Still Life Composition
Process Pages:
I realise my first two wildlife ideas won’t work as I don’t have photos of seeing this in the wild, although I’ve seen both with my eyes. But with a photo I will have reference material
I looked at my photos and found a selection that give me some ideas to work with. I am especially drawn to the last image, which was taken in Cumberland and is of an industrial nature:
Photo of industrial artefact located at No 6 Mine Park in Cumberland, BC
I started off with a brown/red underpainting. I applied a grid to the photo and then put a chalk grid on my underpainting.
I started off with the grass and chose a pine cone as a tool to give texture to the grass. I used two different greens in each of the areas- the sunny and the shady ones. I made a grey with one of the browns and painted the fence, trying to texture it with a fork to reveal the underpainting. However, this hue dried very quickly.
I learned a lot along the way- about recognizing if a colour needed more red or green. About how to created dark and light areas. And also the perspective of looking sideways at the wheel and seeing an oval rather than a circle.
The most enjoyable part was painting with a pine cone and painting the curves of the wheels with a paint brush. I was very satisfied with my final painting and enjoyed sharing my image with family and friends.
The following poem was written after hearing an old time fiddler sing a traditional song about coal mining at The Woodstove Festival in Cumberland:
Ballad of The Fly Smackers
.
He sits in the parlour
playing old-time fiddle
singing songs of the mines
with a voice so true
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
He sings of hardship
of tunnel collapse
of injury and blackness
of dying and turning to coal
.
I hear it echo
in the underground shafts
down a misty alley
among crooked shacks
.
He sings of resilience
of carrying on
of camaraderie
and perseverance
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
He sings of suffering for all
of mothers and children
thrown out on the street
soon as Pa was no more
.
I hear it echo
in the underground shafts
down a misty alley
among crooked shacks
.
An age old story
of mining black gold
of extracting riches
for another to hold
.
He sits in the parlour
playing old-time fiddle
singing songs of the mines
with a voice so true
.
Do they hear him?
The tunnels below?
The multitude of miners?
The ones who didn’t come home?
.
By Carys Owen Woodstove 2024