Wednesday, 3 October 2007


With this painting business, and i speak about the past, my attitude to it has changed a bit since then, was of enjoyment and fun getting into another realm, i was on a high when picking up the paint brush and could hardly wait to lay down the paint, it was most active time living on the moors wilderness just outside St Ives. Coming from the city, a london girl at heart, not being able to drive, no public transport, a young baby and a very moody husband no mains water and a only tin bath to wash, in a rented farm cottage , oh yes before this we had stayed for the first year in the Poor House as it was called with large windows next to Eagles Nest, Patricks place, i found the wide open places suffocating, strange and stranger too, should of been the opposite, so i hated it, felt isolated trapped, there was no going back and no hope getting out of this place, a culture shock if you like, when your used to the metropolis

Tuesday, 2 October 2007

Patrick Heron: the growing legacy of genius

Patrick Heron: the growing legacy of genius: "Patrick Heron: the growing legacy of "


I was drawn to this place in my early twenties, some how a famous painter got involved with my life, Patrick Heron, abstract expressionist, i was flattered, no one with such prestige had been interested with little ole me before, painting had been my first love, and down here artists were everywhere, some good and some absolute rubbish, he was much older about 35 years older but to me he was like a god, i hung on every word he uttered and i worshipped him from a distance, he became my mentor, it was arranged that i was to take my pictures to him every month for his appraisal, so i did ,cause he was also an art critic for the new statesman etc, well he introduced me to a world of colour through his favourite artist Matisse, painting became an obsession , it was who i as , i had a passport to being accepted, and i was for a while, for many years, but things came to a halt, which i will tell you later if your interested, signing off 4 now

This is the coastal town of st ives cornwall, where ive been hanging out for the best part of 20 years, its a good as place as any, come winter time its very quiet but thats ok with me,
for in the time of trouble he will hide me in his pavilion; in the secret of his tabernacle shall he hide me and you. ps27v5