Category Archives: Uncategorized

Forest of Fairhill 5

Above: Through Trees. Fairhill. Mixed media on 20×30″ wood pane. Rose Strang 2026.

Adam and I visited the forest of Pishwanton/Fairhill this weekend for the first time in a few years. I’ve been there many times over a decade or so.

It was a truly beautiful day, silvery spring light on the birch trees and amidst the trees, buildings made of mostly natural, unchanged materials. The architecture working in harmony with the landscape.

Some details of my painting ..

 

It does feel special there, and it inspires you to find out who’s behind such a place.

I discovered that Dr Mary Colquhoun was the founder of  Pishwanton and the Life Science Centre back in the 1990s. She studied biology through a Goethean lens, and was a pioneer of Goethean science in the UK.

More recently the Life Science Centre merged with The Ruskin Mill Centre for Research and is now part of the Ruskin Mill Trust group – working with principles grounded in Goethean Science and inspiration from John Ruskin, William Morris and Rudolf Steiner.

Steiner was inspired by Goethe, but is often described as a ‘pseudo-scientist’ (which I always find amusing – surely all the interesting folk are described as pseudoscientists!) I’m an artist – an observer and describer – not qualified to conclude anything scientific. It seems, though, that though Steiner went a little off-piste with Goethe’s original thesis, his ideas are still interesting to explore. His beliefs are part personal faith, and part inspired by Goethean ideas of observation. Contemplating plants, for example, over time.

It was interesting visiting Pishwanton this weekend for the first time in a few years. I’d remembered it as peaceful, but it’s better described as restorative, bringing peace through a sense of harmony, rather than the idea of actual quiet, since one of Scotland’s best known rookeries is there among the Scots Pines at the entrance, raucously guarding the way by announcing our arrival! We saw a large hare bounding off in surprise.

At first, you encounter the more workaday elements of the place as you wander further in, past the Scots Pines. There’s a very Shire-like, turf-covered workshop/ meeting building, vegetable plots, composting and woodwork areas nearby.

All the doors were shut, since it was a Sunday, though they’d kindly left the loos open, and little shelters for cats, or strays. I noticed how fresh and lovely the loos were (organic building material and absence of chemical nasties!)

As you wander over the hill though, you start to sense why this place was originally named Fairy Hill. It’s now called Fairhill (which may or may not be a classic case of Reformation re-naming, since the Reformation viewed anything to do with Pagan, country or folk reverence for nature as the work of the devil!)

Whether the name change was deliberate or simply practical, that attentiveness to the land persists here, or rather has had new life breathed into it by the Life Science Centre. (Fairhil had become a dumping ground before the Life Science Centre took it over).

We humans turn anything into pattern; knots in wood become faces, a piece of toast looks like someone famous. That phenomenon includes sounds – wind in trees can sound like voices. The forest at Fairhill sounds and feels so alive it’s easy to imagine the Goethean idea of Urpflanze – the original, primal form of plants, or their archetype.

Steiner later interpreted this as the spirit of the plant (dryad-like consciousness) but Goethe was careful to avoid the realms of the supernatural because, although he had an artist’s imagination, he also  considered his observations as scientific. It’s true to say, though, that Goethe saw the phenomenon of Urpflanze as unexplainable – a primal force.

It’s a place of ambiguity, a way of thinking that feels comfortable to the creative mind, full of possibility, stimulating to the imagination. It’s also perhaps more honest in a way, since science shows us aspects of how things are made, how our world operates to some extent, but often  it’s the principles or experiences that science can’t explain that are the more meaningful, or important to us, ultimately.

Goethe felt that this unexplainable life-force was only perceivable through long, patient observation. His way of exploring and observing led him to understand that boundaries, between fields of science and art, for example, limited our understanding.

All of which chimes with threads I’ve been following as an artist throughout my life. Explorations which started at art college with studies of Kant, Novalis and German Romanticism, through to more recent explorations of the medieval philosophers’ way of viewing, or contemplating the world.

I’ll explore more of that next week, but in the meantime, if you’re interested in medieval philosophy you can read a piece I wrote as part of the Traces project here.

Forest of Fairhill 4

Above: Wood Cabin. Fairhill. Mixed media on 14×8″ wood. Rose Strang 2026

Today’s painting featuring spring in the foreswt of Pishwanton/Fairhill, following on from the previous three posts. This is a series I’m drawn to paint not just because spring emerging is such a joyful time of year, but also because of the location – Fairhill, in East Lothian.

