Having witnessed the dawning of the day, now it was the turn of the dimming. The moon hung in the blue sky, floating high above soft and billowing cloud. Utterly enthralling but almost impossible to capture.
The air was still below; up above the trees it was boiling and rolling, the clouds in perpetual motion.
I have been enjoying a growing confidence in creativity; for some years I had been in a rut, the brushes were dry, the paint unused and the paper plain. Then I started to look at the work of artists like Rima Staines, Jackie Morris, James Mayhew, to name but a few. I found an itch in the fingertips, and the growing need to paint for myself again.
I am rarely pleased with the finished results; I am not that keen on my own style as the results are rarely on a par with what is in my head. But just occasionally I feel pleased with elements of the finished piece.
I do like the eye of the hare and elements of the tree. Slowly but surely the skills are coming back and I get less despondent about the finished pieces.