Storm project.

I love the North Sea. I grew up with it. Sometimes I heard its movements during the night, when I was sent early to bed as a boy, on those long summer evenings. We played beside it, on the beach and about the harbour. My Dad was a fisherman, and so was his Dad, and was his Dad. I was not. I wanted to be an artist, and eventually, that's what I became. Most seas we see on TV are blue and beautiful. My sea the North Sea, is coffee coloured, sometimes a hint of blue briefly reflects upon it, and when it's so calm it's almost like mercury. But I like its action best of all, the constant change, the light and movement, the unfolding waves, the roar of the wash, and the draw of the backwash. Sometimes shingle but mostly sand. A different noise for each. I try to capture this moment, but a moment that is not frozen. The sea is never so still. A sudden gesture with my brush gives the image life, and my reduced palette, of white, red, orange, yellow, a very dark blue (it's called Prussian Blue, what a great name) and a purple, describe its varied moods. No brown, green or black. The less colours the more I mix, exploring what each can do. There are fewer boats now going out of Lowestoft and off the beaches of nearby coasts. I, at times, think how empty it can look. If I just do the beach, sea and sky it can appear almost timeless. A hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, it will not have changed. Over the horizon I know there are other lands. It's a wonderful thing to gaze at and imagine. In storms it comes alive, as if angry, when calm, we say it's like a duck pond. It has a personality that will entertain us, I hope, for ever.