It’s a piece of land that was formerly used as a tip, which was rescued by the Life Science Centre who decided to experiment with sustainable cultivating approaches isnpired by Steiner principles of observation and connectedness.

When I feel a bit less puggled (it’s been a busy day) I’ll write more, suffice to say for the moment that the principles of observation they describe chime with me, and the way I want to understand the subjects I paint. Not just visually, but in myriad ways. More of that next week.

 

Forest of Fairhill 3

Above: ‘Birch Forest’. Fairhill. Mixed media on 14×14″ wood. Rose Strang 2026.

Today’s painting of birch trees in the forest of Pishwanton/Fairhill in East Lothian follows on from the last two posts depicting birch forests emerging from winter. I love trees, and it’s so inspiring to learn about this place, which in cared for by the Life Science Centre in Scotland.

I’m delving into the philosophy behind the Life Science Centre, and it really resonates with the way I approach painting, especially the nature of observation.

I have some projects to get on with right now, but I’ll explore more of that in the next blog.

Forest of Fairhill 2

Above: Today’s painting of birch trees in the forest of Pishwanton/Fairhill in East Lothian.

In the previous post I introduced the first painting in this series, explaining the odd name of the forest. The more I find out about this place, the more fascinating it becomes. For example, as well as the nearby ‘witch knowe’ – a witches hill, I discovered that the area now called Pishwanton (after the nearby river) is called Fairhill.

Quite pedestrian-sounding, a bit new-build estate maybe, but in fact it’s a new version of the original ‘Fairy Hill’. It seems the area was originally a place set aside for the ‘good people’, fairies in other words. Then in recent years it was used as a tipping site for rubbish and waste, until the Life Science Trust bought the land and returned it to original health.

I discovered all of this through the Life Science Centre’s website

It makes me want to deepen my understanding of their philosophy, which really feels like an antidote to all the destruction we’re witnessing in the world. I hope to get to know the area more. What began as an instinctive response – to paint the first signs of spring in these young birch forests, is growing into a genuine interest. Who knows where it will take me this year!

 

Forest of Fairhill

Above. Birch Trees and Willow Shelter. Mixed media on 14×14″ wood. Rose Strang 2026.

This painting is inspired by the birch forests of Pishwanton at Fairhill, which is situated next to a gushing stream and a hill where witches used to gather. In old Scots ‘pish’ means a fast flowing stream and ‘wanton’ means abundant. So there you are, that explains the strange place name!

Pishwanton is owned by the Life Science Trust and everything there is created, grown or built according to Steiner principles about harmony and conservation. Just being there feels more gentle, not in a precious sort of way – just the way that nothing jars, visually or to the nose.

I’ve visited a lot over the years, and now I’m creating a little series of paintings inspired by the arrival of spring in Pishwanton. I feel we could all do with the harmony of Pishwanton just now. Here are a couple of details from the painting ..

Tonight I’m off to see an exhibition in Edinburgh of drawings by Matthew Collings, he did a wonderful series of documentaries in the 1990s about art. He creates paintings with his wife Emma Briggs, and he also draws, very prolifically. I bought one of his sketches a couple of years ago. It’s a self portrait of Matthew Collings drawing a sketch of the artist Frank Auerbach after Auerbach died.  Although Collings says the drawings are instinctive, to me it speaks of mortality. I don’t know if it was intentional, but in the sketch Collings looks semi transparent, as if if disappearing from existence. I find it both moving and uplifting, and I love the colours. I took quite a while choosing the frame with Jamie from Edinburgh’s Detail Framing and I think it looks wonderful floating above the shipwreck n my bookcase, along from a sea triptych I painted a year or so ago.

The subject matter Collings chooses is simply what he experiences each day; memories or current situations and experiences. For the past year of so the best part of his drawings have been about the war on Gaza, tso he work is often harrowing, capturing the brutality visited upon innocent civilians by our world leaders. I’ll post more about the exhibition tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

Painting video

Below, a little speeded up video of me painting glasses yesterday!

Toasting glasses

18th Century Toasting Glasses. Oil on 12 x 9″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2026

More work today on glass painting. These are a gift for someone’s upcoming wedding.

Until the end of April this year I’ll be painting still lifes, but after that I’ll be fully immersed in landscape painting from May to July, in preparation for group exhibitions at The Resipole Gallery and The Limetree Gallery.

