Sun in Kenly Woods, late March.   A day with some sunlight (coming and going) amidst the months of multiple storms and continual gloom.  A bird from above dropped a deposit on my hat and coat right at the end, but thankfully only splashing the very edge of the painting board!

Hello and as always I hope this finds you well.

Into my third year of living in Crail, in the ‘East Neuk’ of Fife, Scotland, and during winter we had record seasonal rainfall and record number of storms for the area.  We even had a couple more which the Met Office were too embarrassed to ‘name’ or even mention.  This was like many other parts of the UK, and none of it is any surprise.  Damage to coastline, roofers unobtainable… now the norm.  But I got out painting whenever I could, including  in the most extreme weather I think I’ve attempted; almost freezing temperature, extremely windy with merging sea spray and drizzle – all at once.  Here’s one of those:

Kilminning Castle Rock in a Fierce Northeasterly.

This one I captured some film of, since it was an interesting situation. The footage will appear somewhere, but not sure where now…

This blog is long with many pictures.  I haven’t included every single ‘easel shot’, but a select few.  There are so many paintings/images that my website still might crash (seriously – I have been warned).  You know of course that all paintings are plein air.  I have not painted in the studio even once in over a year (except when teaching).   So the following includes my adventures since last time, and also some other things.  Some potentially exciting news near the end of the post about a film, and the ‘reflection’ of the title somewhere near the middle.

Dedham Hall  ‘Plein air & Studio’ – my ‘ultimate’ course – April 12th – 19th, 2025

Before I go further I’m pleased to announce I am teaching again at Dedham Hall, in ‘Constable Country’.

Please check your diary, and join me for this whole week immersion in plein air painting, mixed with studio time that will feature  demonstrations and presentations, technique practise, analysis and interesting discussions about our work.
I anticipate this will be my farewell to residential courses, in England at least, for the foreseeable future.  It therefore feels to me like a significant event, and I’m going to attempt to teach everything I know!
There is no finer base for comfort, time, location, food and hospitality and in my experience, the chances of good weather, than Dedham Hall.  It’s an honour to be able to teach here. 

Please read the full details on this course, on my Residential Courses page by clicking HERE.  and do contact me if you would like further information.  Please note, the course as usual does include a lot of plein air painting time, with the need for good mobility and some driving to locations in order to take part, though we will try to car-share when possible.  Bookings are made via Dedham Hall.  Click here to visit their website.

Other teaching
I’ve taken four small groups out in the East Neuk this year to paint plein air.  If you’d like to do a similar thing, please get in touch.  I don’t advertise these things (except like this) but these can be planned for your art group or a smaller group of friends.
I’ve visited four Fife art groups to demonstrate and two others to give day workshops, and another workshop as part of a local festival.  I have two upcoming workshops at art groups, gave my first illustrated ‘talk’ (first time I’ve been asked) a couple of months ago and next month begin an eight week three-hour class at St Andrews Art Club.  I’m still teaching a few people via ‘Teams’ or ‘Zoom’, and am kept as busy as I’d want with private lessons at my home studio.   With all these things, please contact me if you’d like to discuss, or book something in.  I also created and then travelled to Stroud in England to record a short video series ‘An Introduction to Watercolour Landscape’ for Raw Umber Art Studios.

Small group plein air teaching.  This one was at St Monans in spring.

My painting year to date

Okay; long story made short – or I’ll try.  January and February were almost impossible here, and I managed one painting in each month, but in March I got out four times.  Those were really cold and sometimes pretty madly windy too.  Invigorating though and actually, as long I’m up for it, I tend to enjoy those more than any other.  Sometimes, miraculously, I even seem to get some of my best results, which I think is down to a combination of feeling truly inspired (as the wild elements tend to give me) and the high level of intense focus which the situation demands.  And luck, as always.
The previous two winters (and Autumn) I got out probably four times as often.  Spring is my favourite season, and that probably includes for painting.  But the first half this year was cold and still wet…  Still, plein air in summer is more difficult on the whole, because of the drying palette, and I find it less atmospheric out in the landscape.

St Monans, rock pools and wind. Rain holding.  For sale at The Weem, Gallery, Pittenweem.

