Here’s the sixth video showing the process of a painting (which I’m calling ‘The Path’ for now) from my new series inspired by the remains of a Carmelite friary in the mysterious forest of Luffness.
I’m talking about a couple of dilemmas here that came up – mostly how to make decisions that keep the panting loose without overworking it.
These videos are also posted on my instagram which is findable under ‘Rose Strang art’
Here’s the latest video showing the process of a painting from my new series inspired by the remains of a Carmelite friary in the mysterious forest of Luffness.
In this video I talk about the ideas and themes behind the painting, then tomorrow I’ll post the final stages of the painting (speeded up for the impatient among you!)
These videos are also posted on my instagram which is findable under ‘Rose Strang art’
Below, the third video in a series showing the making of a new painting. This is part of my new series inspired by the remains of a Carmelite friary in the mysterious forest of Luffness.
I speeded the video up towards the end as you can see! I’ll post another one tomorrow, it’s ready to go but better to post one at a time …
Progress is slow as I was on holiday the past week on the wonderful Isle of Iona, celebrating our first wedding anniversary! They say the first one should be celebrated with paper, so, appropriately enough here are some of my watercolours on paper!….
This is my favourite though, a little gift by Adam, it captures that Iona sea-green so beautifully. It seems simple at first but I find it icon-like, meditative and transporting …
This is the first in a new series of 3-minute videos following the creation of a new painting. Hope you enjoy it!
The painting above The Path. Water mixable oil on 14 by 14 inch wood, depicts a meaningful walk (with Richard Demarco and Terry Ann Newman) towards the 12th century Friary ruins at Luffness recently.
More on that in this post – Dappled things
Some painting details …
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The wonderfully atmospheric stills below are a little taster from an upcoming documentary (by video-maker Manuel Pennuto) about a series and project I’m working on this year.
Taking inspiration from the landscape and history of Aberlady on the east coast of Scotland, the series explores the 7th century pilgrims’ route from Iona to Lindisfarne, and the remains of a 12th century effigy discovered in the ruins of a Carmelite friary.
I was very moved and honoured to have Prof’ Richard Demarco (Director of the Demarco Gallery) and Terry Ann Newman (Deputy Director) join me on a recent visit to the Carmelite friary in Aberlady.
Sometimes described as an arts impressario and ‘champion of the avant garde’, Richard Demarco prefers to be thought of as an artist and teacher. He’s known in the art world of Scotland (and wider Europe) for his creative response to post-war Europe, and for his belief that creative dialogue between war-torn countries can heal the collective traumatised psyche. His approach remains as relevant today as ever, and I cannot imagine anyone better suited to accompany us on our visit to the friary this weekend.
Richard is now 93, so it was no easy task for him to navigate the 300 yards or more of rough forest floor of the friary grounds. Yet, it is difficult to describe the joy of our day as we walked the path together in the company of family, friends and fellow creative people (very much in the spirit of the road to Meikle Seggie)
Read on if you’d like to know more about our adventure, Richard Demarco and the Road to Meikle Seggie...
Twenty three years ago, when I worked as assistant archivist/curator for the Demarco European Art Foundation, I asked Richard Demarco how someone might define the Road to Meikle Seggie. ‘You can’t define it!’, he exclaimed.
This is true, but in the first instance at least The Road to Meikle Seggie describes a road sign that Richard and friends discovered as part of his Edinburgh Arts Journeys many years ago. Pointing up a track, the sign read: Meikle Seggie and after following this sign for some time it gradually became apparent that Meikle Seggie (probably the name of a farm) probably didn’t exist!
On this journey though, Richard and his friends (a gathering of artists and creative thinkers) experienced a heightened awareness of everything that they encountered. In the act of observing, we can be aware and as sensitive to our surroundings as a new-born child, or we can be closed to the wonder and meaning of all we encounter. The former is a challenge, the latter perhaps the result in part of mind-numbing bureacracy, the echo chamber of media and news, or any number of difficulties we face in life.
When Richard Demarco began Edinburgh Arts journeys in the 1970’s he described it as similar to “opening a door beyond which lay the reality of my dreams of a world beyond the confines of the 20th century”. For Richard, this world promised:
“.. a landscape I would wish to define with pen and ink and watercolour. Each bend and corner would be like another door opening up gradually more and more aspects of the landscape I had known in my childhood when every door and every road was an invitation to a mysterious space, forever desireable and forever new. It was the sacred threshold through which I had to pass which would reveal the space in which I would seek freedom from all linear concepts of time”. (1).
