I’m making a scroll format painting for the Dandelions and Double Yellows exhibition, actually, the final format of the display is still to be decided. What I do know is that I’m making a very long narrow painting based on green gold memories of winter mosses.
I’ve been thinking about the width of a line, or maybe of a series of lines. After some consideration of a sketch-maquette on the studio wallI I settled on a width of 7cm and proceeded to cut a 3.5metre length of paper.
The next day I set up my painting kit in the corner of a nearby carpark. Double gloved (and at least double everything else) I made the first marks as the paint diffused in the chill damp air.
It felt good to be starting on a piece that had been forming in my mind for some time, not surprisingly there was some negotiating to be done between the thoughts and the practice. I didn’t have a solution or a method for this painting, I just had a feeling, that unknowing is simultaneously a thrill and unnerving. Progress was slow and my mark making was evolving as I inched along the paper.
After a couple of hours, aching from kneeling and bending over, I returned to the studio to review what I’d done. By now I’d got into the flow of what I was trying to do and I decided to continue the piece in the studio. By the end of the following day I’d painted my way to the end of the scroll. As I look at the outstretched painting, pinned high on my studio wall trailing down across the floor, the thought came to me – how wide are the a double yellow lines? You’ll find the answer to that question in The width of doubles – part two
Read more about the Dandelions and Double Yellows project and exhibition here