The Crying Wind

O, to have a little house!
To own the hearth and stool and all!
The heaped up sods against the fire,
The pile of turf against the wall!

To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down!
A dresser filled with shining delph,
Speckled and white and blue and brown!

I could be busy all the day
Clearing and sweeping hearth and floor,
And fixing on their shelf again
My white and blue and speckled store!

I could be quiet there at night
Beside the fire and by myself,
Sure of a bed and loth to leave
The ticking clock and the shining delph!

Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark,
And roads where there's never a house nor bush,
And tired I am of bog and road,
And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!

And I am praying to God on high,
And I am praying Him night and day,
For a little house - a house of my own
Out of the wind's and the rain's way.
Padraic Colum 1898

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“I do not paint the landscape. The sensation and experience of applying the inks, become the landscape.”
After many years of painting and drawing, I felt I could not express an emotional response to my vision using conventional methods and began experimenting with spirit based inks. Acid free, fast drying and translucent, they hum with a creative energy of their own. They are magical. I love colour, its subtlety, boldness, restfulness and cheekiness. These inks swirl and move of their own accord, but they need manipulation and control to reign in their playfulness and allow me to echo the soul and aura of the subject. Lately I have introduced a textured approach with acrylic paints for the foreground in my works, but have continued using the lovely swirly inky skies. My paintings evolve from my own reactions to the mood and nature of what I am endeavouring to convey. They capture spirit, movement and translate those impressions in a semi-abstract, expressionistic manner. Growing up in Brewarrina, my art has been influenced by many childhood memories of the harsh Australian Outback as well as my overseas travels. Sitting beside a campfire, mesmerised by violet heavens above; striding across purple heath covered English Moors;
blinded by the white starkness of the Antarctica or simply reading a book about Apothecary in my chair - all awaken a desire to translate those experiences into a tangible reflection of my memories. A song or piece of poetry can also inspire a painting, helping me represent the mood and nature of the subject.My studio has been hand hewn from the solid rock face on which my house is built. I actually descend though a trapdoor in the lounge room floor! I'm most creative in the early hours, working on 2-3 pieces at a time, listening to a 1950s station on my old radio. These paintings of mine, are a reflection of that endless quest to record the blessings of nature swirled around with a dram of whimsical romanticism.