We went to a gallery in a nearby town today; there were various local artists displaying their work and I got into conversation with one of the exhibitors who works with enamel. It was a lovely gallery in what I presume had been a shop; the windows were large and facing the right direction so the rooms were filled with light. There was a variety of artists, and some ceramicists and a jeweller as well as the enamelist.
I was wandering round when my eye was caught by a display of small watercolours – I guess about eight inches by six. They were of rural scenes and could have been woodcuts and seemingly very simple. A hill with a cottage its chimney smoking, a field with a tree blown sideways, a valley with a path winding down. They were almost primitive, almost childish, but not, they were painted by a very subtle and talented artist.
I wanted to take one down, sit at a table and write about it. I mentioned that recently I went on a writing retreat and one of my fellow writers gave an inspirational workshop. I wanted to use the picture and tell its story, maybe in a poem, maybe in another form. Usually I am hoping to create pictures with my words, here the picture would help me use my words!
I didn’t buy any of the pictures, we were on our way to do something else and we didn’t really have the time, but now they are in my mind, I want to go back and see them again. Maybe I’ll buy one, maybe I’ll just take the memory of it away with me!
Picture story – story picture!