This one isn’t for sale. I’m pleased to say that it’s in the possession of the lovely lady who gave me the flowers that inspired it. I adore the natural curves and undulations and folds of these gorgeous flowers.
Poetic Beauty Art has a new home, where you can view galleries of of my paintings (oils and acrylics on canvas) and photography. My work is a celebration of beauty in all its forms and a way of sublimating my passion for life.
The website is in its embryonic stages – I’m no web developer – and there is much more to be added but I’m keen to know what you think. Please note that some of the paintings are already sold.
I finished this piece for my recent exhibition. I enjoyed working with a limited palette to explore the different tones of the subject. I love trying to capture the beauty of women and particularly like the definition in the shoulder blades and back, sweeping down to the full rounded curves below.
the guns were quiet.
The dead lay still in No Man’s Land –
Freddie, Franz, Friedrich, Frank . . .
The moon, like a medal, hung in the clear, cold sky.
sparkled and winked.
A boy from Stroud stared at a star
to meet his mother’s eyesight there.
An owl swooped on a rat on the glove of a corpse.
a lone bird sang.
A soldier-poet noted it down – a robin
holding his winter ground –
then silence spread and touched each man like a hand.
a few lit pipes;
most, in their greatcoats, huddled,
waiting for sleep.
The liquid mud had hardened at last in the freeze.
thrilled the night air,
where glittering rime on unburied sons
treasured their stiff hair.
The sharp, clean, midwinter smell held memory.
no sign of life,
no shadows, shots from snipers,
nowt to note or report.
The frozen, foreign fields were acres of pain.
danced in his eyes,
as Christmas Trees in their dozens shone,
candlelit on the parapets,
and they started to sing, all down the German lines.
by falling shells, or live to tell,
heard for the first time then –
Stille Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Alles schläft, einsam wacht …
from man to man;
a gift to the heart from home,
or childhood, some place shared …
When it was done, the British soldiers cheered.
and all joined in,
till the Germans stood, seeing
across the divide,
the sprawled, mute shapes of those who had died.
the enemies –
carols, hymns, folk songs, anthems,
in German, English, French;
each battalion choired in its grim trench.
to open itself
and offer the day like a gift
for Harry, Hugo, Hermann, Henry, Heinz …
with whistles, waves, cheers, shouts, laughs.
A young Berliner,
was the first from his ditch to climb.
A Shropshire lad ran at him like a rhyme.
to shake the hand
of a foe as a friend,
or slap his back like a brother would;
exchanging gifts of biscuits, tea, Maconochie’s stew,
or chase six hares, who jumped
from a cabbage-patch, or find a ball
and make of a battleground a football pitch.
Ich zeigte ihm
ein Foto meiner Frau.
Sie sei schön, sagte er.
He thought her beautiful, he said.
into hard earth
again and again, till a score of men
were at rest, identified, blessed.
Der Herr ist mein Hirt … my shepherd, I shall not want.
they came and went,
the officers, the rank and file,
their fallen comrades side by side
beneath the makeshift crosses of midwinter graves …
and the pinned moon
and the yawn of History;
the high, bright bullets
You are cordially invited to my very first public solo exhibition of painting and photography, at the delightful cornerHOUSE arts centre, 116 Douglas Road, Surbiton this Tuesday 8th November from 7pm – 9pm.
ARCADIA (Main hall) – an exhibition of oils and acrylics on canvas, celebrating nature, mythology, beauty, love and the female form.
WILD HEART AFRICA (Bar area) – an exhibition of photography taking you deep into the heart of the Masai Mara, Amboseli National Park and Lake Nakuru.
The exhibition marks a dream come true for me. The art has been born from the multitude of tragic and beautiful experiences that I’ve faced in the past few years. I will be attending the event to answer questions about my work.