Down By The Riverside

p1170006
Acrylics on paper, 42x59cm.

Riverside
Down by the river by the boats
Where everybody goes to be alone
Where you wont see any rising sun
Down to the river we will run

When by the water we drink to the dregs
Look at the stones on the river bed
I can tell from your eyes
You’ve never been by the riverside

Down by the water the riverbed
Somebody calls you somebody says
Swim with the current and float away
Down by the river everyday

Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep
And I don’t know why I go the way

Down by the riverside

When that old river runs pass your eyes
To wash off the dirt on the riverside
Go to the water so very near
The river will be your eyes and ears

I walk to the borders on my own
To fall in the water just like a stone
Chilled to the marrow in them bones
Why do I go here all alone

Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep
And I don’t know why I go the way
Down by the riverside

Agnes Obel.

 

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Driftwood No.3

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Acrylics on canvas, “Driftwood No.3“, 51x76cm.

Sometimes when you are gazing out to sea searching the far horizon dreaming of sea adventures and foreign lands there is a tendency to miss something closer to home.

If, however, like me you also take pleasure in the confusion of detritus, flotsam and jetsam, scattered around on the beach under your feet then it is just as good a subject as the panoramic.

Dem Bones

Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones,
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones,
Dem bones, dem bones, dem dry bones,
Now shake dem skeleton bones!

The toe bone’s connected to the foot bone,
The foot bone’s connected to the ankle bone,
The ankle bone’s connected to the leg bone,
Now shake dem skeleton bones.

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“Dem Bones”, Acrylics on paper, 42x59cm.

Well, it makes a change from “Logs” :o)

The Empty Forest

My wanderings take me to quiet places devoid of people and mostly that’s the way I like it:

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Along the Forest Footpath“, Acrylics on paper, 42x59cm.

Sometimes, however, I feel that certain landscapes need the presence of people to not only populate it but to bring welcome life otherwise we wouldn’t have any experience of it at all. This forest footpath I think is crying out for either a single figure, perhaps walking a dog, or a couple, who could be young lovers or more to my generation, old lovers, out enjoying the Great Outdoors. What do you think it could it be?

Your imaginative views are welcome.

F-F-Frozen Forest Footpath

[I do like a bit of alliteration]

Winter still has it’s grip but bright sunshine encourages us to get out of the house and go for a woodland walk.

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“F-F-Frozen Forest Footpath”, Acrylics on paper, 42x59cm.

Contemplating The Race

On my wanderings up and down the Glen I always stop at a place I call The Race which is my description of how the river races down over flat slabs of rock and plunges into a deep pool, smoothes out, gurgles around, and then makes off in a sedate manner on it’s onward journey. I always stop there and lean over the barrier to contemplate the Meaning of Life [42, since you ask].

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“The Race”, Acrylics on paper, 42x59cm.