I finally looked at my own blog page, and OMG, I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I've written. What a year it's been at that! I sat for 2 months with my very special Scottish kitty, Ceilidh, as she passed out of my life at 16 year.s old. (Not in pain, but truly more engaged with everyone and everything....she WANTED to be there with me.) I had trips to Arizona to watch a dear friend be honored at ASU; I sold a number of paintings. I began to paint again, albeit slowly.....finding the balance between work, family, and friends. I began to negotiate a commission in late August, 2022.
Then, in late September, I headed to Scotland and the Cote d'Azur for what would end up being a wonderful, yet very sad trip of 5 weeks. I'd not been either place in 3 years. Way too long for keeping up with beloved family, friends and staying inspired. I AM still inspired by Scotland, specifically the Western Highlands where I still have links and roots, and by the South of France, Provence and Cote d'Azur, also where I still have links and roots.
The changes that have been wrought by time, Brexit and Covid made my beloved Scotland and England almost unrecognizeable. It felt almost desperate. My village hotel/pub had closed because of a lack of staff an overwork by those remaining. And we are all getting that much older too.... London felt desperate....desperate to hold something, and therefore there was a overexuberance and change in how friendly people were. I found out just how exhausted I was by my work on my house, my desperation to keep some kind of painting routine, and my sadness about the loss of innocence in the world - at least MY world. The changes I saw in the Highlands meant for sure that I had to pack up the rest of my giant Ceilidh! paintings and what other pieces I had left at home in Glenfinnan, and ship them to the USA. I will always have work in the UK, but not the big collection. I would have had to stay for many months to find new places to display what was left of the biggest paintings, if it were possible, and it was better for me to try to keep my presence there emotionally, and in my work, and ship overseas back to Scotland if necessary. But for now, it all came home. A HUGE change for me in the last 25 or so years.
France, at least in my wee familiar pocket of Provence-Alps-Cote d'Azur, was healing. The same exhaustion that plagued me my entire 3.5 weeks in the UK, followed me to Le Rouret, and I spent my days drinking in the light, watching the villages pick olives, reading, walking in my favorite haunts, and napping, sleeping for hours. I didn't need to tour more of France, I needed to absorb all I could so that I could keep working on my paintings. It was the same in Scotland.
I returned, not at all well, drained of energy, and with a major commission that needed to start. I had a direction I wanted it to go, and was able to convince my client that it could be more intricate, more indicative of a young man's early passion - music and composition - than she had thought. I spent months sketching, doing research. Trying to get to know a subject, having only met him once, and then it was before I knew I was going to do a commission. I started painting it, after many sketches, photographs, emails, etc, in late January. Truly the most complicated commission I have done. It came from my gut, my being, what I learned about this incredible young man, now a doctor. Bits and pieces at a time, as the family remembered things, stories....like the fact that when he composed, he always did so at the piano. It meant the piano had to anchor the whole painting. I put him into each of the instruments he was playing, into the music coming from his piano. In the end, I found the peace, the end, knowing I had put it all into that canvas, and it came mostly from me, from unfamiliar places deep inside, and yet, from Ceilidh!. Here it is: Ryan Williams, 40 x 30 inches, sold.
.JPG)
