If she was...

If she were a food, she would be grilled sea bass and roasted vegetables, followed by chocolate cheesecake and cream.

If she were a painting she would be a mixture of the styles of Klimt, Waterhouse and Burne-Jones, with a little Arthur Rackham for good measure.

If she were a landscape she would be a bright, crystal mountain stream, brushing worn, ancient rocks, making its way into dark, moss covered woods, occasionally passing a small meadow of wildflower and grazing deer.

If she were a dream I would not want to wake up.

My boy and I

My boy and I on the beach.

I've heard it said that one thing people on their death bed don't say is they wish they had spent more time in the office. Since my son was sixth months old I've not been in an office. Instead I've had the great honour and pleasure to be his main carer, a stay-at-home dad, house husband - whatever you'd like to call it. I have been given a thing so precious - the opportunity to spend time with my boy, watch him grow, play with, teach and be there for him. I can say I know my son. The person I have to thank for this is my beautiful wife, bread-winner and still a much better cook than I.

Darling, I am indebted to you.

One thing you can't recycle is time.

Mermaid

I spotted this mermaid while on holiday last year. It seems they do have legs after all. Despite the lack of tail and gills (although my son has told me his mummy can breathe underwater!) you can be sure that they are happiest in the water.

Of all the things you wear, your expression is the most important.

Outback

It seems a life-time ago now, but my time in Australia was well worth while. I made some good friends, saw some amazing sights and travelled light - a lesson for life. The background for this painting was taken from some of my photos and I was reminded of this when talking with my wife about wild camping. There was something very satisfying to get off the road in the evening, pitch tent, build a fire, watch the sunset while cooking dinner and then listen to the night sounds by firelight. I was awoken one night by a thumping noise outside the tent. I looked out with my torch to find the red eyes of a kangaroo staring back. It was good to see one alive as mostly the visible ones were roadkill!

Like I said, it was so long ago it seems like a dream. Which reminds me of the other night when I lifted my boy up out of bed, a dead weight as he was fast asleep. I said to him, 'You're heavy.' Then he came to and replied, 'That's because I have heavy dreams!'

Naughts and crosses

While out at lunch yesterday amid pizza and lemonade, our boy decided he wanted to play naughts and crosses (tic-tac-toe) with me. Now, he is quite the tactician, despite his youth, and if I'm distracted by a conversation with someone else  he has the capability to win. And so it was that I foiled a strategy of his and he lost his poker facade, went to pieces and behaved in an embarrassing way. I turned to my wife, after noting the state of play, and commented that if he stopped wasting so much energy and time complaining about not getting what he wanted he might notice that he already has exactly what he wanted - his next move would be his winning one. He stopped his fuss, looked and then won.

Now, how many of us are exactly like that?

Oh, that's a bit deep!

The hair

This another one of those from my agent period. So, look at the hair. I only say that because I took time over it and I like how it turned out. I like the hands too. Get the eyes, hair and hands right and everything else falls into place.

Those cartoons

Long ago I had a stint thinking of something funny for the weekly publication 'The Baptist Times' (http://www.baptisttimes.co.uk/ ). It's only when you have to think of something funny that you find you can't think of anything funny. Never-the-less I had a good four year run until they got fed up with my lack of humour and we parted ways.

Since then I've been blessed with http://www.thesheepdip.co.uk/, cartoons and clipart, where I feel there is a little more room to be me...



Le Pigeonnier

Ah, holidays! We've stayed twice at this romantic pigeon loft tower in the grounds of an old manor house, tucked away in a tiny village, Saint Marcel Du Perigord, not to far from the river Dordogne. And why shall this image be forever imprinted on my memory, even as a beacon in my forgetful old age (if I should get that old)? It was like a dream. Each morning I awoke next to a beautiful princess at the top of an old stone tower. Each day we spent together in a land of medieval towns and romantic castles, gardens hidden amongst wooded hillsides, restaurants attended by peacocks and rivers dressed in flower and dragonflies. Our boy became adventurous, even to the point of exploring the village with a young girl he made friends with - on their own! Until we realised it was too quiet and went looking for them.

Darling, when can we go back?

http://www.lemanoir.org



Another...

Another one of this series.

I'm looking for a job. Does anyone want to employ me? See, look, I can draw, even use one of these newfangled electronic computer things. Really, there's no end to my talent; I can fetch sticks, bark, even sit when I'm told - no, hold on, that not my CV, it's the dog's. That's where I've been going wrong.