I’ll be staying on the Isle of Iona for two weeks so I can really get into the feel of it there. I’m so looking forward to it as it’s been a while since I took time to really focus on one landscape.

More paintings coming soon …

January Still Lifes

Above: 18th Century Toasting Glass with Scrap of Linen. Oil on 12×9″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2025

Below: Nuit de Noël (Caron/Baccarat). Oil on 12×9″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2026 and 18th Century Toasting Glass with Scrap of Linen. Oil on 12×9″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2025

Two still lifes for the Limetree Gallery‘s upcoming show; Anew which launches 20th February

“The devil is in the detail” to quote Mies Van Der Rohe!

Still lifes might seem an unusual subject for an artist mostly known for painting landscape, but to me it’s the same exploration; what the subject tells me, the presence, energy and the way light falls on form and texture.

When I paint these objects I become steeped in their story; every tiniest twist of their making, so they become alive for me. “Is a river alive?” asks the author Robert MacFarlane in his latest book. It’s a question that would have struck the 14th century mind as odd, because they believed everything was alive.

With daylight hours being shorter, I want to focus in on a smaller scale. Large canvases are suited to the long hours and energy of spring and summer. That smal panel of twelve by nine inches of wood becomes a universe; a toasting glass made from lead crystal in the 1740s, a piece of scrap linen and the way both of these objects disappear against the neutral-toned plaster wall in my studio, the tones barely differing.

Highlights on glass and the way light catches the edges of frayed cloth offer clues to what’s there, though it’s not immediately obvious on first encounter.

I like the humble, undeclarative amost monastic feel of it. It looks to me as though this glass lay forgotten, maybe on an old pantry shelf (how else does a fragile 18th century glass survive?) I placed it next to a strip of linen; a cut-off from canvas-making in the summer of last year.

The linen doesn’t detract from the subtlety of the glass, the neutral colour hues and the low-key, ordinary setting. The shelf is a weathered, found plank attached to my studio wall by Adam a couple of years ago.

The other painting: Nuit de Noël (Caron/Baccarat) is in deliberate contrast. The subject announces itself assertively, the glamorous black glass, designed by the house of Caron and made by high-end glass-makers Baccarat, placed on a leather vanity case on which a gold necklace with amethyst stone is draped.

The Baccarat glass bottle announces its art nouveau elegance immediately, but I suspect only the makers of this bottle, and those who obsessed over its design, can truly appreciate the beauty of its angles and the story it tells.

Nuit de Noël (Caron/Baccarat). Oil on 12×9″ wood panel. Rose Strang 2026

I can’t really capture them in paint in a sense, because the viewer knows it’s a painting, they don’t know if I’ve subtly tweaked those angles. In fact I’ve just tried to meticulously copy them and in the process become lost in admiration, and frustration at not being able to reproduce them perfectly!

The designer of this exquisite bottle was Félicie Vanpouille, the artistic director of perfume house Caron, also the lover and muse of Caron’s owner Ernest Daltroff, a highly talented perfumer. Ernest had the perfumer’s equivalent of perfect pitch; the ability to remember thousands of individual scents in order to compose a perfume (an absolutely neccessary skill to become a talented ‘nose’).

Daltroff created a perfume to evoke Félicie’s favourite time of year, Christmas eve, hence the title Nuit de Noel. I know from descriptions that the perfume is darker than might be expected, more sombre, with a dark Mousse de Saxe (Saxon Moss) base and heart, lightened with sweet floral accords.

It was meant rather to evoke a more introspective Midnight Mass mood than the festive oranges and cloves aesthetic we might expect from a winter perfume.

(I will in fact be sampling it soon as I’ve just ordered 1.5 ml from a reputable vintage perfume sample company. For those interested in my life as a perfume sampler and writer of stories inspired by perfume, have a look at my new Substack page here – Rose Strang. Substack )

Most poigantly, this little bottle captures a perfect moment in time; two sparklingly talented people met, fell in love, worked together and became inseperable as lovers, mutual muses and business partners.

It’s impossible to extract Caron myth and legend from fact when it comes to the finer details of their relationship, but what I do know is that Ernest Daltroff and Félicie Wanpouille created Nuit de Noel (perfume and bottle) at the height of their love affair, though really it was much more than an affair, they were together perhaps twenty years.

It was no doubt described as ‘an affair’ at the time because relationships outside of marriage were believed to be sinful and usually caused a great scandal. Nonetheless, Félicie signed herself Madame Daltroff in all busines correspondence.

