Twenty-two years ago, with my wife in the final months of
our oldest daughter’s pregnancy, I was trying to make ends meet on the pristine
island of Bermuda. As there was little
in the way of riotous squalor that I could get my teeth into, my
watercolours became as orderly as the landscape.
But within my portfolio for that period there can be
found a note of rebellion. I clearly remember, as I threw down the
thunderous washes in this painting, that my thoughts were of my beloved Caribbean. The mood lives on.
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