RICHARD SWANN ART

The rule is, if it’s an outdoor painting day, there will be a solid grey sky like a sheet of Damoclean lead.  All life and colour will be drained from the landscape.  Any cows or sheep breaking the monotony will shuffle around to show only their backsides as if the artist is a wandering bum-magnet.  Sometimes it seems as if the fields and hills are doing this as well.  Any interesting wildlife will be asleep in a hole in the ground or flying away from you in the distance.

And if it’s a work day there will be skies full of drama, sunlight will breathe glorious life into the flattest of landscapes and magnificent herds of animals will sweep across the plains, the whole vista crying out to be painted, all of which you can see from the train window as you try and ignore the guy opposite eating a noisy breakfast of a chocolate bar and a can of Stella.

So far the rule for Lockdown seems to be blue skies, free time, a deserted world full of emboldened animals.  And you’re not allowed out.

This is what I’d like to be doing right now:

Nothing for it but to try and recreate the plein air experience by doing some oil sketches against the clock from old photographs.  These are from a couple of years ago near Winchelsea.  As you can see, it was about to rain.