Taking (good) advice

I very rarely go back to a painting to tickle it up - I'd normally rather start something new having, I hope, learned the lesson from any issue I had with the picture. And a sketch is usually best left, but - advice from Alan Bickley is not to be sneezed at: so when he suggested my latest little oil sketch might be enhanced by a touch more light on distant sails, out came the white, a small brush, a minuscule amount of yellow, and a equally small amount of Cobalt Violet: and of course it worked rather well: I had just dotted sails in without really paying much attention, more preoccupied with the large mass of green in front of me. Here's the thing, though: I've taken advice in the past - well-meant, in all cases. Once, it ruined what had been a simple painting - which I should have left alone. On another occasion, my brother - asked for his suggestion - was able to put his finger on just where the problem lay, which I hadn't seen. Ask for advice, then - but only from people who have an eye for colour and form: and make sure you only take it from them, not from those you've no particular reason to believe could paint a cupboard door. You may, sweet innocent things, think this obvious - but so many artists are basically so insecure that they'll take advice from their Auntie Ethel, principally known for always pairing tangerine with turquoise in her visually threatening viscose blouses and her fondness for plaster ducks over the fireplace. Discriminate, is what I'm saying - do not be proud, but .... be careful.

Used my stack-lead white, Alan.... and very slightly tightened up my lighthouse: I think it helped. I think I could have used plain ole Titanium white, but I do like a lead white - this is more than somewhat off-topic, but I wish we were not deprived of these paints by silly regulation.

Wonderful, Sylvia - I daresay you remember these ceramic ducks on the wall: I was quite fond of them! And then in later years, we had Capo di Monte figures everywhere - much better modelled, but .... well, I suppose it proved that people were hungry for some form of art on the wall? And the plaster ducks, plus the occasional oleograph of Lord Kitchener, was all that was available, beyond the odd sepia version of The Light of the World, or, if you were of that persuasion, the Sacred Heart....