A few weeks ago I was looking at the work of some wonderful
realist painters working on objects inside glass, and in lunch
bags. That Sunday I was attracted to apples in a plastic bag lying on the table when Steven and I were unpacking after our weekend shopping trip. I grabbed the bag and made off with it into the studio, promising to buy more, and began this little painting -- but I just couldn't get it to work.
I started the way I sometimes do with small paintings, drawing
with fine marker on a pre-painted ground. In this case the ground was orange for warmth. But the pen was
too harsh, the apples the wrong colour.
Tonight I went at it again, as a break from a formal portrait
I was working on, and it's almost done. I like the exuberance.
High realist it's not. And my friends who don't believe in
white will be certain there's too much of it. Maybe so,
and yet -- a bag of apples now and then is fun to paint.
What's the rule about the doctor. An apple a day?
Have a break the rules with passion day.
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