Author Archives: boballoo3

About boballoo3

Hi, my name is Bob. I took early retirement from the steel industry four years ago and one of the things I promised myself was to learn to paint. I have always loved art and took up drawing at the age of fifty for the first time since leaving school. Hmmm did they have schools that long ago? Seemingly they did because I have some vague recollections of it, in particular of getting the cane for doodling in maths. I enjoyed drawing but always felt it lacked something, so I was determined to try my hand at painting. I enrolled on a watercolour class, but quickly decided that perhaps watercolour and I did not really gel. (In other words I couldn't do it.) Then I tried acrylic and found that I enjoyed using them and so here I am, a retired steel worker, splodging acrylic paint onto boards and paper and quite enjoying doing so. I realise that I have a great deal to learn and that I am a mere beginner in the art of painting, but enjoying doing something is half the battle. I love real art and will happily while away my free time in galleries wherever I come across them. I have been lucky enough to visit the Met in New York, the Louvre in Paris and of course Tate Britain. I also love sculpture and have a great fondness for the V&A, where I can wander for days. Well rather than bore anyone daft enough to read this into tears, I will leave it at that. With my thanks for visiting and my very best wishes.

Surreal.

 

I’m losing the ability

To see beyond surreal

To know just who it is I am

And to know how I really feel

I am adrift inside your imagery

While your words like raindrops fall

I gather them up in disbelief

And wonder at them all

Then I weave your words in cadmium hues

Through my hopes that I’ve burnished from steel

I place them safe in a Book of Dreams

And I pray for them to be real.

 

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The Thinker.

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I came across the image for this painting, somewhere on the net. It was a black and white photo, so possibly a still from a 1920’s movie. I loved the composition and although it was a black and white image, knew I would paint the turban in a red, I always associate with the Pre-Raphaelites for some reason.

Love hurts and sometimes more.

The finest gold hoops were hung from her ears
Reflecting the light from each silent tear
All through the night, she had called out his name
But the bed bare beside her, said nobody came
His photograph hung, on the wall in her room
Vague in the half light, faint in the gloom
It was taken in summer, in soft rolling hills
And she cried at his smile as she swallowed the pills.

 

The orphan Chimp (Nemley.)

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I came across an article on the news about baby chimps being taken from their families when just days or weeks old, by poachers and then being sold on as pets or for who knows what dreadful other reasons. The chimp pictured was apparently rescued by some organisation and is being looked after with a view to returning it to the wild at some point. I was so taken by the photograph and by the story that I decided to go out of my comfort zone and try to capture the look in the chimp’s eye. I thought that IF it turned out OK then I would perhaps try to sell it and any money raised would be sent to a charity dedicated to rescuing chimps from such situations. So if anyone out there wants an original painting of an orphaned chimp. . . . . . . . . !!!

I have just read an update, it seemed the chimp was named Nemley and has since died, despite the care he was given.  What a terrible,  terrible, shame.

Please share this listing, perhaps if enough people are made aware of these despicable acts, then maybe, just maybe we can turn the tide and stop this mindless slaughter.