At the will of the unseen manipulator.

The desire to BE.

The yearning to be filled.

The tree holds firm,

its roots deep into the soil.

I hold to you the chi of all,

and in the storms you hold me fast.

Secure and yet still free,

to BE much more than I dreamed.

I have a passion for walking along the coastal paths and the high places of Scotland. If Scotland has anything it has weather that is unpredictable. It is said in the mountains of Scotland you can experience all four seasons in one day. It is a fact I can vouch for. This means that I frequently set out in one kind of weather and then there is change and I am in the midst of something else. 

One day I was walking the coastal path in sun the next it was dark windy and raining. I came home and painted this and another version of this same painting. But the weather does not only inspire scenes of beauty it also provokes thoughts of change, and our place in the midst of such changing beauty. 

Both this blog and my other consider this today.  The Winds of Change

 

Alone With The Wild Waves

Wild Waves

Alone With The Wild Waves.

Alone I wandered the rugged shores,

with troubled thoughts.

Through the valley of shadows

moved my tortured mind.

White capped sentinels high towering

mystic majesty.

Roaring, pounding, surging forth

to gather all before.

Yet gentle touched the breeze upon my skin,

and washed away the inner dark

with cleansing power.

Light in the sky speaks of the light of life.

Behold the beholder.

At one with all around.

As I am part of all I see

and it is part of Me.

This blog is linked to my other  where I tell the story and thoughts behind this painting and the poem I have now attached to it..   Wild Waves and Wild Thoughts

Pools of Love

Pools Of Love

Deep pools of dark umber,

             unfathomable love,

                         forgiving ,

                                         unchanging,

                                                     unceasing,

LOVE.

Every move drawn into the inner depths,

 watching,

                  following,

                                      waiting,

                                                           shadowing.

My every motion.

The world went out,

               they came in,

                         stayed,

                                            forever loyal.

Understanding when all understanding seemed lost.

Hearing and knowing the unspoken words

Silently

             wordlessly

                                    these pools of love,

                                               spoke volumes,

                                                                     in my solitude.

Deep pools of umber Love.

The eyes of my companion ,

friend.

The dark deep eyes of my dog.

This blog is linked to my other where I tell the story behind this painting. I hope you do not find it too self indulgent.

 

Out of the Silence

Questions

Questions.

Why does the wind blow

                  and the flower grow?

Why does the rain fall

                  and trees stand so tall?

Why the hurricane,

                           tornado and earthquake?

Devastation, fear and death lie in their wake.

Why does the child die so small?

The evil man grow old and tall?

Life brings many questions to my mind.

It seems no answers to be found.

I stand in dread.

I see the boat upon the shore.

In wonder stand,

                                 and see.

Not the answers, that I seek.

But an end to the questions that I ask.

As nature takes me by the hand

and flights of  wonder shows.

And in lifes knowledge daily grow.

This painting was inspired by what this poems tries to say. I am not sure the poem expresses well my inner thoughts or the painting what the eye saw that day. But the feeling was intense and a moment I will never forget.

It was  Sharonwho made comment on the first time that I posted this work. She said if I remember correctly that it might make her look at what is around her where she lives. That made me feel good that day because it seemed to say just what I was thinking at the time of its creation.

Sadly it still has no home. But it will always be a painting I remember and I will never paint over it.



This blog is linked with my other where I speak a bit more about this topic and the reasons for posting this blog.    Questions

Apologies

I need to apologise to all who read this blog that I have not posted for a couple of days. I am not at all sure what it is that is causing it but when I sit at the computer I am very uncomfortable. I have a severe pain. I have made an appontment with the doctor for this afternoon. I jus thope it is nothing serious and something to do with my exercise . I hope to return to this and my other blog as soon a s possible.








In the meantime please bear with me.

Poppies

 I thought that it being the day after the official day of remembrance and a few days before all the official marches and parades. All the political manoeuvring and pomp that surrounds such a day. I would do my own simple thing and share some of my poppies with you.

Some years ago at this time I wrote the following words.

POPPIES

I was low, in dark despair,

Caught in the time warp of my own

black and lonely abyss.

No thought beyond my own.

No care beyond the cares of selfish me.

My only thought was why?

Why me?

The beating drum of ME, ME, ME.

and MY, MY , MY.

Drowned every sound

except the selfish hammering in my head.

Then there before me,

blood red in all their glory.