This blog gets less grey as it goes along!  This one I was desperate to get outdoors having been trapped by terrible weather for so long.  The weather on this day was also pretty terrible, with strong wind almost (but not quite) blowing the easel over and me hardly able to hold onto my palette at times.  Challenging, but exhilirating.  And I remember it was also bloody cold.  Anyway, with this one, it really was truly grey and I set out not to change that aspect, fully wanting to convey the atmosphere as it truly was.  In fact I did in places colour my greys actually more than was perceived by the eye, though I had fully intended NOT to!  No reflections in the rock pools since the water was continually wind-blown.  I was surprised (and pleased) that the rain just about held off, until just after I’d decided to stop.

Hazy day in Crail

This was a brief window that gave a glimpse into the milder spring weather that was mostly still some way ahead.  I added the boat back at home, having reflected on whether it was useful or necessary.  It’s rare for me to do anything at all to a painting away from the scene, but if I do it is normally just a bird or two, or something small like this which needs some time to consider well.   I had taken a reference photo of a boat on its way in to the harbour at the scene, with a view to doing this, so I was able to judge scale from that though went cautiously, as any slight error of size of that boat, or placement up or down by a millimeter or two off could I think have been pretty disasterous for the painting.  To judge the tone correctly was also important for it to ‘sit’ right in the surrounding context of further and nearer rocks, the water, etc.  It’s easy to underestimate the importance of getting these things right even regarding a very small shape in a painting.   The boat has a dark coloured hull and a white cabin.  Can you tell?

West from Fife Ness, high tide.  For sale, framed, at The Weem Gallery

I really enjoyed the challenge of the crashing water on rock here.  Probably could have done with a bit less detail in the left corner, but these decisions are made in seconds (if they are made at all).  Always need to keep in mind that it’s the overall effect that everything needs to work towards, and this case it was the light effect (which as usual didn’t last long) and the crashing water.  A fairly anonymous piece of headland here, so it’s ‘character’ may not grab people.  In this situation, acute observation of subtleties are even more important.  I was pleased with the colour changes in the water, echoed in sky and on land.  One of those the painter will probably appreciate more than a typical ‘outsider’/onlooker, I would guess.  For close up viewing there is a flock of birds out over the rocks, and shags actually on the distant rocks; did you see them?

Wind, crashing surf and evening sun at Kingsbarns beach

Easter bank holiday weekend, and the weather was nice.  I was sped along here by fast lowering afternoon sun, as well as tide being about three metres from my easel.  It was pretty windy and the surf was flying into the air while breaking as well as when actually crashing on rocks.  I had found a small spot where I was almost sheltered from the wind.  I enjoyed painting the far-distant mountains (some actually snow covered) as straight French Ultramarine, and the more greeny water where is coming over the orangey rocks.  As the sun lowers these colours on water change extremely quickly, and that’s even if you don’t have cloud shadow coming and going over the water…

Newark Castle from the cliffs in spring

Second attempt at this view about a year after my first attempt.  I’ll be trying yet again.  One that I thought was very poor at the time, but seems okay now.  It really was a challenge, because of the fact that the light was changing so continually and quickly with cloud blowing over all the while, and as it did so literally the whole scene changed dramatically in terms of the tones and other things.  In the end I tried to remember and hold in my mind’s eye the version I actually went for.
The following painting shows the view in the other direction if you turn around almost on the spot, but painted on a different day…

St Monans and the old kirk from the (windy) cliffs.  Windmill in far distance at the other end of the village.

Another one that I’ll attempt again as I know I can do it better.  Very tricky and complex scene with the need for subtle aerial perspective among other things.  In this case I was being almost blown off the cliff behind me, so I’m not being too hard on myself about it.  Like the painting before, at the time I thought it was a disaster, but on reflection, it could be worse!

Triangular rock and incoming tide at Sauchope (again, spot the distant shags!)

The fast moving, totally alive target of water.  I love it, when I’m in the right mood – which is feeling energetic and bold!  Can never be sure what I think of the results, but the challenge always feels worthwhile and different.  A strong test of perception, discernment and interpretation. I had slightly different composition in mind when walking to this spot, with a few more rocks not so covered by the water.  But you really need to know your beach and tide times extremely well to get such things right.

