1200 x 1530 mm
That summer was to be momentous but it began with being offered as a studio a large barn, high on the west-facing cliffs looking straight out over Lands End and the Longships.
However, instead of painting dramatic views, I became entirely absorbed by the atmosphere inside the barn where the evidence from centuries of work laid visibly all around.
My inclination towards painterly introspection took over as I became slave to that murk and dust, chaff and sacking, ancient tools, mechanical bits and pieces, harnesses, and the smell.
In August Peter Lanyon was killed. He had been a wonderful mentor to me; his death less than a year after Kenney's assassination caused my own buoyant mood to evaporate.
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