A field of poppies.

The vibrant hues pulled me from the pit,

Back into the reality of creation.

I thought of years of blood,

poured forth in such a field.

Wars fought, that I might have this day.

Free to wander along the way.

There before me in all their glory

A simple field of red.

I heard the birds rejoice in glory

and no more thought of ME.

And in the sound of silence,

the beating drum went still.

And I drank again the deep refreshing joy of life,

and left with thankful heart.

How precious each beating moment is.

This blog is linke to my other. It iIs Not As Even As It Seems

Motion and Emotion

Motion and Emotion

I painted these three small canvases in Spain during my summer holidays. It was at the time when Spain was doing very well in the world cup. The place was full of the red and yellow of the flag and the joy and the emotion of the supporters. It was a good place to be, so much fun and emotion.

I tried to capture this feeling on the canvases. I used tissue paper and cooking foil to create texture.

I painted them using mainly my fingers. I loved the finished works and a further two paintings using the same methods followed on my arrival home.

None of these paintings sold and I again felt that my liking of the paintings must be misguided.

Yesterday I got a message to tell me that this triptych had sold. So there is still hope that the other two will still find a home and be loved as much as I love them.

Maybe it is just that it takes somebody who thinks and looks at the world the way I do to appreciate these for what they are?



This blog is linked to my other. Nothing Wrong With My Eyesight.

Autumn

Autumnal Hedgerow.

This painting was done after one of my walks along the coastal path. As I walked I caught sight of the plants in their autumn colours at the side of the hedgerow. I came home and painted two such paintings.

I really did enjoy painting them. I used thick acrylic paint and most of it was done using my fingers. The other one sold this one I brought home yesterday from one of the places where I hang paintings.

I am aware that autumn is almost over here and that it was a year ago I painted this and I still have it.

In the course of the year it has now hung in two places, maybe I have to accept that it is not right. There is something about it that makes it a painting nobody wants.

I just wish I could put my finger on what it was because as I have said already I like it.



This blog is linked to my other.Now Who Is That?

The End of the Line.

They Make Me Smile

I have been considering this blog for some time now.  I am not painting at anything like the rate I was when I started this. Then I could be doing two or three paintings a week. Now I am lucky if I am doing one a week. The real reason is that I realised just how bad my health and wellbing had got. I was sitting about painting writing blogs taking paintings to inns and while there having one or two ales.

Yes I was selling art, but at what cost? I was overweight by a long way. I was having to use an inhaler throughout the day.

As most who read this blog will know I have got that in hand now. I have managed to run off 39lbs of the weight and am feeling so much better.  I intend to keep it that way.

I am going to continue to paint and hope to find more time in my life to do it. But I feel that I can incorporate the sharing of my art as it comes along on my other blog. So I will be doing only the one blog from now on.

I am aware that this blog has the most followers, I do not know hwy that is the case because most people who comment on the blogs read both.  Those who do comment have become dear friends to me and I do not want to lose you. I would be very grateful if you could come and join me over on the other blog.

I will leave this open for a bit with the link to my other blog live. For those who decide not to jump over can I thank you very much for being so kind as to look at this blog. I thank you for your support and comments and wish you well for the future.

I have brought it to a close with a picture of a painting that sold yesterday and gave me hope that there is life in my art even yet.


This blog is closing down please join me on my ongoing blog the link is below.


The Day Life and Thoughts of Being an Artist and a Barstool Philosopher.

Self Portrait

Self Portrait

On my other blog I was talking about the art of loving yourself. Now by that I did not mean thinking you were the most wonderful thing since sliced bread, I meant simply being aware of your inner worth and being.

To be able to do a good self portrait, I think, takes an amazing depth of honesty. It is, in my humble opinion the most difficult thing to do.

I have, as you know painted others, some of them I am pleased to have done. I have also painted myself and I am not so pleased with that.

I wonder if I will ever try again.

The reason I ask this of myself is because I was asked by a family member yesterday if and when I was going to make a better portrait than the one I have already done.

I am aware that I did not make a good job of this first attempt. Because of that I am a bit wary of going there a second time.

Can those of you who have done a self portrait offer any guidance?

I am also aware that I would never hang such a painting. There seems to be something not right about hanging your own picture .

Now if I had children still small and living at home this sure would keep them well away from the fireplace.

This blog is linked to my other. Positive Thoughts- Not Always