Crail church, early spring

Been meaning to paint the village church since I got here.  It only works from a few angles, times of day/light direction and other factors. Much of the year the only other view I’m tempted by is spoiled by tree foliage hiding the church.   Threatened with closure, like many scottish churches currently, I even dared to think this one might sell in the local festival exhibition, but nope.

The old salmon bothy, with hay bale

I’ve been calling it the ‘derelict cottage’ (have now painted it about ten times) but recently learned it’s known as the old salmon bothy.  Anyway, this small old-style hay bail was here a year ago, with that other little bit of bale having now fallen off it.  Partially covered in some plastic or other.  The light was flat with a lot of cloud, but after setting upthe easel, for a few seconds the sun came out over the scene and instantly went again.  It gave me the idea of having the middle ground and distance under cloud shadow but foreground in sun.  Tricky to pull off, and I did need for the effect to occur again before I did the foreground, keeping the effect as well as possible in my visual memory in terms of how shadows were cast around the bale and grasses.

Fife coastal ‘path’, between Boarhills and St Andrews

This was actually one from last year, but not shown before.  I found it in ‘the big pile’ and have now moved it to the smaller one.  It didn’t seem so bad overall with fresh eyes.  This is a spot where the official coast path is along the back of the beach for a stretch that gets cut off at the highest tides.

Tayport west lighthouse, with Dundee over the Tay

A subject about 15 miles from my home, which I’ve known about and planned to get to since moving here.  Needed the right time of day/light/tide and season.  Done.  But of course I need to do it again.  I wanted the light there, and the cloud I had was pretty good, coming and going so I wasn’t blinded, but it really does disappear quickly at this point in the spring, when it is getting low even to start with.  By the end I was stood almost in the gloaming.  That happens to me quite a lot, and I like it, having done my work, no one around… The colour of the water was like this, but not for long before it was just grey.  There’s a moment with low sunlight, that these things fleetingly occur.

Early spring scene at the edge of Crail.

This field features some of the nicest trees in the area, though it looks like many are Ash with Ash Dieback disease.  I met the farmer once before, who is getting elderly, and I think he probably loves his trees too.  He was quite pleased that I was painting his field (at a different spot then).  Leaves were just coming out at this point, some trees showing more than others, and the gorse in flower along many an East Neuk field margin.

Elie and Earlsferry from Ruby Bay.  Blinding light!

As far as I can recall this wins ‘most difficult subject to look at’ that I’ve ever attempted.  The light was utterly blinding and I had to limit how much I looked up at the scene.  Relying therefore on my mind’s eye and memory so as not to actually damage my eyes.  This was challenging of the senses and what I was discerning.  The darks really did look dead black, even in distant areas (which I mix from Thalo and Indian Red).  I tried to trust my observations, despite lack of confidence in them.  Painting, unfortunately without great belief (and soon, full enough commitment), this led to my messy handling of the foreground grass area.  A shame since in the end most of it turned out a lot better than I had thought at the time.  Regarding the light: I had in fact been waiting for the tide to be exactly in this position at the same time as the light exactly in that position.  I wanted the water sparkle/reflection of light, and the whole composition just-so, and I’d waited to get here in exactly this situation.  However, I could have done with some light cloud up in the sky, to obscure the sun somewhat.  But that’s asking just too much….  This is typically also one of the windiest spots in the whole of the East Neuk, meaning that quite often to expect the easel to even stay put is to ask enough.  It was pretty wind-free on this day, and with everything else aligned, so that’s why I gave it a go and I’m not complaining.