It’s suggested she wished to marry Ernest, but he refused, or vice versa. What’s known for sure is that, while he’d been born into wealth and privilege, she had been born into poverty. She had nothing but talent and wit. When they first met she’d already established herself as a designer in Paris. It’s a classic 1920s tale really from the depression era; women were becoming somewhat more emancipated, yet, if they married their money was no longer theirs. Not a great prospect for a woman who had experienced the instability and hunger of terrible poverty.

Around the time that Nuit de Noel was created, Ernest and Félicie signed a 50/50 ownership ‘Tontine’ agreement. This meant that if one outlived the other, the survivor would inherit the wealth and ownership of Caron, but just four years later, Félicie married another man and had moved out of the flat she shared with Ernest.

In some accounts, he’s described as devastated by this change. It leads me to speculate on whether they’d had a falling out. Had he refused to marry? Or had she refused, knowing that to marry would mean handing over the stability and everything she’d worked so hard for?

Interestingly, her husband appears to have been seventeen years younger than her. And when Ernest finally married, years later, at the age of 65, his new wife, Madeleine, was also twenty years younger.

When Ernest and Félicie were together, they’d often visit the Bellagio (in the beautiful area of Lake Como, Italy). I find it telling that decades later, just a year before his death, Ernest Daltroff visited one last time before leaving for the US. As a Russian with Jewish origins he was in danger from the Nazi occupation of France. He moved to the US with his new wife Madeleine and died just a year later in 1941.

Félicie Vanpouille kept Caron alive during the Nazi occupation since she wasn’t under threat from the Nazi regime, or not in the same sense as Ernest Daltroff.

Their last perfume before embarking on their separate marriages, was Bellodgia, inspired by thier love of Bellagia on Lake Como..

It’s a poignant story and it’s redolent of so many I read about this era of beautiful creativity set against the backdrop of brutal war. This was in fact the ‘Golden Age’ of perfumery. These bottles and perfumes are truly works of art. I see Félicie’s exquisite sense of design in every angle of that bottle. In a couple of weeks, when my perfume sample arrives, I’ll understand a little more of Ernest Daltroff’s talent as a perfumer too.

It’s also worth mentioning the process that created such a beautiful object.

For this particular Baccarat ‘onyx’ black glass, components were melted together at an astonishing 1450-1500°C (this temperature takes a month to prepare). Once the glass is removed from heat it rapidly cools to 500°C, and the master glassblower has only a few minutes to shape it before it hardens. This particular bottle though, was blown in a mold, to the specifications of Félicie Vanpouille’s design.

Lastly, a note on composition; I placed the bottle on top of my own Noel present; a vintage leather vanity case from my husband Adam. The 18th century glasses are a present from my niece and her partner. Beautiful Christmas presents, among others from all the family, my much-loved in-laws, and friends too that make me feel very grateful indeed for the relationships in my life, (not least my mum’s love of perfume that inspired me to love perfume – hound-like noses run in our family!) and for the peace we live in which means we can enjoy them.

Wishing everyone a wonderful, peaceful Happy New Year!

Winter Still Lifes

Above: Red Perfume Bottle with Silver Cap. Oil on 12 by 9 inch wood panel. Rose Strang 2025

This is the first of three winter still lifes I’m painting for the Graystone Gallery in Edinburgh. They’ll be available to buy from around the 10th December, so contact the Graystone Gallery with any queries, they’re super helpful!

If you follow this blog then you might recognise the subject as this is not the first time I’ve painted this beautiful little bottle. The last time was in 2020 for the Limetree Gallery, Bristol. It belongs to my mum and I find it a magical little object. It always made me think of Lucy’s little cystal bottle which held healing elixir (The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe).

Others have said the painting makes them think of Alice in Wonderland (the “Drink Me” scene). I love painting these jewel-like still lifes in winter. Landscape painting is easier in the warmer months as the colours are so subtle. Winter light is hard to paint in, so up-close, monochrome or strong-coloured subjects work well

I think my painting has improved since I last painted this subject, you can be the judge of that though! Here they are, side by side …

'Antique Perfume Bottle, Red'. Oil on 13x13" wood. Rose Strang 2020

Sold. ‘Antique Perfume Bottle, Red’. Oil on 13×13″ wood. Rose Strang 2020

Red Perfume Bottle with Silver Cap. Oil on 12 by 9 inch wood panel. Rose Strang 2025