So it was fitting that on our trip to the Carmeite friary and effigy this weekend, we were accompanied by my niece Emma Mases Strang, her partner Manuel Pennuto and their adorable seven-week old baby (to whom I’m a great aunt!); Atlas. As Richard remarked – “that little boy has within him now all you need to understand the wonder of life”.
Also joining us were Robert and Pamela de Mey, respectively a psychiatrist/arts curator and a doctor. Both friends of the Demarco Trust and art collectors with a deep interest in all that inspires creativity (Robert de Mey’s recent book about Scottish artist Rae – Ronald Rae: An Inner Life – can be found Here)
Robert’s follow up email summed up our experience perfectly. I hope he doesn’t mind me sharing it here:
What a wonderful and spiritual journey we had yesterday, and thanks are due to everyone for making it happen. The ensnarement of our endlessly complicated system for living (symbolised by the blocked A1); replaced by peace, a shared discourse, generous love, and the pilgrims’ path to the tomb. The effigy of David de Lindsay seemed both peaceful and vulnerable, in its posture and rotated form, and through being slowly absorbed by the physical elements. We look forward to more ‘journeys of enlightenment.
Thanks to all who made it such a special day, especially my husband Adam Brewster. It has added immeasurably to my creative response to Aberlady. Thanks also to Hilary Wilkies for allowing us access through her garden to visit the friary, it’s much appreciated!
Lastly, a couple of painting sketches of the day inspired by Richard’s exclamation to Terry as we navigated the woods – “Dappled things!” …
Above: Beauly substation.
What you see above is a view of the gravel quarry and SSEN (Scottish and Southern Electricity Networks) electricity substation near Beauly, Inverness-shire.
Beauly means ‘a beautiful place’ and despite these developments by SSEN, much of it still is. We were walking there again last weekend as part of a visit to the Kilmorack Gallery (showing the excellent exhibition Borrowed Land until 2nd March)
For perspective, here’s an old map of the area contrasted with a current view …
It’s pretty disheartening isn’t it? Imagine if you lived here though, and your favourite walk, through landscape like this (my photos of Beauly taken last weekend and last November) …
Was replaced with this …
The site includes numerous important archeological remains and the developments have obviously caused utter devastation to local wildlife.
SSEN (Scottish and Southern Electric Network) plan to extend their transmission line, create more wind farms and, the site at Beauly is to be extended from 60 acres to 860 acres, which is just huge.
Even worse, this is intended for areas across the Scottish Highlands …
Some might consider this the inevitable price of progress, but it’s not progress, and nor is it needed – which becomes very evident when you look into current and future energy requirements for Scotland and the UK. As usual, quite simply it’s a money-making excercise for global companies, supported and encouraged by our own government.
I’ll include more information about SSEN’s proposals ongoing, but I’m new to this and you’ll be better informed about these developments and possible ways to help by joining this facebook page…
It’s run by people who live in these areas who’ve been resisting such developments for years. If/when you join, invite all your contacts and remember that this affects us all -you might not be able to attend local meetings, but you can sign petitions, write to MP’s and share information.
Lastly, here are two excellent letters/articles published by the Press and Journal (by two admins for Communities Before Power Companies) Elaine Ritter and Denise Davis …
Above: Shorelines, Aberlady. I. Oil on 8×5.5″ wood. Rose Strang 2024
More oil sketches in progress today inspired by the shorelines and moods of Aberlady…
For my experimental paintings and ideas I’ve been working at this size for some time and it really works for me in terms of loose brushwork. It would be a bit of a nightmare to work at a larger size with this more experimental messy approach – that would be a lot of oil paint going to waste when it doesn’t work (which is often!) and a lot of physical energy and time expended.
It’s been a while since I posted a video of my working process. I’m very forgetful of such things but people seem to enjoy them, so one of those coming up soon.
