Yeats. The lovers, waves and fishes.
I returned to the studio this week and knew I had to paint. It was bubbling up in me, a mystical air. I sat at the easel and asked for insight. Where is the little book of Yeats’ poetry? I smiled, knowing I would find what I needed. There was, unsurprisingly, a page double marked by the book’s pale blue ribbon and also with a little piece of paper. ‘A man who dreams of fairyland.’ Immediately the images appear. The drawing comes together in an almost unbroken line. Colours for my palette are blended without thinking. Over three days I’ve feverishly worked, stopping only to feed apples to Molly the horse, climb the hill to see if the whooper swans have left (they seem still to be here) and today to do a study of the crashing Atlantic waves at high tide on Rossnowlagh. Work is good, I feel challenged and guided, within the flow. Thankful for these renewed gifts of insight and joy. Painting still a secret until it and the new collection are finished!