“Everyone discusses my art and pretends to understand, as if it were necessary to understand, when it is simply necessary to love.” – Claude Monet
Monet is one of my grandfather’s favourite artists. And although the artists’ colours my grandfather made were made with particular respect for the Australian landscape, lighting some of Arthur Boyd’s harsh blue skies that couldn’t be anywhere else than the antipodes, for example, I feel like the love of colour came from these French paintings, so full of luminous light they seem lit from behind. And as hard-headed as my grandfather can be, I feel that he always came back to the feeling of things. That colour was there to move you, and if you weren’t moved you were a fool. That making oil paints and pastels was ultimately about being moved. The reality of manufacturing will always drag you back to commerce, to economy, to the grind of production, but the love of the glow of a violet-blue beside a viridian green will always anchor you to the source. To inspiration and the love of light.