The temperatures have been in the mid to high thirties for a few days, and nights have been sultry, when even just a cotton sheet was too much to bear. A storm was inevitable. It started moments after I awoke this morning. I walked the dog as usual. I like extreme weather as much as (sometimes more than) fine weather. The rain rushed down the slopes of the track, scouring mini ravines and gorges. The air carried a perfume of damp earth, pine woods and wild thyme. Can the light be both yellow and blue? The flashes of lighting got brighter and closer to the thunder, which got louder and louder - and louder. The dog looked at me as if to say 'Is this safe?', and I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders. We carried on walking. The dog crashed through the ferns, sending fallen rain back into the air. As I went, I mentally moved through the process of how I might make one of the paintings.

The sheep sheltering from the rain.

The next Art Space Portsmouth International Residency starts 1st September. Follow the blog here.

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