My Colour Era

I have surprisingly little control over what I paint, how I paint, or even how my paintings turn out.

I know how that sounds, but it’s true. Creativity is shaped by so many things: feelings, inspirations, obsessions, events, seasons, all combining to produce unique interpretations of the world around us.

As a landscape artist, I’m always striving to capture what I see on the horizon, in the sky or reflecting on a wave. But no matter how much I focus on the external world, a fair bit of me seeps into that interpretation

Looking back at paintings from a few years ago, grey was definitely the dominant colour. It wasn’t a reflection of a gloomy state of mind, but there was a layer of frustration swirling through my brushstrokes. Why hadn’t I gone to art school at 18? Why had it taken me so long to pluck up the courage to enroll at Leith School of Art? I wanted to fast-forward to being “better,” more accomplished, more confident.

It reminds me of a story Brené Brown once told about starting therapy. She knew she needed help but impatiently told her therapist they could skip over anything from childhood, just to speed the process up a bit…

But, like therapy (or heart surgery, or sourdough proving or pregnancy), the artistic process is one best not rushed. It takes the time it takes. And, in truth, artistic learning never really ends, it’s a lifelong journey leading down unexpected paths. So, while I may not have complete control over what I paint, I can choose how I approach it. I want to feel less impatient with myself, to be in less of a hurry. To seek out and savour the joyful moments: a sunbeam glinting on water, a peach-coloured cloud, a moorland in full bloom.

Is my love of a dramatic sky gone? Absolutely not. (My ongoing obsession with gold leaf ensures no painting stays monochrome for long!)

But right now, the lure of a perfectly mixed viridian green nudged against a soft pinky-purple is simply too hard to resist.