I’m also still working on my Carmelite monastery and Crusader’s tomb series (see older posts) which are very different in feel to these smaller landscape paintings. I love the freedom of my smaller landscape paintings, but I think I have something more to say as an artist so I’ll be persevering with that series over the coming weeks. It’s important to get out of my comfort zone and dig a bit deeper …
Above: Aberlefdi. Winter I. Oil on 8×5.5″ wood. Rose Strang 2024
These are some oil sketches I’ve been working on as part of a general series this year which explores the history and landscape of Aberlady in the south of Scotland.
Part of the series is a deeper look at the the history of a Carmelite monastery near Aberlady, but the paintings also reflect my love of a landscape that’s deeply familar to me.
I think there’s something dreamlike about Aberlady. It might be the sheer sense of space in sky, sand and sea, but I think it’s also something I find in particular on the east coast of Scotland. Looking out to the north sea towards Norway and Denmark, there’s something haunting about the fact that about 8000 years ago we’d have been looking at Doggerland, before the series of great landslides called the Storegga Slides occurred, creating the north sea. It looks and feels very different to the soft light of the west coast of Scotland.
Whenever I look at paths or horizons in this landscape, I also think of journeys, and the fact that not so long ago in the days when Aberlady was called Aberlefdi (hence the title of this series of small landscapes) it was an important stop on the pilgrim route between the Isle of Iona and Lindisfarne, or Holy Isle as it’s also known. That was in around 700AD when one of St Columba’s followers called St Aiden was tasked with setting up a new monastery on Lindisfarne.
When you camp over night near Aberlady you experience all the moods of the seasons; the burnished gold of marram grass and sand in winter, the soft green of the sea and grass in June when the larks and rabbits are at their busiest, or the thunder, lightning and rainstorms on humid late summer nights.
Above Aberlady Sketches 1. Oil on 5×7″ wood. Rose Strang 2024
A start to the year and a new project with this small, twilit painting of Aberlady.
It’s a project a long time in waiting. I was beginning to explore ideas back in early 2020 when the obvious event struck, causing a small panic about income, but then three painting commissions came at me from out of the blue and I’ve been busy ever since it seems.
The Village of Aberlady is not a place you’d describe as mysterious or dramatic, unless you knew it well. The first impression is of a very pretty, conventional village, perfect for the rich retirees. A train used to stop here but the railway was dismantled in the 1970’s. There are one or two shops, a couple of inns and a takeaway.
So why am I so obsessed with painting a series about my response to this place? Well, I’ll be painting and writing about ‘why’ for the rest of 2024!
The most obvious appeal, beyond the village itself, is of course the nature reserve that stretches across a mile or two of grassland and dunes to an expanse of glittering sand reaching far out to sea at low tide. It’s one of the very few places I’ll swim in Scotland. In August when the sea has become less cold and has flowed back in across the warm sand, bathing here in shallow water is almost bath-like. Plus there’s hardly anyone around since, compared to the amount of people at North Berwick further south along the coast, relatively few will walk the two miles to the sea. There are of course hundreds and thousands of birds, and deer, rabbits galore and any amount of other species I don’t know about.
The appeal for most people visiting Aberlady these days is peace in nature. One thing that fascinates me though is the way places change in importance over several hundred years, depending on their function. Think of St Andrews in Fife, it was the ecclesiastical centre of Scotland hunreds of years ago. Now it’s known as the home of Scotland’s oldest university, and for its golf course. (also made more famous by the royal romance I suppose. I was attending post graduate art studies there at the same time as Will and Kate but never bumped into them, not quite moving in the same circles!) Or think of York, known now for its olde worlde timber-framed buildings and awe-inspiring York Minster – when in the past it was the centre of power in England.
Going farther back in time, Aberlady was a place that had to defend itself from violent attack, and going even further back to the 7th century it was the last stop for pilgrims on their way from Iona to Lindisfarne.
Beneath its pleasant exterior I find Aberlady to be a place of deep mystery and drama. It’s something you can’t see, but rather it’s something you feel after years of immersing yourself in its landscape and history.
Hence why I’ll be working towards a series of paintings this year to explore my fascination with Aberlefdi, as it was originally named – a mixture of Pictish aber meaning river mouth and Lef, the name of a Viking warrior whose remains are interred beneath Luffness House in Aberlady Bay. That’s just one little detail in the whole story though.
More to follow in the coming weeks as the light improves and I can really get into painting this series …
One of my Aberlady paintings from 2020:
Rose Strang Artworks 