It seems from conversations my “suddenly” painting roses and daisies is causing some speculation as to why. No, it’s not a life crisis. No, my pinks-and-frills feminine side isn’t in ascendance. Yes, I’m feeling fine, thank you. The problem lies in that you haven’t been able to follow the machinations of my mind. It’s not “sudden” at all.
To me the roses are a logical development from my painting seascapes, woodlands, and foxgloves. The verdant pink rose hedge (which is budding even though it’s only January) that I look over to see the sea. The joy of roses (and fuchsias) growing so madly they’re almost a weed. Colourfields (think: my love of Rothko’s paintings) based on flowers; patterns and colour tied to reality. The dance between abstract and reality, now you see it as a pattern and now it’s a rose. I won’t ever stop painting sheep or seascapes; I love painting those too much. But do expect more flowers this year.
Must be the influence of your Grandma’s painting of roses – titled “First Lesson”, which it was. – that hung above our fireplace for many years.