In the spring, enamoured by their ruffled faces, I wait impatiently for them to bloom, hoping to photograph their luscious fragility before either wind or rain batters them. But because spring is so busy with gardening and art shows, I store these images away like Christmas cakes, to be rediscovered as winter approaches. And just like Christmas cake (I’m thinking of one now, in its tin in our larder), they take up residence in my head; the only relief from iris obsession is just to break down and paint a bunch. To spend two or three solid hours and actually finish a small painting is a welcome counterpoint to the marathon a large painting represents. This week I’ve done four wee portraits.
That said, I shall spend this evening looking through my “To Paint Flowers” iMac folder; there are more than a thousand shots to choose from, so it is lots of fun to mosey through them. And then I’m heading straight for the basement where a certain Christmas cake is calling my name.