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.
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.
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.
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 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.