Tales from the frozen north

A friend is sending posts from a symposium in Russia; amazing pictures of onion domes, hazy valleys and interesting vegetables; they are painting in a town I must look up, in thirty-plus degree heat, with a whole bunch of nationalities and backgrounds. It just looks fascinating and I am following the posts with total rapture. I was lucky enough to visit St Petersburg (then still Leningrad) and Moscow back in, I guess, about 1989; still behind the iron curtain and so, so alien and beautiful. I was included on an art exchange from Norwich School of Art despite not actually being on the degree course; a spare place arose and my then boyfriend was a painter on the Fine Art degree. Hence my freedom on the trip was total; I had no curriculum or schedule other that watching what everyone else was doing and joining in wherever possible.

We went in the winter, January I think, and everthing was frozen; the rivers, the sea, our breath as we breathed it. One day in Moscow, wandering (insanely) on my own through the city, gipsies stole my gloves off my hands and it was only then that I realised how cold it truly was; without them I had to keep my hands fimly in pockets until I made it back to the hotel.

One day, when everyone else had gone on a guided tour of the Kremlin, we (for reasons I really forget) decided to wander off into the woods opposite the hotel we were staying in. It was largely birch, full of unfamiliar bird song and thigh-deep snow; sun shining and turning the whole scene into a folk-art fairytail fantasy. I truly think it was one of the most beautiful natural scenes I have ever witnessed, and our breath was tinkling as it fell in ice crystals to the forest floor. Very vaguely the noise of the city and the cars could be heard, but always as if it was a different world or parallel universe. Deep into the woods we found a fairytale bridge into an open glade and slumped down in the snow just transfixed by everything; then we heard a long, low howl from somewhere in the trees.

More answered almost immediately, comic horror noises in a fairytale forest. One look at each other was enough to know we were thinking in unison and we plunged, fell, crawled, and somersaulted through the snowy woods and back to civilisation. I have very rarely since felt so vulnerable and aware of the smallness of myself in the universe; I have certainly never tried to run in deep snow again.

That evening, quite by chance, we overheard a conversation in English about the problems with wolves in the area and warnings delivered to another group of tourists not to stray into the 'wild areas.' This, funnily enough is one of my most vivid memories of Russia.

I was thinking of Russia also as Ritchie mentioned that a few visitors to the gallery had likened my paintings to Russian icons. I am interested to know the connections between the art of the northern nations as I know there are similarities between Scandinavia, Russia and the Far East; I certainly see parallels and maybe this is what is coming over in the pictures. My stronger influences have been from Thailand and Vietnam, but I am also always looking at Scandinavian art due to my heritage. I saw an awesome programme last winter on the early religious art of Russia, and the icons, and of course there is some mind numbingly beautiful church art in Tuscany that we were lucky enough to see last year as well. A veritable melting pot of influences.

This is why I try to work instinctively and use the unconscious mind as much as possible rather than planning images to fit a certain title or subject; the influences absorbed then come out in a blend, worked by my own creative mind into something of my own.

The angel paintings have taken a few directions that I would never in a million years have predicted when I first started out on the series and I think that is important. Some of my worst work has undoubtedly been carried out to commission and I am sure this is true of other artists.

At least the 'angel' brief is loose enough to give me space to follow my brain where it will lead, but enough discipline to create a cohesive show. Fingers crossed, I am pleased so far and think it will be my best work to date; it is definately making a big difference painting every day and having that experience has made me adament that I need to keep doing this.