Our lives are not constants, we are subject to every twist and turn that fate bestows upon us and those who affect us.  September saw us full of happines, pregnant with our child and our hopes for the future. One careless moment nearly ended our dreams as we were pulverised by white van man who didn’t see our stationary car on that bright september lunctime.

Our Angels intervened, however, and ensured that all three of us survived, albeit with cuts brusies and a healthy dollop of whiplash. We cruised into the Christmas season with the biggest smiles and were rewarded with our little miracle, encouraged into this world by three earthly angels from Broomfield Hospital who will have our eternal gratitude.

And so two became three and little Alannah J. brightens every dark winter day with the tiniest smile. No lack of sleep, anxiety or daily worries can match the joy this helpless parcel of joy brings us.

Hylands will be a brighter place to work with her there. I won’t wish away the days, but I can’t wait!

And is this why, before we die
we give one final bloom
So you might see what’s really me
One time before goodbye

My colours will, remind you still
when love was just a child
And we could be, whatever we
wanted or desired

So winter comes, and we succumb
the final gasp we give
is Autumn’s breath before our death
To prove that we did live

So standing still in Woodland’s chill
and hearing not a sound
that finally, You’ll remember me
When Autumn comes around

James Wilkinson Autumn 2010

now…..Three months and change have occurred since my last blogathon and in that time many things have happened…….Firstly, I shall become a father again in December this year… an early Christmas gift to beat all…. ..secondly, I have also entrenched myself in a gallery in Witham and have already held two outstanding openings both for myself and the students of my ever-growing ‘Come Paint With Me’ experiment which fulfills and delights very other week,( please visit me in the gallery, all are welcome, especially those with open minds and wallets)…… and so……. again, although I can hardly believe it, as summer peaks I feel the calling of my favourite season straining at the leash before summer has barely started to wane, it must be my desire for the glorious onslaught of colour that will shortly burst along the banks of the A12 and lead me to my creative cave that we know as Hylands park, where I meet and greet in my alter-ego-performing monkey persona that I both protest at and relish. I love to meet those with a story who partake in the interaction of arty dialogue and despair at those who rush through, head down, as if there mission in life is to find the nearest Khazi. I wonder, If, I hastened through their Big-brother soaked living rooms with similar deportment, that they would, as I do, behave with restraint. Adios Amigos…. see you in the Autumn X

I, like many of you, I presume, have spent winter months gazing through steely cold rods of rain dreaming about temperate summer evenings, of al fresco drinks with friends and barbecues and smiles.

Summer, does, however bring it’s own melancholy. For me it always represents those sweet wonderful memories of my first teenage freedoms with the bitter sweet thoughts of those I have lost, both in love and life.

And whilst we wish our days, or indeed our lives away, each wintertime, hurrying the cold away, it might be prudent not to count years or days that we might have left, but to count summers.

Days in my studio are days  to savour. days that I can create something, days that I might leave something for others to enjoy. days to leave a little piece of me. “James WOZ ‘ERE”

Think about how many more summers you might live to see, the number always seems so small,  and maybe then,  those gloomy winter days can be enjoyed and put to better use.

Don’t wish it away ……ENJOY!

March has, so far, thrown a few spanners in the works of my life but also left a few hints of better days to come. I am becoming happier with the days I spend painting and that in itself is a blessing as it seems the more I paint, the more I want to paint.  Today I began a painting of Scotty Moore, Elvis Presley’s first guitarist and fellow Memphis  homeboy. Elvis appears in the background of the painting and I realised that this is first time I have painted Elvis Presley in 10 years. Strange ? Well, my love of portraits began with me painting Elvis over and over again in my schooldays, so much so that my art teacher banned me from painting him.  It felt a little like coming home today.

And on that note, as I close one huge chapter in my life and raise my head to look at a future that will now always have more years behind then ever in front, I realise that perhaps that’s what we tend to do,  we end up full circle, not always because of regret and a yearning for our youth, but for comfort, for memories and for somewhere safe again that we can perhaps call home.

And so they descend on Hylands Park, this Essex jewel that I am fortunate enough to occupy in my guise as resident artist. Shrieking and howling scooting and bicycle riding, kicking footballs against the lower wall of the studios and generally making my normally peaceful existence a bloody nightmare.

But I should not complain because this is just one side of a very shiny coin and the other is my sheer joy to be able to paint in light and room whatever i wish and whenever i wish.

This coming Sunday the 27th February sees the 3rd of my ‘Come Paint with Me’ expeditions where I invite people who may not have room or time in their lives to forget their troubles  and paint with me for a couple of hours and a couple of fivers, go on you know you want to. The level of competence from absolute beginners has astounded me and yet I am still a little reserved on taking the credit for my brilliant instruction… ahem!

The past week or so have seen the press and other media descend, like hounds on a startled fox, as I inadvertently mentioned to the local paper that my forthcoming exhibition will feature portraits of the victims of Jack the Ripper. My fame it seems has now spread to the far shores of the United States and I have even been asked for my opinions on the subject to some of the most fine research magazines that attract the most serious of ripperologist,

me… I’m just a painter guv!