At Lady’s Tower beach, spring sun

By now it is late April.  I remember this one for feeling like a real struggle all the way through.  A lovely sunny morning, but an early reminder of how the coming summer months are actually the hardest for plein air overall, as far as I’m concerned.  That’s due to the fast and continually drying palette, more than anything, and how I need access to moist colours very quickly all the time because of the particular paper I use and my way of working with it.
Somewhat irritatingly, I find that the lady’s tower often looks too dark in my paintings of it, and yet that is just how it looks in reality with the sun in this position – and most positions where it is still generally behind the subject.   Likewise the rocks similarly very dark.  Also somewhat seemingly incongruous but a fact: The water was fairly flat really, but yet still a huge splash was occurring on the rocks just beyond/left of the tower, as depicted here.   Next time, I’ll be tempted to use a bit of artistic licence to lighten just slightly those darks, I think.

MANY MORE PLEIN AIRS TO FOLLOW BELOW, BUT FIRST..

Admiration of Nature; a reflection.

How many people stand at a spot in the landscape and take some time, or just a moment, to look at and take in the whole scene, with admiration, awe, wonder, being overwhelmed by beauty, the power of nature, appreciating the perfection of the alignment of the EXACT shapes, the specificity of the atmosphere of weather, light effect, movement of wind, water, cloud, wildlife…. (etc) all in relation to itself combined, and see, KNOW that it is wonderful, as it is, exactly because it is PRECISELY, specifically just as it all is?  

This is my position, in relation to nature.  I move myself around, in order to find that perfect spot in place & time, but often if you just go out there, for a walk, with perhaps the attitude to ‘explore’ or just see what you will see, you can just find yourself there.  

But what percentage of people CARE for this?  I’d say it must be very, very low.   To me that’s very sad.  A feature of our time, but not necessarily some past times.  Nowadays, the number may be so low that it is mostly the same people who make up the aspiring/practicing watercolour landscape painters out there (and I suppose some photographers), like yourself reading this.  Some poets, too, though they prefer the format of words. 

There was an occasion at school, with an English teacher I liked, where he asked the class the basic question of ‘what do you want to do when you grow up’?  People responded with the usual list of ‘jobs’, professions, etc, as intended by the teacher.  I recall my response, and YES I KNOW, it sounds incredibly pretentious but I expect I had only recently come across the word: “I’d like to be a professional aesthete”.  It was true, and has always been, but what a hopelessly pointless thing to want to ‘be’ in this human world where we are schooled meerly to find a way to perpetuate our existence.  I think about death a lot, which I think is helpful and healthy.  I definitely want to die outdoors. And I literally never regret it when (at times) I have to make the effort – to go outdoors. 

Sales of work – a related reflection

This year has been my worst on record, including in the one gallery that I exhibit, where I have sold none.  A separate but linked point to all the above would be that there are a very low number of people who will see my work and relate to it in the ‘intended’ way.  I expect my work in the context of a gallery mostly serves to highlight the personality or ‘quirkiness’ of all the other art on display, much of which I would describe as ‘illustrative’, often with semi-abstract qualities, and often also a fair amount of naive qualities.  I would say it often does not set out to represent nature just as the artist honestly finds it.   Mostly, of course, this work leaves me cold (as I expect mine leaves them).  These artists are making an ‘interpretation’ based on CHANGING Nature (where nature is their subject)  into their own, warping it with themSELVES (that’s being generous, since I’m often not convinced that it isn’t someone else’s self, really. Such stylisation rarely comes across as authentically owned, to me, and never looks unfamiliar.).  Does this process add value?  It seems so in most people’s eyes. To me it says ‘nature is not enough as it is; I need to add some me’.  Or  ‘I need to add some modern art stylings’, or just ‘I need to add…’  

But I suppose I am, without trying to, adding something of myself, too.  To an extent we cannot help it.  It comes from our own discernment, and goes through a process of interpretation that is subject to… subjectivity.  And those other artists are just being themselves in enjoying their ‘process’, their individual handling of mediums, and are not perhaps always so deliberate in ‘stylising’ their real view or experience of life.  Yes?  

