On a sunday afternoon

... just after my mum called, unwittingly...

A throwback to nine years ago. A live set on the radio offers this to me:



And with it it conjures up something I've been talking about so much over the summer:

Nine years ago I was in Germany for four months, after 10 months Glasgow after 18 months Germany after 12 months Glasgow - and this was what embodied it in song: Well, well and truly inbetween.

I'm not there that often anymore, but this summer left me arriving in London and there it was again: stuck between the worlds.

IN BET WEEN

A language unspoken

A dream not remembered

A thought not caught

Inbetween

A glimpse

A shadow

A hunch

Caughtuncaught

In her eyes in a blink it is gone

To inbetween that is elsewhere nowhere so everywhere

Thinking about painting prepositions, relationships between things, places, people comes from that. I am still needing to convince myself that it is not presumptious, precious and worthy... or at least: only a little bit. It's rather conceptually romantic. Well: Rilke doesn't really help on that front all that much... grin...

Na, in any case. I'll be sticking with it for a while. I got an idea for it, too:

Taking some detail shots from some of my landscape pastels... To work from, develop, turn into something else. Well: into amongst, inbetween, beyond, outwith and so on... Sure I'll get my head knocked on corners inbetween. May not work, but just as well may...

Cornfield #2 Detail

Pastel/Acrylics on board