Anyone who was anyone, would commission a portrait of themselves, their wives or their children. These men and they were mainly men, great British portraitists like Reynolds and Gainsborough were lionised by society their work held up as representing the very pinnacle of their chosen profession. He was an artist, I am an artist but the only thing our work has in common is that, to put it crudely, we have both slapped a bit of oil paint onto a piece of canvas.īefore the invention of the camera, an artist who could produce a true likeness was considered something of a magician. AVIATOR WORLD TIME PILOT WATCH ROSE GOLD FULLYou see, artist is a blanket term for someone who creates art Rothko was an abstract expressionist (no, I don’t know what it means either the art world is full of bullshit terms like that) I’m a Portrait painter. Sadly, doing what I do best was the one option that was no longer open to me. Now, I don’t know what was going through Rothko’s mind if he was looking for a new direction or if he just found it hard to get started – the point I’m making is, he stuck to what he did best – which worked out well for Mr Rothko because his work continued to sell. If you have ever seen one of Rothko’s paintings you will know what I mean. At the end of all this solitary contemplation, he would do what he always did paint a red square on a black background, or a black square on a red background, or two red rectangles on a dark brown background. He would spend weeks, sometimes months sat on a chair in his New York studio, chain-smoking and staring at a blank canvas, agonising over what to put on it. I had been staring at it every day for a fortnight and I was beginning to appreciate how the Russian born, American artist, Mark Rothko must have felt. In the meantime the previous three books are available from amazon at the very reasonable price of 99p each (kindle version only). My fourth novel, TRUE COLOURS is in the process of being edited. Unless, of course, I decide to write a sequel… For believe it or not, not all of my friends are imaginary! In time, these feelings will pass and I will forget all about my reluctant hero, Leo Tate. And that is something I do on a daily basis. No doubt your’e thinking I need to get out more, forget the make-believe world I’ve created, and meet some real people. The feeling is akin to delivering my eldest child to university and then driving home without him, to sit in a house that seems strangely empty.Ī little over the top perhaps, you may feel. This is quickly followed by feelings of loss.įor the best part of two years, I have been living with my characters shaping their lives, determining their fate and now, I have to send them out into the wider world. First comes the relief at being freed from the daily grind of sitting down to write a self-imposed daily quota of words. Like most writers, completing a novel leaves me with mixed emotions.
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