Wednesday 19 November

Stayed in all day and worked through my sketchbooks.
Watercolour challenge
watercolours that challenge
challenged watercolours
Did a few good things, as ideas
There is quite alot in my sketchbook that has an interest - I’ll only know later (probably when i am dead)
i missed the love ones today.
The mist came rolling in at one point and I got Gibralter get me off this rock on to the other worries.

iI shouldn’t judge myself against others, though i do - down to my insecurity.
Don’t know if I will ‘ down it ’ this evening, maybe leave it for a day, too much of a good thing. I think Sunday was good and maybe thats the one for the trip.

There are some lovely yellow micklemass daisies outside the window, so bright in the thin light.

I put crumbs out for the black bird.

Just before the day shuts
I go down to New Grimsby to look at the twilight.
Samson Hill on Bryher is a dark mass sucking in the light.
Bryher Gap as a little niche towards a big eternity.
Sit and watch the light fade making notes and drawing.
And as happens just as I think the light show has ended - it turns another corner
is put one stop down

I am suspended in the thickening soup of dusk
as amongst muscle and sinew

violet rays up in the ether

a big long arc of cloud behind from the north west lights up pink.

a thin ribbon of a jet trail above my head slowly dissipating
contracting and evaporating
with crimson and violet
The light gets richer and richer as it gets darker and darker and colder and colder.

the need to paint is remote, it is one of those moments that is catalogued in the heart and brain somewhere.

It goes slowly falling to night

I turn my back to it and head up the hill, looking behind ( as if not to forget ) the sky is a green glow, the two stars ( planets ) hang in celestial grace over the deep dark pine trees of Borough.

the brightness
the illumination
as a fold to the day and crease its night

This takes me back to Finland - Ethereal light.

Twelve Hours of Sunset