I think it was a little yellowhammer who visited our garden and I lazily photographed it up on a branch (the bird, not me). Maybe I leaned backwards from a chair in the lounge with the doors open and a sunny day streaming in.
Its memory is now imprinted on this board; a reminder of a time when its path crossed mine and its yellow chest was so bright against the blue sky.
It’s another 12×12 wooden board and just oil paint. Fairly quickly painted and not too far fussed over.
It’s better in the flesh; this further filter of viewing takes something away from the original, as is often the case. It is surprisingly and frustratingly difficult to photograph a painting well.
Of course, we’re all colluding in the illusion that it’s a painting we’re looking at but it is, in fact, a digital photograph of a painting uploaded, adjusted, here and downloaded there – dots viewed on screens. Print it out and it’s neither painting, nor photograph nor digital image. Just some ink dots on a page.
Tenty Oils 