Staring at the sea

Seascapes 52: week 24

This week I share one of the most influential seascape paintings from my childhood. 

I don't know much about the origins of this seascape. I think the signature says Convoy. The painting (a framed print) belongs to my uncle, Rob. When I was a toddler, I identified all planes that flew by as "there's Bob". Rob had a pilot's licence back then. He tended to buy records (we share a love for Dark Side of the Moon too) rather than art but he did own this painting. 

Younger me loved this painting. Perhaps I didn't share Rob's admiration of the aeroplane but I agreed it was a grand painting. The rendition of the waves mesmerised me throughout my childhood, teens and early adult life. The colours. The light. The movement. The transparency of the water. Especially the wave on the bottom left of the composition. I recall studying it intently, wondering how the artist had managed to paint the sea so well. 

It occurred to me after I completed Maybe Tomorrow Perhaps (below) that all those years admiring those waves were beginning to visibly manifest in my work. 

Unintended similarity of composition and colour, minus the planes, ships and dramatic sunlight. But I suspect there's an unavoidable connection between imagination and memory here. Rest assured, I'm not going to pop an aeroplane on it. 

More consciously, I do think when I'm painting the underside of waves, I often judge my own creations relative to this childhood good waves benchmark. And this year. I've been trying to bring more turquoise and green into my waves. Here's another seascape in progress, in which I've been pushing my colour exploration.

This painting is loosely based on a reference photograph that I took in Cape Town and is set closer to the shore. While these waves are more sandy, I am still aware that my quest to capture the transparency of the water is strongly influenced by all that time spent admiring the waves in Robbie's painting.