A sketch tomorrow, I promise.

My brother

One of my brothers has built a few guitars in his time. There was a time when he used to write music and record it, but always in an experimental kind of way, nothing ever finished. This, I thought, was a great shame, as I often enjoyed what he had put together. I took his tapes once and cobbled together a kind of album of best bits. I went further and painted this cover for the album and presented him with a copy. This was all about twenty years ago and, although he still plays, nothing more has come of this little venture. As you can see the album is entitled 'Fruition' - is it just me or is there some kind of irony there?

Front above and back below.



This is not our dog

Our dog is much bigger and not this colour. It does not have a heavy black line around it and rarely looks this cute. Our dog has an extra dimension and is not this clean. Our dog looks better in pencil. I still prefer our dog.

Mother and child

One of the best things my wife had the presence of mind to do (she always has the presence of mind, I just tend to be wise after the event!) was buy a new digital camera before our son was born. We have very little photos of ourselves before then, but since we have thousands. Amongst them are such gems as this. It seemed to be the fashion, in our son's first few weeks of life, to take candid shots of each other asleep with our baby, mostly on the sofa. Can't remember why we kept falling asleep...

'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.'

The beach

We took the boy and the dog down to the beach at the weekend. A bright, windy day; pebbles, surf and seaweed. This is the first time we had introduced the dog to the sea and vice versa. She didn't realise it would be wet until it hit her, after that she was very cautious.

The wind blew the dust from my mind and put air in my lungs. Being out every day used to be a way of life for us, it's what we were made for, but we get tied up with things to do and fatigue. I need more beach, more sky, more mud on my boots, I need to be on that hill, I need to walk through that puddle and most of all I need their hands in mine, my love and my boy.

A cuddle

Our lad trapped his thumb in a door today; it left a deep impression that quickly went away. Like any child, he cried and I quickly picked him up and sat him on my knee. From experience I knew there was no need to say much, he just needed that cuddle and soon the tears subsided. There is a song I've heard recently that has the lyrics 'words can heal', but sometimes the pain is too strong to hear the words, it's then that only a cuddle will do.  

Once upon a time he was only little.



For Toby

I buried Toby today, out in the woods. The rain fell like too many tears and made the clay on my spade heavy, filling up the small trench where he was to rest. He was seventeen and too ill to carry on. My wife's mother was loathed to lose him, maybe because he used to sit with her late husband and it was like letting go of another part of him. She said goodbye to him and left me to cover him over.
I buried him at the foot of Ella's grave. I stopped a while amongst the trees and remembered Ella and the day she died. I'd never felt anything like that before. People die and you grieve, but to choose the day they die, carry them in your arms to their resting place, dig a hole, lay them down and cover them over with dirt, watching it fall on their face and leave them there, it's not an everyday experience. It's not that I dwell on it, just that it took me by surprise how it made me feel.

I have no pictures of Toby so here is Ella as I remember her.

Mountains

My excuse for this posting is that the last post reminded me of this painting which was done just as much to paint the mountains as a portrait of Claudia. She liked walking so it was appropriate. I used photos that I took while on the Routeburn track in New Zealand as a reference for the landscape. I think I exaggerated the length of Claudia's hair a bit, not that you would know the difference. I like long hair. Fortunately my wife has lovely, long, curly, dark hair and shows no sign of getting it cut short.

Sketch

I once met a young lady whilst she and I were travelling in Australia. Her name was Claudia and she was from Germany. There is very little to add to that except for the first time in my life (I was in my mid twenties at the time) I found someone who would listen to what I said. I've been told, and since found even myself doing this from time to time, that people don't really listen during a conversation because they are too busy think of what they want to say next. Claudia never interrupted and never spoke until she was sure I had finished. It was so refreshing that I thought she really liked me to show such respect. The reality dawned on me eventually that, as a native German speaker she had to concentrate to understand my English and took a moment digest what I had said at the end of one of my monologues. My ego can accept it.

Still, the conversations were good.

Sandy

Sandy Stewart! No particular reason, just a nice face that I drew a long time ago from the cover of her 'Cat Dancer' album, that I never owned a copy of. She wrote songs with Stevie Nicks, I understand. I think it was the hair that did it for me or maybe the nose... or the lips... or maybe the eyes...

...it wasn't the chin though, not that there's anything wrong with her chin. It's a perfectly nice chin.



