Dylan

When Alex and I visited the Boathouse yesterday to see about hanging paintings there I had a good look around as well as asking all the relevant questions. When I went into the living room was I imagining it or could I see Dylan sitting at his desk. I am not one given to sensing ghostly apparitions but I did get an image of him sat there. Of course I often get an image stuck in my head of all sorts of things, no behave.  Anyway the image above is the one I am talking about. I will probably turn it into a painting just for a change. I have worked up the figure and left all the peripherals. If you are not careful you can spend as long on a drawing as the painting itself. Basically he is formed contre-jour aganst the light from the window although there are other lesser light sources from the left and right. Maybe he is writing a Winters Tale or maybe he is contemplating going down to Browns Hotel for a drink:

It is a winter's tale That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales, Gliding windless through the hand folded flakes, The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sail, And the stars falling cold, And the smell of hay in the snow, and the far owl Warning among the folds, and the frozen hold Flocked with the sheep white smoke of the farm house cowl In the river wended vales where the tale was told.