This view, I view

I’ve viewed before

In another life

Through another door

This fine soft sand

And clear blue sky

Once warned me

Through another’s eye

The swaying palms

In gentle dance

Send me back

In quiet trance

I’m paler now

I’m a different me

Not quite that one

That all can see

This view I view

That I view again

Brings forth it’s sadness

And with it pain.


The kneeling man.


I came across a sculpture of this kneeling male nude in, I think Berlin. I was struck by how powerful the sculptor had made this fragile figure. I know what I read into it, but I will leave you to decide for yourself what you think the sculptor was trying to capture.

Armageddon, the aftermath.


This acrylic painting came about because of a need to do something different, whilst thinking about the next painting. And of course, when in doubt, paint rust. The title says it all and the composition changed a few times as it evolved to end up in this somewhat simplified version. Nice to do something a little different it recharges the batteries and I suppose the subject is rather topical and worrying with the tension between North Korea on one side and Trump on the other.


And why it’s said in midnights hue
To spin like tops inside of you
To paint the failings of your mind
In dappled shade of colour blind
The pointed fingers and hollow grin
The pain of living dwells within
Within the shell of empty dreams
The echo dead of silent screams
To yearn to feel that loving touch
The cost too high the price too much
In sad reproach you turn away
Another hour and one more day
One more day to wonder why
They laugh at all the tears I cry
A grey, grey sky, one shaft of light
To catch my eye and hold my sight
And here I sit to wonder why
One shaft of light in my grey, grey sky.

Art Nouveau 1


This is a painting I did from a bust I bought at an auction recently and had the idea of trying to give it ‘life’ in a Mucha type of way. The bust is white plaster and is cropped at the shoulders, so there is some poetic licence in giving her breasts. It’s one of those paintings that the mind knows what is wanted and when the objectives are, BUT the paint brush is too stupid to understand that it is supposed to be well painted and ends up doing it’s own thing. (The paint brush must pay the ultimate sacrifice of course,  for being completely useless and must hurl itself into the dustbin forthwith!)