Also, probably it’s just that my work is not very good at what it seeks to be. Or/and overpriced.
I’ve certainly varied my prices widely over the years and found that lowering does not necessarily lead to higher number of sales at all. Indeed the opposite can be true.  And the gallery owner wants to keep prices where they are.  Previous years have seen higher sales with things just as they (seemingly) currently are. 
Pricing of artwork is one the strangest things, and very, very difficult to draw sound conclusions from.  As in life, also so in painting, and so in the ‘art gallery’: CONTEXT is, literally, EVERYTHING.  Literally, everything in the world is actually part OF the context, so it is impossible to ever really discover, to KNOW the truth about the causes, reasons, for anything within the complex, interdependent ecosystem of reality.  Nothing exists, or is fully defined as itself, except precisely as it is witnessed here and now in this one moment in relation to absolutely everything else, and from that (one’s own) unique perspective only.  So if you draw conclusions at all, it is a bold move. 

When I relocated to Crail I wanted to find myself a small job in the immediate community, and I was lucky enough to manage that which involves me  in a small way in various goings-on and local events. Now, after 8 years fully self-employed I’m looking for another part-time job – outdoors.  A different tack with life, and I think it will be best for my art, too.  It is not looking to me like the future will hold much demand for a self-employed painter/teacher of my current sort for very much longer, and I was always confident it wasn’t forever (nothing is).

BACK TO THE PAINTINGS….

The mountains of Assynt from Achnahaird Bay; early morning in May.   Spot the figure, if you can, for a guide to the vastness of scale (I don’t think I captured it well).

We went on our holiday this year in early May, before the midges hatch, to the northwest highlands.  Staying in remote village of Achiltibuie with amazing views over the Summer Isles and a short drive from amazing views of the mountains of Assynt.  I have wanted to come and paint here for years.  Unfortunately my hopes were inevitably high and we did not have much good weather.  I worked hard to produce what I could over the four full days we stayed, but much of the time low cloud completely hid the mountains and there was plenty of rain.  This was an early morning painting, sun very low and mostly cloudy sky still, but at least I could see the mountains! (The photo above of me at the scene was actually the following morning when I came back to attempt a slight variation of the scene again – and it started sunnier but stopped me with rain before I was half way through!!)   In my haste I was not happy with what I did, but despite not really rating my effort here, the painting still holds meaning for me, just because of the subject and the fact that I got to experience it, which was magic.   I also now remember how it was also very windy just here, to make it harder…  I’ve got over it now.  I want to return one day, though the same things could easily happen again.

Stac Pollaidh and Cul Beag, with Badagyle Cottage

This is the only other painting I did that I’m happy enough to show, although at the time I thought I’d not be showing anyone either of these two either!  The scenery is so awe-inspiring that my efforts to bring that out fell completely flat.  This day again did not feature great light/atmospheric conditions to really show things at their best, and I only had a short time to decide on a spot to paint from.  There’s a ‘brownness’ to the hills and mountains at this time of year, and I think a different direction of view and light situation would be better.. But when you don’t know an area, and with limited stopping places on one-track lanes….  The other thing about this visit was the ticks!  Every time you return from being outdoors you need to get your partner to check you all over for ticks.  I did get some.  And we did see plenty of deer (and a couple of eagles, come to that).

St Monans church, lifting mist and morning spring sunshine

Back on the home patch, and another different viewpoint of St Monans ‘old kirk’.  I had some interesting conversations while painting this one.  Someone told me they wanted to buy it, but then didn’t.  Another person told me the church was for sale for £1 (incorrect, as it turned out), and another lady told me I could come inside and paint from her window nearby.

The derelict cottage, painted in the rain. A current favourite of mine, and currently available framed only from The Weem Gallery, Pittenweem High Street.

