detail of 'Shoreham Picnic' at the end of the day
Delayed by reading Troilus and Criseyde with tea in bed - fascinating material.
8.20 and looking at my new Shoreham beach idea roughed out on a six foot canvas. I say roughed out, its a mass of dirty beach colours that need an injection of spirit
The choice and arrangement of colours for the day is so important. Reason is a poor guide here, sensitivity gets to pick the tubes and I squeeze it out with interest.
Black, (despite a previous reasoning) white, soft pinks, creams, blues and ochres are the given colours.
I draw languid figures in compressed charcoal directly while holding the thumbnail sketch. One by one they emerge from the dirty base painting in soft and gentle colours. It cannot be hurried. Some drawn figures are moved and others are ignored. They make no complaint. The rain has stopped and a woman sings.
Bernard Meninsky is open beside me - his 'individual poetic language', and 'lyrical figures in a landscape' accompany me while I work.
At the end of the day progress is made, still dirty, but now dirty with people in it. I think that is progress!