MONIQUE SLIEDRECHT: Lingering light can be converted into kindness
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Northern Drift by Monique Sliedrecht
With the changing of the clocks we've woken to the world gradually brightening as the sun creates pink and orange colours against a backdrop of deep blue.
I've enjoyed some morning walks along the coast lately, drinking in these last days of warmer early November climes.
There is a special quality of light in the far north of Scotland in late autumn: a low, dim or faded light which is not as high and bright as in the summer months. In the evenings, the sky can take on dramatic tones, giving the feeling that everything is being touched by fire.
The painter, Constable, said: "The sky is the source of light in nature and it governs everything."
As I think about light and painting, the sea and the sky, many other places and artists come to mind, all with their own special quality and atmosphere. There are ways in which the artists imbue their paintings with a powerful luminosity which is quite unique to their artistic vision.
Some years have passed since I was in the south of France, but I came to understand this rare quality that so many artists talk about. I think of painters like Cezanne or Renoir, Monet, Bonnard and Matisse.
Aside from Constable, the UK can boast the work of another great painter of light: J M William Turner.
At the start of every year in Edinburgh, the Scottish National Gallery takes out its collection of Turner’s works and puts them on display in a room on the main floor. The exhibition goes on for the full month of January. Whenever I am in Edinburgh at that time, I try to visit at least once.
Turner had a passion for light which was turbulent, churning, always in motion. He painted it with intensity in relation to floods, storms, fog, steam, snow and to what critics have described as “cataclysmic, or elemental events”. His ability to capture light and atmosphere is almost overwhelming.
The settled, still tones of November linger throughout the day. When I step into the early afternoon to take a breath from my oil painting, the faint mist is hanging low and the sun is starting to push its way through the cloud, creating a diffused shaft of light stretching out over the landscape and setting off the other side of the bay in gold-lit greens, ochres and coppers.
Occasionally the starlings' chatter on the wire, or sudden flutter of ducks' wings, breaks the reverie of stillness.
It is 3.30pm. Suddenly there is that moment of drama in the sky as the sun makes its move closer towards the horizon. The celestial glories of Caithness must be among the greatest anywhere in the world.
We tend not to miss the most precious things until they have gone. I’m keenly aware of the change in light just now, the limited amount we have of it each day. Painters deeply rely on daylight which makes it a treasured resource. But now that our hours of daylight are shrinking, the clocks have changed, and the air is cooler, perhaps it is also a chance to create cosily lit places indoors.
Now is the time to hunker down, to bundle into home and cook hearty foods to sustain: seek out opportunities no matter the season, and reach out into the darkness. Let’s light up the world with our creations, which may be candle-lit hospitality, a warm fire, a veggie box for a neighbour, or a thoughtful card to someone near or far.
Maybe we can offset the darker days with bits of light in our indoor lives, whether in the studio, on canvas, in the kitchen, office or living room corner, whilst also getting that occasional blast of air in the sunlit days.
- Monique Sliedrecht is an artist, blogger and podcaster based at Freswick – www.moniquesliedrecht.com
