George Rowbottom

Although I plan and construct my paintings before I pick up my brushes there are times when, having started the painting, there comes a point when I don't much like what I see on the canvas. This was one of those paintings.

I'd lost the plot. I'd fallen out of love with it.

But one thing I never do is lose faith because out of the blue comes salvation, the 'turningpoint.' And with this work the turning point was - clown fish.

All my paintings are uniquely personal. I'm sure that's true for everyone who makes pictures. 

For example, the map behind the romanesque bust, is taken from a 1950's map of NorthWales and shows Wrexham the town where I was born.

The textured background panel behind the toy motorcycle is taken from a photo I took ofa rather large boulder that I used as 'set dressing' (landscaping) around the first home Ibuilt in Australia.

The tin-toy motorcycle is just like one I had as a kid. The water-dragon (lizard chasing a housefly), I found  caught up in the Venetian blind in my kitchen.

And therein lies the conundrum of painting pictures. Why do you choose to paint whatyou paint? And when it's finished do you like what you've created?

And the answer is - sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. And that's the reason thisone is called - 'When There Is No Rhyme nor Reason.'