Sudden rain, Kishorn

28 October 2017

Painting in Scotland: Sudden rain by Loch Kishorn at Achintraid. Acrylic on paper, 64 x 48cm.

By Loch Kishorn at Achintraid

27 October 2017

Painting in Scotland: By Loch Kishorn at Achintraid. Acrylic on paper, 64 x 48cm.

River Kishorn, Scotland: Sketchbook

23 October 2017

Drawing in heavy rain on the bridge over the River Kishorn, Scotland.
Looking south towards Loch Kishorn.

North towards Meallan Gobhar.

Meall Gorm

22 October 2017

Painting in Scotland. West from Achintraid, across Loch Kishorn to the dark peaks of Meall Gorm, fighting against the clouds and rain. Acrylic on paper, approx 64 x 48.

Cearcall Dubh

Painting in Scotland. The mound of Cearcall Dubh above Loch Kishorn, from Achintaid. Some sunshine hitting the last of the heather on the hillside. Acrylic on paper, 64 x 48cm approx.

Loch Kishorn: Sketchbook

Drawing in the wind and rain and sun and mist at Loch Kishorn, Scotland. The terrific thing about working in Scotland at this time of year is how fast everything changes, as the wind blows the weather across and around the mountains; it's never the same for more than a few minutes, and each new scene brings another effect to capture.

Tonal sketches, and annotated sketches, A5 and A4, pencil.

Battle of Passchendaele

04 October 2017

One hundred years ago, my great uncle was killed at Passchendaele, one of 4982 soldiers who died on that day alone. He was eighteen years old.

34883 Private LAWRENCE GAINES, 12th Bn. Gloucestershire Regiment

Memorial Tablet

Squire nagged and bullied till I went to fight,
(Under Lord Derby’s Scheme). I died in hell—
(They called it Passchendaele). My wound was slight,
And I was hobbling back; and then a shell
Burst slick upon the duck-boards: so I fell
Into the bottomless mud, and lost the light.
At sermon-time, while Squire is in his pew,
He gives my gilded name a thoughtful stare:
For, though low down upon the list, I’m there;
‘In proud and glorious memory’ ... that’s my due.

Two bleeding years I fought in France, for Squire:
I suffered anguish that he’s never guessed.
Once I came home on leave: and then went west...
What greater glory could a man desire?

Siegfried Sassoon