Friday, 12 January 2018

Painting in Montcuq - the first summer.

                   
I went not knowing how long I would stay but I had a car packed with canvases and paints and enough books to fill in time when I wasn't working. Days merged into weeks and weeks into months and it was Autumn when I packed up the collection of paintings for the drive back to London. What a feeling!  My summers from then on followed the same pattern, packing up the car with fresh supplies of paints and canvases and setting out in June to drive the 840 miles to the South of France returning in October or November with a new collection of paintings.


                                               

                                               Start of summer. Oil on canvas. 2003

                                               

                                               July. Oil on canvas. 2003

                                               

                                               Boulevard de la République. Oil on canvas. 2003.

                                               

                                               Evening. Oil on canvas. 2003

                                               

                                               Rue Droite. Oil on canvas. 2003

                                               

                                               La Tour Montcuq. Oil on canvas. 2003

                                                                                           
 
                                               August. Oil on canvas. 2003.

                                               
                         
                                               Montcuq. Oil on canvas. 2003.

                                               

                                               La Canicule. Oil on canvas. 2003.

                                             

Thursday, 11 January 2018

One Day in May.







Loves Story


I do not love thee
So I'll not deceive thee
I do not love thee
Yet I'm loathe to leave thee

I do not love thee
Yet joys very essence
Comes with thy footstep
Is complete in thy presence

I do not love thee
Yet when gone I sigh
And think about thee
'Till all the stars die

I do not love thee
Yet thy handsome ways
Bring me in absence 
Almost hopeless days                                                                          
                                                                         
 I cannot hate thee
Yet my love seems debtor
To love thee more
So hating, love thee better

John Clare