Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

12 March

It is grey and damp, but good to be out and about this morning.  We walk past the sheep in their new location in a field on the other side of the village.  They are busy grazing on the stubble of a former crop.  Some are sitting, protected from the drizzle by their warm and oily coats.

All the colours are subdued today - greys, browns and blue/greys.  There is not so much noticeable birdsong either.  Even the garden seems strangely quiet.

I return to working on Millie’s portrait, adjusting fine details on the face.  However, before beginning to paint, I turn the picture upside down and consider it.  Then I right it and look at the reverse image in a mirror.  In this way my brain sees it as something unfamiliar and is forced to work harder.  It makes errors more visible.  I can see that the line of the mouth needs a slight adjustment in length and angle.  As with a human portrait, the merest millimetre of difference to the length or thickness in the line of the mouth will change the picture to one of a very similar individual, but not the actual sitter.  I am always fascinated to see how it is the smallest details that make us us.

I make the appropriate corrections and continue thus, while the rain patters on the roof and the radio mutters to itself in the background.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

10 March

There are seven lilac-coloured crocuses open in the garden this morning - more evidence of the cautious approach of Spring.  On closer inspection I see that the stamens and stigma are the colour of rich egg yolk - the kind that you get from happy, outdoor hens, and that make your Yorkshire puddings rise!

Whilst walking past one of the large, medieval buildings in Lavenham, I see a small tortoiseshell butterfly sitting on the pavement.  Not wanting a pedestrian to tread on it, I bend down and place my hand next to it.  It obligingly walks onto my index finger.  I shelter it gently with my other hand and carry it across the street to a garden opposite, where I lean over the hedge and place it carefully on some foliage.  It is reluctant to leave the warmth of my skin.  I’m not sure whether it will have sufficient strength or nourishment to survive, but its chances must be slightly better than sitting on the tarmac in Water Street.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

8 March

Thin layers of inky cloud lie over the horizon as the sun sets.  Suddenly I detect movement out of the corner of my eye.  A hare, barely visible, has started to move.  It is the colour of pale earth.  After a few metres it pauses and sits up straight.  No doubt it is aware of our presence and is watching from afar.  It remains there, like a small statue, for a few moments and then suddenly sets off running again - up and over the vast field until it disappears from view.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

7 March

5.46am.  Birdsong.  A blackbird sings mellifluously in the twilight.  He is soon joined by the high-pitched, chirrupy song of the robin.  Something has changed.  It’s as if a great, rusted cog has shifted and the heavy mechanism of the earth has moved slowly and ....CL..UN..K!!..., has turned its face a stage further towards the sun.  They know that, and they have begun in earnest the process of attracting a mate and defending territory.

Sure enough, when it is light, I look out of the kitchen door and see two male blackbirds fighting.  Eventually, the one that looks slightly tattered, gives up and moves away.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a female land suddenly on the fence, not far from me.

I have a pleasing day in the studio, executing a painted sketch of last night’s sunset from a hastily taken photo, and then completing a more abstract night scene, on which I have been working for some time.

At around 4pm the sun appears, following a heavy shower.  It seems an opportune time for Millie and myself to set out on our afternoon walk.  When we are at the furthest point from home, a weighty and ominous blue cloud drags itself across the sky.  I can tell from the way that it trails its feathery base just above the treetops, that a downpour is imminent.  We pick up the pace and make it into the porch just as the first, heavy drops begin to fall.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

5 March

Apart from the odd stripe and spot in the landscape, the snow has mostly gone.  Such a large quantity has miraculously disappeared overnight.  There is a tentative return to colour, where the morning sun picks out the pale ochre of a distant field and the orangey-green of a lichen covered tree.

What I also notice is an increase in sound - skylarks singing, sheep bleating and a flock of birds ‘chat-chatting’ in a treetop.  They are SO loud, as if they are all over-excited and are trying to speak all at once!

As we return from our walk, I see a hare running up and over the curve of an adjacent field until it disappears over the horizon.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

3 March

The snowy landscape is covered in mist.  The entire vista is almost monochromatic; there is so little tonal variation.  The wind has dropped and although the temperature hovers around zero, it feels much warmer.

There are signs that a thaw is beginning.  The snow cliffs in the lane have the occasional hole in them and beneath the oak trees, patches of road surface are visible.  Our footsteps now make the familiar “crump, crump” sound as we walk down the hill, suggesting that the snow is wetter and less powdery.  

Down by the Hall we pause for a few moments, and notice a line of footprints emerging from the garden hedge and crossing the road.  They disappear into the small wood opposite.  They are clearly those of a badger - five toes with claws, positioned ahead of a broad pad, about 5-6cm long in total.

We walk uphill again and pass a flock of sheep being herded into a large pen.  They jostle and steam in the cold air.  The snow is thicker again here and we find more elegantly curved and elongated drifts.

As the day progresses, the spectacular icicles, which have been hanging like tubular bells from Barry’s kitchen roof, begin to drip and melt.  We periodically hear a dull “thump!”, as the layers of snow on our roof begins to slip.  When I look up from feeding the birds in the garden, I can see that it has crumpled and folded like a white duvet pushed down to the foot of a bed.  It sits ominously just above the gutter.  I’m very glad that we have a small front porch, as the firm closing of our tight-fitting front door could just trigger some slippage and a classic comedy moment!

By the end of the afternoon, the roads and paths are becoming dark again - muddy ribbons scattered over the white fields.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/

Abstract Landscape Painter.  Rural Dweller.  Lover of Modernist Art and Design.

1 March

For the first time that I can remember since childhood, there is ice inside the bedroom windows this morning.

On the lane, the wind has blown the snow off the fields and through the blackthorn hedges, forming curved, multi-layered, shelf-like drifts.  They are very sculptural and beautiful.

Unsurprisingly, there are no other footprints in the white swathe ahead of us.  We are well dressed for the conditions, and enjoy the chance to be outside and see the altered landscape.  On our way back, we meet a neighbour driving home slowly in his Land Rover, having been out shopping for supplies.  He is very cheery, and stops to chat, although briefly, as it is too cold to stand still for too long!

In the studio, I decide to make a sketch of the snow in the lane and produce a quick, loose painting of the subject, in order to remind me of this relatively unusual weather event.

When we walk again later, the wind is picking up and the snow is blowing again.

All text & images ©2018 Carol Saunderson

http://anartistinthelandscape.blogspot.co.uk/