A published piece

I entered a competition and won the opportunity to create a commissioned piece for a short story in L. Ron Hubbard's Writers of the Future volume XIII. Check out the credit at www.writersofthefuture.com/books/writers-of-the-future-volume-13 For the Strength of the Hills by Lee Allred, illustrated by Steve Turner! Hey, my name in lights, or black type, it's all good, eh. (Yes, different name, don't make me explain right now.) I was flown to Florida and got to see the Atlantis space shuttle launch. A good time was had by all! I lost to Eric Williams (see www.ewillustration.com/), credit man!
One of life's curious experiences. (I use the term curious in the same manner as Alice once did while having an out of the ordinary experience in Wonderland) What came of it? Nothing really, not being a scientologist (most of us have our little fantasy worlds, but really Ron, what were you thinking!!), got to be one of the gang to get anything out of it and they're not going to recruit me.
At least I got a holiday that year.

Ladybird (Ladybug)

It was one balmy Autumn afternoon that brought a plague of these small, shiny red fellows to our door. Not only to our door but also every window. And there they danced about each other, launching and landing in the fading sun. The numbers lessened day by day until none were to be seen, but they were still there. With patience and cooperation they filed into the gaps in the closed widow frames, huddling together in tight packed teams, making ready to last out the winter. Undisturbed they would have been except for the day in January when the weather turned surprisingly mild and, our heating not quickly adjusted, I resolved to take drastic action and opened a few windows. In fell the bed fellows, toppled from their perches and, as you would expect, they were untimely wakened. Now we have company, for as long as they can last, that potters around the evening lamp and wanders across the wall, avoiding the the wily spider and fascinating the Couch Monster as they crash land on the coffee table.

I would invite them to dine until the Spring beckons them out, but I have no recipes for Ladybird cuisine!



Agents! Who needs them...

I once found an agent that was willing to take me on. I was still in my twenties at the time - an age ago! So I spent a few months painting this kind of stuff in the hope he'd sell the rights and I'd make a living; that was the plan anyway. It turned out two works were snapped up very quickly because, he was proud to say, a client just saw them lying around! Just think what might have happened if he'd bothered to promote me slightly! Most of the money disappeared in the photography process, which I had the honour of paying for. Then all went quiet, despite submitting about thirty artworks over two or three months. In the end I gave up as one can't live on just fresh air, and the agent and I parted ways. No hard feelings as you can tell. No wonder he wouldn't say where he lived!

I am left, however, with a few paintings I'm proud of, even if they don't fit with my usual subject matter.

Our young lad

A sketch from a few years ago - my how he's grown!

I gave an elderly lady a lift home from a church meeting today. While we talked in the car she was trying to recall if she knew our son.

"Is he the one with blonde hair and a beautiful face?" she asked.

"That'd be him." I answered.

What do you think?

All revved up

My wife asked me to draw a little something for a friend of her's who is training to be one of the clergy. She doesn't ride a bike, but artistic license allows me a play on words and an excuse to draw a woman on a bike with long boots - what an unexpected pleasure!



Now for something completely...

...different. I drew a series of figures in this style, one or two a little more saucy than this one. Most are not based on anyone in particular, mostly just an excuse to play with Photoshop. It was fun but it wasn't real painting, rather like the difference between watching sport and playing, a bit remote and not as satisfying. I'm quite happy to watch sports now and again, but I can't do more than forty-five minutes of football without the feeling that life is passing me by!

Our girls

I have permission for posting this piece. My dear wife and our sofa-monster-come-foot-warmer.

This is a common sight in our house at the weekends. Despite the fact she likes to get out and about in the fields for exercise, she is more often found occupying the warmest spot of the sofa, with legs outstretched and eyes closed. However, do not be fooled as at the slightest mention of food or a treat she is up and darts into the kitchen. And if someone rings the doorbell she bounds off the sofa and attacks the door, probably thinking that its the postman and there might be something for her. She'll stay firmly affixed to the sofa for hours in the evening and will only go to bed when it's really late and I give her no choice.

The dog is much the same too!

Comic strip

A little time consuming for an experiment, but this was when I had more time on my hands. With my love of line drawings, I thought this might be a career for me. As always the competition is high and it is not what you know but who you know. I've never been one to get to know somebody just to use them to further my career, however, that is the way of the world. Someone once said nice guys come last...



Ark Royal

End of an era, they say. We saw her in Portsmouth, along with the mile long queue of people waiting, in the cold wind, to board her, some of whom were disappointed. We took the dock tour boat and viewed her from outside.