Two weeks painting for me equals two weeks swimming for Sacha and Pearl. The extreme Andalusian sun dries the paint so quickly which is an advantage when painting water.  Oh and there is Lorraine discussing tonight's supper with a lady from Wiltshire, this time in the pool.

Pool side

This is a visual record of two weeks in July observing the pool side behaviour of the residents of Pueblo Miraflores near to Marbella in Andalucia. Over the time I made the sketches I also had brief conversations or exchanges with many of the subjects. They were mainly aware of being observed and curious to see the paintings. I met a man who had been a water-colourist himself but had to go back to his old job as a result of the economic situation in Ireland, another lady was doing an oil painting course and wanted to share with me how difficult she found colour mixing. One lady, who appears in several of the drawings, seemed to know everyone by the pool on first name terms. I discovered a great deal of information about her and her family from overhearing these conversations including what she would be having for dinner each evening.

Sleeper on the Northern Line

This is midday on the Northern Line, the best time to draw a sleeper as there are less passengers around to draw attention to the sketcher and in turn wake the sleeper, or is this just my paranoia?. When drawing in public places there often seems to be a sense of urgency, either in capturing a pose or in not being caught in the act. 

Vegetarian Breakfast

Peeling back the foil of this British Airways vegetarian breakfast revealed the contents cowering in the right hand corner, including a Salvador Dali tomato. Shown here the scrambled egg peers over a rice sausage, in the foreground a hash brown contemplates the space.
 It actually tasted quite nice. The man sitting next to me was trying not to look as I drew my breakfast before eating it.

He knew he was being watched but he just didn't seem to mind. His eyes kept darting towards me then looking away. He didn't touch his drink until I shut my sketchbook, finished my coffee and paid the bill.

I went to Ikea, tried to be early to miss the traffic. I got there an hour before it opened. Not to worry  as the Bistro opens for business an hour before the store itself. For only 99p they can knit you a full breakfast. The scrambled egg was very woollen, I sat on my own and had a fry up.

I was lucky enough to be on my own in Paris with no distractions and glorious sunny weather. Sitting in the Jardins de Luxembourg with a brand new watercolour set. Each lozenge of colour was still in it's wrapper looking like little chocolates. I sat in the dusty sunshine seeking out people to paint, however after the unwrapping and preparation of water and necessary arrangements the potential sitters had disappeared. Blanche de Castille was serene and posing adjacent to where I sat, it seemed like an opportunity. My work was interrupted for the first time by a local drinker who fancied himself as a bit of an artist and was fairly keen to pass on his advice. This included some criticism of my execution of the hands. He was also horrified that I was unaware of who Blanche de Castille was, I protested that I was in fact English but this was no excuse. He rolled off in disgust muttering about Saint Louis.
Whilst painting the second nymph I was joined by a more perky, youthful inebriate wearing tracksuit bottoms one leg of which was rolled up to the thigh. He was most keen for me to watch his stretching exercises which if carried out correctly could lead one to experience the sensation of flying. Since I was trying to paint and not paying sufficient attention he became rather irritated and kept shouting to me "Madame! You're not watching!"
When this clearly was not getting the required reaction he got out a rather archaic looking mobile phone and started to have an imaginary conversation with "my love, whats that my love? You are not loving me, my love.But my love,my love. I was too far into the painting to move on so we shared the bench for some time until he was distracted by a passing gendarme to whom he became attached with the introductory gambit "hey Monsieur, vous etes un gendarme" (this was a statement not a question). I love Paris.