Dorset sheep, Oil on Canvas 12 x 12 inches

Sheep always sound like they’re complaining. Is it the lambs saying to the mothers: “Not milk again. We had milk yesterday!”

“Go on – drink  up.”

“But I HATE milk!”

“Do as you’re told.”


Or have we profoundly underestimated them. Perhaps they are saying:

“Life – it’s so meaningless! Trudging up and down these hills, chewing the same old grass…”

“Without a God, there is no meaning – but sheep can create their own meaning.”

“Oh please! You’ve been reading Sartre again.”

“It’s great stuff – you should try it.”

“You know I don’t read continental philosophy…”

“Bah! I’ve never met such a narrow-minded sheep!”

Red Barn, Oil on Canvas, 16 x 20 inches

I went to Dorset a few weeks ago on a painting trip with my friends and neighbours Jan and David, and their dog Bridge (see previous post ‘Love Story’). We stayed in the house to which this barn is attached. There is a worn out sign above the main entrance that no one has bothered to remove . It says: ‘Poachers will be shot on sight’.

My room was at the haunted end of the house, where a small group of nuns had lived and died. There was a small door in the wall through which food was passed to them so that they could have as little contact with the outside world as possible.

This was already a little unnerving, but to crank things up a bit we read ghost stories to each other by the fire in the evening.

David Walser reading M.R. James, iPhone drawing

Bridge by the fire, iPhone drawing

View from the House, Oil on Canvas, 13 x 8 inches