I’ve written before about the perils of setting up my easel on a footbridge overlooking a ford, and having my day’s work drenched by a passing vehicle. I recently played safe, and strolled with my pastels along the River Wensum, well away from any road. It didn’t take me long to find a subject and, looking up river and down river, I satisfied myself that here I could work to my heart’s content, free from interruption or mishap… There was an atmosphere of stillness and simplicity about this scene, with its grouping of skeletal trees and their near-perfect reflections. Some were in strong silhouette, others a fainter grey. Some stood straight, others leaned into each other, making a variety of negative shapes and spaces. As I observed a little more, I picked up on the subtle touches - the sear grasses at the water’s edge, the faint surface-rippling.
Having spent some time looking and ‘painting’ it in my mind’s eye, I set to work. The colours were all at the cooler end of the spectrum, so I selected a soft pinkish grey paper, which would lend a subtle, warm foil to the finished work. It was desperately cold, not an occasion to linger on detail, but the subject was simple and spare, and within a short time I had got down the bones and the all important sense of atmosphere. Even so, by the time I had finished, my finger ends felt ready to drop off, and I fumbled to secure the finished work into its folder. Eager as I was to get back in the warm, I had to take a last look at the landscape, before turning for home. It was such an enchanting scene, those winter trees and their reflections, all bathed in a silvery light. I breathed a sigh of happy satisfaction... I was so busy waxing lyrical, that I didn’t see the labrador trotting towards me, its owner some way behind. I was only alerted to their presence when the dog plunged into the river, to a yell of - ‘No! Out of there! - OUT!’ In its own time it came lumbering out again, doggy-grinning and heavy with the wet. The next thing it saw was me. ‘Oh no!’ I cried. ‘No-o-o - !’ Too late. With a movement that began at the tip of its nose, flowed through its whole body and out through its tail, it shook itself for England. And I took the full impact. ‘Oh dear,’ said the owner, who had now caught up with the dog, ‘I’m sorry about that.’ ‘Not at all,’ I said, diplomatically. ‘Honestly, these are just my painting togs...’ Dogs are meant to have cold, wet noses, but, having come out of the river, this one had a surplus and was now wiping it on my pocket. The owner called the dog away and went off with a cheery, ‘Spring is just around the corner!’ Whereupon the dog bounded ahead and took another exhilarating plunge into the river. I couldn't help smiling at the sound of - ‘Oh not again!’ How glad I was that I’d finished my morning’s work and had it safely stowed in its folder before that exuberant doggy encounter. 'Silver Light on the Wensum' was worked in pastel on quarter Imperial Tiziano paper. Comments are closed.
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Judith Key
Judith Key is a Norfolk based artist, working in watercolour and pastel. She has exhibited with the Society of Graphic Fine Artists and New English Art Club at the Mall Galleries, London. Her paintings are in collections worldwide. Categories
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May 2018
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