Like you, I am waking up in much the same way in my corner of Canada. Having been starved of sun light for the past too many months the morning light and quiet feels like a balm for this tired old gal. As does the glimpse of your works progress. How do you not stop at early stages and decide its beautiful and perfect? They appear that way to me. I suppose it helps to have no preconceived notions of what it wants to be. Thank you for the morning photos, art and stories of chickens and darned elbows. Made my heart happy.
I do hope that I will get chance to see your triptych, it feels like something to walk into and be enveloped. (Which makes me hesitate and reflect that such a commonplace item, an envelope, has such a bewitching name.)
It was good to meet Confluence at the RSA 200, and I enjoyed seeing it hung as a cascade.
Ah, this reminds me of my one year living in Aberdeen! Not quite as far up north as you are but it was already enough for affecting your sleep in the summer... (plus many many noisy seagulls up in those early hours already too, also had one swoop down to try and get my lunch (still wrapped in a paper bag!) when I walked from one building to another at my work..). The light is so different!
Oh those seagulls! Yes, when I lived in Leith they would wake me with their clamour at dawn. And then the young ones, when they start wandering around but still call for Mum and Dad to feed them - the endless screeching, like a rusty gate in the wind!
Oh how I relate to this! We have just moved to Denmark and are awash in the sun...glorious but it's keeping me awake...past my bedtime and then in the morning, yup, the light behind the blinds at 4am. I guess in November I'll be singing a different tune :D
Beautiful piece about the evolution of this piece....and all the light.
Oh Samantha. I’m here in Orkney at the moment and have just been standing on Marwick Head in the bowl of light you so eloquently describe. Today Orkney is bathed in sunlight and cool air. I don’t envy you the oppressive heat of London.
Like you, I am waking up in much the same way in my corner of Canada. Having been starved of sun light for the past too many months the morning light and quiet feels like a balm for this tired old gal. As does the glimpse of your works progress. How do you not stop at early stages and decide its beautiful and perfect? They appear that way to me. I suppose it helps to have no preconceived notions of what it wants to be. Thank you for the morning photos, art and stories of chickens and darned elbows. Made my heart happy.
Knowing when to stop is the hardest part! Yes, I am loving the light, quiet early mornings after the darkness and storms of a long winter.
Thank you for this beautiful observation and delightful poem.
It's a great poem, isn't it - and all the better for being written in such a matter-of-fact, conversational tone I think.
And ooh I’m in Scotland again and will go say hello to ”Confluence” next week!
I do hope that I will get chance to see your triptych, it feels like something to walk into and be enveloped. (Which makes me hesitate and reflect that such a commonplace item, an envelope, has such a bewitching name.)
It was good to meet Confluence at the RSA 200, and I enjoyed seeing it hung as a cascade.
Oh thanks Michela! The new painting will be shown in Edinburgh next year - at least that's the plan, so maybe you'll get a chance to see it!
Great! Would love to know the exhibition dates; I can plan another short break to coincide.
October 2027!
Ah, this reminds me of my one year living in Aberdeen! Not quite as far up north as you are but it was already enough for affecting your sleep in the summer... (plus many many noisy seagulls up in those early hours already too, also had one swoop down to try and get my lunch (still wrapped in a paper bag!) when I walked from one building to another at my work..). The light is so different!
Oh those seagulls! Yes, when I lived in Leith they would wake me with their clamour at dawn. And then the young ones, when they start wandering around but still call for Mum and Dad to feed them - the endless screeching, like a rusty gate in the wind!
What magnificence of light, art and meaning! Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Cathie!
Oh how I relate to this! We have just moved to Denmark and are awash in the sun...glorious but it's keeping me awake...past my bedtime and then in the morning, yup, the light behind the blinds at 4am. I guess in November I'll be singing a different tune :D
Beautiful piece about the evolution of this piece....and all the light.
I remember visiting West Jutland - such wide skies and big, barrelling wind - not unlike here, yes. A sturdy sleep mask is a summer necessity!
barrie Kaufman oh what a beautiful place you live in Samantha. I am right there with you in your writing and painting. Enjoy London.
London was a blast, Barrie, but I'm glad to be home again in the cool air.
Oh Samantha. I’m here in Orkney at the moment and have just been standing on Marwick Head in the bowl of light you so eloquently describe. Today Orkney is bathed in sunlight and cool air. I don’t envy you the oppressive heat of London.
Ah, Marwick Head. I was dreaming of it when I was sweating on the Central Line, but got home to cold wind and drizzle!
This was such a beautiful read. Thank you! 💕
Thank you Rebecca!
I love that the sun is becoming more prominent in your new piece! I know you are pouring your heart and soul into your work.