These two paintings were done on the same day, probably one of my most productive, therefore, for a few years.  The church one I felt had gone fairly well at the time, considering the exacting nature of the drawing, and also the fact that the light was changing (getting better, but no more helpful than getting worse to a watercolourist where some things become ‘set in stone’ early on – literally here).  By the end I didn’t really like it.  I used a different yellow for the now bright spring greens.  Don’t like it much, so have put that away again…  By the evening (and after the laborious drawing involved in that church)  I was ready for some wildness, and energetic enough to go again.  It resulted in a painting with an entirely different attitude and approach – which was almost revelatory and quite hope-giving.  Again, at the time, I didn’t actually think it was a successful result, but a while later I viewed it and now it is currently one of my favourites.  But that is always a lot more to do with other factors than just how it looks as an image.  The experience was special.  As is common, it featured a fair amount of emotional desperation, inspiration and standing upright ‘against’ the elements in a physical sense.  A substantial rain shower was forecast, but supposed to pass.  When I got to the location I spent some time waiting at the water’s edge sat on a rock with my huge waterproof poncho covering myself, backpack and folder.  But it never quite stopped raining.  So I set up anyway and decided to let loose and allow the rain to have its way too.  Mostly by then it was light and not continual throughout, so the painting was not wiped out, and I love the rain marks (as will you, I know!).  When it did come on hard again I had pretty much ‘said all I needed to’ so happily stopped.  Whatever it was, it was done, and I felt better for the whole refreshing, alive, solitary and profound experience.  This was what its about.
I forgot to take a photo for that one, but instead filmed some thoughts to camera, for a potential video/film (again -more on that later).

Roome Bay rocks, starlings and the distant Isle of May

A warm sunny morning at one of the two village beaches in Crail.  Having found the spot a while ago, I’d been waiting for the tide and sun positions to align and finally the right day was here.  Some of these scenes you’d get cut off at high tide, and the whole composition would be barren rocks at low tide.  I wanted that more distant bit of cliff backlit, but the sun highlighting the edges of the foreground rock structure; which would remain the case for about an hour or so.  Again I knew this in advance.   I thought I’d overworked the foreground rocks badly, but after some days of not looking at, it didn’t seem so bad.  Very challenging, anyway, and I needed to go fast due to the changing shadows.  When I arrived there I felt tired just looking at that rock!  Didn’t quite know how I was going to go about it, and in the end I impatiently piled into it, as usual, thinking I’ll just see what happens.

At Kilminning, low tide. Pure despair!

A long walk, a lonely mind, a tired brain and body…  And then some inspiration strikes.  A vast open, wild, quite desolate rockscape of shoreline at low tide, and my favourite local rock focal point, at Kilminning.  I wasn’t happy during most of the painting of this, though that had much to do with just ‘life’ – and thus affecting my attitude and the process.  Clearly I was not fully present at times.  But I quite like the result in the end all considered (well obviously, not ALL of it..), and it required digging deep, as they say.
And now I have this thing that I’ve produced.  … and as always I feel, ‘nature (and whatever I am) made me do that’.

Rocks near Ardross farm, Lady’s Tower in distance.

Another one which, currently, I do quite like.  My most recent.  Maybe I should just stop here?  Although I can find many things that aren’t to my satisfaction in this and any painting I do, I’ve learned slowly that I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.  I’m not and shouldn’t be expecting to produce masterpieces.  I’m just another watercolour ‘sketcher’, and all in all I’m glad to be that, for as long as it lasts, and I know I’m lucky to be.

As I do also point out sometimes: There have been other paintings than these shown, not successful in the least, which are par for the course.  I mention it because for aspiring painters it is important to know this is and will always be the case.  Expect the losses and leave them behind in the knowledge that you’ve enjoyed and learned from the whole experience of their making.  They are absolutely a part of the whole process of being a painter, and producing the ‘good’ ones.   I’ve also walked many miles carrying my gear this year only to not even set up the easel.  Good!  I need the exercise.  None of these times are ‘wasted’.  You see things you’ll return to in a better situation of light, weather, tide, season, etc, and uyou’ll witness wonderful things in your own personal encounters with wildlife and the landscape itself.   Have you ever seen a crow sitting happily next to – and in every way as if having a leisurely chat – with a pheasant?   I have now.

In other News:

(almost) Lost work

I actually have (just for 18 months) had some work in a Somerset Gallery – the only other gallery I have ever exhibited in.  Seven paintings.  I sold none the whole time.   The gallery was then taken over by a different owner, and all of my work was nowhere to be found, thought ‘lost’!  Long story short, it has thankfully turned up, in a shed!  Being sent back to me soon, hopefully, at my expense.  Not an auspicious experience.

Film project (maybe?)

