You’d think a garden is a tranquil place, a place of rest and calm, but when I paint in my garden it’s all action. The sexy pinks are blooming, and they are magnificent and deserve to be worshipped, and how better but in paint, in awed response to their magic. They move though, with every breath of breeze, and the sunlight changes constantly, so the areas of light and dark fade in and out before my eyes like quicksilver, hence my frenetic flurry before their regal serenity. They also grow, starting as a  smooth pendant of pink and gently opening up into elegant limbs that slowly push out their bulbous genitalia to attract passing strangers…they’re not called Sexy Pink for nothing.

This one is not quite finished, but it’s almost there. The layers of oil paint are currently so wet I have to wait before I can complete it… and so I have started another one. It won’t be long before they complete their blooming cycle and fade away, so I have to strike, fast and furious…