Category Archives: travel

Eventide

“Eventide”     Neocolor 2 and coloured pencils. 34.5 x 42.5 cm. December 2019.

Here we are, our first evening in Venice.  We emerge from a labyrinth of claustrophobic lanes to the grand  promenade of Molo.  Before us is a floating world which takes our breath away.

Love at first sight.

The drawing “Eventide” is from that moment of euphoric discovery.  Resting gondolas bob on the high tide, San Giorgio Maggiore perches erect in the distance: elements of Venice juxtaposed, enveloped in blue.

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I have made three drawings from the evening of 2 November 2018 (All Souls Day).  They are …

“Deep in Castello” – one of the paths taken on our walk towards Molo.

“Eventide” – as described above.

“A Room with a View”  – the view from a window of our Cannaregio apartment.

Love at first night.

 

 

 

 

An Italian Dream

“An Italian Dream” is drawn with Neocolor 1 and coloured pencils. 39.5 x 32 cm.  November 2019.

On a hazy Sunday morning in the northern spring of 2019 we sit on a park bench on Lido and look out over the lagoon.  A young seagull allows himself to be photographed and even gives me a minute  to studiously compose before flying away.  In perfect tune with the universe (compositionally-speaking) a vaporetto  appears.  In the watery distance San Giorgio Maggiore Benedictine church and campanile hover mirage-like.

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One hundred and seventy five years ago (in 1844) Charles Dickens took some time out from novel writing.  He and his family moved to Italy for a few months.  From this sojourn came “Pictures from Italy” (first published in 1846), an illuminating and witty account of his Italian adventures.  Charles Dickens was so hypnotized by Venice that he reminisces as if he had dreamed it all.   The Venetian chapter of the book is called “An Italian Dream“.  I trust CD doesn’t mind if I borrow his romantic title for my drawing.

I quote three paragraphs from “An Italian Dream“…

“The glory of the day that broke upon me in this Dream; its freshness, motion, buoyancy; its sparkles of the sun in water; its clear blue sky and rustling air; no waking words can tell.  But, from my window, I looked down on boats and barks; on masts, sails, cordage, flags; on groups of busy sailors, working at the cargoes of these vessels; on wide quays, strewn with bales, casks, merchandise of many kinds; on great ships, lying near at hand in stately indolence; on islands, crowned with gorgeous domes and turrets: and where golden crosses glittered in the light, atop of wondrous churches, springing from the sea!”

…and…

“In the luxurious wonder of so rare a dream, I took but little heed of time, and had but little understanding of its flight.  But there were days and nights in it; and when the sun was high, and when the rays of lamps were crooked in the running water, I was still afloat, I thought: plashing the slippery walls and houses with the cleavings of the tide, as my black boat, borne upon it, skimmed along the streets.”

One hundred and seventy five years ago we weren’t talking about climate change or rising sea levels, yet Dickens concludes his chapter thus…

“But close about the quays and churches, palaces and prisons: sucking at their walls, and welling up into the secret places of the town: crept the water always.  Noiseless and watchful: coiled round and round it, in its many folds, like an old serpent: waiting for the time, I thought, when people should look down into its depths for any stone of the old city that had claimed to be its mistress”

“I have, many and many a time, thought since, of this strange Dream upon the water: half-wondering if it lie there yet, and if its name be VENICE.”

 

Winter Rain

“Winter Rain”
coloured pencils, 24 x 20 cm. October 2019

The word fine is synonymous with sun – as if only sunshine can feel fine.  And what words do we dream up to describe rain?  Miserable, bleak, dreary, and dull are a few that come to mind.  “What a shame, it’s raining.”

NO!  Rainy days can be even more wonderful than sun-filled days.  Notice reflections of sky and electric lights mirrored, glowing and abstracted in wet pavements.  Look at the full-blown shapes of umbrellas.  (I like umbrellas.)    Wet objects gleam.  Watery colours are luscious.

Replace gloomy with dramatic, moody, even romantic; the poetry of precipitation, the wonder of wet-look.

The “Summer Rain” duo; Verona during a July thunderstorm.

 

 

Deep in Castello

“Deep in Castello”
Coloured pencils, 31 x 26 cm. Drawn in August 2019.

As I walk through the narrow maze, I notice a lone figure up ahead.  She is momentarily framed by lamp light before she turns right and vanishes into an archway.

In the dim drizzle there is a feeling of being submerged here, as if the sea had already swallowed Venice whole.

Deep in wintry Castello how do I draw the mental line between inspiration and unease, intimate space and claustrophobia?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer Rain

“Summer Rain 1” coloured pencils, 25 x 19 cm. July 2019

Summer Rain 2, coloured pencils, 25 x 20 cm.  September 2019

All the colours run into a kaleidoscopic blur when a thunderstorm strikes Verona.  Those with umbrellas exercise their right to dawdle while those without hurry forth.  We are objects within a watercolour as forms melt and merge in a gush of summer rain.

The small pair side by side…

 

 

 

 

Sunrise Reflected

“Sunrise Reflected”    Coloured pencils,   35 x 35 cm.   June 2019

As I walked home with Matthew late on Saturday night I said to him that I would definitely NOT get up at the crack of dawn on Sunday (as I had been doing every day so far in Venice) but I would sleep in.  I didn’t want to burn the candle at both ends; I mean, I’m no spring chicken!

“Silent Night” – a drawing from Saturday night when we stayed out late.

However, despite sensible intentions to rest, I flung myself out of bed and out of the apartment before sunrise.  I dashed across the ponte dell’ Accademia and straight onto a southbound vaporetto (water bus).  Just as the boat glided away from the stop and into the Grand Canal the sun was rising.  There before my eyes were the palazzos (and the vaporetto stop) madly reflecting back the sunlight.  It was a dawn chorus of light, a visual symphony on that Sunday morning.

After I took a whirlwind of photos an inspector came to check that I had a valid ticket.  I did.  We exchanged big smiles.  And all was brilliant with the world.

 

Silent Night

“Silent Night”
coloured pencils, 32.5 x 29 cm. May 2019

Late on Saturday night there are people partying in Venice.  We walk past a hot-spot where there is a silent disco on the campo.  (Silent? Yes, the dancers are all wearing headphones – a surreal sight.)

We continue on our journey, navigating ourselves deep into the peace of Dorsoduro.

No cars, not even the hum of far-away traffic.  It is a profound silence, broken only by the soft thuds of shoes on stone and perhaps a voice carried on the breeze.

And shortly after this, we find ourselves lost once again.  But we don’t mind.