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The preceding three posts, Dreamer, Starstruck and Touchdown, were the result of a wintertime jaunt into the big city. Nottingham to be precise. I went hunting art galleries, and after several hours it seemed I had failed.

A chance turning proved me wrong and I found myself in the Castle Galleries.

Here I followed my usual pattern and, immediately on entering the door I turned Left and followed the wall around, down the stairs and back again, soaking up the beautiful art pieces on display (all for sale at far beyond my current means!)

As I gazed on the muted colours and play of light in these paintings I found myself returning to an old thought… my tendency towards saturated colours lets me down. Couldn’t I do so much better? Couldn’t I uncover so much more depth in my art, if I conquered my urge to use bright strong colours and mute them, make them subtle, make them soft?

I felt disheartened, somewhere deep in my heart I knew that while I may indeed find muted, muddy colours useful one day, and I certainly would love to have a more striking sense of chiaroscuro in my works, I adore bright colours! Love them. Would hate to part from them.

You can imagine, then, how turning the corner then and coming face to face with Peter Smith‘s “Pick Me” was a delight!

The colours! The pure happy, joyful, colours!

I left the gallery with a sense that I was on the right path for me. What a relief that was.

I also, in the same visit, found myself admiring the use of white space in one artist’s work, how it told the story, and how it was perfectly fine to have a single figure with no specific background, something I do but an never sure I’m right to. I remembered my 15 year olds forays into drawing angels as emotions, and begun to mull over what would happen if I brought these things togather again. White space to tell a story, colour to make my heart sing, and my angels, as not just human and yet intricately, intimately connected to humanity. And so these three pictures were born.

Its always reassuring to see artworks that reflect something of what you do in your own works, especially when you’ve been doubting yourself. It reminds me of that thing I know I know, but sometimes forget… art is what you make it, there is no wrong way, only your way.

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