I've been thinking recently that reality has very little ground truth to it. My reality, at least. My perception is in control, directed by a world-view - a little toy model of how the world works built up from my experiences.
I have a friend who told me when she saw this painting she imagined that she was sitting in a food hall surrounded by friends. The image, to her, was from the perspective of someone who has food and beer and good company. Someone leaning back and looking up happily at the sky through the skylight.
This is a quick alla prima study of my home in the snow, painted on board. The board was formerly packing for furniture, which is why the dimensions of the image are a little odd...
Capturing a favourite spot in my Mum's room dedicated to the Brontë's.
For me this is a place full of meaning. The chair and the bookcase were constand presences
