Spanish eyes.

 

Magdalene II

I was recently in Milan and came across a marble sculpture and was completely taken by it. I decided to paint it as a person rather than the original white marble because I wanted to try to give it a little more anguish. Anyone who hasn’t visited Milan, I recommend it strongly. A beautiful city full of beautiful and warm people.

After Mucha.

A simple pen, ink and wash drawing that I doodled whist struggling with Magdalene II which doesn’t seem to want to be painted. I greatly admire Mucha with his seemingly easy flowing lines and indeed all things Art Nouveau.

Mimi Farina

This is a painting of the beautiful Mimi Farina the sister of the equally beautiful Joan Baez. I came across a black and white photo of Mimi and was struck by her natural beauty and decided to paint her in colour. The eye colour and flesh tones and even the hair colour to a lesser degree are pure guesswork on my part, so my apologies if I have guessed wrong. Mimi sadly died far too young.

The Tin God.

I came across this sculpture outside Saatchi’s gallery in London and was amazed by the strength of it. I thought for a long time on how to paint it and eventually ended up with this composition. The Tin God holding the world in it’s hand.

Ring your bells.

 

Ring your bells to this way toll

To resonate in glory

Then sit you down and listen hard

I’ll tell to you a story

On glistening hills, on rolling moor

In the autumn of the year

Full howling gale and hard black rain

Whose noise it filled the air

The stranger rode his snorting beast

His eyes were coal black holes

Through the drowning rain he came

To seek the fingered souls

The sickly child, the tortured wife

He found them all with ease

Then ripped their souls with bloody lust

And cast them to the breeze

The innocent, the guilty too

They fell to fill his load

With cackle laugh and streaming cloak

He thundered down the road

Rich or poor, the lost and found

If named and on his list

Their epitaph was writ in blood

They died beneath his kiss

So harken now and heed this tale

When next the storm doest break

For death will ride the highways

With his list of souls to take

Life is there to live in full

Each day a precious gift

For the only man who fears not death

Is the man who never lived.

 

The Hooded Lady