I’m meant to be doing something else today, so of course all I can think of is painting faces. Weird, wonderful faces with many loose lines yet inherent simplicity. They should play with media – the sharpness of a black pen against the contrast of chalk pastels, spreading on the wind, sitting on a solid flick of acrylic with the wobble of a lead pencil. The colours should be muddy, yet poignant – diluted pinks, distilled greys, a touch of yellow, a hint of blue. The back doors should be open with the sun shining, a cool breeze, music quietly playing – Maurice Ravel’s Deau Melodies heraiques sung by Victoria de los Angeles – and a strong cup of tea in a flat bottomed chine cup at one degree above blood temperature.
Until then, I’ll just eat the inspiration.
Laters, Kate x