Intuitive Photographer & Abstract Artist - Lake District, UK
She was free in her wildness,
She was a Wanderess, a drop of free water.
She belonged to no man and to no city.
– Roman Payne
Sometimes, on a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath I sat in my sunny doorway from sunrise till noon rapt in a reverie, amidst the pines and hickories and sumachs in undisturbed solitude and stillness while the birds sing around or flitted noiseless through the house until by the sun falling in at my west window or the noise of some traveller's wagon on the distant highway I was reminded of the lapse of time.
I grew in those seasons, like corn in the night - Henry David Thoreau
It's instinctive in a certain kind of painting. It's like a nervous system. It's not described, it's happening. The feeling is going on with the task. The line is the feeling, from a soft thing, a dreamy thing, to something hard, something arid, something lonely, something ending, something beginning.