This was intended to be the underpainting for a picture of a Fiat 500 in its native habitat. But I had a suspicion that if I ‘finished’ it the picture would lose its freshness.
Apparently in ancient Rome ‘fiat’ meant ‘let it be done.’ So, let it be done.
“I hung up and fed myself a slug of Old Forester to brace my nerves for the interview. As I was inhaling it I heard her steps tripping along the corridor.”
Raymond Chandler
“‘Cause there’s a beach lies quiet near the open sea,
And a car park lay stretched where the bindies used to be”
Midnight Oil, ‘Bells and horns in the back of beyond.’
Made the mistake of trying to visit where my grandparents’ old house used to be. Their sprawling front lawn had no fence and ran down to a quiet beach, via a thicket of glossy banana trees and spiky weeds. It was permanently festooned with strings of coloured lights for summer parties that lasted all night. All gone now, replaced by a tight-packed chunder of Mac Mansions that look like oversized photo copiers. One of the gardeners looked up from vacuuming (yes, vacuuming) his hanky-sized lawn and told me I had no business being there. He was righter than he knew.
I did not realise till I painted this picture that the geranium in our window planter strains towards the light in the front room every night.
Phil McAloon's paintings 