Exciting.  So I expect it will in the end not come to pass and I aim therefore not to get attached to such things – we’ll see, and it doesn’t matter.  I was contacted by a film maker.  He has won some awards for his work, and makes very different films each time.  The last one was broadly about a band (though it was more than this), and his current project is on wasps.  The proposed film, if it gets made, will not be ‘instructional’.  We are exchanging ideas with a first meeting next Easter.  Synchronicity?:  I had plans as I mentioned on a previous post, for a potentially similar thing, but self-made.  I have been collecting footage towards that during this year.  But that, like the ‘book’, would maybe not have got completed I fear to say, but my gathered footage may yet have a use. 

Oil painting

To make matters worse, all of my projects ‘in-progress’ are very specifically about Watercolour Landscape painting.  And now, or about now, I am (far too late in life) I THINK finally about to make a proper go at painting in oils, which could royally mess things up.

I dunno if it’ll go anywhere and I will admit, initially at least, I’ve been partly driven to it by the influences or needs of life.  I’ll just see what happens and have no expectations.   A new medium takes much time simply to get to know.  I have observed many times other painters who excel in one medium and whose work is entirely forgettable in another.  You need to have a way with a medium, and to love it.   I have still only done literally ONE oil painting.  Being that I only work outdoors, progress has been slowed somewhat by that fact, but that’s only part of it.  Here is the one painting, of my local muse the Castle Rock at Kilminning:

12 x 16 inch oil painting; Plein air at the Castle Rock, Kilminning.

“Tom Keating on Painters”

I won’t include a link but you can easily find by a search on Youtube a great TV series from Channel 4 (a UK TV channel for overseas readers) from 1982, which had a profound effect on me when I was about 8 years old.
This TV series has always been in my memory, and Tom Keating also, and thankfully it popped into my youtube feed for some reason, and I immediately recognised Tom Keating and the programme.  People of a certain age may remember Tom Keating and his trial in UK courts (and media coverage) for being a forger, in retaliation towards the art market.  There’s a good story there if you’re interested (see his Wikipedia page).  Tom Keating to me is something of a legend.  He died just after making the second of the two series that were made and never received payment for it.  Kind of summed up his life in some ways.
My first proper artist influence and inspiration as a child was JMW Turner, and I have returned to his work very recently as I think about oil painting.  One of the episodes in the series (I think the first) is on Turner.  In each episode Keating paints to show and explain what he claims were the artist’s methods.  Tom Keating incidentally lived in Dedham and is buried in the village churchyard.  He painted the pub sign of the Sun Inn, which he also frequented, accepting payment for the sign as “a free pint every day for 3o years”.  He didn’t get to call that one in, either!

Tom Keating. ‘Beer, smoke and discoloured varnish’.  Check out ‘Tom Keating on Painters’ on youtube.

The easel I use – a warning.

The ‘Jakar Lightweight Adjustable Watercolour Easel’ is, I am afraid, a shadow of its former self.  My own (from about 2015) is still going strong and I’ve always thought it a superb thing for the job, but if you buy a new one now, you actually get a different easel.  I’ve been in contact with Jakar about this, but that fizzled out and they seem to be in denial that the product has changed at all.  Perhaps they’re using a new factory or something and personel have changed at the company, but there can be no doubt that there’s been a change to the central part of the easel where the legs attach.
Below is a photo of my old easel along with a photo of a newly purchased one.  In all other ways they are identical, EXCEPT the most important one, being the leg-spread.  My older easel has literally the widest and therefore most stable foundation of any easel I have ever seen.   The new version of what is (supposedly) the same model – which I bought recently – is honestly barely even stable indoors.  The slightest touch from someone walking past and it will fall over.

My old faithful, going strong since 2015 (-ish). It was and is a great easel.

The new one. I took it when doing a recent talk at St Andrews Art Club, but ended up just putting it away again. The slightest of knocks and it would fall over, so even indoors this is, to me, useless. The back leg will extend no further than this.  Many other easels on the market are similar, which I cannot understand.

Okay, I actually have other things to tell you but I think that’d better wait for a later blog!  Thanks if you’ve got this far.

So for now my friends, thanks again for your interest as always, bye for now and, as my marine painter friend Vincent Neave always signs off,
look after each other.

Cheers, Jem

(and join me at Dedham!)