the mind is willing but the flesh is weak – so we took a walk in the sunshine in search of caffeine’s dark embrace before swimming lengths in the west village pool……..
………..and there was a moment of the sublime contemplation, suddenly, presenting itself.
If you’re ever in the Village and Tremont is open, sit at the wooden counter, indulge in a gentle aesthetic glow surrounding the wait-staff in Terence Conran shades-of-blue-cotton and Levis – and admire the vast work of artist Brian Crotty.
I painted the domestic scenes to reflect a memory but do not try to describe these relationships or characters in realistic fashion but imitate their overwhelming effect, translating it onto a flat surface. I want them to underpin a sublime content. I see the sublime in the homespun, tables set with fruit and flora, simple scenes of bucolic family matters, quiet parlours in which we find the engine of everyday life, the soft persistent beat that drives us heavenward as we cut our bread, nap in the sunlight or set our table.
Perfect for easter sunday. How ever one chooses to celebrate the Pagan or the divine or the prosaic and the everyday mysteries of life, darlings.