I’ve noticed over the last year or so that fences have been creeping into my landscape paintings! Twigs are my ‘go to‘ tool for old fences. They‘re so unpredictable and bend this way and that (with the odd splatter!) and produce that old rickety fence that I’m looking for.
When I’m out and about choosing compositions, I’m drawn to the hill, field and sand-dune that has the familiar old fence meandering along it. It has to be a particular type of fence - been there for years, falling down, no longer any use as a fence, and most importantly, made from worn pale wood. I’m not a fan of straight, know their purpose, tight wire fences, as they have no history or character. They haven’t had lost walkers scrambling over them, sheep resting close to them for protection from the rain, or stray crops dancing against them in the breeze.
I‘ve also realised that my landscape photos also have a fence lurking somewhere in them! I’ve tried to analyse my love of old fences and think it may stem from childhood (as most things do!). I spent many a family holiday hurtling over sand-dunes ladened with beach paraphernalia, as we followed the old fenced pathways to the beach. Other days were spent walking along headlands next to precarious old fences teetering on the edge, and in the evenings we would follow the old fences while strolling through fields as the sun set.
In the early summer of this year, I took a ‘Composed Landscape’ course based around Cockenzie harbour (near Edinburgh). As soon as I approached the harbour, with its colourful bobbing boats and lobster pots, I knew immediately what I would base my study on - the old forgotten fence behind the harbour, that had no real purpose other than to look ideal for me to sketch!
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