When I decided to try watercolour for the first time, I didn’t really know what I wanted to paint. Somehow, though, I found myself thinking of a hot afternoon in the desert, with those enormous stretches of blue sky, ochre earth and terracotta ramparts.
Only later did I realise where the image had probably come from.
Lawrence of Arabia.
I have watched that film, revisited it, analysed it and absorbed it enough times for its images to have become part of the furniture in my head. Perhaps some of it was still sitting there quietly, waiting for me to pick up a brush.
So this rather amateurish, rather childlike little watercolour may well be my accidental tribute to the film.
And then there is Peter O’Toole.
The man had class. He could act. He had that extraordinary voice and accent, and above all, he had presence. He could simply stand there and somehow occupy the entire screen.
I love him.
Perhaps this little painting is less a landscape than a memory of a film that has lived in my head for years.
And I rather like that I didn’t realise I was painting it until I had already painted it.
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