Rosemary Burn
Along with portraits and landscapes, I am more often than not drawn to painting still life. Although it is perhaps just painting ‘stuff’, I love its humility, and its implied human content - what is perhaps hovering beyond its parameters; a human element notable by its absence. There is a certain poetry to be found in a dripping bath tap and the light carried in the ripples, a fly on the wall, the fleeting expression on a face, a nameless place. It seems to me that these happenings underpin our existence; big events, highs and lows, come and go but the insignificant and fleeting remain and repeat, like a constant hum in the background.
Frozen shoals
